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“Charlie... oh, sweet merciful heaven.” Alastor gasped, his head rolling backwards as he closed his eyes. His arms were up over the backrest of the sofa, opening himself up to the pleasure he was experiencing. Between his legs, Charlie was preforming morning fellatio on her boyfriend, looking up at him with her large bedroom eyes as she deep throated him, one hand busying itself with fondling his scrotum with soft carcasses, the other scraping gently along his inner thigh.
It had been several weeks since they officially started dating, and more often than not, especially since Angel had gotten himself a car, Charlie found herself staying over. Alastor had wanted to ask her to move in already, but decided against it, not wanting to rush her into anything no matter how impatient he was. He had to play by her pace every now and then. If he had his way, they’d have flown to Vegas and back to get hitched if she didn’t want to elope with him first. He much rather do the latter to better protect her from whatever may come their way.
She slowly released his cock, giving the tip a small suck before grabbing hold of it and rubbing her cheek against it as she smiled and giggled at his drunken state. She loved the way he reacted to her touch, her kisses. She knew he was a prideful and smug bastard, reserved save for a few he was comfortable with, and liked being in control of the situation. Except with her. She knew how to make him purr like a kitten with just a bat of her eye.
In the weeks that followed their new found relationship, they had learned a great deal about one another, even the not so savory parts they hadn't been willing to share with anyone else. Charlie, former debutante, class president, and current college drop out, had been forced out of her home at 19 when her parents, who were already born into high society, tried to play match maker and make her abide by their rules and do what they thought was best for her rather than let her be her own person. She was a victim of physical abuse- and nearly raped- by one of her suitors (which caused Alastor’s blood to boil and vow to put the asshole six feet under should he ever find him), plus dealt with a lot of verbal beat downs from her sometimes overbearing father. It was after some research that Alastor realized where he heard the name Lucifer Magne. It truly was a small world as Lucifer represented one of Valentino’s porn companies. Perhaps fate would have brought him to Charlie one way or another as Vox and Valentino over the years began to tighten their circle of associates while strengthening their grasp in the underground and it was Lucifer who made sure the businesses they acquired looked clean on paper for legal purposes when it was usually a bloody affair on Alastor’s part.
For Alastor, Charlie had found out many of his scars were from his childhood, given to him by his abusive father or him hurting himself at a young age to cope with it, and had been in foster care (where he had met Mimzy) when he was fourteen after witnessing his mother- whom he had moved back in with until her untimely death when he was twenty- murder his father in front of him. Thankfully to her untrained eye, she couldn’t distinguish the more recent ones from the old. Alastor left out his relationship with Vox and Valentino whom he was occasionally employed by to collect debt or off a competitor usually, but he was afraid his past would come back to haunt him. Since they started dating, he neglected finishing a job or two and hadn’t taken on any more. He was worried what she would think of him if she found out.
Charlie loved helping others while Alastor usually preferred solitude, only allowing a small circle of others to get close to him, and even fewer to touch him openly. He did however love to travel and sample foods from across the country but it was Charlie who wanted to travel the world. They were both rather minimalists when it came to earthly possessions, but Charlie was incredibly sentimental. Alastor, though more of a homebody, still had more friends presently than Charlie had in her life.
They fit together like a jigsaw puzzle, complimenting one another, sharing certain interests or opening their minds to venture into new things they wouldn’t have thought to ponder. Singing, dancing, cooking. Alastor was patient while Charlie coaxed. When he was the opposite, it was she who calmed him. He kept her grounded while she opened his eyes to the importance of the little things life blessed them with. Charlie found a place she felt like she belonged, and Alastor found his peace and salvation. He only hoped she never found out what kind of monster he had been, what he still was. He wanted to do better, be better, because she deserved it.
Charlie ran her tongue from the base of his manhood up to the head, kissing the tip tenderly before crawling into his lap. Alastor looked up, eyes unfocused as he tried to make sense of what was happening, but gasped and squirmed, reaching out to grip her hips as she began to bounce up and down on his staff in a slow teasing manner, wiggling her hips playfully when he was fully sheathed inside.
“Have... have I ever told you, ooh, you’re a succubus? One day I’m going... ah... to wake up looking like a mmmmuh-mummy because you’d have drained every last, ugh, drop out of me. Ssssuch a dirty girl.”
Charlie laughed breathlessly as she moved back and forth on his lap, stimulating her bundle of nerves in the process, “That’ll... be something...” she kissed him, their tongues fighting for dominance over one another.
They were almost at their climax when suddenly there was a knock at the door. Alastor hissed in anger, glaring over his shoulder as Charlie blushed and slid off his lap to rush toward the bed room. Alastor pulled his pants back on, not caring to wipe himself down nor buckle up as he stormed over the the insistent knocking, one hand on the waist band to prevent them from falling and exposing the deer printed undergarments Charlie had bought him. He threw open the door, baring his teeth as his eyes twitched in annoyance.
“May. I. Help. You.” He said through clenched teeth.
“I have higher standards than an ass hat like you. Put your dick away and zip up.” Husk said as he crossed his arms over his chest, “The big guy wants an update on why it’s taking you so long to get his money from Henroin.”
Alastor, who thankfully didn’t touch Charlie’s intimate spot, covered his partner’s mouth and pushed him out into the hallway, shushing him as he did so and closed the door.
“What the fuck!” Husk roared, pushing away the hand that assaulted him.
“She’s here, Husk. You normally don’t do house calls. Why didn’t you just call? It’s Sunday for goodness sakes. Can’t a man enjoy some peace on a day of rest?” He proceeded to zip up and tighten his belt.
The salt and peppered haired older man rolled his eyes, “I did all morning but you kept ignoring them. Vox is getting agitated you haven’t finished your last job and he’s got another lined up.” He took a small envelop from his back pocket, “Here. He wants you to do this one as a personal favor to a friend of his.”
The front door of Alastor’s apartment clicked open, “Husk?” Charlie asked in confusion, “Hey. Um, good morning. Sorry to interrupt.” A blush painted her pale cheeks as she hid behind the door, wearing nothing but a bathrobe, “Al, I’m going to get breakfast started. Do you want sausage or bacon with your eggs?”
Alastor sighed, “Whatever you’re having dear.” He scratched the back of his head, placing the other hand on his hip.
“Ok, is Husk staying too?” She bit her bottom lip, wondering what was going on to agitate him.
“Don’t mind if I-”
“No, don’t bother.” Husk glared at him, “Don’t give me that look. Fine, fine. Sweetheart, looks like we’re having company over.” He coughed into his fist.
“I’ll uh... change first before getting breakfast started then. Do you want some coffee, Husk?” She blushed in embarrassment as if they had been caught red handed in the act.
Husk smiled kindly and tipped his fedora at her, “Yes, that sounds great.” As soon as she closed the door, he raised a brow and gave Alastor a once over and put two and two together, “Ah. Explains why you have a stick further up your ass than normal. I won’t be long.”
Alastor rolled his eyes and poked his head in to make sure Charlie was safely back in their room before allowing Husk to enter and direct him toward his office in the other. “I’ll be right back, I need to make myself decent. Don’t touch anything.”
The office looked like it was taken from 1920s/1930s photograph, decorated with Art Deco and antique furniture. To the right was Alastor’s work station; a dark hard wood desk with a lamp, his laptop, microphone, and headset sitting on top of it. The wall to wall closet was converted into a bookcase, the doors themselves removed and hidden behind the actual bookcase to his left. Natural light filtered in from the window across from him, casting an orange glow from the curtains covering it. He sat at the desk opposite of Alastor’s, staring at the impressive bust of a stag whose antlers stretched wide and high, nearly touching the ceiling.
“Fucking weirdo.” He pulled out his cellphone and began a game of solitaire.
——-
“Al... ah... we have a guest and I need to get breakfast started.” Charlie writhed beneath Alastor as he fingered her, nibbling her neck. She had managed to put a bra on and a sundress that was currently unbuttoned in the front when her boyfriend came in and attacked.
“His fault for interrupting. Let me at least get my princess off before she starts her day.” His voice was muffled, “Now hush darling, unless you want him to hear you.”
She bit her lower lip, tossing her head to the side as her mouth opened wide, but she resisted letting out the deep moan that threatened to come out. She gasped as she felt him trail kisses down her chest, the plane of her stomach, down to her center to replace his hands with his hungry mouth.
“You’ll ruin your appetite.” She whined. The thought of Husk hearing them had turned her on, bringing her closer to orgasming as she covered her mouth when she let out a yip that clearly indicated they were up to no good.
Alastor paid her no mind as he busied himself with her womanhood, spreading her open to peer far into her wondrous cave as it dripped his favorite treat. He slowly licked her, flicking the tip of his tongue on her nub the way she liked it. Charlie squirmed in response. He did it for a few strokes before kissing her clitoris then latching onto gently to suck.
Charlie stomach felt like it flipped as she clamped her legs around his head, grabbing his hair and tugging. Alastor forced her legs back open, inserting his tongue as far as it go inside her before pulling back and undoing his pants to finish them both off. He turned her to the side and entered her from behind as he crawled into bed, lifting her right leg up for her to have easy access to herself. She reached down to rub her hidden jewel as she clumsily clawed and pinched her nipple to get a grip on her unraveling thoughts.
He kissed her neck, breathing deeply near her ear. “Charlie,” he whispered seductively, “My dear, sweet Charlie. No matter how I take you, you always feel so amazing.”
“God, I’m addicted to your cock.” She whimpered, “Alastor, I love fucking you. It feels so good. Ah!” She felt her orgasm hit. Charlie hissed, trying with all her might to stay silent but failing miserably. “Oooh, Alastor! Yes!”
“As much as I would like to fill you dear, I think you’ll need to take this load elsewhere.” He slowed his tempo then slipped out of her as she recovered. She crawled off the bed as he sat up, pumping himself to not lose his momentum. Charlie got back on her knees and replaced his hands with hers, engulfing as much as she could without choking when he bucked up.
Seconds later Alastor grabbed the back of her head and rammed himself into her mouth. Charlie gagged but didn’t pull away as her eyes watered, but she kept eye contact with him. His seed hit the back of her throat and she drank it all down. When he was spent, he collapsed onto the bed with his arms spread out.
“Al?” Charlie said, letting out a small cough, her head poking from above the bed, “Don’t keep Husk waiting.”
“Right... he’s still here, isn’t he?” Alastor sat up and groaned, “I’ll get the coffee started. Did you want one? Or should I get the kettle going for you, love?”
“Coffee is fine.” She stood and began buttoning her dress.
He too got up and went to wash up, wiping down his member then going to the closet to get a shirt. He settled for a red polo, fixed his hair, and left the room so Charlie could finish getting ready.
Husk had half his face covered as he tried hard to fight down a blush, having accidentally heard Charlie’s muffled cries of passion. While he was used to seeing and hearing such noises, that fact it was dear sweet Miss Charlie getting down and dirty with the blood thirsty asshole who was obviously smitten with her made it weird and him feel dirty.
He jumped when Alastor passive aggressively slammed the door and sat a coffee mug down on a coaster at his desk. He sat at the edge, facing Husk and sipped from his cup.
“No cream or sugar?”
“Not for a party crasher. What did Vox want? He may pay me but I’m not his property, his servant, his anything. How I conduct my business when no due date is involved is at my discretion. Besides, I’m close. Henroin and his son Arackniss have been out of the city, but they’re coming back.”
“When?” Husk sipped his coffee, trying to not make a face at the bitter taste. “They’re supposedly singing like canaries while holding onto nearly a million dollars of Vox’s revenue for their batch of candy he supplied them two months ago. It’s top of the line, grade A shit from Stolas’s gang. Should of been sold in a heart beat. Fuckers probably already ran off and laying low with the money. Maybe even gave it to the DEA.”
“They come back tomorrow. It took a little bit of finegaling but I found Molly and it took even a little more to track them down but the idiots ended up calling her. Vox and Valentino will have to sit tight. As much as I hate to ask, I may need your help though. They’re skittish and excellent marksmen.” He bit his thumb nail, “They’re proud Italian mobsters. How do they go against their code, their omertà? If I didn’t know better, I’d say this job isn’t a normal execution.”
“Yea, I’ll help ya but 50/50 or no deal.”
“60/40, final offer. Moving on. What did you want to give me?” Husk once again handed him the envelope, grumbling to himself about Alastor’s quick money negotiations. Alastor opened it up and quirked a brow, “A pick up job? I haven’t done one of these in ages. Who is it?” He pocketed the envelop.
“One of the Von Eldritch kids. He’s kinda fucked around with some don’s daughter and his daddy’s worried his only son might get popped, especially if he knocked her up.” He took another bitter sip, “He’s going to some Gala Maverick is having. A fundraiser for the Children’s hospital next week. What’s so funny?”
Alastor was practically giggling, “I’m actually meeting Charlie’s parents that night. I guess I’ll just have to meet her there. Convenient, I suppose, since we’re going to the same place.”
There was a knock, “Breakfast is ready.” Charlie said through the door, “Hurry up before it gets cold!”
——-
Alastor yawned as he flicked the cigarette butt, blowing the smoke away from the whimpering woman tied down and seated in a chair. They were at the warehouse on the outskirts of town again. The interior was lit up completely but outside was pitch black as it was nearly 11pm.
“Now, now darling. No need for the water works. So long as daddy dearest has the money he owes my associates, no harm will come to you or them. This is all for show dear.” He patted her blonde hair. Her pale face was streaked with smeared makeup and tears as snot ran down her nose and dropped down to her chin, “Shh, shhh, it’s alright. Chin up, doll. I don’t like seeing pretty bunnies sad. Smile, you’re never full dressed with out one as my mother used to say.”
He took a handkerchief from the inner pocket of his jacket and gently dabbed her face.
“Mmm, mmm!” She squirmed, trying to distance herself from him, breathing heavily through the gag.
Alastor sighed, “You know, I used to enjoy this line of work, but then I met a gal about your age, with pretty golden hair like sunshine, much like yours and well, I’ve been thinking maybe it’s time I settled down. I’m getting much to old for this and I never thought myself a family man, raising my own bastards, but lo and behold, I want to marry her and use the last half of my god forsaken life I have to give a child a life I never had. I want to be better. She’s truly an angel, my little ray of sunshine.” He hummed, a dreamy and far off look in his eyes. He snapped out of it when he heard a gag noise from his ear piece.
“The mics on you know. God, I didn’t think you were such a fucking schmuck for romance considering what you used to say about Mimzy. It’s making my teeth rot and if I lose my foot from diabetes, you’re paying the bill. Fuck you’re pussy whipped, and bad.” Husk’s voice rumbled from the radio. “Heads up, car is rolling up.”
“You missed a wonderful opportunity for a pun, and if you had any idea what my little belle was capable of, ho, ho, you’d be too. No shame gushing over such a fine lady. Well,” Alastor turned to his victim, “the show is about to begin. Be a dear and stay calm, yes?” He patted Molly’s shoulders. “If they’re compliant, you may make it out of this alive.”
——-
“Husk. You shot me.” Alastor said with a deadpan expression as he reclined in the back seat of the car and held the tattered remains of Molly’s sweater against his shoulder, “You. Shot. Me. How am I supposed to explain this to Charlie?”
Husk shrugged as he drove into town, “I said I was sorry. Tell her you were mugged leaving the studio and some hobo stabbed you. Rosie’ll patch you up in no time.”
“Two tours in the Gulf war and once in Afghanistan. Top of your unit, a well trained sniper, and you shot me. Me! Huskers, good sir, if you weren’t a friend I’d have put a bullet between your eyes.” He grunted in discomfort, “Those damned Italian buffoons. I never liked Arackniss or his father anyway, the sleazy bastards. How did their code go? Whoever appeals to the law against his fellow man is either a fool or a coward. Whoever cannot take care of himself without that law is both. For a wounded man shall say to his assailant. ‘If I live, I will kill you. If I die, You are forgiven.’ Such is the rule of honor. No, that’s not it, is it? I’m blabbering, aren't I?” Alastor placed a bloodied hand over his eyes.
Husk looked at him from the rear view mirror. “Yeah. Don’t bleed out on the back seat of my car. Niffty’s gonna be pissed as is with the trunk. We’ll dump the bodies near the bridge on 32nd then we’ll get ya to Rosie.”
“I forgot how much this hurts.” He sighed, running his down his face and smearing the blood. Who’s blood was it, he didn’t know but figured it was mostly his.
“Could of fooled me.”
“I’m going to take a nap.”
“Wouldn’t recommend that.”
“Just a lit- Husk! Gentle, please!” The older of the two swerved the car then hit the breaks, causing Alastor to fall. He frowned. While he had been wounded during the exchange, narrowly missing being shot point blank by Arackniss, he had moved into the line of fire of Husk as he shot the father through the heart as the other target dropped to the floor.
Molly had screamed in terror, struggling so hard she knocked herself over in the seat. In the split second of her clattering to the floor and Arackniss re-aiming his firearm, Alastor had pulled out his pistol, shot Arackniss twice, once in the leg then through his left eye, spilling his brains all over the floor, and then without looking, shot Molly in the head as well to silence her. The briefcase of money was recovered, signaling the end of their job. It was quick, almost painless, and nothing like the movies.
“Told you I wouldn’t recommend it. Quit being a fucking baby, I’ve seen you get stabbed, shot, and tased and still fuck people up like a beast. Two more blocks then we’ll patch you up. Besides, I barely grazed you.”
Alastor rolled his eyes as he got up from his spot at the foot of the backseats, grunting in discomfort again at the opened wound.
While everything had gone according to plan, with the exception of being shot of course, Alastor had a nagging feeling at the back of his mind. His gut told him to be wary as Henroin warned them that it wasn’t him or his son who were the traitors but someone else much closer to Vox and Valentino. Alastor at first thought it was the old bait and switch, but after knocking his head against the bottom portion of the car door, it didn’t make sense. For a second he suspected Velvet, but then remembered she had removed herself years ago from the drug and other trades to make an honest living for herself. She had succeeded as far as he knew, and Charlie looked up to her.
“We’re here.” Husk said as he pulled to the side as the reached the middle of a bridge that connected the river to the ocean, “You gonna help or nah?”
“Both of us will make this faster. Let’s dump the bodies and get to the hospital before I die from blood loss.” Alastor exited the back seat.
Husk shook his head, “Fucking baby.”
——
“Alastor, I swear, quit squirming and hold still.” The doctor scolded as she observed the site of his injury, “Tis but a flesh wound dear, you’ll live.”
“Joy. It’s been a while since I’ve been hurt on the job. Just not looking forward to explaining my current state to my darling belle. Could you emphasize that a vagabond did this on my note to work?” He washed his hands and face in the sink as Rosie made notes on her clipboard.
“Oh, you moved on from Mimzy?” She chortled, “About time. Tell me about her. You definitely seem much happier, like when we were younger. Better yet, I’d like to meet her.”
Rosie was a tall slender woman a few years older than Alastor, but younger than Husk, and was one of Alastor’s best friends and personal doctor. Her eyes were black as midnight framed by naturally thick long black lashes, and with the heavy black eye makeup she wore looked like she was pupil-less, making her gaze unsettling to most. She placed her pen in her pocket and sighed.
“Maybe soon, dear.”
“What’s her name?”
“Charlie. Charlie Magne.” Alastor smiled as he dried his hands, “So stitches will be done by you or someone else? You know I’d prefer anyone but you on these kind of occasions.” Rosie stared at him wide eyed through the mirror, “What?”
A devilish grin spread across her lips as an amused glint filled her eyes, causing the hairs on the back of Alastor’s neck to stand on end. He just wanted this night to be over and be in Charlie’s arms. “Oh dear, I’m afraid I need to make my rounds. I’m only one of two physicians at the moment. I’ll have Vaggie patch you up. Nimble hands that one has.” She giggled.
‘Vaggie... that sounds familiar.’ He sat back on the bed when it suddenly clicked as Rosie left the room, cackling as she closed the door behind her. “Tonight is not my night.”
——-
‘So... this is Charlie’s ex.’ He frowned at the dark haired nurse as she quietly sewed him back up, working quickly and succeeding in not hurting him too badly like Rosie would have for entertainment sake. It also could have been the numbing medication she injected him with and the narco running in his veins.
“Stabbing?” Vaggie asked, a hint of suspicion in her voice, “This doesn’t look like any knife I’ve seen, and I normally work in trauma and ICU. Care to run the scenario by me again?”
Alastor rolled his eyes, “Certainly. I was leaving my place of employment to have a drink with my friend out in the lobby when some hoodlum attacked me. I managed to duck in time before it pierced my heart. Didn’t get a clear view of the fella. My friend chased him for a block.”
Vaggie looked at his bloodied clothes sitting on the floor. He was given a hospital shirt and pants to change into, “An unusual amount of blood from an injury like this.” She grabbed a pair of scissors and couldn’t help but look at all the scars on his chest, some looking only a couple of years old while others were faint, clearly decades old.
“Like I told you before, my friend drove like a madman. I was thrown about every which way in the car. I’m sure it looks like a crime scene.” He grunted as she cleaned up the stitched sight.
“Uh-huh. Sure.” She carefully placed a gauze on his shoulder and fastened it down with medical tape. Something was fishy about her patient, but she swore an oath not to judge anyone, and after what Charlie had told her the last time they spoke, she vowed not to be biased, not after her suspicions of Charlie cheating on her proved to be false.
She sighed sadly. A week after their talk, Charlie’s prediction of Cherri forgetting about her for some groupie came to pass. A day hadn’t gone by that she hadn’t regret her choice and when Charlie told her to leave her alone because she found a boyfriend, she was devastated and felt alone. She only hoped the lucky bastard treated her right and better than she had.
Alastor’s phone went off beside him. He smiled as he saw the name lit up the screen. Not caring that Vaggie was still in the room tending to the last bit of details of dressing his would, he answered.
“Charlie dearest, it’s late. Is everything ok?”
Vaggie stiffened at the name but shook her head. There were hundreds and thousands of Charlie’s out there, and who was to say it wasn’t a Charles on the other end?”
“Sorry, babe. I was finishing writing this article and I suddenly had the urge to call you. I hope that’s ok?”
“Darling, you know your voice would bring me back from the dead if need be. You can call me whenever and I’d be all ears.”
“I was thinking maybe I could come over In a bit? I have tomorrow off because Vel said I did enough for the magazine and the editors liked my stuff. I could make you breakfast before you go to work then help you clean up the place.”
Alastor rubbed his chin thoughtfully, “Ah... actually dear. You reminded me I need to call my boss. I’ll be working from home for a little while. I could use a nurse if you’re willing to take the job. It’ll give Niffty time to settle in to assist me.”
“Are you sick?”
“No... not quite.” Alastor didn’t know what came over him, “Could you pick me up from the hospital? The one near the bar? You were bound to find out sooner or later, and I might as well get it over with tonight.”
“Y-Yeah, ok. I’ll be there in twenty minutes.”
“Thank you, love. I’ll see you soon.” He hung up the phone and looked at his nurse, “I’m a lucky bastard, I swear, to have such a darling and caring woman. When you get the chance, could you tell my friend he can go home? My lady will be taking me back.”
Vaggie rolled her eyes, “That’s nice. Ok. Anyway, Mr. Galavan, let me go over some basic care and clearing instructions before I let you go. Alright, so...”
——-
“Al! What happened to you?” Charlie exclaimed as she entered the lobby, running up to him and putting her hands on his cheek to carefully bring him down for a kiss, “Are you hurt badly?”
Alastor wrapped his good arm around her as his other was put in a sling to prevent too much movement. He kissed the top of her head and nuzzled her neck, inhaling the scent of her shampoo and body wash. It had been a rough weekend and quite frankly, he just wanted to go home with Charlie and spend the rest of the day cuddling her while watching movies or maybe take her on that picnic he had been meaning to. When did he become so soft?
“I’m ok, my darling. I’ll explain over some food as I’m quite famished after tonight’s ordeal.” He kissed the tip of her nose.
“Charlie, is that you?”
Charlie stiffened as she recognized the voice. She turned around slowly and couldn’t stop the frown from forming, “Vaggie.”
The Latina stepped closer to them. Alastor watched the exchanged, not sure what it was he was hoping to expect. On one hand he was thoroughly enjoying the nurse’s conflicting emotions as she tried to process how the bloody mess he had been ended up with her ex girlfriend. The flip side, he hadn’t anticipated the distress Charlie would be in. He didn’t know if he should interject.
“H-hey. So, this is your boyfriend?” Vaggie crossed her arms and rolled on the balls of her feet. “Huh, didn’t expect to run into him like this.”
“Yea, well... I didn’t think you two would ever meet either. No point. I said I didn’t want to be friends, at least not yet. It’s... it’s too soon. We need to leave. Thank you for helping him Vaggie, I do appreciate it.” Charlie began to escort him out when Vaggie reached out to her and grabbed her wrist gently.
“Charlie, can I please just talk to you for a minute? I need to tell you something and it’s need to be in private.” She glared at Alastor, “Please?”
Charlie sighed, letting go of Alastor and handing him her car keys, “I’m close by, first lane of visitor parking. I’ll meet you at the car, ok?”
Alastor raised a brow, “Sure. Don’t be too long dear, these pain meds are starting to make me tired and dare I say loopy. I don’t want you dragging me up to the apartment if I can help it.” He have her a chaste kiss, one eye on Vaggie. Her glare darkened.
Once he was out the front door, Charlie turned to face the dark skinned girl, “Ok what is it? I should really get him home.” Her voice was full of concern.
Vaggie felt as if her throat was suddenly dry and her hands began to sweat out of nervousness. She knew it wasn’t her business, but there was something off about him and Vaggie didn’t want Charlie to get hurt, “Look, I don’t know what he’s going to tell you but I just want you to know that if he tries telling you he was mugged and stabbed...”
“He was what!” Vaggie grabbed her arm again to prevent her from running after him, “Vaggie, let go!”
“Just listen to me!” Charlie calmed down, “If he said he was stabbed, don’t believe him. He was shot, but that’s not the worse of it. There was a lot of blood on him. I have a bad feeling about him.”
Charlie began to breathe harder, “What are you getting at? That’s fucking worse. Did he need a transfusion or something but not take it?”
“Charlie. I don’t think it was all his. Where he was shot and the amount of blood and where it was doesn’t add up. There’s something weird going on with him. I wouldn’t trust him.” She wanted to tell Charlie she had fished his clothes out of the trash bin and was having the blood tested. Her grandmother had always told her to trust her gut feeling as it was God giving her a sign to protect herself or her loved ones. The severity of his scars and the obvious lie of how he got his wound unnerved her. Why didn’t he want to admit being shot?
Charlie’s eyes narrowed into slits as she pulled back, “What are you getting at? Are you trying to make me not trust him? You don’t even know him. Meeting Al has been the best thing that’s ever happened to me and... and I love him.” She blushed and gulped.
“It’s been less than two months Charlie. You can’t love someone that soon.”
“You seemed to have fallen in love with Cherri in less than one. Unlike you though, I did get to know him first and he’s been so good to me. He listens to me, he’s patient with me, understands me, and dammit, I know he loves me too. Truly. I’m done here Vaggie. I need to get him home.” She stormed out, not looking back as Vaggie called out to her.
——-
Charlie had barely gotten Alastor home and to bed before he knocked out, exhausted from his ordeal, slight blood loss, and pain killers. Charlie did her best to get him undressed. After she managed to get his shoes and pants off, she carefully wiggled the covers out from under him to tuck him in.
“Mmm, Charlie?” Alastor whispered in his sleep, searching for her underneath the blankets. She wasted no time crawling in, giggling as he tugged her toward him. She moved closer to him and allowed him to nuzzle her chest. He took a deep breath and relaxed. “Mon cher. Love you.”
Charlie’s heart stopped. It wasn’t the first time he said it, but neither of them had uttered the words to one another directly to each other in person, mainly because they agreed to take things in strides and not rush into anything after getting out of relations so soon. However, she wasn’t blind. Alastor may have been hesitant to say it in her face, but every moment they were together his eyes and actions practically screamed it. Charlie smiled and felt her eyes water as she kissed the top of his head, “I love you too, Al. You big dummy.” |
On the morning of your match, the officer’s training room was alive with electricity, and Ren was not immune to the excitement, although he’d never show it. After the argument in the dining area, General Hux had suggested a private match to determine the winner, but word had spread amongst the ships’ personnel, and he was much too proud to stop them from attending. As a result, the room was packed with officers, all shuffling and vying for a better view of the impending action.
Ren was there too, and could see you from where he stood at the back of the crowd. You were with Mitaka, on the edge of the makeshift ring that had been outlined on the floor in tape. You didn’t feel nervous, from what Ren could sense, and you and Mitaka talked in low voices as he helped adjust the protective wrap around your left hand.
On the other side of the ring, Hux and Phasma stood together, and Ren didn’t need the force to notice that the general was very nervous. The normally stoic general was uncharacteristically fidgety, shifting from leg to leg and facing towards the mat, away from the crowd. Facing you. Ren wanted to get a closer look into Hux’s mind, wanted to push into his thoughts with the force, but wasn’t able to, as the referee fought her way through the throng, signaling that the fight was about to begin.
Finding an impartial referee for this fight had been difficult, and many officers had refused in order to avoid the risk of angering Hux, but one person did eventually volunteer. Ren recognized her as the maintenance worker who had unwittingly initiated the whole debacle in the dining room. Ren searched the minds of those around him, looking for her name. Kendale Epelee.
Kendale took her place at the center of the mat, and the nervous chatter rose for a moment before a feverish quiet settled over the crowd. “Everyone here knows the rules I assume,” Kendale spoke in a clear, calm voice, but Ren sensed that there was an edge there still. She’s nervous for the lieutenant. “But we’ll review anyways. Three rounds, best two out of three. Rounds end when someone is pinned for three seconds or knocked out. Stepping out of the ring or aiming for the groin will result in an automatic penalty.” A few whispered jeers rose from the group, but were silenced with a look from Kendale. “Any interference from the audience will result in an immediate expulsion.” Kendale beckoned you and the general foreward, watched as the two of you shook hands, and then moved out to the edge of the ring.
“Alright, take your places. And, fight!”
Apparently you needed no time to size-up your opponent, because as soon as Kendale finished her command, you struck. The general doubled over at the force of your kick, staggering back before righting himself. He threw a punch, but you dodged it easily, dancing just outside of the general’s reach. You moved around the edges of the mat, watching Hux closely. He chased after you, swinging again, but you rolled out of the way at the last second, a smile dancing on your lips. She’s enjoying herself, Ren realized. You were in familiar territory, and it seemed that the general’s years of experience were no match for your natural skill. The general hesitated out of your reach, pausing to weigh his options, but before he, or anyone else in the room, saw it coming, you launched yourself at him like a cat, and had him pinned to the ground. The crowd went wild, and for the first time in a long time, Ren found himself smiling.
“Winner, first round: the lieutenant!” Kendale announced, a genuine kind of pride leaking into her voice. You climbed off of the general, offering him a hand up. For a moment, it looked as if Hux considered refusing your help, but then accepted your hand, and then the two of you prepared for another round. As you took your positions, Ren had to fight to look disinterested in the whole affair. Watching you take down Hux had been the best thing he’d seen in a long time, and while he knew you were good in a fight based off of the memory he had taken from you, he had no idea just how good you could be. The audience was on the edge with anticipation, and Ren heard his own thoughts echoed in the minds of some of its members: you could really win this thing.
The second round started. The general had underestimated you during the first round, and he didn’t plan on doing it again. He struck first, a glancing blow to your side, and dodged to the left to avoid your swing. You were off balance, and the general took the opportunity to take you to the mat, ducking low and grabbing you by the waist. The two of you fell, Hux landing another blow to your jaw before you were able to roll out from under him and back to your feet. Any enjoyment you had found after winning the first round was gone, and a vicious determination found home in your eyes. Hux, Ren was surprised to find, found no joy in his slight lead in this round at all, only a rising dread, and a defeated kind of resolve. The general charged at you, and then faked to the right. You swung out with your fist, but his dodge had worked, and you stumbled forward with the momentum. You lost your balance only for a moment, turning back to the general, who was now behind you, but he was already moving with a swift kick straight towards your face.
The kick landed on its intended target, and you were thrown back to the mat with the force from the blow. The crowd was in hysterics, practically climbing over each other to see what would happen next, and Ren, for a moment, forgot how to breathe. You sat up on the mat, leaning on one arm, blood running from your nose, trying to stand, but the general was already upon you. You kicked out blindly, hoping to make contact, and your leg swiped at Hux’s upper thigh.
“Penalty!” called out Kendale, running to the mat and pushing the two of you apart. “No shots to the groin. That’s an automatic win this round for the general, and one free penalty hit.” A few members of the crowd, bolstered by your incredible performance, rose up in dissent to Kendale’s call, but it seemed that you had bigger problems. You stood up off the floor, trying to clean up the blood pouring from your face and over your mouth. Apparently the general had broken your nose.
Seeing you like that changed something in Ren. He already knew that this image of you would be frozen in his mind forever: your chest heaving, hair slick with sweat, your eyes full of fire as you stared the general down. The heavy bleeding from your broken nose running into your mouth, splattering itself over the mat and your clothing as you tried to breathe through your parted lips. Seeing you look so shattered broke something inside of him, and Ren was suddenly gripped with panic at the thought of watching the rest of the fight. He no longer cared about watching you beat the general, had no interest in seeing him suffer; he needed to see you safe.
Anger bubbled up in Ren’s chest as the general moved into take his one penalty hit. He watched, seething, as Hux grabbed your shoulder to brace himself, and delivered a swift punch to your abdomen. You doubled over from the force of the blow, and then, after a moment, returned to standing. You spoke, too quietly for the crowd, or Ren, to hear, and Hux replied. A brief smile crossed your face.
“We’ll take a pause before the third round so that the lieutenant can clean herself up,” Kendale said. You walked over to Mitaka, stretching out your arms and shoulders and completely ignoring the blood still spilling from your face. Hux returned to his side of the ring as well, a smug grin on his lips.
What had he said to you? Ren was dying to know; he couldn’t possibly fathom that you would forgive the general so easily after the cheap shot he had taken to your head, and the undeserved penalty hit. He focused on Hux’s thoughts, trying to find the conversation without alerting the general to his presence, but all he found was a thick layer of self-importance. Ren dived deeper, gently urging the general’s mind to thoughts of you, but the words you had shared so secretly stayed hidden from him. He did find, however, a kind of glowing respect Hux now held for you, and . . . a luminous ember of infatuation.
No! Ren jumped from the general’s mind, livid at seeing his own newfound emotions echoed in his enemy’s thoughts. Before Ren could stop it, his fury took over, and he lost sight of the training room. He could see himself so clearly, in his mind, standing over Hux, blood streaming down the general’s face as Ren threw him into a wall, could feel himself lift the general from the ground, watching as he gasped for air. The electric sound his saber would make as he ran the general through.
You and Hux once again came to the center of the fighting ring, and Ren no longer cared about appearances as he leaned forward with a rapt and hysterical level of attention. No one was looking at him anyways; every eye was on the two of you in the center, ready for the final round. You had cleaned most of the blood off with Mitaka’s help, but traces of it will still smeared over your mouth and nose, like a rabid animal who had just finished off their prey.
Kendale called for the start of the final match, and you immediately took the offensive, grabbing the general’s head with both hands and slamming it into your raised knee. Hux stepped back, disoriented from the blow, and the tear in his skin you had created above his eyebrow dribbled blood into his eye, impairing his vision. You jumped then, in an attempt to tackle him, but Hux dove low, out of your reach. When you landed, he reached out to grab you from behind, pinning your arms to your sides. You threw him off, but he was relentless, throwing punches and blocking jabs, cornering you at the edge of the ring.
Ren’s mind was in a state of chaos, terrified at the thought of seeing you injured again, disgusted at the sight of Hux’s hands on you, but unable to look away. He felt as if he was watching the fight take place underwater, those final seconds slowed down as he anticipated the worst. He watched helplessly as the general prepared to throw what would surely be the last punch, watched as you moved in an attempt to block, but you weren’t moving fast enough.
Ren didn’t think, didn’t have time to think about anything beside protecting you, and instead acted on impulse as he reached out through the force, stopping the trajectory of the general’s fist as it neared you. Ren’s interference only lasted for a second, too quick to be noticed by the ravenous audience, but it had given you the chance to block Hux’s hand as it neared your face. Moments later, the fight was over, as you gripped the general in a complicated hold and threw him to the ground, where he stayed pinned beneath your weight.
The sound in the room was deafening as cheers erupted from the audience now that they finally had their victor. You moved off of the general and into the crowd, offering no helping hand this time as he laid there upon the mat. Ren searched your thoughts and found no satisfaction there, only a blazing anger towards the general, which you hid well behind a false smile as your companions congratulated you on your outstanding win. She thinks the general threw the fight; Ren was glad that his intervention had not been noticed by you, and he took extra pleasure knowing that your misplaced anger was directed at Hux. He looked for the general then, wanting to relish Hux’s shame, wanted to see him sulk away in embarrassment. Ren looked around the room, trying to find Hux, and was surprised to find the general’s eyes were on him already, a glare fixed upon his face. He knows.
Ren felt a shiver of uncertainty then creep onto his shoulders. What if the general told you what he had done? How could he explain? Ren’s new feelings of attraction for you sat uncomfortably in his stomach, and suddenly, he felt young again, stuck on that forsaken island. His voice, Luke’s voice, echoed through his mind, all of the commands he never could obey. The shame welled up in him, shame he had not felt in so long and it smothered him.
Ren had felt difficult emotions before on a few occasions, and he planned again to take the same course he had always taken. He would run away.
In the weeks that he spent away from the Finalzer, Ren thought he would find peace, or at least, the ability to forget. Instead, his thoughts were filled with you; the image of your face, still bloody from the fight, was a constant presence, inescapable even in his sleep. He roamed the farthest edges of the galaxy, explored long-forgotten remnants of ancient societies on distant planets, hunted and killed and destroyed any rumors of the Jedi and their teachings, and still, he thought only of you.
The more he wandered, the more he wanted. Wanted to know what you were doing and what you were thinking. Wanted to know if you were maybe thinking of him, too. In the end, Ren returned to his ship and charted the course back to the Finalizer, determined not to deprive himself of the things he wanted most now, as he had done so long ago. Attachments were forbidden for the Jedi, but Ren was no Jedi, not anymore. And he wanted you. |
1.
In his defense, Claude had been sleep deprived for the entire week.
Well, he’s always somewhat sleep deprived, but the past few days have been particularly bad. It’s one thing to stay up late for school, but he supposes the situation is slightly different when he’s curled up in a hidden corner of the library at some god-awful hour between night and day, with history books detailing time periods far from their current curriculum piling around him. It’s a lot easier to lose himself to time, then, and sometimes he isn’t even sure if he’s awake until the sun rises and he pinches himself to make sure he’s not dreaming.
But no matter how tired he gets, Claude knows he can’t afford to complain about it. Sure, he’s studied extensively on Fodlan’s history, but there’s only so much the second-hand books from his mother can teach him. Garreg Mach’s library hosts ancient books that date back to thousands of years ago, and as much as Seteth tries to filter what content is allowed, there’s enough information within these walls that Claude would be a fool to not take advantage of it.
The other lords don’t spend nearly as much time in here, which should be expected. Dimitri and Edelgard probably have Fodlan’s extensive history engraved into their brains by now, and Claude isn’t bitter , but it’s a bit frustrating to know how much he has to catch up on. They have the home advantage, and Claude is always reminded of this when they mention some old event he doesn't know about, and he feels as if he’s being left behind.
This time, Claude finds himself trying to sketch out the timeline of the Holy Kingdom of Faerghus, his notes laid out around him as he tilts his head in thought. He knows it started with Loog and the battle of the Eagle and the Lion, but the events after that major battle are shady at best. He’s close to figuring out all the loose ends, he can feel it, but his handwriting has derailed into a barely-legible state and he finds himself struggling to keep his eyes open.
Perhaps he should rethink the situation — look at it from a different angle, maybe? He might find the answer that way— and a part of him wants to ask for a second opinion, but another knows he can figure this out by himself if he just thinks…
… and the next thing he knows, someone is shaking him awake.
His first instinct is to tense, arms coming up to try and protect himself — and, as his luck would have it, Claude also manages to smash his knees into the underside of the library table, knocking over his carefully stacked books in his sluggish panic.
Pain bursts through his joints like jagged lightning, filling his mind with nothing but white hot agony for a few seconds.
Well, that’s one hell of a way to wake up, he thinks, rubbing at his knees. He gives himself a second to collect himself before blearily opening his eyes.
He’s met with the sight of Dimitri, lips downturned in a concerned frown. Claude’s rapidly beating heart instantly calms at the sight.
“Oh, hey there,” he croakily drawls, as if he hadn’t been seconds away from panicking. “Lovely meeting you here! Is there anything I can help you with?”
Dimitri’s frown only deepens. “Are you okay?” he asks, completely ignoring the question.
Claude huffs out a sigh he hopes comes off as dismissive. “Other than destroying my kneecaps? I’m fine, really. Just getting some last-minute studying in, you know?”
Dimitri bites his lips, expression teetering between concerned and amused. “Studying, so you say.” He glances over at the books on the table. “I didn’t realize Professor Manuela told us to study Faerghus’s history along with the usage of white magic across the ages. The latter of which we have an actual paper on?”
Claude rolls his eyes, thinking back to the earlier academy days when Dimitri actually respected him. He misses those days – ever since they started dating, he’s been especially blunt, and at times like these he simply does not appreciate it.
“Okay, jeez, you got me,” he relents, ignoring the tired burn behind his eyes. “It’s less studying and more reading for my own curiosity.”
“That’s what I thought,” Dimitri says, sounding a bit smug. “Do you even know what time it is?”
He feels as if he’s being interrogated by a parent, which is ridiculous, really. He’s allowed to make bad health decisions if he wants to, damn it. “Of course!” He lilts, batting his eyelashes at Dimitri. “It’s… sometime after midnight. I think.”
“It’s a little past four o’clock, to be specific,” Dimitri answers for him, a bit exasperated. “I thought you said you would at least try to be a bit better about resting properly…”
Guilt flickers at the bottom of Claude’s stomach. This isn’t the first time Dimitri’s found him passed out in some random place, and as much as he hates to disappoint, it probably won’t be his last either. Old habits die hard, he supposes.
“Here, come on—” and that's all the warning Claude gets before hands wrap around his underarms and legs, and he goes up.
“Hey!” Claude splutters, letting out an indignant yelp as he wraps his hands around Dimitri’s neck. A part of him is grateful no one else is around to see this embarrassing display. Of course, he knows that Dimitri probably has the strength to lift Raphael like a princess, but still.
“I’m sorry, but you’ve left me no choice,” Dimitri says, tone determined. “I’m putting you under house arrest until you get some proper sleep. I’ll tell the professor that you’re missing out on this morning’s lecture and ask Hilda to take notes for you.
“You’re going to make Hilda work?” Claude whines. He struggles for about two seconds until Dimitri’s iron grip around him tightens. “That’s inhumane, don’t you think?”
Perhaps a bit too dramatic, but at this point Dimitri is used to his theatrics. “Hilda is perfectly capable of paying attention in class for one day,” he argues back.
“Well, I’m also the house leader. I need to be there for the rest of the team, be a good role model, you know? I don’t think—”
“Coming into class exhausted and falling asleep in the middle of a lecture would be a worse look on you as a leader, Claude,” Dimitri interrupts. “Say what you will, but you’re not going to convince me otherwise. You need to rest before you hurt yourself.”
Unsure of how to respond, Claude simply stays quiet, too tired to protest any further. Dimitri quickly gathers Claude’s notes, leaving the mess of books behind (I’ll deal with it once you’re in bed, Dimitri assures) and maneuvering him out the door. It’s a bit ridiculous, really, being manhandled like this, but for someone who has so much strength he’s come to learn how gentle Dimitri can be. His steps are quiet, careful not to jostle him too much as they descend the stairs, and perhaps it’s a bit selfish but Claude finds himself relishing in his warm embrace.
The people of Almyra often communicated through touch, rather than words. Coming to Fodlan with all their strange, new customs had felt like being thrown into the ocean with no warning. His unfamiliarity with Fodlan’s more in-depth traditions had been most apparent when Dimitri first tried to court him. The entire thing had been a mess, with both of them stumbling over themselves like idiots. He’s surprised they’ve even managed to get together at all, actually.
He wonders if Dimitri can feel his appreciation through his tight grip. If he understands what he means when he buries himself into his neck. He hopes so, because despite what others think, words when concerning the matters of the heart have never been his strong suit.
They get to Claude’s room quickly enough, and he must be more tired than he let on, because he falls asleep again somewhere along the way. He becomes a bit more aware of his surroundings only after he gets into bed, Dimitri brushing some hair out of his eyes.
“Sorry,” Claude mumbles, when Dimitri’s watchful gaze becomes a bit too much. He hates how his words slur from exhaustion. “You must be tired of dragging me around by now.”
“Of course not,” Dimitri admits easily. “I love you.”
What.
“What?” Claude replies eloquently, heart seizing.
He had said it so suddenly, so surely — as if there had been nothing else to say but those three words — and the confidence in his statement is throwing Claude in for a loop. He suddenly feels very much awake, mind already racing with what he could possibly mean by that, by telling him so in his tired, vulnerable state.
Calm down, he tells himself, he’s not trying to hurt you. Have a little faith.
Dimitri is most definitely blushing at his own words, as if surprised by himself, but even so there’s a determined glint in his eyes. “I’ve never said it before, but it’s true. I swear it on my heart, I lo—”
“Stop,” Claude hisses. He hates how hot his ears feel. “I — it’s too early for this.”
The double meaning in his statement doesn’t go unnoticed. Dimitri’s expression somehow softens even more. “I understand, Claude.”
No, you don’t, he thinks as Dimitri kisses his forehead.
It’s not that Claude doesn’t love Dimitri back. He wouldn’t have pursued a relationship seriously if that were the case. It’s just… Claude can count the amount of times those words have been said to him in sincerity with one hand.
He might say a lot of things to try and charm his friends — and even his enemies — but those three words are sacred. They’re dangerous. And it feels like he’s being trusted with too much, with the way Dimitri had held him, has kissed his forehead, and looked for and found him.
Claude likes to put his emotions into neat little boxes, forcibly locking up whatever isn’t needed and making sure he develops the ones that will be useful. His curiosity. His determination. His unhappiness with the way the world works. He knows them like the back of his hand, weaponized against everyone who stands against him. On the other hand, things like his insecurity, his anxiety, his fear — those, he pushes down behind easy smiles until the flames burn out and leave nothing but whispers of themselves.
Something like love, especially on the battlefield, isn’t something to treat lightly. It’s something that could save him, or become his undoing. So far, he’s been holding it close, a guarded secret that everyone can see — if love could be used as a weapon, he’d rather wield it himself then give it to the hands of the enemy.
But Dimitri’s feelings for him… that's not something Claude can control. And leaving things to chance has never been his thing. Showing love, and being loved in return is something he struggles with accepting on the daily, but to hear it reflected so easily makes his head spin.
He doesn’t have time to ponder the subject any longer though, because sleep pulls at him from all corners. He thinks he hears Dimitri bidding him goodnight, and as his mind slowly fades to darkness, the last conscious thought he has is of Dimitri’s wonderful hands holding him tight.
He hears those three words even in his dreams.
✧༝┉┉┉┉┉˚*❋ ❋ ❋*˚┉┉┉┉┉༝✧
2.
In hindsight, maybe scaling the walls of the goddess tower during lunch hadn’t been his greatest idea.
There’s a crowd of spectators forming under him, whispering amongst each other, and all he can think is, shit, I’m going to get into so much trouble.
Well, if he somehow ends up falling off the wrong side of the tower, he can blame his injuries on Hilda. She’s the sole reason he finds himself up here anyways.
The story starts something like this: Claude and Hilda were walking around, trying to digest their food before training started next class. Hilda took out her handkerchief to wipe her mouth after Claude pointed out some leftover stains from the Two-Fish Saute they ate. Suddenly, the wind blew, and Hilda's handkerchief swept out of her hand, flying up and snagging on a jutting brick on the goddess tower.
“My brother gifted that to me,” Hilda had whined, looking up with a distraught expression. Claude knew Hilda well enough to recognize when she was being genuine in her distress, which was exactly why he offered to go retrieve it for her, being the good friend that he was.
That had all been around ten minutes ago. Now, though, he’s starting to regret his choice of actions. The climb itself hadn’t been difficult (Claude feels as if he’s gotten quite good at scaling things thanks to Petra), and the handkerchief isn’t so far off from the ground, but it’s currently caught just out of his reach. His arms are sore, but he tries leaning forward a bit more anyways, only pulling back when he feels his legs sway.
Shit. If only his arms were a bit longer…
Perhaps using his wyvern would have been a smarter idea, but they’re not allowed to use cavalry or any other mounted units during the school day. Maybe after seeing Claude climbing literal buildings, Seteth will change the stupid policy.
On second thought, probably not, but a man can hope.
Below him, he faintly hears Hilda gathering more students rather than trying to help him herself. Last time I'm doing anything for her, he mentally grumbles, wondering if he should just give up.
No, there has to be some way to get it loose, right? Nothing comes to mind, but he’ll surely figure something out soon. Probably. Hopefully.
He’s interrupted from his thoughts by the sound of a familiar voice calling out to him.
Claude peeks downwards to see Dimitri looking right back at him. Even from this distance, he can make out the brilliant blue in his eyes, rivaling the very sky above them. He looks stressed, though, and if he had hands Claude would have waved cheerily.
“Claude!” Dimitri shouts, exasperation leaking into his voice. “Claude, I love you, but what are you doing up there?!”
In hindsight, Claude thinks he reacted as anyone else might have. Truly.
A romantic might have said that this was when time slowed down, but in reality it all goes by fairly quickly: his fingers slip off from the ledge, and he falls faster than he can realize what’s going on. Pure adrenaline bursts through his veins, and he isn’t so far from the ground that he’ll die upon impact, but it surely going to hurt like hell—
But rather than the cold, hard ground, Claude feels himself fall into a pair of sturdy, strong arms.
For a moment, they tip dangerously, and Claude thinks they’re both going to go down, but then Dimitri somehow manages to steady himself. The crowd around them screams as he lands, but the only thing he can focus on is Dimitri’s gaze on him, searching for injuries. When he seems to find none, the relief on his face slowly changes into anger.
Yikes. Claude is going to have to work to get out of this one. “My knight in shining armor!” he coos, hoping that his nonchalance hides the shaking in his arms. “You’ve come to save me again! I keep finding myself in your arms, Dimitri. This really needs to stop happening.”
“Claude,” Dimitri hisses, humor gone from his voice. “Why would — why in the world would you just let go while you were up there? And what were you doing anyways? That was incredibly dangerous, and you’re lucky I was even here to catch you!”
A million different excuses run through Claude’s head — Hilda made him do it, he wanted to help his friend, it was supposed to be quick and easy — but what his mind settles on instead is, you said you loved me in front of almost all of our classmates.
“Well, you were here to catch me, so all’s well that ends well, right?” Claude mutters, hoping nobody can tell how unsettled he is. He can feel everyone’s gaze on them, staring, judging, and why is it so hard for him to laugh it all off, all of a sudden? It shouldn’t be such a big deal, and it’s not even an Almyran thing to freeze up whenever anyone says “I love you,” it’s just a Claude thing, but even so a part of him trembles at the thought of being found out, they’re going to find out —
“Claude, stay with me,” Dimitri whispers, only for him.
The words settle around him, reminding him to breathe. He allows himself a moment to collect himself, to hold onto Dimitri for a second longer, before letting go. There’s only so long he can cling to his boyfriend before it gets suspicious, after all. He cracks open an eye to notice that most of the students have already dispersed, no longer interested in the drama.
Good. There shouldn’t even have been there watching in the first place.
“Oh my god, Claude, are you okay?” Hilda exclaims, running over to them frantically. She looks genuinely apologetic. “I never would have let you climb up there if you planned on just falling like that!”
“It wasn’t really planned,” Claude says distantly. “I’m sorry I couldn’t get your handkerchief. Send my apologies to Holst.”
“Don’t worry about it, he can buy me a new one anytime. I seriously owe you, like, a week’s worth of dessert for doing that for me though!” Hilda sighs. “I’m so sorry Dimitri. Please don’t be mad at Claude, I was the reason he climbed up there.”
“It’s fine,” Dimitri says, with none of the anger from earlier leaking into his voice. What a gentleman, Claude muses, reaching out for his hand. He rarely initiates PDA (when they’re alone, it's a different story), but just for this moment, he wants something to hold onto. He feels as if he’ll fall apart if he doesn't.
Dimitri’s hand squeezes back; a silent reassurance.
When they’re finally left alone, Dimitri gently guides him to the offside of the tower balcony so that no one can interrupt them. If the situation were different, Claude would consider their little hiding spot romantic.
“Claude,” Dimitri starts, expression careful. “I’m sorry I got angry at you. Are you okay?”
Say yes, a part of him thinks.
“I will be,” he answers instead, the honesty of the statement burning his tongue.
They both wait for something else, something more, but suddenly Claude feels his throat close up. The conversation trails off awkwardly, and he wishes he could wipe off the look of frustration on Dimitri.
“...Okay. Please don’t be so reckless again, alright? I worry about you.” Dimitri says. He opens his mouth as if to say more, only to bite his lips.
“I won’t.” A pause, then, you should say it now, he thinks, and thinks, and thinks, but after a deliberate silence all he can choke out is a small, “Thanks, Dimitri. I appreciate it.”
And Claude had always accepted his cowardice, had never shied away from running away if that ensured his survival, but he feels a deep shame over it now.
So they stand, hands interlocked, with a million unsaid words between them as Hilda’s handkerchief flows in the wind behind them, like a untouchable flag.
✧༝┉┉┉┉┉˚*❋ ❋ ❋*˚┉┉┉┉┉༝✧
3.
It was supposed to be an easy battle.
So why the hell are we getting ambushed? It’s the only thing Claude can think as he draws his bow, again and again. It feels endless, almost — he’ll shoot someone down, and another warm body will come right up to replace it. His body is sore from running and shooting and being shot at all the same, and judging by the lightness of his back, he’ll run out of arrows soon.
Normally, they would have had this under control about fifteen minutes ago, but then again, it was supposed to be an easy battle. Their mission had been to suppress a small rebellion on the borders of the Alliance — simple enough — and according to their intel, they weren’t supposed to meet trained soldiers. Byleth had packed light, instructing everyone to avoid unnecessary killing. Most of these smaller bands quickly surrendered after realizing how outmatched they were against the knights of Serios after all, or so the plan went.
Looking at the carnage around him, he distantly notes that Byleths plans have gone to shit.
Speaking of Byleth, last he checked they were yelling out distant orders to the right of him, but now he isn’t quite sure of their whereabouts. They’re all spread thin and he doesn’t have the luxury to be looking for allies, but as he draws back his bowstring he finds himself searching the horizon anyways. There — to the east is Lorenz, summoning fireballs to blast away a few enemies. Not far off from him is Ferdinand, who seems to have a large gash running up his leg but continues to press his horse onwards anyways. But where is he? Claude continues to glance around, almost frantically, fingers tense from the pressure of his bow.
There. To the northwest, near Felix and Ashe, is Dimitri. He slashes through the enemy front lines with no hesitation, but even from here Claude can see his unsteady gait, his wavering form. He must have taken a pretty big hit to be faltering like that, and Claude’s heart seizes with a dull panic at the thought.
Concentrate and help where you can, a part of him mutters. He keeps watch, until his eyes catch the movement of an assassin coming up to attack Dimitri. Before he even realizes it his fingers release, arrow flying true and piercing the soldier right on their weapon hand. The knife in his hand drops, and Dimitri quickly turns around to cut him down, too.
His arms reach back for another arrow, only to be met with nothing. Shit. He licks his lips, and brings out his axe instead.
Claude has never liked fighting on the front lines — there's a reason why he likes to ride on his wyvern if he’s not in the backlines using his bow — but with no mount or ranged weapon at the moment, he has no other option. Without thinking, he turns to Dimitri’s direction. His legs pulse with adrenaline as he starts running, knocking back a few enemy soldiers in his way to his target.
Dimitri only greets him with a grunt once he arrives, and from here he can see an arrow poking out from his legs, along with multiple cuts along the unprotected parts of his armor. It isn’t anything serious, but it should still be painful as hell; he’s surprised that Dimitri is fighting as fiercely as he is, considering the fact.
Fucking rebels, Claude seethes, when did they get so many trained soldiers anyways?
He has no time to voice his question out loud, though. The enemy front line is beginning to thin, he notes. Victory is close, so they’ll only need to hold out for a little longer.
Claude never finds pleasure in killing, but even he has to admit that between the two of them, they make a fantastic pair on the battlefield. Despite the fact that Dimitri is heavily injured, and that Claude’s on his offhand weapon, they make quick work of any person foolish enough to challenge them. He feels safe, in a strange way, as Dimitri slashes through enemies that approach from his blind spot, and as Claude keeps an eye out for any other potential sneak attacks.
It isn’t long until the troops start to retreat, but to Claude, it feels like an eternity has passed. He lets out a breath he didn’t know he was holding, letting his axe fall from his hands.
Through the fumes of battle and the sweat dripping down from his face, all he can see is Dimitri. His leg is still very much bloody, and he has a few scrapes here and there, but overall he’s safe. He can’t begin to describe how relieved he feels. If there’s one thing that Claude detests about having a lover, it’s how much he worries about it — about others.
When he was young, Claude had never been rewarded for self-sacrificial behavior. His childhood had been a sort of ‘kill-or-be-killed’ situation, where caring for others was a weakness, not a strength. He learned how to fake a smile and hide a knife behind his back because most of the time, everyone else had a knife behind their backs too.
And every time he’s on the battlefield with Dimitri, a part of him remembers this. He remembers the nights where he would wake up to assassins holding a knife to his neck, the sharp sting of betrayal from his long trusted allies. He remembers the honeyed words people loved to lavish him with, only to have their calculating stares tear him down, brick by brick, until he learned how to build his walls high enough and retaliate.
(But also, he remembers newer memories: of Dimitri staying by his side, protecting him in battle. Of Dimitri bringing him tea and cookies while they studied together. Of all the times Dimitri finds Claude and loves him, despite everything he’s done to stay distant lest he get hurt.
And he can’t deny this feeling, anymore. Not when he looks into Dimitri’s eyes, or longs for his gaze, because the truth is that he cares, and it’s perhaps the most dangerous thing he’s done.)
And so, this is how it happens: Claude is thinking these thoughts, and Dimitri hesitantly smiles. “Well, that was something,” he hears himself say, but already, the enemy is moving, a fallen soldier thought to be dead. That’s a knife, he realizes too slowly, and he stands in stunned silence as years of self-preservation fly out his head and all he can do is think, oh shit.
Dimitri is quick to respond, but it’s still not enough — he pushes Claude away, the butt of his lance coming down to try and knock the soldier out, but the knife comes down and stabs him in the back. They both go down with a resounding crash, and Claude feels his heart drop.
“Shit, Dimitri, are you okay?” Claude asks, even if Dimitri is clearly not. He shoves aside the enemy soldier and kneels down to assess the damage. The wound is already bleeding profusely, which is bad enough, but there’s a real pain in Dimitri’s eyes that scares him — Dimitri has seen his share of injuries over the year, but he doesn’t think he’s ever sustained something as direct as this.
“I, uh,” Dimitri chokes out, “I wasn’t expecting that.”
“Right, right,” Claude murmurs, and shit, did he mention that there’s a lot of blood? Too much of it, really — an abnormal amount. He pales as he takes a closer look at the blade sticking out. Poisoned, probably. Faith has never been his strong suit, but even so he finds himself regretting his negligence on the subject. They needed a healer, and fast.
With no antitoxin or anything of the sort immediately on hand (this is the last time Claude will underestimate an enemy), there’s not much he can do. “This is going to hurt,” he says apologetically, before quickly ripping out the knife. He works as efficiently as he can, tearing off his sleeve and tying it around his body as a sort of make-shift bandage. Dimitri barely makes noise as Claude tends to him, but the dead-tight grip he has on himself betrays how much pain he’s in.
“I got you,” Claude whispers, and before he can think better of it, shakily kisses Dimitri’s forehead. The cloth is already soaked through. “Don’t worry, I got you…”
He doesn’t realize he’s rambling and shaking until Dimitri gently grabs at his bloodied hand.
Even now, must you treat me so kindly? He thinks.
“Claude, it’s fine. You’ll be okay,” he rasps, voice weak.
“But you won’t,” Claude shudders. Saying it out loud suddenly makes it so much worse. “This isn’t about me anymore. Dimi, you’re bleeding too much, we need to get — to get Mercedes, or Teach, or someone.” He raises his voice, looking around the empty field around them. “We need a healer, please!”
Dimitri smiles at him, then, and suddenly he knows that this image will haunt him in all his nightmares to come — his lover, bleeding out in his arms, red staining the grass around them, staring at him as if he’s the sun without realizing he’s burning in the process.
They need to move, before Dimitri really does bleed out. With as much gentleness he can conjure, he wraps Dimitri’s arms around his shoulder and lifts him up, scanning the field for any sign of his allies. Byleth had been to his right, was it? Why can’t he remember?
“Claude, there’s something I want to say…”
“No, stop, we’ll get you healed and you'll be up right away. Don’t say anything, shit, save your energy—”
“Claude, I need you to hear this before—”
“You can tell me about it later, once we’ve gotten you all patched up and ready to go again.”
“I lo—”
“Stop it, Dimitri,” he chokes out, feeling tears start in his eyes. “Tell me later. You can’t leave me. Not like this.”
Dimitri squeezes his hand, then, as if looking for his pulse. His heart beats so rapidly he’s sure it’s going to jump out of his chest, and then they’ll both be bleeding out on the battlefield, waiting at the mercy of the goddess for a safety that might never come. How pathetic would that be?
“Claude I—”
“I said to stop—”
“I love you,” Dimitri wheezes out. The world caves in.
“Fuck.” He feels like the words are being punched out of his lungs, one by one. “Dimitri, stay awake. Do not pass out on me okay? You cannot just — just leave after saying that.”
“I’m sorry,” Dimitri whispers, as if it’s his fault.
“Let me say it back. Okay, Dimitri? It can’t end like this. You’re better than that. You have to let me say it back.”
There’s no response.
Mercedes finds them a few minutes later, with Claude desperately dragging Dimitri to where he thinks the others might be. Even she blanches at the amount of red between them, and he’s glad no one else is around to see him basically grovel at her feet and beg for her healing.
Dimitri is taken away to a private medical tent, eventually. Later, Claude tries to recall the events as best as he can, but all he remembers is the stench, the bright crimson, and that crumbling smile against the deadened grass, dulled eyes framed by stringy hair.
Something resolves within Claude, then, as the crew slowly make their way back to the Monastery, victory bitter on their backs. He will not die, and he will not let Dimitri die either. Not until Claude can say those words back with confidence. Not until he knows that it’s safe to love, and in return be loved, without the threat of loss hanging over them like an executioner’s axe.
And when Dimitri wakes up a few days later, Claude is by his side to first provide him with water, and then to smack him in the head for his reckless behavior.
“Don't do that again, you hear?” Claude lectures, tone in between joking and serious. “You can’t be taking hits like that for me. You — I want to say it back, Dima. You’ll need to wait.”
It’s a selfish request, he knows, but Dimitri only blinks once before nodding in understanding. There’s a soft smile to his face, even now, not unlike the one he wore when he was minutes away from death.
“Then I’ll be waiting.”
✧༝┉┉┉┉┉˚*❋ ❋ ❋*˚┉┉┉┉┉༝✧
4.
Sometimes, they’ll end up sleeping together.
Claude means this in the most literal of ways. Everyone has nightmares, so neither of them think strangely of those off nights where they’ll randomly come into each other’s rooms and curl up next to a warm body, if only to get a few hours of sleep. Sylvain doesn’t even make a joke full of innuendos when they come out of a room together one morning, which really goes to say how fragile they must look.
At this point, they might as well start just sharing one room. Claude is tired of waking up sweating and scared and most of all alone, and perhaps it's a little too dependent or needy, but he’s denied himself so many pleasantries in life he can’t help but long for comfort. At least in the darkness of the night, there’s no judgemental eyes or strangers to worry about. It’s just the two of them, together.
Images from a vague nightmare flicker like an old tape behind his eyelids. He was being chased, or something, and maybe there had been blood — he’s not sure of the details anymore, but even so, that awful sensation still lingers in his bones, like poison in his veins.
Claude is walking towards Dimitri’s room before he even realizes it.
They’re both light sleepers, so even when he tries to be quiet about his entrance Dimitri is up immediately. He stays silent though, as Claude all but collapses into the space next to him, hoping that the soft moonlight doesn’t betray the shaking of his arms and the unsteadiness in his breathing.
The monastery’s beds are only made for one person, but they do their best to make it work. Claude is skilled in making himself fit in places he’s not supposed to be anyways.
It’s strange, in a way, how comforting a single person’s arms can be. He’s so used to keeping a distance from everyone, constantly trying to read the atmosphere, read the little smiles everyone loves to give him. He’s used to feigning his laughter while keeping close tabs on everyone’s likes, everyone’s preferences — people are less likely to betray you if you prove your worth, after all.
Yet with Dimitri, that overwhelming desire to please everyone around him always seems to fade away. It’s terrifying, when he thinks about how much power Dimitri has over him. It’s terrifying, when he thinks about how, despite his best efforts to keep him at arms length, Dimitri has nestled himself against Claude’s heart, his love and affection pulsing as steadily as his heartbeat, reminding him how to breathe at every moment of the day.
It’s terrifying, but also lovely. So Claude lets himself fall into Dimitri’s arms, fully, earnestly.
“I’ve got you,” Dimitri mumbles in his half-awake state, rubbing soothing circles into Claude’s back. “Come back to me.”
He’s shaking, still, but he feels calmer, safer, in Dimitri’s warm embrace. In the darkness, he imagines that the universe holds only them, like two stars orbiting around each other, hurtling through space by the sheer force of their gravity.
They lie together for goddess knows how long. Claude puts his head against Dimitri’s chest — perhaps it’s a little silly, but ever since that battle, he finds comfort in making sure his heartbeat is steady and strong. Dimitri chuckles knowingly, combing through Claude’s messy hair.
“And I thought I was the one who was haunted by ghosts.” Then, more seriously, “I won’t be dying anytime soon, Claude. You can rest easy.”
“I know,” Claude replies, keeping his ear to his chest. “It’s just nice to listen to.
“If you say so.”
Another silence envelops them. Claude is on the edge of sleep when Dimitri leans down, pulls him closer, and whispers as if his words are a secret from even the goddess herself — ”I love you so much.”
And Claude melts, gripping onto Dimitri like a lifeline.
Even if he’s not ready to say it back, Claude feels the overwhelming urge to show it. He looks up to Dimitri’s eyes and knows that even when closed, his gaze is brighter than any morning sky. He leans up — Dimitri isn’t that much taller than him now, but he’s most definitely been growing over the months (which is completely unfair, if you ask him), and kisses his cheeks, his forehead, like he does whenever Dimitri comes shaking into his room. He cups his cheeks and feels like he’s holding the entire world in his hands, and his heart vibrates with how much he wants.
He holds him there, until the darkness in his heart slowly melts away, and the only thing he can feel is Dimitri. His warmth. His comfort. His love, pouring out so steadily Claude can barely keep up with it all.
“Dima,” he starts, words at the back of his throat. His voice falters.
“It’s okay,” he whispers back. “I’m here.”
And so, this is how Claude falls asleep — holding onto Dimitri and praying that somehow, he can feel his heartbeat too.
✧༝┉┉┉┉┉˚*❋ ❋ ❋*˚┉┉┉┉┉༝✧
5.
Even if Claude has been in Fodlan for years now, he’s still not used to the cold that winter brings.
They’re marching through Faerghus territory to dispatch some bandits ( properly equipped now, mind you), and Claude wishes he had packed another jacket. Even with his thickest one on, he still finds his teeth chattering from the chilly air that sweeps past them. Up front, Professor Byleth is leading them all, looking unfazed as ever.
They had picked a strange selection of students, a mixture of all three houses, and sure enough Ashe and Felix from the Blue Lions seem to be just peachy in the weather, marching alongside Byleth with a carefree attitude. Claude notes that the Adestrian Empire’s winters must be decently cold as well, seeing that Edelgard, Dorothea, and Hubert seem to be rather unaffected.
He knows the Alliance is the warmest land of the three, so it’s no surprise when Hilda starts to complain about how cold she is, and why couldn’t they bring someone else? And of course, Lysithea begins to complain about Hilda complaining, as if she could hide how much she’s shivering under her coat. And Claude would probably be complaining about Lysithea complaining about Hilda complaining, if only for the hell of it, if he weren’t so indisposed himself. He’s sure that if he tried to speak, the chattering of his teeth would instantly give him away anyways.
Oh, and Dimitri is there too. He’s staying behind with Claude, and everyone is kind enough to ignore the fact that they’re basically glued to each other. In his defense, Dimitri started it, and at this point being cuddly with Dimitri in public doesn’t matter so much if he can just get warmer.
Although, staying so close also means that Dimitri can feel just how much he’s shivering. He manages to keep it relatively under control for about the first fifteen minutes of the trek before exposing himself with a goddamn sneeze of all things.
“Bless you!” Ashe calls from up front, ever the gentleman.
“Thanks,” Claude says, before sneezing again.
“Are you getting sick?” Lysithea asks, looking at him with a wary expression. “Don’t come near me if you are.”
Claude pouts, somehow keeping his expression intact despite the overwhelming need to hide his face into Dimitri’s fur coat. It just looks so warm. “Aw, I’m hurt. Shouldn’t you be comforting your house leader in his time of need? Where’s the respect, Lysithea?”
“I’ll break your kneecaps,” she warns, marching a little ahead.
Dimitri, on the other hand, lightly tugs on Claude’s sleeve with a concerned frown on his face.
“Are you alright? I could perhaps lend you some body heat—”
“You two are already sharing as much body heat as you can,” Dorothea quips. They both decide to ignore the comment.
“— or offer my jacket,” Dimitri continues, undeterred.
Claude tries not to shiver in anticipation at the idea. “Won’t you be cold?”
“I can handle it.”
And Claude, as disappointed as he is to say, is only a man. A man who is most definitely not built for such harsh weather conditions, and a man who is not foolish enough to deny such a wondrous opportunity when presented as so.
He only needs to hesitate for a second for Dimitri to start shedding his coat. As Dimitri drapes it over his shoulders, he practically melts into it; it feels like being wrapped up in instant heat, as if a piece of the sun had been broken off and given to him in the form of an oversized, bright blue, wooly coat.
...The metaphor sounded better in his head.
“Thanks,” he breathes, finally gaining some control over his chattering lips. Dimitri just grins at him.
“Anything for you, my love.”
No matter how many times he hears it, he can’t help but blush furiously at the words.
People always assume that since Claude likes to talk people up, and is very good at negotiating, he can flirt. The honest truth, though, is that he’s horrible at it. Using pet-names, initiating hand-holding, and all that cute couple stuff Dimitri seems to love — he feels like a fish out of water when it comes to such matters. He’s gotten a little better over the months, but still; he’s starting to look like a bad boyfriend, or something.
Everyone else, he thinks, acts as they should: he can practically feel Felix roll his eyes, and Edelgard looks over at the two of them with a slightly disdainful look – she’s holding hands with Dorothea, though, so why she’s judging them for blatant displays of their affection, he’s not sure. And Hilda, of course, fake-gags and covers Lysithea’s eyes while mock whispering, “Not in front of the children!”
“Fuck off,” Lysithea growls while shoving Hilda away. Dimitri looks disturbed, although if it’s from Lysithea’s profanity or Hilda’s dramatics, he’s not sure.
“You're embarrassing me,” Claude whispers, half in jest and half in seriousness. His ears are most definitely red now, and he can’t even blame it on the cold anymore. Dimitri, frustratingly enough, doesn't seem to be affected at all.
“Why? I love you. Am I not allowed to say it?”
And Claude thinks back to the first time Dimitri uttered those words, when he found Claude passed out at the library — back then, he had been a blushing mess himself, fumbling over his feelings as if they were a revelation.
None of those jitters from back then seem to be present now. He has an almost defensive glare in his eyes and holds Claude’s hands even tighter. The insecurity in his gaze isn’t from uncertainty in his feelings for Claude, he realizes. Dimitri is uncertain if he reciprocates as strongly as he does. And he wishes he could wipe that doubt away, wishes he had the strength to swipe Dimitri off his feet and kiss him with all the dramatics of those books Ashe loved to read.
He wishes he were brave, and as feeling slowly starts to come back to his fingertips, he thinks that maybe he can be. Just a little.
“Well… I’d like to hear it again, actually.”
“...I love you?”
The air leaves his lungs. Claude doesn’t think he’ll ever get tired of hearing those three words, a song made just for him. “Yeah, that.”
Dimitri smiles, then. “I love you.”
“...Mm. Me too,” Claude says, looking at anywhere but Dimitri. It’s the closest he’s gotten to actually saying it, and perhaps if they were alone under the bright winter sun, he would have.
But they’re not, and this time he sees Felix rolling his eyes at them as Hubert glares at them for no other reason than that he can. So instead, he laughs, smiling at Dimitri with a genuineness he saves for special occasions and special people, burying himself deeper into his coat.
It smells like his favorite thing in the world.
✧༝┉┉┉┉┉˚*❋ ❋ ❋*˚┉┉┉┉┉༝✧
+1.
This time, it’s Claude who finds Dimitri late at night.
The winter chill persists even at night, and although it isn’t nearly as cold as it is in Faerghus, Claude still brings out his blanket to keep himself reasonably warm. He had gone to Dimitri’s to bid him goodnight, only to hear from Sylvain that he had gone out for a late night stroll.
He’s not sure what makes him look for Dimitri. Usually, taking a walk means that he wants to be left alone, but recently Claude always finds himself gravitating towards him anyways. It’s as if Dimitri is his north star and Claude has been lost his entire life, and the only place that feels like home is in his arms. Or, it’s as if Dimitri is the sun, and Claude is just the planet that orbits around, forever pulled in by an invisible force.
When did I become such a romantic? He wonders idly, whistling as he makes his way through the monastery grounds. If younger Claude had known his older self would be waxing poetic prose about his lover, he would have laughed at himself.
He finds Dimitri sitting by the lake, feet barely skimming the water. His coat spreads out behind him like a regal carpet, fluttering slightly in the wind.
“Can’t sleep?” he calls out, taking a seat next to him. His own feet don’t quite reach the water, to his annoyance.
Dimitri only lets out a sigh, leaning in a bit closer to Claude. An invitation to stay, then. This isn’t the first time Claude has found Dimitri late at night, so he knows to fill the darkness with some mindless chatter.
He talks about his day. He talks about his latest work on his poisons. He talks about everything and nothing and all the things in between, even though he knows Dimitri isn’t really listening, mind far away in a place only he knows.
Claude hates that distant gaze, and most nights he knows he can’t do much about it. But, for some reason tonight, he feels like being bold.
“Come on, get up,” he starts suddenly, pulling at Dimitri’s hand. They must have been sitting for a while now, because his legs ache as he stands up.
Dimitri only looks up at him with a confused expression. “What?”
He smiles down at him, all teeth with a twinkle in his eyes. “Sitting around won’t distract us, now will it? And besides, the sky is particularly clear tonight. It’d be a waste to not look at the stars.”
Dimitri actually grins a bit at that, meaning he isn’t as gone as Claude thought. “So you admit this is a distraction?”
“Of course it is,” Claude says, winking. “But I wasn’t lying about the stargazing part. Let’s go.”
Silently, Claud leads them to the bridge. Maybe someplace more romantic, like the goddess tower, might have been better, but he likes the view from here more. Being able to see the massive, ancient monastery surrounding him, with open fields dropping down below — it’s almost freeing.
Claude whistles, looking up as he leans against the stone walls. “Wow. I dont think i’ve ever seen the sky so clearly. I bet you can even see Andromeda from here.”
Dimitri tilts his head. “Andromeda? I don’t think I’ve heard of that one before.”
Shit. “It’s, uh… a lesser known one.” If he were with anyone else, he would have just left it at that. But the words are out of his mouth before he even realizes it. “Where I grew up though, it was very popular. She featured in a lot of children’s fables.”
Dimitri stays silent. Claude takes a deep breath.
“But, enough about her. Do you know any other constellations?”
“Nothing that you would find interesting, I’m afraid,” Dimitri says after a short pause. “I only know the basic ones.”
“Hey, I’d still like to hear about them. I don’t know as much as you think I do.” At least, not when it comes to the stars in Fodlan, anyways. Then, softer, he goes, “Tell me about the stars, Dimi.”
And this time it’s Claude’s turn to be silent and stare as Dimitri hesitantly starts talking. “You see, there’s this one called Lupus…”
He wants to listen — really, he does — but Claude feels himself getting pulled into a lull by the cadence of Dimitri’s voice. His eyes shine brighter than the moon, arms gesticulating as he tells his story. Just looking at the tension in his shoulders slowly fade as he relaxes fills Claude with an indescribable sort of happiness.
“Hey, Dimitri?” Claude interrupts, breathless.
He turns to him with an inquisitive gaze. It burns through Claude, stripping him dry, until there’s nothing else he wants to say, needs to say, except —
“I love you.”
The words echo against his ears, resounding like a beating drum.
Dimitri looks like a deer in headlights at the sudden confession, and Claude would laugh if it weren’t for his own stuttering heart.
“Say it again,” Dimitri says suddenly.
“What?”
His expression is fierce, bold. He takes a step closer, and Claude inadvertently leans in. “Say it again.”
What? You didn’t hear it the first time? Claude wants to joke. Well, if you missed it, you missed it.
Yet, when he opens his mouth, all that comes out is his voice, loud and clear and pure — “I love you.”
Dimitri breaks into a smile, then, brighter than any of the stars above them. “I love you too,” he starts, breathless, and before Claude realizes what he’s doing, Dimitri sweeps him up and lifts him off the ground. He yelps, wrapping his arms around Dimitri’s neck as he starts to spin them around. It’s dizzying, it’s messy, but under the night sky he feels like he’s dancing.
“I love you!” Claude says again, just because he can. Dimitri just giggles from under him — honest to goddess giggles — and looks up at him with such adoring eyes that Claude is sure he’s going to die.
“You’re my brightest light, Claude.”
“Ahaha, alright, that’s enough,” he chuckles as Dimitri finally lets him back on the ground. He doesn’t let go of Dimitri, though.
“The kindest, most courageous—”
“That’s not—”
“The loveliest—”
“Aren’t I supposed to be comforting you? I —”
“The absolute best at—”
Claude shuts him up with a kiss. It feels like melting. It feels like he’s coming alive.
When they finally part, they’re both breathing heavily. “I’m sorry it took so long for me to say it,” he confesses, like one of his secrets laid out to bare. “I’m just — I think I was scared. I still am. I don't know how this is all going to end up in the future.”
“Claude…” Dimitri starts. Claude hushes him and smiles. It’s small and hesitant, but it’s real.
“But this feels right. I’m tired of waiting and I can’t hide it any longer. I really do love you, Dimitri.”
Dimitri just cups Claude’s face. His own smile is bright and wide, like an excited child’s. “I don’t think I’ll ever tire of hearing those words from you.”
“Then I hope there never comes a day where I can’t,” he says.
And it’s dangerous, he knows, to say such things. Claude has never been one to leave things to chance and this — this most certainly does. He’s got his own ambitions and dreams — ones that he might be killed for. Ones that could put even Dimitri in danger. Dimitri, who has his own set of problems to deal with, his own nation to rule in the future. Right now, a promise is as good as a curse.
But as they make their way back to their rooms, Claude is filled with an overwhelming confidence, an inexplicable urge to bet it all anyways. Dimitri is dangerous in that sense, but right now, he finds himself unafraid.
Unafraid, because Dimitri has become so much more than just a small crush, a hopeless dream. Unafraid, because he’s tired of waiting for the “right moment,” if such a thing exists. Unafraid, because he’s now realizing that he’s been thinking of the entire situation all wrong.
Loving Dimitri isn’t a risk, it’s a safety net.
And so, as they finally go to bed — still giggling like teenage idiots in love — he lets himself fall, fall, and fall, where all his walls are down and his heart is out for Dimitri to hold tightly, to protect.
I will create a future where we can be happy together, Claude resolves. There has to be a way to reach that sort of tomorrow.
“Can I hear it one more time?”
And Claude looks up from where he’s buried in Dimitri’s chest and licks his lips, putting all his hopes and dreams and determination into his voice for him to see.
“I love you.”
And he falls, where Dimitri’s grace catches him. |
Sebastian left in the morning to go back to the Chantry. Fenris was well enough to walk him to the door and say goodbye, and the two stood in the mansion's doorway in the morning sunlight.
“My door is always open if you need anything.” Sebastian said firmly. “Do not hesitate to call on me for assistance.”
“I do not wish to burden you.” Fenris replied quietly as he shifted from one foot to the other.
“It's no burden to care for a friend, Fenris.” Sebastian stated, gazing at Fenris intensely, as if he could unravel Fenris's secrets through sight alone. All Fenris could do was thank Sebastian, who, after another long, searching look, left for the Chantry. Fenris re-entered his home to eat breakfast. Sebastian's visit had given him a little more energy, and he felt better than he had yesterday. He was tired and sore, but he knew he could get through the day without too much hardship.
After breakfast he received a messenger from Hawke. Fenris recognized the winded boy as an elf from the Alienage. Hawke must have stayed with Merrill last night. The messenger quickly relayed his news, all the while casting uneasy glances at the looming mansion behind Fenris. He stated that Hawke was making a day trip to the Wounded Coast to take care of some slavers, and she wanted Fenris to come along. Fenris thanked the boy for running the message and dropped three silvers into his grubby palm.
“Thank you kindly, ser!” The boy stuttered out before turning tail and running. Fenris wondered what tale the lad would tell his friends. Not only had he spoken with the mysterious elf who lived in the haunted Hightown mansion, but the man paid him three silvers! No one would believe the boy, Fenris concluded.
Merrill scolded Fenris often enough for not caring for his people. As she had pointed out countless times before, he did not visit the Alienage, or attend elvhen ceremonies. But Fenris made sure that Hawke's messengers, usually elvhen children eager to for money in exchange for a small service, were well paid when he saw them. He had no high aspirations of restoring past glory- he had seen where that path ended in Tevinter. No, Fenris mused as he shut the front door and headed further into the cool mansion. Fenris preferred to survive and build a future, as ragged and worn as it was. He had enough troubles remembering his own past, why add on the histories of an entire race to his memory gap? He shook his head from his musings and recalled Hawke's message and request phrased as a demand.
Fenris was tired, but willing to go to the Wounded Coast to join a hunting party. He could take out his frustrations with his nightmares by destroying some slavers. And, if he was lucky, perhaps the exhaustion of battling on the coast would help him fall into a dreamless sleep. He took his sword and tucked some potions and grenades into the pouches around his waist before leaving his home to meet Hawke and her party.
“No.” Fenris hissed at Hawke when he arrived to their meeting place and saw the members of her group. Isabela, Hawke, and the mage. Anders. “I refuse.”
“Look, Fenris, Anders needs to be here today.” Hawke said firmly. “I need a warrior for this job, and Aveline told me you could use some cheering up so I'm bringing you along. The Wounded Coast is bad on the best of days. Anders has to be here with us.”
Off to the side the mage was arguing with Isabela, something about The Pearl and electricity and how his current responsibilities to his patients would not permit him to indulge in a tumble between the sheets, especially not with her. Isabela made a great show of pouting and being upset, but it was clear that neither the offer or the disappointed reaction were truly serious. The past was the past, and Isabela was only playing pretend. She may have had the mage years ago in a Ferelden brothel when he was wilder, but she hadn't had him as he was now. But Fenris had. At least, in his nightmares, he knew what the mage could be. Pliant, unresisting, gold-red hair spread across the surface of a wooden table or a cool stone floor...
“Keep him away from me, you understand?” Fenris muttered for Hawke's ears alone.
“I can't make promises, Fenris, but we should all be busy killing slavers. It's not like he can corner you and have his wicked way, right?” Hawke whispered back before turning to her other companions. “Alright, now that Fenris is here, we're moving out!”
Fenris did not tell Hawke that he no longer feared what the mage could do to him. Rather, he feared what he would do to Anders should they be alone. Fenris couldn't trust himself to not lash out at the man. He showed no restraint when asleep, how easy would it be to take and tear apart and hurt the mage when he was awake? Fenris made sure to keep his distance as Hawke engaged Anders in conversation at the front of their group. He was so fixated on paying attention to where the mage was in order to avoid him that he did not notice Isabela sidling up to him at the rear of their party.
“So... Fenris...” She drawled out near his ear when she was close enough to speak. “I hear Sebastian visited you last night. Did you manage to get him on his knees so he could pray to his Maker? Is he quiet when he worships or... vocal?”
“Sebastian is a friend, Isabela.” Fenris said firmly. “And furthermore, he is chaste.” Sebastian had helped him last night, and Fenris refused to associate sexual thoughts with his friend. Nothing happened, and Fenris would not stain those memories with sex.
Instead, Sebastian had listened and comforted Fenris by staying awake through the night and telling him stories. When he ran out of stories about his trip to Ostwick, Sebastian shared stories of his childhood, of happier times with his grandfather, and they talked until the sun rose and Fenris felt the danger of sleep had passed him by.
There was little that Fenris remembered of his own past before the markings were carved into him- a peal of childish laughter, the scent of lemons and the salty spray of the ocean, a woman's voice murmuring nonsense words- but listening to Sebastian's memories was a comfort to Fenris. He didn't have his own, but he could share in the memories of his companions. His friends. It was better than nothing.
“Besides that, I don't believe Sebastian is interested in men, even when he was...sexually active.” Fenris added as Isabela's smirk grew wider with Fenris's silence.
“I don't know about that. I've heard quite a few things about our prince-turned-priest. Things that would make your toes curl.” Isabela murmured, pressing her ample chest against Fenris's arm as they walked down the sandy sea shore.
“I would rather not know.” He stated, pulling his arm away from her touch. If it were anyone else, Fenris would be angered by their casual touches and sexual innuendo, but this was Isabela. And Isabela was Isabela- incorrigible but understanding. She would push, but she knew when to stop. Usually.
“Did he keep you up all night, praising the Maker?” She laughed loudly when Fenris grimaced at her words. It wasn't that the Starkhaven prince was unattractive, quite the opposite. But Fenris felt no desire for Sebastian, not like- he forced his gaze downwards. The mage looked as tired and haggard as ever, but even then he was as desirable as he was in those nightmares... more, even. Fenris avoided looking at him, just in case his lack of control extended to the waking world.
“We talked about his trip to Ostwick.” Fenris replied evenly. “There was no prayer involved.”
“Hmmmm, more's the pity.” Isabela drawled. “I wonder about his stamina, that's all. The priesthood is such a thankless calling, he must have a lot of endurance. And he was with you all night.” Isabela waggled her eyebrows, which drew a reluctant, small smile from Fenris. “So what really happened?”
“I was drunk. Sebastian kept me company.” Fenris said bluntly. He was so focused on Isabela's disappointed groan that he failed to notice the mage's irritated frown. “Nothing untoward occurred.”
“So nothing happened? At all?” Isabela pouted.
“No.”
“Not even a little bit of frisking?” She asked.
“Not in the slightest.” Fenris confirmed.
“No disrobing? Taking off the armor of the Chantry to slip into something more comfortable?” Isabela was practically pleading now.
“Andraste's knickerweasels, can't you drop the subject?” Anders burst out from his position at the front of the group with Hawke. “I don't want to know what Holier-Than-Thou is packing underneath the Maker's bride's face, thank you!”
“No imagination! For shame!” Isabela tutted and tilted her head closer to Fenris's, as if they were conspirators in some wild crime, or perhaps fishwives gossiping in the Lowtown market. “Don't worry, Fenris, we'll keep ourselves amused.”
“Entertain yourself. I am uninterested as well.” Fenris answered, and made to leave her in order to walk with Hawke's mabari, who could not speak Common and interrogate him. Isabela gripped his arm and held him back, her small, calloused hand warm on his elbow.
“That mannish bone crusher Aveline said you were sick, and Kitten told me you haven't slept well.” Isabela said lowly. “And frankly, if you were getting laid you wouldn't look half dead.”
“It is nothing for you or our companions to worry over.” Fenris muttered. “Forget it.”
“I was hoping, for your sake, that you were busy sweating out confessions with our priest, but evidently that's not true.” Isabela continued. “Then I thought, well, perhaps our prickly elf has been seeking comfort from more experienced hands. But you don't go to the Rose, or any brothel, unless you're with Hawke on a mission. And you know how those are-”
“Isabela-” Fenris growled out a warning. The mage kept glancing at them, obviously interested in the conversation, and Fenris couldn't stand how concerned he looked. The man should go away, leave before Fenris hurt him like he always did, Maker damn the nightmares.
“You go in expecting a good time and you end up with too many things stuck inside you. And not fun things, mind. Sharp pointy things that tear everything up and make messes, but I'm getting off topic.” Isabela shook her head, her earrings and necklaces jingling brightly. “So if it wasn't Sebastian and it wasn't a brothel that has been keeping our dear Fenris up so many nights, perhaps, I thought, he's found a sweetheart he keeps hidden somewhere, but no, Varric and I haven't heard any rumors and you know how we keep an ear out for these things.”
“Yes. I do.” Fenris grumbled. The mage was still listening, his head half turned to better hear the conversation over the wind and distance.
“Which leads us back to Sebastian, and you didn't sleep with him.” She finished her rambling.
“No. I did not.” He confirmed.
“So what are you up to that keeps you up at night?” Isabela mused.
“It is not something for you to worry about.” Fenris said quietly. “Let it be.”
“Who I worry about is my business, Fenris.” Isabela snapped back. “If you're sick you go to a healer! For the love of Andraste's granny-panties, even you can't hate Anders that much-”
“Isabela, stop harassing Fenris.” Anders interrupted, whirling around to address her. “He told me to keep my magic to myself. And unlike some people,” At this the mage gave the former pirate captain one of his severest glares, his bright amber eyes flashing in the sunlight. “I know how to respect boundaries.” He turned back around and marched to the front of the group to join Hawke, leaving Isabela steaming and silent and Fenris terribly confused.
The trip to the Wounded Coast was mostly uneventful. There was a slaver group, but they were easily dispatched with little issue before their party returned to the city. The mage returned to his clinic, Isabela to the Hanged Man. Fenris might have gone back home, but Hawke took his arm.
“Fenris, I wanted your advice on something.” She said vaguely, half leading, half dragging Fenris up to Hightown. “Isabela and I were having a debate about daggers a while back, and I want your opinion on the matter.”
Fenris could not find fault in Hawke's technique as they fought on the coast, but if she insisted... he let himself be led up to Hawke's mansion, where Hawke sat him down in the parlor and pulled a seat for herself and flopped down into the thick plush cushion of her armchair.
“This isn't about daggers and Isabela, is it?” Fenris asked after a minute of uncomfortable silence as Hawke sat and stared at him, her gaze too intense for a normal chat.
“No. It's not.” Hawke affirmed Fenris's question, her mouth a straight line that signaled her displeasure. They were silent again, Fenris waiting for Hawke to continue and Hawke waiting for... whatever it was she was waiting for. Eventually she sighed heavily and adjusted herself to sit deeper in her seat, but remained silent as they sat and the fire
“Is there a... problem?” Fenris eventually asked. Hawke frowned and crossed her arms.
“Yes, Fenris, there is a problem. A big problem.” She paused, letting her words sink in.
“Namely, it's you and your inability to take care of yourself.”
“Excuse me?” Fenris was surprised by Hawke's words. The woman was kind, and Fenris had come to admire her intelligence and big heart, but he never quite understood her need to interfere in the lives of others. Varric once jokingly described Marian Hawke as a professional busybody, but had turned thoughtful after he uttered the phrase, which Fenris took as a sign that it would someday turn up in one of Varric's tales.
“You know exactly what I mean!” Hawke said angrily, not catching Fenris's shocked expression as she stood from her chair and paced in front of her fireplace. Her mabari hound snorted and plodded away to find a less noisy place to rest. “You don't sleep, you hardly eat, you drink all the time, and then you disappear for days!” She growled in frustration, her hands expressively waving about in the air.
“It is not unusual.” Fenris stated. “I have been away before.” Usually he was working odd jobs, mercenary work and guarding cargo for coin when Hawke was busy with her own tasks.
“And we can usually find you when you're gone, or at least have an idea of where you've been! You made Merrill cry, Fenris!” Hawke exclaimed.
“It was not my intention to alarm the wi- her.” Fenris replied. “It's not as if we are close.”
“She was convinced it was all her fault that you disappeared, Fenris!” Hawke said. “Of course she cried! Andraste's flaming tits, Fenris, I might've cried too if Aveline didn't find you!”
“I apologize.” Fenris said softly. Stubbornly cheerful Hawke wasn't the type of person to cry. To think he upset Hawke so deeply... it was a surprise. He never meant for that to hurt her.
“You better.” Hawke muttered. Her shoulders slumped. “I just... I've lost my family, Fenris. I don't want to lose my friends too.” Fenris scowled at his feet. His dreams had gone beyond terrorizing him. Now they were bothering his companions with their destructive effects.
“I'm sorry.” Fenris said quietly. “I didn't mean to alarm you. Any of you.”
“Merrill said you weren't sleeping well, and Varric told me you were shopping around for a healer, and Anders was so tight lipped.... then Aveline said you were drunk and haven't been taking care of yourself...” Hawke sighed and leaned against the fireplace mantle. “We care, Fenris. All of us do. Let us care for you.”
“I... thank you, Hawke.” Fenris whispered. Hawke's mabari wandered over and flopped his large head onto his lap, gazing up at Fenris with pleading dark eyes. Fenris placed his hand on the dog's head and scratched. His stubby tail wagged quickly in response, and Fenris smiled. He had friends who cared for him, and even Hawke's mabari cared. Mabari were always said to be intelligent creatures, and Fenris was rather fond of Hawke's dog. The dog approved of him.
“You're welcome.” Hawke replied. “I'd be really grateful if you'd tell me what's wrong. Even a little bit. We can help.”
“I can't... I can't tell you, Hawke. I don't understand it myself.” Fenris said vaguely. “I will resolve it myself in time.” What sort of help could Hawke give him? What could help him? He was no closer to fixing it now than he was when the nightmares first started.
“Well, shit.” Hawke muttered under her breath.
“What?”
“Umm, well, Fenris.” Hawke said hesitantly, biting her lower lip. “Please don't get mad at me.”
“I won't.” Fenris promised. He could never stay angry at Hawke.
“I wrote Bethany. I thought she might have some advice to help you sleep, since she's in the Circle and has so many books on magic and shit.” Hawke shrugged awkwardly. “I got her letter this morning. I should give Thrask something, he got it past that Knight-Captain. Cullen, right?”
“You did what?” Fenris asked, completely shocked that, not only did Hawke have a message smuggled into the Gallows for his sake, but her sister Bethany broke the rules and responded. They put themselves at terrible risk to do something so incredibly foolish. He wished they hadn't done it.
“I wrote Bethany. She said that there are plenty of reasons why you could be having trouble sleeping. She wrote down a recipe for a sleep potion.” Hawke replied. “Anders can brew it, or we can get someone else if you want.”
“I... thank Bethany for me.” Fenris said politely. Bethany was as generous as her older sister, and Fenris could admit that she was the first mage he hadn't feared. She was powerful, but she never wanted to hurt others. She was a stronger person than Fenris. If anyone could solve the mystery behind his nightmares, it would be Bethany.
“She really thinks you should speak with Anders about it. I have to agree.” Hawke's expression was serious. “He's a good healer, Fenris, and he's worried about you.”
The mage? Worried? Over him? It was easily the most bizarre thing to fall out of Hawke's mouth. He couldn't have been more surprised, even if Isabela suddenly declared that she was renouncing her wanton ways in order to become the next Divine. Fenris was not worthy of the mage's worry or pity, not after what he had done to the man almost nightly in his dreams. But Hawke looked like she would drag him to the mage's clinic should he outright refuse to see him.
“Let me... let me think on it, Hawke.” Fenris said, scratching the mabari's head. “I am grateful. To all of you.”
“Fenris, please tell me what's going on.” Hawke pleaded, walking over and placing her hand over his. “You can't live like this. Aveline was right when she said you're nothing but skin and bones. We can all see it.”
“I'm sorry, Hawke. I can't.” Fenris said, his voice strained. “I just... can't. Don't ask me this.” He couldn't tell anyone. What could he even say? That he had nightmares where he tortured one of her closest companions, a man who was almost too empathetic for his own good? How could he tell her that, let alone explain himself? Fenris knew he couldn't.
“Will you at least stay for dinner, then?” Hawke asked. “Merrill's coming by, and Orana's made this roasted goat and vegetable stew.... it's really good!” He didn't doubt it. Hadriana's former slave was eager to prove her worth, and even more eager to earn money for the light work she did at the mansion. She usually packed food for “Lady Hawke” to bring on her trips, food that Hawke always shared.
“I won't impose on your meal.” He insisted. A private meal between lovers was not meant to be shared, especially with him.
“You're not imposing. Merrill and I would love to have you here for dinner, Fenris. That's all I ask.” Hawke's eyes matched her mabari's pleading gaze, and Fenris found that couldn't refuse her.
“Very well, Hawke. I shall join you and Merrill for dinner.”
Merrill came to the estate for dinner, and was delighted to see Fenris. He found it somewhat alarming. She rushed up to him the moment she saw him standing near the fireplace, and for a few terrifying moments Fenris was certain she'd launch herself at him and hug him. She nearly threw her arms around his shoulders. But she held back at the last moment and instead awkwardly stood near him, her hands hovering anxiously over him, wanting to check him over but not willing to do so without his express permission.
“Oh, Fenris! I'm so sorry, I should have offered to make a potion for you when you asked for help, I've been a terrible friend to you. Ir abelas, lethallin.” She had said, her large eyes full of tears. Fenris shuffled his feet and politely told her it wasn't her fault. Merrill opened her mouth to say more, but the dinner bell rang and they joined Hawke in the dining room.
Dinner was a culinary success but a conversational failure. Merrill and Hawke carried the conversation, and Fenris occasionally offered his own input. Merrill kept apologizing for not looking out for him, Fenris kept reassuring her that she did nothing wrong, and Hawke kept trying to get Fenris to tell her what was wrong with him, which only made him more uncooperative. Conversation was poor, to say the least.
Orana was delighted that “Ser Fenris” was staying for dinner, and had created many dishes to tempt him into eating. Fenris was partial to the vegetable stew and a strange, savory dish that contained leeks, cheese, and apples. Later, after dinner and conversation were over, Orana refused to let him leave the home without a loaf of fresh bread and several apples left over from the larder. He left Hawke's mansion well fed but full of anxiety, and faintly heard Merrill speaking with Hawke at the doorstep.
“You don't think we should go after him, ma vehnan?” Merrill asked her lover.
“Fenris is being Fenris. We'll wait for him, it's what he wants.” Hawke had replied.
Fenris was now curled up in the center of his bed, staring at the fireplace. Sleep was necessary, he knew that, but he dreaded what awaited him once he closed his eyes and let his mind wander the Fade. Maybe they were right. Maybe he should speak to Anders. Fenris would do it tomorrow, he decided, when the sun was high and he could not sleep. He resolved to sleep tonight, to find what rest he could, and to pay close attention to all aspects of his nightmare. Anders was a skilled healer, he understood how bodies and minds worked, and Fenris could almost convince himself that he could trust the man. The mage had offered him aid before, had defended his privacy multiple times, and all their companions vouched for him... yes, Fenris decided. He would speak with the mage. Tomorrow, he thought as he stared through the holes in his ceiling into the night sky filled with twinkling stars. Tomorrow... tomorrow....
He was asleep before he was aware that he had shut his eyes.
Cold stone and flickering torchlight greeted Fenris's eyes when he next opened them, and he braced himself for whatever horrible thing would happen next. What would he force the mage to endure? What would Hadriana entice him to do to an innocent? How much blood, real or imagined, should stain his hands before he could truly be free of these shackles?
When nothing came for him, not the quiet sobs of the mage or the cold laughter of Hadriana, or even the soft, calculated chuckle of Danarius, Fenris looked up. Was he alone? No, no he was not. The mage was sitting on the edge of a cot, dressed in a linen robe, bare feet firmly planted on the ground. His hands were clasped together, his elbows resting on his knees. He was hunched over, face pointed to the ground. His limp hair covered his face and expression.
There were no chains, and he could see no guards or lock on the door. Fenris cautiously stepped forward, towards the mage, who did not react.
“Mage? Mage, I'm sorry.” He whispered, voice shaking nervously. “I've... I've done you a terrible wrong. But we can escape, you and I. Leave this place. You deserve better than this.” The mage did not respond.
“I was wrong about you.” Fenris admitted. “You aren't an abomination, not truly. I have seen worse in Tevinter. You are a fool, but not a monster. Not... not like me.” He reached out to grasp the mage's hand, thought better of it, and pulled away. “I swear that I shall make this right. Even if it kills me I shall make it right.”
“There is no need.” Anders responded, voice curiously flat.
“There is every need! I have... the things I have done.” Fenris's voice broke, and he stopped speaking.
“I remember them. But it is done with.”
“Mage, what are you saying?” Fenris could not believe what he was hearing. Even if it was an Anders who lived in dreams, Fenris knew the man held grudges. These were not actions that could be easily forgiven or forgotten, and the mage had dismissed them so easily. Too easily.
“It is the past.” Anders kept his head down, and Fenris knelt by his side.
“Why won't you look at me?” Fenris asked. When Anders lifted his head it felt as if he had been punched in the gut.
“It doesn't hurt.” Anders said serenely as Fenris stared, horrified, at the burnt sun emblem in the center of the mage's forehead. The Mark of Tranquility.
“Who did this?” Fenris breathed, horror and rage coursing through his body. It wasn't real, it wasn't real, it wasn't real- but that mark stood out, red against pale flesh, and it was real enough. “Anders, who did this to you?”
“I had it performed earlier.” Hadriana's voice echoed through the small cell. “He was far too loud and it annoyed me. Now he'll be quiet when you do your work.” Hadriana's dark lips quirked up into a self-satisfied smirk. “Shall we begin?”
“No.” Fenris responded. “No.”
“Oh don't be recalcitrant now.” Hadriana mocked. “I know how you desire him. You were so eager yesterday... how many times was it, Fenris? Three? Four?”
“Six.” Anders said with no inflection in his voice. “You stopped him after that.”
From far away, Fenris heard someone release a tortured scream, but it wasn't until he had his arm halfway through Hadriana's chest that he realized the sound came from his own throat. He tightened his bare hand around Hadriana's heart, the flesh surprisingly warm before he ripped it out of her chest.
“You will never lay a finger on him again.” Fenris growled out, but Hadriana's hands gripped his arm and kept him from removing his hand from her chest. Her blue eyes glowed with an unnatural power as she began to laugh a long, drawn out, hacking sort of laugh.
“You may tear my body apart, here and in the waking world.” She hissed out, blood dribbling out of the corner of her mouth. “Tear it like some cheap costume. But I'll never truly die.” She patted his cheek with one cold hand, an almost motherly gesture that horrified Fenris. “Another shall take my place, and another, until you succumb. There is no place you can rest, no place you can run to, where we won't find you-” The rest of her speech was garbled as more blood spilled and she collapsed on the floor, finally dead.
Fenris fell as well, and crawled to where the mage sat on the cot, serene and still. Fenris placed his head on the mage's lap and sobbed like a child. The mage's hand patted Fenris's head, a hollow gesture of consolation.
“I'm sorry, Anders. I'm so, so sorry.” Fenris managed to sob out.
“It is better this way.” Anders replied, still patting Fenris's head. “I am no longer a danger. Isn't it better? I will not hurt anyone, and I will be less trouble.”
“No. I did not mean for this to happen.” Fenris murmured. “Not to you. Not to anyone.” He was resolved now. He knew what he must do. He dried his tears and looked up at the blank face of the mage, igniting his markings one last time.
“I am sorry, Anders. Forgive me.” He whispered as he reached his hand into the mage's chest and-
Fenris woke up. |
The carriage had arrived and the luggage brought up to the House – it would be a disservice to call Kholinar Court, with its long curving drive, cultivated gardens, fancifully mismatched architecture, and parade of servants waiting outside the front door to greet them, a mere house. It was a House, a Grand House, one of the ten in this country; Shallan hadn't the fortune to see any other for herself, but she could not imagine a House grander; Dun McValam was a quaint folly in comparison.
She had, with the help of a housemaid, changed from her hard-wearing travelling clothes in muslin and wool to the best she had for now – a blue silk dress from home she had, on a bit of whimsy, embroidered on the skirt and hem with mathematically inspired designs. The current Duke and his younger brother were bachelors; the House had not seen a feminine touch since the death of the Duke's mother ten years before: the Prince their father had not seen fit to remarry, and thus the House had gone without lady-in-waiting or lady's maid for a decade now.
Shallan was used to dressing herself and the housemaid unused to dressing another. She had crouched down on the floor in front of the mirror to lace herself up as she did at home; she'd found that it was easier to settle the layered underskirts in place whilst lying on her back, but a timid false-cough from the maid had reminded her that she would now have to rely on others – one habit with which she was haltingly unfamiliar. The dress was cut simply and more suitable for a burgher's wife than a noble lady; it was designed so that one could dress and dress alone. Shallan decided then that she would gleefully welcome the label of “eccentric” if it meant not having strangers' cold fingers wandering over the bare skin of her back.
***
Shallan had not attended many formal dinners before, but she could not say that this one had been a success. The servants had made an effort, yes – that could not be disregarded. There must have been an intense debate downstairs over how to arrange the seating; everyone who aspired to call themselves well-bred and had read a manual on etiquette knew that in hosting mixed company – which they were, and none of the three of them wed – you alternated gentlemen between the ladies and made up the difference with obligation-invitations when you found your number woefully uneven. But Countess Jasnah, though the rank of her peerage was the lesser of her cousins, was Family, and with the Duke currently absent, the highest in precedence at the table. So Jasnah had been seated at the head of the table but not on the Duke's personal chair, with Shallan on her left and Doctor Kaladin at her right. This made his seat directly opposite Shallan's, and implied that his status was not just of trusted Family or personal retainer, but an associate considered almost socially equal. How very puzzling.
She had observed that they seemed to use more elaborate settings than perhaps Doctor Kaladin was used to; they were also, though it wouldn't do to point it out, more elaborate than what she herself was accustomed. She watched Doctor Kaladin heft the cutlery in his hands as the first course was brought in and served from the left elbow; neither she nor Jasnah addressed the servants but Kaladin murmured his thanks.
“They're aluminium plated, you know,” said Kaladin. “They're lighter than the silver set and do not polish up to so high a shine.”
Shallan looked at the fork in her hand. The handle had been cast with the shape of a shield at the end, with the tower-and-crown embossed in relief.
“I know,” she said. She did not use her exaggerated country milkmaid's accent this time. “I once had a necklace made of aluminium links. It was very light for its size.”
“Had? What happened to it?”
“We sold it. It was quite pretty, but after using this aluminium fork, I am glad we did. Aluminium appears to have no taste so I cannot regret that we chose food over it.”
Shallan met his eyes and smiled politely, trying to look as nonchalant about it as she wished she really was. It seemed to work; Kaladin looked away and stabbed the filet of sole with his aluminium fork. Ah, she thought, now I see: when that man is kept off-balance he cannot sustain the ill-humour necessary for his outward unpleasantness.
Countess Jasnah, noticing a lull, cleared her throat, then engaged him in a conversation over the use of indentured labour that the civilians of the losing side were fated to when they were conquered by the Anglethi. Jasnah was of the opinion that the vast numbers of the indentured would lead to some sort of a rebellion or uprising in the near future; Doctor Kaladin believed that the labour they provided lessened the burdens on the native Anglethi working class.
Shallan did not have an opinion. These indentured “marshpeople” were relatively uncommon in her northern homeland. Their contracts were bought and sold and her father, Laird Davar, had a few of them: she could not remember that they had been differently or worse treated than any other menial. They were not family retainers, of course, nor could they claim the rank of servant, who were obliged the few rights a patron-employer was law-bound to respect. Their contracts had later been auctioned off with most of the other Davar liquid assets.
The discussion grew heated, and Shallan did not volunteer a remark, nor were any inquiries on her opinion offered. Shallan observed that Countess Jasnah and Doctor Kaladin had lapsed with their formal address; from what she had learned of Jasnah over the months they had worked and travelled together, she could see that the Countess was pleased to finally have a conversational partner her equal in intellect. Jasnah had attempted to debate with Shallan in the past – to while away the days on the Wind's Pleasure – but Shallan was non-confrontational in her temperament; her disinterest in assertive argumentation drove Jasnah to seek stimulus, unsuccessfully, elsewhere. Though Kaladin's view of the marshpeople was what Jasnah considered banally populist, he was undoubtedly widely-read and well-spoken; that almost excused his disagreeable sympathies with the lower classes.
It was with grateful appreciation that Shallan accepted an escort to the retiring room when the last course had been served. Countess Jasnah and Kaladin had elected to stay at table, and the servants, unwilling to interrupt their debate, had continued pouring drinks and refreshing the platter of cheeses and dried figs. She was certain they were listening avidly to the debate and the main points would be parroted downstairs later; they would, assuredly, support Doctor Kaladin's sentiments that the foreigner marshpeople working in mines prevented the same fate being forced onto good honest Anglethis.
The retiring room was decidedly masculine in its furnishings. Glassy-eyed hunting trophies decorated the wall – buffalo and crocodile and peculiar crab-things were more common than deer. Even as it lacked the tartan lap rugs or carved bog monsters of home, the wooden panelling and warm yellow lamps reminded Shallan comfortingly of her father’s house, with the added benefit of her father not being there.
“Shall I bring you some tea, my lady?” asked the footman who had shown her in. He was now throwing another log into the fireplace. “The ladies’ parlour was ordered mothballed after … ahem … and we were never given any orders to the otherwise. The butler said we daren’t risk it with the Duke away, but we should make you feel comfortable as best we can. If there’s anything at all, my lady.”
“Can you bring me the book I left on the nightstand in my room?” said Shallan. Jasnah had given her a list of readings that she had forced herself to plough through on the journey, and if she had the opportunity now to indulge in some pleasure reading without the Countess impatient at her shoulder, she should not hesitate to take it.
“Very good, my lady,” came the reply.
If only all of the Duke’s creatures were as amenable.
And thus Shallan found herself in a corner of the room, reclining with a book while a pot of tea sat snugly in its cosy on the low table. It was quite comfortable; solitude without the constant rattle and shake of carriages was a novelty that she was eager to reacquaint herself with – preferably with good company that lacked the ability to speak. It was to the turning of pages, the warmth and stillness, and the soft, rhythmic ticking of the wall clock that she drowsed and finally lapsed into the contented ease of sleep.
***
The door of the retiring room opened, there was the heavy tread of feet, and then the door closed with a snap.
Shallan awoke. Her body was held in peaceful paralysis; her mind was soft and dazed with the stupor of nameless interrupted dreams; the book lay with pages down on her chest. She was on her back on the three-seater sofa and there was someone in the room with her. No, she thought, as her befuddled mind swum slowly back out of the serene depths and into consciousness – there was more than one person in the room.
“…You’re late; they’ve all gone to bed by now. We were expecting you hours ago.” That was Doctor Kaladin. No-one else had that – she fumbled for the appropriate description – annoyingly derisive tone in their speech, as if somehow he knew and flaunted the secret that exempted him from the unspoken rules of social conduct that held the rest of the civilised world in their sway.
“I was delayed, you see,” she heard. This was an unfamiliar voice that spoke with the refined enunciation of the properly educated. Although this man’s manner of speech was gentlemanly and his delivery confident, she could hear no sign of Jasnah’s aristocratic imperiousness in it.
“You should have sent word.” Very curiously, Kaladin had managed to sound more concerned than irritated.
“I was on my way here but my royal aunt intercepted me with a summons to view her new Shardcannons,” came the voice again. “Apparently they're some sort of shrapnel artillery device, very useful for repulsing infantry, with some interesting naval applications as well. But I had to detour to a rather remote paddock at Kholinshire Park where they had them set up for testing.
“Would you pour me a drink? The Tokaj – no, not that one. The yellow one in the round bottle with the wolf’s head stopper. Good man; have some yourself.”
There was a clink of glasses, then a glug as the wine was poured, and a tap as a glass was placed on a table. There was a step, step, step as Kaladin started pacing near the drinks cabinet and side bar; Shallan could see his feet move back and forth from under the legs of the sofa. Should she announce her presence? Was it better to lay quietly and wait for them to leave? They need never know she was here: the sofa’s back faced the door and hid the tea tray on the low table. She was, however, curious about the voice. She slowly bunched up her skirts and tucked them between her thighs to prevent a rustle from giving her away, and sat up, peering over the edge of sofa.
Doctor Kaladin paced by the wall. The second man was sitting in a winged armchair by the fire, in waistcoat and shirtsleeves, his coat draped over the chair’s back. He was more sprawling than sitting, his legs hooked over the leather upholstered arm of the chair. Such a posture, especially in the presence of company, would have been deemed shockingly indecent in the north – both men and women in Shallan’s homeland wore skirts. But this was a well-proportioned Anglethi man; he wore trousers, and his rolled up sleeves revealed tanned arms firm with muscle. He had a handsome, open countenance; his features were pleasant and symmetrical. He was fairer of skin and appeared to lack the acerbic temperament with which Doctor Kaladin was chronically afflicted. His hair was a queer blond colour – somehow striped, and much too short to tie up in a tail that was the fashion for modern gentlemen. It was not short enough, either, to be mistaken for a soldier’s or worker’s crop; it tumbled softly halfway down his forehead and was trimmed tightly in the back, leaving his neck bare.
“…Anyway, Parliament won't support Father – Ruthar has roused the Opposition and deadlocked us. The other Dukes refuse to say yea or nay whilst the Crown – as usual – has yet to make up its mind…”
Shallan carefully adjusted her position on the sofa, pulling her legs up. She was not careful enough. The sofa, with its antique wooden frame, creaked.
Storms.
“…Father was depending on Lord Torol to back us ... but Father is Father and he expects more of people than they are ever likely to—”
“What was that?” said Kaladin.
Shallan quickly yanked her skirts out from under her legs from where they were pinned, and lay back. She closed her eyes, threw an arm over her face; as an afterthought, she placed her book open on her chest.
There were footsteps, drawing near. Not a moment too soon. She didn’t dare to try and peek through her lashes; their nervous flutter would give her away.
“It’s the girl.” That was Kaladin.
"ls it her? Storms, it is! Pretty, but rather fragile looking, she is. Wouldn't you say she's delightfully delicate? Should we wake her?”
“Delightful? Delicate? She is anything but! I struggle to find words to describe her other than ‘utterly unsuitable’. I trust your judgment to be sounder on the matter of horseflesh than maidenflesh: the former, at least, would give you a ride without a throw; look at her – she is skinny and speckled like a frog.”
“These days, I am under the impression my dearest father would accept a frog as a daughter-in-law without complaint,” the blond man replied.
“Would you accept one?” said Kaladin, charming as ever.
“If a kiss could prove a Scottish frog a princess, I would have no cause for regret. Summon a servant for her, then, Kal. I am going up.”
She heard the clink as he placed the wine glass on the tea tray. There were footsteps drawing farther away, then the sound of the door opening and closing with a final click.
“I know you’re not asleep,” said Kaladin. “Sleeping people don’t hold their breath like that.”
Shallan didn’t move.
The wine glass was picked up, she heard a gulp, and it was set back down again.
“Go to bed. I’m sure you’ve done enough sneaking about to easily find your own room from here.” |
Katsuki was going insane.
Why was his soulmate always like this? Katsuki took a deep breath. He liked that Deku always threw his all into everything he did.
But….
All throughout dinner last night, and all morning long, the nerd had been staring at him. Staring at him and writing in a new notebook. And not just any notebook. No, Deku was using the All Might notebook Katsuki had gotten him for the nerd’s tenth birthday—the one he had said he was saving for something special.
What the fuck was the nerd up to? Though, given their conversation yesterday, Katsuki wasn’t sure he wanted to know.
Katsuki drummed his fingers against the desk, looking out the window and trying not to pay attention to Deku’s eyes boring into the back of his skull.
All of the extras were talking about the news report on USJ, only a couple of them glancing toward Katsuki nervously when the deaths came up.
Fuckers could think whatever they wanted. Katsuki would be the best hero ever, with Deku right at his side.
Tired of dealing with this shit, Katsuki pulled out his headphones, slipping them over his head and falling into the music.
He managed to get through several songs and ignore everything around him until Deku’s pencil jabbed between his shoulder blades. Katsuki pulled the headphones down, annoyed, but then he noticed fucking Eraserhead walking into the room.
What the fuck was their sensei doing in school already?! The man looked like a damn mummy!
He was in the middle of talking… something about a fight not being over?
Oh.
A slow smirk spread across Katsuki’s face as the rest of the class cheered.
The sports festival.
Here was his chance to prove that he really was number one! Katsuki would fucking dominate. He had to. Katsuki would win, Deku would get second, and they would get internships with one of the top hero agencies and take their first step to becoming the best heroes.
This was their chance to prove that they really were the best. That they’d gotten in as the top two students for a damn good reason.
Aizawa-sensei left quickly after announcing that the sports festival, and Katsuki hoped that the interesting morning meant that the rest of the day would be good, but no. The morning was boring as shit.
And Deku wouldn’t. stop. staring.
Katsuki had hoped that the nerd would at least stop while he was at lunch eating with the shitty extras, but no. Even though Brain Fucker had joined them, Deku was still staring at Katsuki.
Katsuki wanted to bang his head against the damn table.
Did the shitty nerd have to stare at him so damn much? Katsuki could feel his damn eyes watching him all across the fucking cafeteria!
Katsuki growled, shoving food into his mouth.
“Uh… man, is there, umm…” Shitty Hair glanced between Katsuki and Deku. “You two seem better than you were on Monday, but is there a reason Midoriya’s been staring at you so much today?”
“You noticed it, too?” Raccoon Eyes waved her hands around, “I thought it was just me!”
Katsuki rolled his eyes, “You’d have to be a fucking idiot not to notice it.”
“Eh?!” Pikachu looked between the three of them, obviously confused. “Midoriya’s been staring at Bakugou?” He glanced over to where Deku was still staring, though he was tapping his pencil on his cheek, now, and not scribbling furiously. Whatever the hell that meant.
“So…” Raccoon Eyes leaned in, grinning at Bakugou. “Why’s he staring? Oh! Does he like you or something?”
“Fuck no!” Katsuki glared at the girl. He fucking wished.
“Awww…” Raccoon Eyes actually fucking pouted. What the hell?
Shitty Hair laughed, scratching the back of his head, “I mean, there have to be other reasons why you’d stare at someone, right?”
The three of them stared blankly at him.
“Eh?” He looked between them, “You can’t think of any?”
“Maybe if you’re mad at someone?” Raccoon Eyes twirled her hair. “But Midoriya-kun doesn’t seem mad.”
“Oh! Maybe he’s drawing Bakugou!” Pikachu grinned, “You stare at people as you draw them, right?”
“Hey, you’re right!” Raccoon Eyes grinned, “He’s been working on something in that journal all day, too!”
“Deku can’t draw worth shit, dumbasses.”
The girl immediately pouted, hesitantly asking, “He could be trying to learn?”
Katsuki just ignored her, shoving more of the bento into his mouth.
Shitty Hair groaned. “Come on, man. You obviously have a better idea than we do. Could you at least give us a hint or something? It’s kinda weird.”
“Fuck off.” Katsuki glared at the red head. “And I don’t damn know, ok? Last time he was like this we were fucking four and he was analyzing my quirk.”
“Awwww!” Raccoon Eyes grinned, leaning forward over the table. “That’s adorable! I can totally picture that!”
Katsuki stared at her, confused. She could picture it? But she didn’t even know what they looked like when they were that damn young.
“Dude, I still think it’s really awesome that you two have been together that long.” Pikachu shrugged, “I moved around too much growing up to have a friend like that. But your moms are so tight, you two even went home together on Monday! Like, jeez, dude. You weren’t kidding when you said your moms are close.”
Katsuki glared at the guy, “Why in hell would I joke about that?”
Shitty Hair laughed, but it was hollow sounding, “I don’t know, man, but you two had me really worried Monday, and the car thing just made me more so. I mean, I get that you probably wouldn’t fight with your moms there, but…” Shitty Hair rubbed the back of his neck uneasily, “You looked like you were about to blow up the car, man.”
Fuck, that car ride had been miserable. Of course Deku wouldn’t start any shit with Auntie there, though, just like Katsuki wouldn’t dare yell at him, then. Especially with Auntie already upset. Katsuki shrugged, then tried to divert attention away from the fact that they’d gone home in the same car. “We live close by each other, so it saves gas if we carpool. And it’s not like Auntie could drive, with how much she was crying.”
Raccoon Eyes was nodding, “It was really sweet of your mom to drive, then!”
Sweet. His mom. Right.
“I’m just saying, man, you were really mad at Midoriya on Monday.” Shitty Hair grinned at him, “I’m glad you two worked it out.”
“Tch.” Katsuki moved around the asparagus, searching for the last piece of meat. “It was hard not to after the shitty nerd broke into my damn room despite all the weights I put behind my fucking door.”
“You did what?” Shitty Hair stared at him, incredulous.
Raccoon Eyes shook her head, “More importantly, he did what?!”
“What the heck, dude?” Pikachu dropped his chopsticks. “What kind of lives do you two live where that’s apparently normal?”
Katsuki raised an eyebrow. He really wasn’t sure why this was such a big deal. “Normal ones? He has a strength enhancing quirk. A door alone wouldn’t stop him.”
Raccoon Eyes waved her hands around, “Or how about you just don’t use your quirks on each other? Like, you know, most people? I mean, I used my acid some when I was little, but I’d get grounded for like, a month, if I used it now to break into my younger siblings’ rooms.”
Katsuki growled, “We don’t use our damn quirks on each other.” He paused, annoyed. “Except for Deku sometimes when I want to escape a shitty situation and he won’t fucking let me.”
Shitty Hair whistled. “Right. Ok. So… I take it that happened a bit this weekend after he broke into your room, then.”
Katsuki rolled his eyes, “Fucking genius detective work right there.”
Pikachu stared at him, his mouth wide in shock. “And you still didn’t hit him with an explosion?”
“Fuck no.” Katsuki looked off to the side, annoyed. “It’s Deku.”
“Ooooh… I get it.” Katsuki frowned, why was Raccoon Eyes grinning? “Midoriya might not like you, but you like Midoriya, don’t you?”
“What the fuck?!” He could feel his face heating up, betraying him, even as small pops escaped his palms, singing his metal chopsticks.
“You do!” Pikachu was grinning, now. “Dude, did Midoriya figure it out or something? Is that why you two are being weird?”
“I don’t—” Katsuki gritted his teeth in frustration. It’s not like he could just deny liking Deku, not when he wanted to date the nerd, preferably as soon as possible… “Fuck.”
Shitty Hair laughed, “So that’s why you said Midoriya wasn’t your friend when we were on the bus! Man, I was so confused.”
Katsuki dropped his chopsticks into the bento box, then snapped the lid shut and grabbed the bento and its wrap before standing up.
Like hell he was dealing with this shit and Deku’s staring. “Fuck. Off.” He ignored the dumbasses shouts to come back and their promises not to tell anyone, storming over to Deku’s table.
Since the nerd was still fucking staring the whole time, he had his shit packed up by the time Katsuki reached him. “Need to go cool off somewhere before class, Kacchan?”
“Shut up.” Deku’s extras stared at them in confusion. “I need you to stop staring at me, you dumbass.”
“Eh?” Deku frowned, “I haven’t been…” his head tilted to the side. “I mean, I’ve been thinking a lot today… about, um… stuff.”
Round Face rubbed the back of her neck, “You kinda have been, Zu-kun. I was going to ask you about it, but I wasn’t really sure how to go about it.”
“Oh.” Deku looked down. “Umm… Sorry, Kacchan. I just, umm… well, I guess I’ve been looking at you while thinking about the, uh… the stuff.” Deku looked down, running his finger along the table sheepishly.
Brain Fucker was looking between them, one eyebrow raised. “Because that explanation isn’t weird.”
“I…um…” Deku began to fidget, playing with his fingers. “I… well I can’t really talk about it, Toshi-kun. Sorry.”
Toshi-kun? Katsuki’s eyes narrowed.
Brain Fucker shrugged, “That’s fine, then. I won’t push.”
“Tch.” Katsuki really didn’t like the way those purple eyes were evaluating them.
“You were sick, too, right? Like Zu-kun was on Monday.” Brain Fucker twirled his chopsticks lazily, gesturing toward them both. “Glad you two seem to be better.”
Zu-kun.
Damn it. Katsuki knew Deku was going to befriend this guy! Did he have to fucking pick someone that was obviously damn observant?!
“How’d you even know I was sick?” Well, sick was the best way to put it, Katsuki supposed.
“After you put your headphones on and the class realized Zu-kun was zoning out, they started talking about how you’d killed some of the villains. Kirishima-kun went off about how you’d defended him even though the portal had messed you up, and how manly you’d been, and that it wasn’t your fault. I connected the dots. It’s not uncommon for close friends to be sick at the same time.”
Katsuki’s eyebrow twitched in annoyance. He was going to make that dumbass pay for blabbing like that. Having people realize that Deku and he had become sick simultaneously like that was fucking dangerous. If anyone ‘connected the dots’ further…
“Whatever.” He turned toward Deku, dismissing Brain Fucker. “I’m heading back toward the classroom, dumbass. And I can handle myself. I just came over to tell you to stop with the staring shit.”
“Right.” Deku smiled sheepishly. “Sorry, Kacchan. I’ll try to be more more aware about it.” He bit his lip, “You, umm… you sure you don’t need me to come with you?”
“Yeah.” The last thing they needed was to raise Brain Fucker’s suspicions even more. Katsuki would just finish his lunch in a hallway somewhere. Then, at least, it would look like they could be in different places. “Finish your lunch with the extras, Deku.”
Katsuki walked off, waving one hand over his shoulder.
There was a hallway not too far off, so he turned right and jumped up onto the ledge, half-sitting on it with one leg dangling off as he opened up his bento.
Katsuki winced at the singed chopsticks. Damn it. Auntie was going to yell at him again tonight.
Whatever. He dug into the bento, trying to finish it before the bell rang. He didn’t have much longer.
Thankfully, he managed. After the bell rang, Katsuki chugged down a water bottle, watching the hallway for Deku to pass. Once he saw the nerd, he wrapped his bento up and headed back toward the classroom, making sure to stay a good distance away from the nerd and slip into a nearby restroom to take a dump before going back to class, making sure that his arrival would be that much later than Deku’s.
And then the misery of the afternoon classes began. Why couldn’t this be a day where they did their damn hero class? Katsuki was going insane with the nerd staring at the back of his head the whole damn afternoon.
His body sagged in relief when the final bell rang.
“Bakugou, Midoriya, stay after.”
Fuck. Katsuki glared at Eraserhead. Why the hell did Aizawa-sensei want to talk to them? He was going to scream if the hero wanted to do the ‘how-to’ talk now of all fucking times.
As the rest of the class filed out, Katsuki slowly packed his shit up, trying to occupy the time with something other than the ever-present scratch of Deku’s pencil behind him.
After the last student left the classroom, Aizawa sensei looked down the hallway for a second, then shut the door with a snap.
Bleary eyes peered at them between bandages. “You two were forced apart at USJ. What happened after that?”
Oh. Katsuki shuddered. He guessed it made sense with the damn advisor shit that the hero would want a report about that.
Deku started, his voice shaky. “The, umm… the warp villain… I think his name was Kurogiri?” Aizawa-sensei sighed and nodded, leaning against the front desk. “When he separated us, I blacked out. One second I was yelling Kacchan’s name and the next I was in the lake and I needed air so bad and…” Deku paused, taking a deep breath, “I was in a lot of pain. All of my muscles felt like they were on fire. And I was light-headed and it felt like I had a fever and there was this occasional sharp stabbing pain in my head and…” another pause. “Well, the added strain on my muscles meant I could barely use my quirk at all, the overall strain was just too much…” Katsuki twisted his head back in time to see Deku shudder. “I never want to feel that way again, Sensei. Ever.”
There was a long sigh. “Forced separation can make the effects worse. I didn’t go through it myself, but I’ve heard stories. You felt the same, Bakugou?”
“Yeah. I mean, but if anything it made my quirk more fucking powerful.” Katsuki shrugged, looking down as he added, “Fever sweat.”
“Ah.” Their sensei nodded, “Thus the powerful explosion.”
Katsuki shrugged. “Wasn’t really thinking about holding back. Just getting Shitty Hair out of the way and hitting the fuckers attacking us with everything I had so that I could get back to Deku.”
“That’s understandable. The outcome was hardly ideal, but your actions weren’t wrong, given the circumstances. UA will help train you so that, when you face villains as a hero, you will have more options than just using your most powerful blast, and those options will be so ingrained in you that you’ll be able to use them even if you’re sick. You’re just a first year, and you were in a terrible situation, and I apologize for that.” Aizawa-sensei sighed. “You did good.”
Katsuki nodded slowly. He… he was supposed to be the best of his age group, though. He should have done better than ‘good.’ But…. But that was the only speech he was going to get? They weren’t going to fucking scold him or give him a detention or community service or some shit like that?
Aizawa-sensei sighed again. “You defended yourself. You survived. You saved not only yourself, but your classmate, as well, and you got back to your soulmate without getting injured while in an extreme circumstance. You did very well, Bakugou. If anyone says otherwise, they will have to deal with myself and several other members of the faculty.”
Fuck.
That….
Fuck.
He knew he’d messed up, but they…
“If you need a therapist—”
“Fuck no.” Katsuki shook his head. There was no way he’d go see some shrink. He needed to focus on getting stronger, damn it, not all this talking shit!
Their sensei shrugged. “The offer is always open. I should actually probably mention that to the class… we usually do a spiel about that when internships start, but you all might need to talk to someone sooner….” There was a long sigh. “I’ll do that tomorrow. Now, though, we’ve gotten off track. Has the bond given you any problems since you two reunited?”
Katsuki’s brain froze, remembering Deku’s face when he kissed him, remembering the exhaustion Monday night, their argument the next day…
Eraserhead groaned. “What?”
Katsuki looked away from the sensei. Damn it. He did not want to talk about this shit.
He could hear the nerd fidgeting behind him, no doubt bright red.
“Does this have anything to do with why you two have been so odd today?”
“W-well, umm… Recovery Girl looked at me afterwards, and she said we’d probably experience the strain of the bond a lot more, now. I… I was tired a lot this weekend.”
Shit.
Deku hadn’t told him that. Katsuki closed his eyes in frustration. Why hadn’t Deku told him that shit?! Fuck, he knew he’d kicked Deku out, but this shit was important! Katsuki had hoped he’d just been tired because of their argument, but apparently that had been fucking naive.
“While that’s hardly ideal, we can work with it. Eat some gummies before every heroics class, though, alright? Better safe than sorry. The same before any sparring practice. I approved the forms and Nezu should drop them by with the final ok tomorrow, but if either of you gets hurt, I’m yanking that approval until the bond is sealed. And let me know if it gets any worse. We’ll think of something that will let you train while keeping you safe.”
“Ok.” Deku nodded.
Aizawa turned to him, obviously expecting a verbal agreement or some shit like that. “Fucking fine.”
Katsuki really didn’t like this development. He was already feeling tired today, and they hadn’t even had heroics class, but damn it, he needed to get better!
“Good.” Aizawa-sensei paused and his mummified head looked between them. “Now will you please explain why you two have been having oddly today? Or why Midoriya turned bright red a second ago and Bakugou closed up.”
Before either of them could answer, the door banged open.
“ERASER!!” Cockatoo stormed in. “Why are you still here?! I only let you come because you said you would go home right after school! Or if it became too much for you, but we both know you’d never admit—”
“This conversation needs to happen, Mic. I’ll leave afterwards.”
Cockatoo blinked, turning to look at Deku and Katsuki. “Did those two do something? Or is it just because they were so weird today?” The hero tilted his head to the side, his finger tapping against his leg as he thought. “But why would that—” green eyes suddenly widened, “OH.”
Mic let out a booming laugh, “I’ll handle it, then!” He walked toward Eraserhead, pushing the man off the desk and toward the door. “You go home, ok?” He opened the door, shoved their teacher out of it, and shut it with a click.
Then he locked it, preventing Aizawa-sensei from coming back inside.
What…just happened. Katsuki stared in shock at the door.
“SO.” Cockatoo turned toward the two of them with a grin. “You two are Shouta’s new advisees. Didn’t expect that, but, looking back, I probably should have figured that out sooner.” He shrugged, strolling toward them and slumping down into Purple Chick’s seat across from Katsuki. “Now, fights when you have a soul bond are really shitty, especially at the unsealed stage, so fess up. What’s going on? Let’s clear the air and all that.” Cockatoo waved a hand nonchalantly, but his eyes peered over his glasses, clearly expecting them to respond.
Shit. Now another person had figured it out. The man was a hero, and one of their teachers, but still. And the asshole wanted them to open up to him? It was bad enough with Aizawa-sensei, but now he was expected to talk about this shit with the Cockatoo? Katsuki glanced back toward the door.
Damn it.
“—how did he know we have a soul bond? Aizawa-sensei didn’t tell him. That’s obvious. He just knew sensei had new advisees. But not who. But he figured it out just by knowing that sensei wanted to talk to us and that we were behaving differently. But that couldn’t normally be addressed by just any teacher, I think, so why would he send Aizawa-sensei away if he knew it was related to our bond? Unless he’s another soulmate advisor? But UA probably doesn’t have too many people with soulmates, so…” Deku let out a small squeak of surprise, “You’re Aizawa-sensei’s soulmate??”
“BINGO!” The spread his hands wide, “Yeah, I know, not many people expect that since we’re so different, but the same could be said about you two!” He wagged his finger at them, “And you normally work together well. So… What’s up?”
“I…um… K-kacchan…” Deku groaned behind him and Katsuki heard his head thump against the desk.
Katsuki’s eyes narrowed. “You can’t be Aizawa-sensei’s soulmate. They share pain.”
Cockatoo grinned. “Well aren’t you observant.” Slowly, he pulled of his glove, revealing a light, V-shaped cut on the back of his hand. “I take it you saw Shouta do this?”
Katsuki nodded, his eyes glued to the cut. If the cut itself was visible, then the two must share injuries completely—it’s not like Aizawa-sensei’s cut had been deep. But then how—
Cockatoo reached into his pocket, pulling out a case of pills and setting it on Deku’s desk. “Shouta and I share 100% of our pain and injuries—hardly ideal for hero work, much less being a team—but we’ve figure out how to cheat the system. If one of us makes a V cut on our hand, that means ‘I’m in deep shit, take the meds and bring help.’” He pointed at the pills. “These, my little listeners, are a hero’s best friend if they have a soulbond.”
“What… what do they do?” Deku’s hands were shaking as he picked up the bottle in front of him.
“They’re a medicine that nullifies the abilities of soulmate bonds. Pain is shared by a lot of soulmates, you know,” the hero began counting off on his fingers, “and that means any hospital procedure would be felt by both, the guy would feel the girl’s pain as she gave birth, heroes would get injured simultaneously and villains could take us both out with one hit… the list goes on.” Cockatoo threw his hands up into the air, but brought them back down and leaned in close, “Of course, the drug’s existence is known only by soulmates and the doctors that we trust.”
Shit, that was fucking dangerous. He could see the positives, Mic-sensei being able to fight and defend Aizawa-sensei at USJ was definitely one of them, but… “How the fuck can you keep this shit secret?”
The hero grinned, “We’re a secretive bunch, right? And doctors will see our chests and figure everything out pretty quick. So we all have preferred doctors and only let that doctor see us. Most heroes do that, eventually, so it’s not even that abnormal. You’re welcome to use ours if you don’t already have someone you trust. If you don’t use ours, tell whoever you use to come see our doctor and he can tell them about the drug. Nothing’s ever written down, and no pharmacist knows about it—the doctor does everything. It’s all just information passed down from mentor to mentee, just like everything else about the bond.”
Katsuki swallowed, cautiously taking the pill bottle when Deku anded it to him. A drug that… that basically got rid of the bond. The instructions looked so fucking innocent, too. Nitripheme. One pill every four hours. That was it.
The hero held his hand out, and Katsuki dropped the pills back into it, watching the scarred hand as he pocketed the pills once more.
Katsuki didn’t want to believe it, but the proof was right damn in front of him.
The Cockatoo clearly had the same injury as the first one Aizawa-sensei had gotten, but he didn’t have any of the others. And the way he’d fought, and the way sensei had left and trusted the other teacher to talk to them…
“It’s not pleasant, you know.”
“Huh?”
Katsuki blinked, trying to focus on the present. He felt like his world had tilted with this new information. “The medicine. Nullifying the abilities. It feels like you’re missing half of yourself. Take it too long, and you’ll go insane.”
“But…” Deku was fidgeting again. “Aizawa-sensei… his injuries are going to take a while to heal, right?”
“Mm, yeah, I can take them for a week and then I’ll have to stop and I’ll get hit with whatever injuries Shouta still has at that point.” He shrugged, “Our bond also lets us heal faster than normal, though. So when you add that to Recovery Girl’s abilities, I should be fine. Shouta doesn’t like to flaunt our ability, though, so he’ll probably wear the bandages longer than he has to.” Cockatoo pulled his glove back on.
With his glove back on, the guy’s grin sharpened and he peered over his glasses once more. “Now. Don’t think I’ve forgotten about you two.” Damn it. The hero leaned back, crossing his arms across his chest as he looked between them. “Well, little listeners?”
Katsuki groaned. Fuck. They really weren’t going to be able to get out of this. He eyed the hero… the man was loud and obnoxious, but he was a damn good fighter, holding off those two villains on his own like he had. And he was Aizawa-sensei’s soulmate.
“Tch.” Katsuki looked away. He supposed it could be worse. “I—
“K-kiss!” Deku shouted out behind him. “Kacchan kissed me and I don’t know what to do! I don’t… don’t feel anything like that! He’s my most important person and I hurt him and it hurts because I know he hurts and I just want to feel this feeling already if I’m supposed to feel this way but I don’t know what the feeling even is, but I’ve been trying, and—”
“Fucking stop it with the fucking pity already!” Katsuki’s chair banged to the ground as he whirled on his soulmate, palms sparking. “And I told you to stop it with the staring and shit, too, but you’ve been doing that all fucking afternoon and scribbling in your damn notebook!”
“Woah! Woah, there, little listeners.” Katsuki turned to glare at the Cockatoo.
The hero sighed. “Look, I get it. Having an unsealed bond is tough, and I’m sure the villains made you two even more eager to seal the deal.”
“Tch.” Katsuki looked off to the side. “Aizawa-sensei said on the first day that the best way to stay alive was to seal the bond. After USJ…” Katsuki frowned, “Well, he’s obviously right.”
“Shooouutaaaaa.” Cockatoo groaned, his head falling forward into his hands. “And he calls me dramatic.” He sighed, then looked back up at them. “A sealed bond has its downsides, too, you know. Those are just easier to work around, like with the pills.” Mic-sensei tilted his head back with a long (and loud) sigh. “How should I do this… Shouta and I are both pretty blunt people…” He twisted his nose, letting out another loud disgruntled sigh. “Well. Let’s try, this, alright little listeners?” The hero leaned forward, acting like he was whispering to them. “Here’s a fact. It took Shouta and I five tries to seal our bond.”
“What the fuck?” Katsuki stared at the sensei. Were they fucking idiots? It was just a damn kiss, right?!
“F-five?” Deku’s voice came out in a shocked whisper.
Cockatoo shrugged, “I kissed him on like the first day of the bond, and obviously that didn’t work. We didn’t even know each other yet. And then when we liked each other, there were still some reasons why he didn’t want the bond itself, and you need both, but Shouta wouldn’t talk to me about those…” The hero shook his head in fond exasperation, “talking is important, you two. Anyway, point being, it’s not the end of the world if you don’t bond with your first kiss. That’s really common, actually.” He winked, “The media doesn’t know anything about what soul bonds are actually like, and as much as I love the media and all my listeners, I’d rather keep it that way.”
“But…” Deku’s voice was quiet, “But how do I change?”
“First off: stop thinking ‘I have to change.’ You can’t rush feelings.” Cockatoo shrugged, “Spend time together, give yourself chances to see new sides of each other—”
Katsuki snorted, “We’ve known each other since before we could fucking talk. ‘New sides’ aren’t damn likely.”
“Since when?!” The hero’s mouth dropped open in shock, his sunglasses sliding down his nose.
“I was three months old and Kacchan was six months old.”
“Jeez, and I thought my two were bad.” Cockatoo shook his head, then froze before suddenly shooting up. “That’s it!” He put his hands on his hips, grinning. “Alright, little listeners. I know Shouta really stresses the whole secrecy thing, and it is important, but sometimes meeting others is just as important, if not more important….”
The hero suddenly headed toward the door. “Leave your stuff here and come with me! We need to hurry if you two are going to meet them before they leave.”
“Meet who?”
“My advisees.” Mic winked at them as he pushed open the door, “Although it’s rare for this to happen, you two aren’t the only pair at UA right now.”
“Really?!” Deku was grinning broadly, “Who?”
“You’ll find out, you’ll find out! They don’t mind meeting other soulmates.” The hero laughed. “Unless you don’t want to tell them about yourselves, that is. Then we’ll stay right here and talk with just the three of us. I think they could really help you two, though. Their situation was similar.”
Katsuki frowned. He didn’t like the idea that more people would know, especially people that were students, and not teachers, but Deku was so fucking excited about meeting others like them…
“Whatever.” He would trust this teacher. The man had helped to save them at USJ.
He walked toward their teacher, Deku immediately shooting up to join him.
“That would be great!” The shitty nerd was practically vibrating next to Katsuki at the prospect of meeting others and making more fucking friends.
Friends that were like them.
Honestly, it was fucking weird to think about meeting someone their age with a bond. It had been weird enough meeting adults with a bond. Though… Katsuki shrugged to himself. They were now in the world of heroes, and not only that, they were at UA. They were in the world of society’s elite. They were bound to run across others like them eventually.
To distract himself, Katsuki looked around at the new hallways—he and Deku had never been in this part of UA before. Though judging from the classroom numbers, Mic-sensei’s advisees were third years?
The hero stopped outside a classroom, then banged the door open, shouting, “Yo!”
Katsuki blinked. Most of the third years were still there, all talking with each other. Why hadn’t the dumbasses gone home? Did they work together after school or some shit like that?
“Sorry to disturb the study sessions, little listeners! I need to borrow Togata and Amajiki for a bit.”
A blonde with a dumbass face looked up with a bright smile—fuck, another Deku-type. Why were there so damn many of them at UA?!— and a guy with slouched shoulders and black hair gave a long sigh.
Both stood up, though the black hair guy was reluctantly trailing behind the blonde. Blondie strutted towards them, slipping out the door at Mic’s gesture. “Mic-sensei! Pleasure to see you as always!”
These were the third years that Mic thought would be helpful?
Mic laughed, “Good to see you two, as well! We should probably meet again sometime soon, it’s been a few weeks.” He grinned, “You know of a classroom that would be empty?”
Huh? It was after school! Shouldn’t most of them be empty?
Blondie frowned, tapping his chin. “Nejire took some of the girls to the gym to spar a few minutes ago, so their usual study spot should be empty…” He headed down the hallway, waving his hand after them, “Follow me!”
Katsuki studied the two, trying to figure out if there was an obvious sign that the third years were soulmates, but there wasn’t. They honestly didn’t even seem like close friends, with the way Pointy Ears just trailed after the other one without saying anything.
A few doors down, Blondie stuck his head… through the door? Katsuki blinked. That was… a weird quirk.
“No one’s inside!” Blondie smiled at them as if he hadn’t just done something fucking weird, then opened the door and walked inside. Hesitantly, Katsuki followed.
Mic shut the door behind them. “Alright, so introduction time!” He grinned. “Little first years,” Katsuki glared at the man, “This is Togata Mirio and Amajiki Tamaki, two of the top members of UA’s current graduating class, and soulmates since they were eleven years old.”
Blondie’s grin got fucking brighter at that introduction, “Oh! Is that why you pulled us? UA got another pair of soulmates? That’s awesome!”
“Since they were eleven?” Deku reached over, clutching Katsuki’s arm, “Kacchan! Kacchan, they’re like us!”
“Like you?” Pointy Ears spoke for the first time, but his eyes were still downcast, and he was fidgeting in his spot.
“Our moms are best friends, so we met before we were a year old.”
“Really?” Blondie laughed, “Wow, you two have been together way longer than we have! That’s awesome!” He gave another bright fucking grin, along with a thumbs up, “I can see why Mic-sensei wanted to introduce us, though. It’s really rare for soulmate pairs to meet each other when they’re young like we did.” His grin was too fucking bright. “So you’re Kacchan, then?”
Oh, fuck no! “It’s Bakugou.” He growled, “Bakugou Katsuki. Only Deku can call me that shit.”
“But we’re your senpai!” Blondie pointed toward himself, “So we need cute nicknames for our new favorite underclassmen. Right, Tamaki?”
Pointy Ears inched away from his soulmate. “Leave me out of this.”
Blondie just laughed and clapped the other boy on the back before turning back toward them, “And your name is Deku?”
“Hell no!”
“Ummm… Midoriya Izuku…” Deku looked hesitantly toward Katsuki, “Kacchan really doesn’t like it when other people call me Deku…”
“Fuck off, asshole!” Katsuki’s hands began to pop with explosions as he stepped toward the third year, growling in annoyance.
“Woah!” Blondie held up his hands, “Reflexive quirk activation, huh? So you reallydon’t like that.” Blondie rubbed at the back of his neck. “Sorry, then.” He tapped his chin, “I guess I’ll just call you Blasty-chan!”
What the fuck?!
Katsuki growled as Blondie turned toward Deku, “And you’ll be Greenie-chan!” He nodded, resting his hands on his hips. “That’ll work! And if you don’t like it, then beat me in a spar and I won’t call you that any more, my little kouhai!”
Fuck. No.
“Spar.” Katsuki glared at the blonde. “Now.”
“Wait a second, wait a second!” Mic waved his hands around frantically, “As great as it is to see you four hitting it off, I brought them here for a reason!”
“Tch.” Katsuki looked away, already regretting every second of this meeting.
“Oh? How can we help?” There was that damn grin again.
“Midoriya?” Mic looked toward Deku, “Why don’t you explain?”
“Um…” Deku immediately began to fidget, “W-we, we just tried to seal the bond and it didn’t go so well and…” Deku bit his lip, then looked up at Blondie, “How do I change my feelings when we’ve known each other for this long?”
Blondie’s grin fell. “That’s… that’s a hard one.” He scratched at his cheek, “I was the second one to develop feelings, too. You feel terrible for making them feel terrible and you want to rush things, right?”
Deku nodded frantically, “I’ve been trying to think about all the reasons why I like Kacchan, and there are so many, but—”
“Is that why you’ve been fucking staring at me all day, you shitty nerd?!”
Fucking hell, he’d thought it might be something like that, knowing Deku, but still…
Deku shrugged, “Yeah. I, umm… I thought if I thought about it enough, maybe I’d, like… um… think of something that made me feel, well… more?” Blondie laughed, and Deku his behind his hands, his face red.
Katsuki glared at the third year.
Blondie fucking patted Deku’s head, “It’s a good idea, but keep in mind that you can’t force the feelings to exist, ok?” He shrugged, “If you want my story, I first started liking Tamaki when I saw how hard he was working to do something, even though it scared him, and I just… really love that about him. And it was like suddenly, everything clicked and I just knew. Not everyone has a moment like that, though. Some people have it creep up over time, some spend a while denying it…”
Katsuki’s eyes narrowed. Like hell he’d admit to that.
“I’ve always loved Mirio.” Pointy Ears’ voice was quiet and mumbled, and Katsuki barely heard the damn guy, but Blondie stopped talking immediately, automatically turning toward his soulmate as Pointy Ears continued, “It started innocent and shallow when we were young, and it grew deeper as we got older.” He rubbed at his elbow, curling in on himself and hunching his shoulders even more, “Mirio’s always just shined so bright… like he was my sun.”
Beside Katsuki, Deku nodded, his eyes distant as he muttered, “Like he is everything you could ever hope to achieve.”
Fuck.
Katsuki felt like he’d been punched in the gut. To… to hear Deku say something like that… to hear him say it about Katsuki. Deku was the damn best! He was so… so…. Katsuki swallowed, staring at his soulmate. How the hell could Deku think that Katsuki was someone he wanted to be like? Fuck! He’d messed up so much shit recently, but… Deku… Deku still… he really thought that?
“Yeah.” Pointy Ears was looking up, now, smiling slightly.
Blondie reached out to pat Deku on the head. “Sounds like you’re almost there, Greenie-chan.”
Katsuki’s eyebrow twitched at the nickname, anger flooding back through him. This asshole didn’t get to call his soulmate -chan. Or that ridiculous nickname. “Where the fuck is the nearest gym so I can beat your ass?!”
Blondie laughed, lifting his hands up in a defensive gesture, “I actually have to study this afternoon and then I have my internship, so I don’t have time to spar today… how about this: hit me one time before I reach the classroom and I’ll stop.”
“You’re on, bastard.” Katsuki lunged forward, hands popping with explosions, but the bastard just… fell through the floor? “What the fuck?”
Katsuki looked around for the third year, but there was no sign of him.
“Mirio’s quirk is permeation.” Pointy Ears mumbled, bending down to pick up—what the fuck, were those Blondie’s clothes?—“He can make himself impermeable and slip through walls and floors. He’s probably already back in the classroom.”
“Damn it! If he can fucking teleport, how was I supposed to hit the damn asshole?”
Pointy Ears shrugged, turning toward the door. “It’s not like Mirio said it would be a fair chance for you.”
Katsuki seethed in place as Pointy Ears asked to be excused, then bowed politely on his way out.
Damn it!
Katsuki wasn’t going to let some blonde asshole exhibitionist get away with calling him ‘Blasty-chan.’ It was fucking on. |
Remus heard the horn honk from his bedroom and his heart sank. That wasn't the horn from James’ car.
It was late August and Sirius was picking him up to go on one last date before school started. They planned to take advantage of the beautiful weather and spend a day somewhere isolated and secluded.
And intimate picnic
, Sirius had joked. Remus expected Sirius to borrow James’ car so that they could drive to their picnic location. That wasn't the horn from James’ car.
Remus took a deep, steadying breath and swallowed his fear. He walked down the staircase to find his mother in the kitchen, peering nervously out the window.
“Remus, sweetie, you're not going to ride that thing, are you?”
“I don't think I have much choice in the matter…”
Mrs. Lupin turned to look at her son, worry spreading across her delicate features.
“It's dangerous…”
Remus shrugged, trying to seem aloof for his mother. He didn't want to let her know that he shared her exact sentiments.
“Lots of things are dangerous…”
“Honey, I don't--”
“It's okay, Mum. I can handle it. We're both wizards. If anything goes wrong, we still have magic on our side.”
Hope Lupin let out a soft exhale and nodded her head. She was a muggle, she knew that there were still many things about Remus’ life that she'd never understand. She tried to give her son a warm smile, but the permanent sadness leaked through. Remus smiled back. He was always better at masking his emotions than his mother was.
“I love you, Mum. Don't worry about us. We'll be safe.”
Remus kissed his mother on the cheek before heading out the door.
“Wear a helmet!” she called as he closed it.
Once outside, Remus stopped in his tracks, staring at his ridiculous boyfriend leaning against that goddamn bike. Despite the summer heat, Sirius was wearing his leather jacket and fingerless gloves, ripped skinny jeans and his scuffed Chucks. His long, dark hair was tied back in a messy bun, exposing the excessive, dorky grin plastered to his face. He gave an enthusiastic wave when he saw Remus and stood up straight. Remus gave his typical eye roll and made his way towards Sirius.
“What the hell is that?”
“Good morning to you too, Moony.” Sirius’ smile never wavered.
“I'm not riding that thing.”
“Aww, c'mon, Reme! It'll be fun!” Sirius attempted his best puppy-dog-eyes, grabbing his boyfriend’s hands in his own. “Please? For me?”
“You're not even wearing a helmet!” Remus pulled his hands back forcefully and continued to glare.
“Don't need one… never have. Anyway, it'd just mess up my hair…”
“You're an idiot.”
Sirius laughed, a bright, sparkling laugh that radiated around him, full of joy and ease. Remus softened slightly. It had been a really long time since he'd heard Sirius laugh like that. Padfoot had been so down lately, Moony wondered if he'd ever hear his boyfriend’s real laugh again.
Remus shook his head and rolled his eyes again.
“Do you at least have a helmet for
me
?”
Moony didn't know it was possible for Padfoot's smile to get broader, but somehow he managed it.
“Of course, Moons. You think I'd expect you to ride this thing without one? That'd be so very un-Moony of you.” Sirius grabbed the black helmet that was dangling from the handlebars that Remus never noticed. “Here,” he said, tossing it at his boyfriend.
Remus barely caught the helmet. He rotated it in his hands, eyeing it suspiciously. This was the thing that was supposed to save his life should they get into an accident. It seemed so flimsy.
“You know what...On second thought, why don't we say screw the picnic and just have lunch here…”
“Come
on
Moons! I've been dying to take you on a spin since I got her!”
“...
Her
?”
“Yeah,
her
.”
“Is that because you'd prefer to have a girl between your legs?” Remus raised an eyebrow and gave only the faintest hint of a smile.
“It's a good thing I know you're joking, 'cause I might be offended otherwise…”
Remus chuckled before giving the bike a once-over.
“It's not safe, Sirius…”
“Please, Remus? For me?”
Remus could feel his resistance melting away. Sirius was too charming for his own good, and Moony found that it was getting harder and harder to say no around him. He needed to learn how to put his dog on a leash.
“Please?”
“
Fine
.”
“Yes!” Sirius raised his fist in triumph. Remus gave one last eye roll before putting his helmet on.
“Whedjdmmmmm?”
“What?”
He pulled the helmet off.
“Where do I sit?”
Sirius smiled slyly and approached the bike. He swung a leg over and steadied the machine between his legs before knocking back the kickstand.
“Now you climb on behind me. You get the bitch seat.”
“
Sirius...
”
“What? That's what it's called!”
“I sincerely doubt that.”
Remus approached the bike cautiously, unsure of whether or not he made the right decision. He gingerly placed his hands on Sirius’ shoulders and hesitantly lifted a leg.
“Come on, Moons! You can do it! Just use me for balance.”
Remus held Sirius tighter and swung his leg over the bike. It shifted a bit beneath him, but Padfoot steadied it, allowing Remus to climb into the seat behind him. Remus sat for a moment before bringing his hands to Sirius’ hips. The engine started and the bike began to rumble.
“Wait wait wait wait wait!”
Sirius barked a laugh.
“What?”
“I'm not ready… just… just give me a sec, 'kay?” Remus was clutching at Sirius’ waist, trying to find a comfortable way to sit on that god forsaken hunk of junk.
“Reme, just shove up a bit closer. You'll be fine. Sit right behind me, wrap your arms around me. I promise, it'll be safe.”
Remus almost jumped off the bike. He almost yelled profanities at his imbecile of a boyfriend. He almost punched Sirius firmly in the arm, upset at him for buying this damn thing in the first place. Instead, he shifted forward in the seat and wrapped his arms firmly around Sirius. He was much too terrified to do anything else.
“Merlin's beard, Reme. Not so tight! I can't breathe!”
“Shut the fuck up, Sirius.”
Padfoot laughed.
“Okay, Moons. Lift your legs. There's a place to put your feet… yeah, there you go…”
Remus scrunched his eyes shut and took a deep breath, putting his helmet on carefully. He knew exactly what was coming next, and he was dreading it ever happening. His grip around Sirius’ waist tightened and his thighs clenched together as he heard the engine roar and felt the bike begin to move.
As it turned out, Remus did not know exactly what was coming next.
He opened his eyes expecting to see houses rushing by. Instead, he found that he was looking down at the city of London, some five hundred meters below him.
“
Jesus fucking Christ, Sirius! What that fuck are you doing?!”
Sirius couldn't hear Remus’ expletives over the roar of wind in his ears.
“ISN'T THIS AMAZING, REME?”
“NO! NO IT IS NOT! I FUCKING HATE YOU. DO YOU HEAR ME?! I FUCKING HATE YOU!!”
Sirius laughed as the wind whipped past their faces and Remus clung helplessly to him, silently praying for the whole thing to be over with.
It took a while, but Remus’ grip eventually loosened the tiniest bit. He opened his eyes and looked around. His breathing finally steadied and his heart rate started to return to normal-ish. Ignoring the fact that they were on a flying death machine, God knows how high off the ground, ready to fall at any moment, it was actually quite beautiful. Moony was surprised at how far he could see and how peaceful the city looked from the air. The rolling hills and fresh greenery spread out in every direction. As long as he didn't look down, the fear kept at bay and Remus was eventually starting to enjoy his bike ride.
Sirius noticed that his boyfriend's screaming had finally died down. He leaned back in his seat to talk to Remus. The best part of flying the bike was that he didn't have to concentrate as hard on driving it. There were significantly less vehicles up in the air with him.
“Hey Moons, how're you feeling?”
Remus flipped up the visor on his helmet.
“Fuckin’
petrified
is how I'm feeling. Why the fuck didn't you tell me it could fly?!”
Sirius grinned.
“‘Cause then you'd never agree to ride it with me!”
“Fuck. You. Sirius. I fucking hate you right now.”
“Watch your language, Moons! You're a werewolf, not a
swear
wolf!” Remus let go of Sirius just long enough to give him a swift punch in the arm. Sirius flinched in pain before laughing it off. He loved pulling his Moony out of his comfort zone, even if he had to drag his boyfriend kicking and screaming. “You know, seven years we’ve been friends. Seven years and I have
never
heard you cuss like that before! I’m so proud of you, Moony!”
“Fuck off, you fucking prat.” It was all Remus could manage. He couldn’t believe that his boyfriend would take him on something this terrifying without consulting him first. He really hated how selfish Sirius was and the way that he ended up manipulating everyone around him.
“Hey Moons…” Sirius’ voice was soft, barely audible over the howling wind. Remus had to slide even closer to hear him, their bodies firmly pressed together. He could smell the leather of Padfoot’s jacket and the lingering aura of stale cigarettes. Remus tried to suppress a smile; he was still angry at Sirius.
“
What
, Sirius?”
“...Thanks.” He paused. “I… I really appreciate you coming up here with me. It… It really means a lot to me.”
That did it. Remus’ stern attitude broke. He couldn’t stay mad at Sirius, and he hated himself for it. Sirius Black was so loving and so charming. He was a selfish prick, yes, but never on purpose; that was more a side-effect of his horrendous upbringing. Despite everything, Sirius cared fiercely about the people important to him, and nobody was more important than his Moony. He would fight to the ends of the earth to protect anyone in his pack, a quality that drew Remus to him in the first place. Moony squeezed his boyfriend a little tighter and, in spite of himself, responded.
“You’re welcome.”
“Careful there, Moony… You’re squeezing me awfully tight. Are you trying to start something?” Sirius teased.
And just like that, the moment was gone.
“You’re an idiot, Sirius.” His actions ran contrary to his words as Remus leaned his head on Sirius’ back and held onto his torso, not for dear life anymore, but for the sheer comfort of physical contact. “I hate you.”
“I love you too, Moons.”
|
“How’s Adam been doing?” Gansey slides the question out into the open air of Monmouth in a casual manner that makes any resulting conversation not-at-all capable of being casual.
“Why don’t you ask him yourself?” Ronan lines up his pool cue and proceeds to hit open air before looking up to meet Gansey’s eyes.
“He may have given up his eyes, and hands to magic forest, and lost one ear, but he can still speak for himself.”
Ronan doesn’t know if he’s even angry or not, but he’s worried and unsure what Adam’s sacrifice is, let alone what it means for all of them.
And anger beats worry in the hierarchy of shitty human emotions any day.
“I know he can, but he’ll just get angry with me no matter what I say,” Gansey gestures his hands out wide before slumping his shoulders to express the burden that avoiding confrontation and remaining cordial at all costs is placing on him.
Ronan doesn’t respond. Who is he to say anything about unnecessary irritation or aggression?
“He’s just been so..distant lately.”
“He’s never been one for heart to hearts. Parrish plays it close to his chest,” Ronan says flippantly, but doesn’t bother trying to line up another ball quite yet.
“I just thought maybe since he’s been avoiding me...he’s gone to you to talk about things instead?”
“The fuck would he talk to me about? He’s not cheating on you, Gansey, don’t worry,” Ronan starts chewing on his leather bracelets as Gansey starts pacing the floor.
“For someone who doesn’t talk to him, you seem to have some understanding he doesn’t have with, or want to give to me!” Gansey says betraying his sense of hurt and letting bits of jealousy drift into his concerned tone.
Ronan doesn’t rise to Gansey’s slightly accusatory words, but says, “Stop being such a jealous girlfriend. He doesn’t have to tell me everything.”
Gansey waits for him to elaborate.
“I get it or whatever.” You might study Glendower, but I’m the Adam Parrish expert .
“It must be because I’m such an intuitive, empathetic, people person,” he continues.
Gansey scoffs, but it’s enough to break the hint of tension.
Ronan is relieved when Gansey shifts back into his relaxed, kingly state. Self-doubt isn’t a good look on him.
And Ronan, despite his self-deprecation, is good at really looking at his friends.
--------------------------------------------------------------
They’re in the school cafeteria, as Gansey answers a question about the nuances of Welsh court life that nobody asked. Ronan sneaks a glance at Adam who looks a little zoned out, but Ronan doesn’t blame him as his own eyes glaze over in their sockets.
To avoid listening to Professor Gansey’s lecture, he picks up a baby carrot and throws it at Adam.
His unsuspecting victim sputters, “Asshole!”
Ronan cackles as Adam picks the carrot of his “plate” (or crumpled, brown paper bag) and eats it in one bite without breaking eye contact with Ronan.
Ronan continues his assault. Adam’s skimpy lunches usually consist of nothing more than a PB&J Sandwich, and not that Ronan gives a fuck, but Adam probably could use some Vitamin C. Just so he doesn’t get scurvy or something.
He’d say as much, but then he knows Adam wouldn’t eat them. The carrots would become fucking charity.
Sometimes Ronan can't help but roll his eyes at Adam's ridiculous, but endearing stubbornness.
“What are you two, five?” Gansey sighs as his children continue their small scale, one sided food fight.
Ronan finally relents and Gansey takes back over, his audience growing as Noah pops up next to them on the bench in the middle of the room.
The conversation drifts to Cabeswater and Gansey lays out his proposal that they go to 300 Fox Way to visit the women there (“None in particular?” Ronan smirks, which Gansey resolutely ignores) and see what light they can shed on Adam’s newfound connection.
After Adam’s done with work of course, Gansey makes sure to add, throwing out one of many conscious attempts to earn Adam’s forgiveness for anything and everything he might’ve done wrong.
Gansey’s face falls however, when Adam makes no sign of taking the bait. In fact, Adam doesn’t respond at all.
“Look, Adam,” his voice growing earnest, “I’m - I mean we’re all - here for you, no matter what happens next. You don’t have to, to push me -all of us - away, at a time like this. We need each other more than ever now…”
Adam just continues to stare at a spot on the table, indifferent to Gansey’s impassioned plea.
Ronan can barely stand to watch the way Gansey squares himself for another attempt in a well-intentioned, but pretentious tone. He knows Gansey wants the best for Adam, just like he does, but the hint of condescension, like Adam needs a fucking intervention for not feeding Gansey’s inner therapist, grates him a bit.
“Adam..” he strains.
Adam merely scans the room around them, filled with roaming raven boys, looking everywhere but at Gansey and checks his cheap, old watch, yawning like he can’t wait to get back to class and leave this conversation in the dust.
“Why really, Adam! I know I’m not perfect, but I’m trying here!” Gansey's face reddens as much as his perfect complexion can, and his voice rises a little in its heated emotion.
Ronan glances at Adam, then at Gansey, who is now angrily glaring at the side of Adam’s face.
His left side.
“Gansey,” he says softly, but Gansey has reached out and placed his hand on Adam’s shoulder in what Ronan would definitely label an ill-advised move as Adam flinches at the sudden contact and turns to Gansey with wide eyes.
Gansey has the sense to move his hand, but says, “Please, Adam..”
Now Adam’s face is red too, and he looks bewildered. “Please..what?’
“C’mon, Adam, don’t play games here,” and now Adam looks slightly ticked, but mainly confused and a little embarrassed.
“I’m not, I..did you say something to me?. I-I didn’t hear it.”
Gansey gapes a tiny bit, then looks at Ronan.
Ronan gives him nothing with his eyes, more focused on Adam who is slowly grasping what he missed, or at least that he missed something , and getting more flushed by the second with the realization.
It's really not a big deal. Hell, even Ronan can barely hear in the crowded Dining Hall, but he knows Adam will find a way to twist the event in his head and add it to the pile of shit he'll use to talk about to himself later.
“It’s not important right now. Really, Adam," says Gansey, offering immediate reassurance before he can.
Adam just looks ashamed and slightly frustrated that he missed such a big chunk of conversation.
That’s when Ronan resolves that he’ll never be stupid enough again to leave Adam stuck on the right side of anything.
Gansey seems to be having similar sentiments judging by the soft regret and sympathy he sees glimmer in his slightly bright eyes as he observes Adam himself.
“Hey, it’s so noisy and crowded in here, let’s go outside by the soccer field for the rest of the period, where we won’t have to deal with anybody,” Gansey says it as if “anybody” isn’t a loyal, adoring subject he loves chatting with.
Adam nods and gets up a little too quickly.
Once they’re all outside, Gansey smiles pleasantly like the sun is also his admirer and says “This is much better!”
He jovially pats Adam’s shoulder, but this time Adam allows the touch and offers a smile of his own.
“Sorry if I seem...off lately, I’m just um, adjusting to...everything.” Sudden hearing loss. Cabeswater. Living on my own. Accepting help. Dealing with the awkwardness of a dying relationship. Working my ass off in the real world and the magical one. Being Adam Parrish.
Ronan sees how Gansey looks at him, and in that moment, he thinks Gansey finally gets it as well, without needing it completely laid out for him. He’s actually listening for once.
Ronan’s relieved that Adam and Gansey are on the way to a complete reconciliation. Really, he is.
But after they fist bump and Gansey’s hand remains around Adam’s back in a comfortable, Gansey-like gesture of friendliness, Ronan feels a tightening in the pit of his stomach that makes him distinctly uncomfortable.
He recalls his own words from the day before, “Stop being such a jealous girlfriend .”
He perches himself against Adam’s right side. Closer than strictly necessary.
Sometimes he wishes he could follow his own advice.
|
Sans couldn’t remember when exactly his feelings towards Papyrus became more than platonic. When the two of them worked together to create his sky blue battle body? When Papyrus always praised how magnificent he was?
Or maybe the fact that, despite being three years older, Papyrus always acted as the elder? He was the one that worked several jobs to pay for the bills and maintained their stable living situation. After all, Papyrus oftentimes got mistaken for the older brother. There were times Sans wished he could give back more to Papyrus.
Papyrus was his world. And it wasn’t as though Papyrus didn’t feel the same way. Sans had caught Papyrus jerking off numerous times in his room, hearing muffled cries of his name. Why had his brother never told him this, Sans didn’t know.
At some point, he decided to confess. The best time would be after Papyrus finished reading him his bedtime story. Sans, in all his expertise at understanding his brother, knew he couldn’t be too straightforward in his confession lest he scare Papyrus away.
During that evening, he let his gloved hands linger longer than usual against Papyrus’s arms. He also leaned closer, pressing their bodies together. The dusting of orange on his brother’s face didn’t go unnoticed by Sans. He took it as a good sign when Papyrus didn’t flinch away, but returned the gesture.
By the time “Fluffy Bunny” was over, the two of them were so close to each other that Sans could sense the heated magic coursing throughout Papyrus. Then, without warning, Papyrus ground his pelvis against his, sending sparks of pleasure within Sans.
“PAPY!” He responded by rutting back.
“hey, kiddo, lemme show ya somethin.”
Papyrus’s left eye flared yellow-orange. This time, when he rubbed against Sans, Sans felt a long, hard bulge under his sibling’s sweatpants. Sans’s star-shaped eye lights expanded in wonder as he fondled the organ. Papyruss erotic groans had sent magic to pool at his own pelvis.
“WOWZERS! IS THIS WHAT THOSE HUMAN MALES CALL A PENIS, OR COCK?!”
A choking sound came from Papyrus’s throat, and his sockets widened.
Sans sighed and folded his arms in front of his chest. “I AM NOT AS NAIVE AS YOU THINK, BROTHER. BESIDES, ALPHYS HAD MENTIONED IT A FEW TIMES WHEN GUSHING ABOUT HER ANIME.” Sans stood up on the bed with his arms akimbo. “TEACH ME HOW TO MAKE ONE TOO, PAPY!”
After the initial shock from Sans’s revelation faded, Papyrus conceded, “heh, alright kiddo, but we gotta go slow so your magic doesn’t end up stuck.”
Papyrus shuffled out of his sweats to reveal a shaft that illuminated the dark room orange. What it lacked in girth it definitely made up in length. Sans gaped at it for several seconds before a chuckle snapped him out of his daze. Although a wide smile graced Papyrus’s teeth, his cheekbones were flushed orange, and there was an air of hesitancy about him.
With his soul churning relentlessly with arousal, Sans also stripped away his clothes. His cyan magic swirled as an amorphous blob around his pelvis. Papyrus offered his open arms in the semblance of an embrace.
“it’ll be easier if you sit with me.”
“SO YOU CAN REMAIN IN THE SAME SPOT?” Sans rolled his pinpricks of light. “AS EXPECTED OF SUCH A LAZYBONES.”
“heh, what can i say?”
Sans settled into Papyrus’s lap, the taller skeleton’s cock pressing against his back sacrum. He shivered. Papyrus trailed his left hand up and down Sans’s ribs while his right shaped the magic in his pelvic arch. Sans ground his pelvis against his brother’s cock. Sans squealed when something wet and squishy licked at his clavicle.
“P-PAPY!” Heat rushed into his cheeks.
“is this ok, bro?”
Sans gasped and nodded, tilting his skull to give Papyrus better access.
A moan fled out of Sans’s mouth as his brother’s expert tongue dragged along his neck bones. All of his brother’s touches became too much. With a bright flash, his magic shifted into a thick member four inches in length. Sans was disappointed that it wasn’t as impressive as his brother’s, but he didn’t let it show.
“ARE YOU IMPRESSED BY ITS MAGNIFICENCE, PAPY?” Sans puffed out his chest.
“it’s beautiful, kiddo.”
Papyrus gave a lazy grin that increased the pounding within Sans’s ribcage. His brother’s large palms engulfed the blue cock and gave it a single pump while his thumb fingered the slit at the top. Sans keened and thrusted into the younger’s hand. The mounting pleasure was becoming too much. Sans knew if Papyrus kept going, he was going to orgasm.
He couldn’t allow that to happen so quickly. Besides, his brother was so cool to show him this. Why should he not return the favor?
“ST-STOP!”
Papyrus pulled his hand away as if burned, face etched with concern.
“did i--?”
With a playful growl, Sans seized Papyrus’s arms and flipped them over. He pinned the lanky skeleton on his back
“wha?”
Not giving Papyrus the chance to reverse their positions, Sans swiftly wrapped his blue bandana around his sibling’s skull to cover his eyes.
“NOW IT’S MY TURN, PAPY! JUST LIE BACK AND LET YOUR BIG BROTHER TAKE CARE OF YOU!”
---
Papyrus’s soul vibrated fiercely with hope. He’d always believed his more-than-familial love towards Sans had been disgusting. He’d spent numerous nights jerking off to the thoughts of taking Sans or vice versa. But this was Sans, his older brother, the only family he had left and had raised since they were babybones.
Now, his fantasy had become reality.
Papyrus sighed as he felt clumsy phalanges drift down his ribs, to his sternum, and down his spine. The farther down the hands moved, the more confident their ministrations became. It was nice to be taken care of like the younger sibling for once.
Sans eventually reached Papyrus’s weeping cock and gave it a squeeze, making his breath hitch. The smaller skeleton then pumped his dick several times just as how he’d showed Sans minutes ago. With his sight gone, Papyrus could sense the frantic beating of Sans’s soul, could feel every minute movement his brother made, and could hear every moan that escaped from Sans and himself.
“PAPY, I WOULD NOT BE WHO I AM TODAY IF IT WERE NOT FOR YOU. YOU ARE MAGNIFICENT!”
Papyrus cried out when Sans brought their cocks together and jerked them both at the same time. His peak rapidly approached due to the praises and with his heightened senses.
“I LOVE YOU, BROTHER!”
He came screaming his brother’s name. Spurts of warm cum splattered onto his ribcage. The bandana was removed, and he saw both of their bones covered in a mix of blue and orange. But that hardly matter when Sans’s confession replayed in his mind.
“i love you to, bro. more than anything.”
And he was happy. |
Well, she was right, on both accounts.
Korra’s head burned with a constant and dizzying pain as soon as the morning light leaked into her bedroom. Her eyes fluttered, trying to combat the stinging brightness and wake up at the same time. She turned over and saw Naga laying a heavy head on the side of the mattress, and a very large, wagging tail. Korra reached out and stretched her arms and legs, in hopes that it would somehow ease her headache. Not a chance.
Korra checked her clock and the hands pointed to 6:15, giving her forty-five minutes until opening. She sat up and placed her feet on the cold concrete floor, they jumped at the touch but quickly settled onto the icy surface. With missteps and all she made her way to the kitchen and Naga followed closely behind, sniffing at her legs. Korra’s morning attire was lazy, in the way that it was whatever shirt she had worn during the day and simple underwear. Her red henley was unbuttoned and wrinkled from her spirit induced sleep.
Korra halted at the cupboard and grabbed the bag of dog food from below. A cold and very wet nose pressed up against the back of her bare thigh and with a scream, the bag tumbled down to the floor. Luckily it didn’t break.
“Naga!” Korra shivered as the cold air brushed up against the dog’s mark. “I know you’re hungry but sheesh!” She grabbed the bag firmly and poured a hefty amount into the silver bowl. Each piece of food clanged against the tin and echoed in her head, like small hail on a metal roof. After the food was put away, Korra wrapped a strong hand around her head and muddled back to the bedroom to change.
The morning light pierced through each square of the windows that made up the front of the cafe. It mixed with the dark wooden furniture and leather chairs to create a heavenly atmosphere. Each material hit with light became a lighter honey or amber, and paired with their shadowed counterparts beautifully. A line of coffee makers adorned the back counter. Korra gently placed the filters in each one, crushed beans into grounds and placed a different kind in each machine. Then the Southern Tribe completed its transformation from a dark, closed space to a one that was rich in many senses, sight, sound, smell, taste. The smell was really what tied it all together. The aroma produced by heating the grounds, the mixture of water and coffee, sugar and milk, it completely changed from the static and closed space.
Before she opened Southern Tribe’s doors, one last thing was required. The apron was a dark forrest green. It was stained with concentrated coffee from her own Press, and had a sloppily written Korra in the left corner. The rear strings were never tied, not because she didn’t like them knotted but because of the effort it took to reach back and tie them.
Knock Knock.
Korra turned to the glassy tapping at the front entrance. Stood outside, wrapped in a heavy green scarf with short brown hair was Opal, Korra’s right hand woman and only employee.
“Forget your key again?” Korra mumbled as she swung the door open.
Opal rubbed her neck and gave a defeated sigh, “Yeah. I must’ve left it in my apron again.”
Korra stepped aside to let her employee into the warm cafe. The wind blew in and nipped at her face. She hunched over and closed the door. She couldn’t tell if she was getting weaker or if the cold air might have actually helped her. She rushed back to the counter.
“Morning, boss,” Opal sighed and tied her apron behind her back. She stood behind the register and gave Korra a puzzled look. “Hey, are you okay?”
Korra squinted from the light, her head still pulsed and her stomach ached. “Yeah, I’m fine, I just feel a bit off today.” She said with a small groan and headed behind the counter.
“Your apron isn’t tied again,” She pointed out and Korra turned her back to her. Opal walked over and took a string in each hand and started tying. “You should really be doing this yourself you know.” Korra laughed at the the mix of command and worry in her voice.
The morning went by quickly and that seemed to ease Korra’s pain. The regulars came in, ordered and went on their way. Opal took the orders and Korra made them. Each customer left with a smile. Her headache eased a bit after standing near the freshly brewed pots of coffee for so long. It soothed her head, and cleared her mind. Though it didn’t come that easy and the nausea still remained. Opal asked constantly what happened or if she was okay between most customers.
She admired her employee’s worried treatment, but it began to get on her nerves. Though she preferred her personality over her aunt’s. Opal Beifong came from an Earth Kingdom family and a place called Zao Fu. She came to Republic City to escape her family and make it on her own. Though she couldn’t escape them completely. Opal’s Aunt, Lin Beifong happens to be the chief of police in the capital of the United Republic, but Opal and Korra don’t see her much.
After some prying and getting very little out of her boss, Opal decided to just ask straight out. “Okay Korra, why are you so hungover?”
Korra fumbled with a coffee mug, almost dropping it when the words hit her ears. “Wha.. What do you mean?” She felt like her headache was making a comeback.
“Well you’ve been off all morning, your head obviously hurts and it looks like you’re going to hurl any second now,” Opal plainly stated and crossed her arms. “So? What did you do last night boss?” Her pithy expression evolved into a smirk.
Korra set the porcelain mug down on the counter and took in a deep breath. “Well.. I.. I went to a club with Mako and Bolin last night. Well more like I was dragged to a club last night. I had a few too many, I guess, mostly their fault anyway.” She sighed and slapped a hand on the back of her neck.
Opal’s face changed from devious to interested, her eyes widened and she leaned in closer. “You? You went to a club? That’s unexpected.” She scoffed.
Korra stamped a hard foot down, “Now what’s that supposed to mean?” she bellowed.
“You don’t really seem like the club type, boss,” Opal smiled and raised her hands to alleviate any offense taken. “It’s not a bad thing!”
“Well, I did go.” Korra trailed off.
“That’s great though. Bout time you got back into the swing of things, right?”
“Yeah, I guess you’re right.”
“I think it’s great! What club did you go to? Could I come next time? You can’t just go out with Bolin and not invite me.” She finished with a hiss.
Korra froze for a second, hesitant to answer. She coughed and just decided to own up to it. “They took me to Future Industries last night. It was fun.” she finished with a confident smile.
Opal’s eyes shot open from her casual glance. “Wait, isn’t that the club that’s also a stri--,” Korra shh’d her and made a very loud and fake cough.
“Yeah I went there, Opal. It’s no big deal,” Korra turned from her and poured herself a cup of coffee.
“Yeah, but..”
The door flung open and let in a cold gust of wind. A tired looking Mako and a more excited Bolin walked through the air torn entrance. Both were dressed warmly, peacoats and a red scarf for Mako that covered his mouth along with a RCPD badge brazen on his left side. Bolin jumped ahead when Mako stopped to fix his hair after the wind had its way with it.
“Goooooood mornin’ ladies!” Bolin roared as he approached the counter. Korra managed a half happy, half painful smile. She looked over at Opal who had turned beet red. Mako ran his fingers through his hair one more time and walked up to the counter as well.
“Hey guys.” Korra groaned and struggled with the simple words.
“That rough, huh?” Mako laughed and set down some money. “Could we get two house coffees Opal? Your boss doesn’t seem up to it.”
Opal nodded and stumbled over to the back counter.
“Korra, you okay?” Bolin leaned in and asked with a raised eyebrow. “You’re not lookin’ so good.”
“Gee, thanks.” Korra turned her head away. Mako hit his brother on the shoulder and mumbled dumbass under his breath.
“Well we know how you’re feeling. So tell us, how’d it go last night?” Mako placed his hand on Korra’s shoulder over the counter. The words hit her but she turned with a confused look.
“What do you mean how’d it go?” she tilted her head at them. Opal halted the pot mid-pour over the mugs.
“What do you mean, what do you mean?” Bolin questioned. Korra gave another confused stare and shrugged her shoulders. “You know, was it eventful?” Bolin responded.
“Eventful how? Did you beat up mugger again boss?” Opal joked as she poured the second cup. Korra shook her head no.
“You know,” Mako butted in and pointed at Korra, “You, Korra,” then he turned and pointed out at the street, in the direction of Future Industries, “and Misato? She walked you home last night after we ran into her outside of the club?”
Opal brought over the two cups and settled in next to the brothers. Korra took a step back and her eyes bounced between Mako and Bolin. Her memory flooded with small fragments of the night before. The dim, amber lit room. The cold ice sliding from the glass and touching her lips. Black lace, long white legs, green eyes.
She remembered the bass of the music coursing through her body and the dark room with the white leather chair at its center. In that moment, she remembered the dance. She could recall every second of it, every little nuance and movement. Korra twitched a bit at the thought, she tightened her arms and felt the light fingers skimming over them and her words, the way they rolled off of her tongue and escaped into the warm air from red painted lips.
Then Korra remembered the fall. She immediately got flustered and turned an intense shade of red as she looked up at Mako, Bolin and Opal. She slapped her forehead with her palm out of embarrassment only to hang her head.
“I’m such a loser. I fell in the bar. In front of everyone, in front of her.”
“Yeah you did!” Bolin screamed and started to laugh only to be punched in the shoulder by Mako.
“Well you said the dance was great, so the walk home must have been interesting,” Mako leaned in and brought his mutterings to a whisper, “So did anything happen? Did you guys talk?”
Korra scratched at her cheek and wracked her brain, trying to remember the vague details. “Well, she came in here, she wanted to see the shop. She really liked it? I think. Then she told me to come see her again and then I…” Korra trailed off again, she remembered her quick comeback, with a sigh she continued, “-- then I told her that she should come have coffee with me sometime? Oh god.” Korra pulled her fingers over her eyes.
“That’s awesome! So like a date? You basically asked her on a date. Didn’t she Mako?” Bolin slapped his hands on the counter and bounced up and down. Opal, still red, took a small sidestep away from the violent jumping.
Mako crossed his arms and a smug look formed on his face. “That’s bold even for you, Korra. You must really like this girl.”“I barely even know her. She’s just really pretty and the dance was amazing and I… I just want to see her again, I think.”
“Well sounds like you’re going to, boss. She’ll probably come in today before lunch.” Opal added in and began to walk behind the counter.
Bolin and Mako grabbed their mugs and start to head out, though Bolin turns back around, “One last thing Korra.”
She stood at attention, “Sure what is it?”“So that’s all that happened last night? You asked the cute dancer on a date, not even a date, you invited her to have coffee with you?”
Korra heard Mako’s words trap her, wondering if anything else did happen. She forcibly combed through her hazy memories in order to find anything else. A quick memory flickered in her mind, it was hazy but it was there. Her cheek felt warm and as she placed a coffee stained hand on it, she remembered the kiss and smiled.
“No. Nothing else happened. I was pretty drunk thanks to you.” Korra stuck out her tongue as Mako shrugged his shoulders and took a hold of Bolin’s collar. He had gotten caught up staring at something behind the counter but a forceful hand jerked him out of his daze and before Korra knew it they were rounding the corner outside. She looked back over to the source of Bolin’s staring to see a blushing Opal loading the glass display with more pastries.
“Maybe she will show up,” Opal spoke under her breath, Korra changed the pots for the mid morning rush.
///
Lunch hour came around and although she knew it was a long shot, Korra was a little disappointed in her mid-morning fantasy not coming true. She called it quits for the time being and put Opal in charge of the cafe while she took a much needed break. Food for Naga and then food for her. She prepared lunch and headed to the roof. It was her little get away each day. Work below, living in the middle and relaxation above. It wasn’t a big space, but it felt that way when she looked over the entire city. The sky was open and expansive.
Korra sat on the ledge and peered out over the backside of the building, she ate her meal and sipped on cold tea. The rear opened the view further with Harmony tower adorning the center of Republic City park. She would take Naga there just to get the impatient beast out of the cramped apartment. She smiled at the thought of Naga holding her leash and taking up the entire hallway waiting for Korra to take her out.
The lake in the park, in front of Harmony tower was so small from up on her perch and the turtleduck paddle boats were ducklings swimming in a puddle. It reminded Korra of home, the small puddles that would form when the ice melted during the summer and the birds would migrate back with their newborns. She hadn’t been back since she first moved to Republic City and weeks had slipped by since she last talked to her parents. Her mind wandered between the intense snow storms and ice fishing with her father. Days where they’d have to spend hours just to dig out the snow around their front door.
///
The next day, Korra took her break on the roof again. The city didn’t seem quite as busy as the day before. There was an induced quiet, only mumbled voices and footsteps. Though the silence was filled with Naga’s heavy panting. She ran around from end to end of the roof, shaking her head and stamping her feet. Korra smiled at her playful running, though the smile didn’t last long as her mind stretched over the morning and the day before.
Misato hadn’t come into the cafe. Korra knew in the back of her mind that she was expecting too much. Her hopefulness was riddled with doubt, mostly that the dancer she met three days ago would not actually come to her coffee shop.
She ate her lunch and threw a ball for Naga. The cold midday air sent a chill down her spine. Korra tightened her scarf and pulled her knees together. A long sip of coffee from her paper cup. The calming drink slipped down her throat and resonated in her chest, which heaved as she let out a deep and warm breath.
Korra’s heavy breath escaped her mouth and traveled into the cold winter afternoon. It filled the air around her, heating her cheeks. She scratched her nose and left a fingerprint on the lens, obscuring her view. In that chilly air, she closed her eyes. It felt like days flew past her and by the time she realized it, they really had. Misato hadn’t come.
|
Cold wind forced through the open gap where Theo stood, snow falling from the top of the mountain down to the cave. Tommy barely shivered. After Exile, the cold hardly caused him pain.
He glared sharply at Theo. "What do you want?" He snapped. In a heartbeat he'd planted his foot on Dreams' chest just below his throat and aimed his axe at the newest threat. This was going to be difficult if Theo proved to be a problem.
"Are you here to save Dream?" At those words, Dream made a desperate scramble to get up, but Tommy put even more pressure down causing him to make a choking noise.
"You're gonna be his little puppet? Follow his lead?" Tommy taunted Theo. His heart beat faster. "Come on, I can take two of you."
He knew that wasn't true, but he was Tommyinnit, and above all, a survivor. He would not go down without a fight.
Theo's eyes sharpened at the accusations. Tommy mentally went over what was in his inventory and calculated his survival rate as fast as he could. "You know," Theo said, breaking him out of his mental calculations of how much dynamite he could place but also survive at the same time. "I don't think I will be saving Dream today."
Tommy's eyes widened and he tensed. "What!?" He exclaimed. He had not expected that in the slightest. Dream let out a shocked splutter, then grew angry.
"Come on, cut the crap Theo," he scoffed. "We made a deal. I'd help you get revenge on Tubbo, and you help me."
Tommy's eyes flashed like lightning. So Theo
had
been planning Tubbo's death. His grip on the ax tightened. Well, guess Theo could burn in hell along with Dream. Maybe they could share a lava lake.
Theo suddenly seemed thoughtful and he tapped his chin comically. "But did you help me kill Tubbo? Heck, I didn't even kill him! He did that himself." Rage mixed with confusion burned in Tommy's stomach, as he opened his mouth to say something, but Theo wasn't done.
"You know, I'm stupider than I realized! This Tommy here, I think he has it right!" Tommy suddenly jerked his head and stared at him, even more confused.
"I- what?" He asked, aghast. Why was Theo taking his side?
"You're a filthy, no good piece of slime. You are
nothing
like my Dream, who, if anything, taught me to never go making the wrong allies." Tommy's eyes darted back and forth across Theo, searching for any lies behind his words. He was
actually
betraying Dream. Was Prime finally on his side?
"Now wait one second-" Dream said quickly, seeming to realize his only ally was sliding from his grip.
"I am not your puppet Dream, and you are not my master." Tommy was amazed at his luck. Maybe this Theo wasn't so bad after all. He was a version of himself afterall.
"Alright Tommy," Theo said, turning to him. "Do whatever you have to with this worthless piece of slime. You wanted to revive Tubbo, didn't you?"
Tommy frowned at him but nodded slowly. Dream started to speak, but Theo and Tommy both glared at him with such ferocity that he had the wisdom to shut up.
"Fine then," Theo said. "But once Dream's dead-"
"What!?" Dream yelled, his visible eye behind the cracked mask widening. Tommy reviled in his fear, his insides screaming with satisfaction.
"-I'm leaving this server. Revive Tubbo, I don't care. I'm done with this place." He paused then. "Actually, I'd quite like it if you got rid of this Dream as soon as possible. He's a bloody little snake and a dishonor to my Dream."
Tommy grinned wildly. This was definitely too good to be true. But you know what? He’d take it. "Don't worry, Tommy laughed. Once I revive Tubbo, this green bastard is done for." Tommy grinned. Revenge was a sweet thing. He'd make this hurt.
Dream jumped in then, clearly not done. "The only reason Tubbo needs to be revived is because of you. You know that right Tommy?
Tommy froze, slowly turning around to face Dream. Dream grinned as if excited to see a reaction from him. Maybe if you’d done better, he said slowly. Tubbo wouldn’t have killed himself.
A voice called in the back of Tommy's mind, one that cried through the reddening haze Dreams words out up. A voice that told him Dream only wanted a reaction from him. But then it shattered. If it was a reaction the masked man wanted, it’s a reaction he’d get. Red flooded him, and Tommy let out a laugh, a strained, maniacal laugh. His eyes glittered unnaturally.
There was so much red.
Tommy only blinked once before raising his axe and swinging with all his might. He was done with Dream. He wasn't weak anymore. He wasn’t Dream's plaything. Dream let out a yell, struggling to get away, realizing he was done for.
But then instead of hitting his head or neck as he was aiming originally, he switched his aim away and sent his axe cutting straight through Dreams arm, severing it completely.
Dream let out a piercing, blood curdling scream, his pain quite visible as blood spurted everywhere, getting on his clothes, hands, and axe. The masked man screamed again and cradled what was left of his arm to his chest.
He deserves it he deserves it-
"Dream," Tommy said quietly. "You've made me hurt
so much
. If you don't revive Tubbo, I won't be afraid to make you hurt just as you have ever done to me and more."
Theo watched Tommy in silent disbelief. He couldn't quite understand what Tommy was doing. Where was the scared broken teen from the obsidian cell? What had Tubbo’s death done to him?
Tommy glared. "Well? Make your decision now."
"Five," Tommy started counting down on his blood dripping fingers.
"Four," he lifted the axe slightly, as if readying to strike again.
"Three," Dream hadn't spoken.
"
Two-
"
"FINE!! I'll do it. I'll revive Tubbo."
Tommy smiled. It was an unnatural smile, no warmth in sight.
"There! That wasn't so bad," he said, his voice coming out strangely smooth and calm. Much calmer than he felt.
He turned to Theo.
"You don't have to, but I'd appreciate it if you held him down." Theo stared at him for a moment, then walked forward and held his own axe to Dream's throat. Then he forced Dream unsteadily to his feet. He let out another cry of pain.
With his good hand Dream shakily reached into a deep pocket in his cloak and pulled out a piece of paper. It was wrinkled and singed slightly, as well as being covered in colored wax. It was honestly a bit of a let down from what the two had been expecting.
"That's the revival book?" Theo asked blankly. Tommy was slightly underwhelmed but brushed it off.
"Who cares, just do it already!" He snapped at the bleeding man. Dream glared at him before slowly reading the paper.
Tommy felt the breath leave his chest as Dream started speaking in another language. The light from the paper spread throughout the room until it was too much and he had to close his eyes. The three of them were thrown back onto the floor in separate directions and Dream screamed again in pain.
All Tommy could think as he tried to clear his vision was “
had it worked?”
____________________________________
"Why did you do it!?" Exile Tommy asked, grabbing the front of his shirt.
Tubbo's eyes widened and he shoved the version of Tommy away.
"I did what I had to," he exclaimed. "I-" his voice cracked. "I- you wouldn't understand. None of you would."
"Listen to me," Exile Tommy said. "Giving up was the worst choice I ever made. At first I didn't regret it. Dream was horrid to me, and I thought no one cared and I could never escape. Then I met more Tommy's, ones who had gotten out, and- and I can't help but wonder if things could have gone better for me if I hadn't given up so easily. Y-you can't go back once you make that sort of choice."
Tubbo stared at him. Then he sighed. "You think I don't
know
that?" he asked weakly. "But there is nothing for me back there. Tommy he- he's hurting, and I'm sure it's my fault, and he died then came back and Dream escaped and Ranboo-" Tubbo couldn't continue.
Every memory of the enderman hybrid poisoned him and stung like a vicious snake. All he could think was how much of it was fake? How much had just been a lie? The days they'd had snowball fights, or the bantering and teasing about their “marriage-” even finding and adopting Michael in the nether. Was it all just a facade to
use
him?
He leaned forward and wrapped his arms around himself in a weak attempt at getting comfort. He thought leaving them would be better. He'd hoped that he'd be free after death. He wanted the pain to end, at least the pain of his mistakes. But it hadn't left. It lingered there like thorns that scratched and cut whenever he thought of them.
Tubbo flinched as someone rested their hand on his shoulder. He looked up and saw the Avian Tommy, Thomas.
He met their gaze, so familiar yet so different, and sobbed again, the overwhelming realization crashing in. He was never going to see Tommy alive again. Not the one that he'd faced trial after trial with, beaten Dream with, and carried heavy trauma with. He was never going back. He could only hope that he wouldn't see him here any time soon.
He could never fix his relationship with Ranboo, never save him. He was only left with the burning memories of when they had been friends. When he had been
his
.
Tubbo felt someone sit down next to him. He didn't want to face this Tommy here, or any of them. He didn't know what to do, he didn't know-
Suddenly he heard an exclamation trickle through the crowd.
He opened his eyes to see three bright orbs of light spinning around the train.
"Is it
Her
?"
"The
Three
would never make
their
presence known here."
"But he shouldn't be here,
they
might want to fix it."
Tubbo barely had enough time to let out a small shriek before the three balls of light suddenly surged forward and enveloped him, sending light straight into his brain.
He heard the gasps and yells of the subway car slowly fade out and whiteness crowded his vision, and he lost his grasp on the only reality he had left.
|
Tim’s not sure how he got here.
Well, he does. By car.
But, in more of a metaphorical sense.
How exactly did he end up at a cramped table in a hole in the wall Italian place, sitting across the people he had once called family, with his partner and his two little girls next to him?
Well, decisions made coming off of a lazarus episode and coming onto a painkiller high aren’t the most rational.
To say the least, it is absolutely, excruciatingly awkward.
Tim, his hands stitched from the deep cuts the man had slashed into his palms as well as the broken skin in his knuckles from the brutal beating he gave him, now have a constant tremor. So, Tim sits with his hands in his lap as he drinks his lobster bisque through a jumbo straw with a loud slurp.
Jason, on the other side of Kon, rubs his temples, clearly wanting to be anywhere but with them.
Bruce and Dick just stare at Tim, not wanting to be the first ones to break the silence.
Damian is eating eggplant parmesan. It looks pretty damn good.
Tim looks up at them, still slurping his bisque. He’s not going to break the silence first either.
They’ll probably just sit in silence this whole time. Knowing how stubborn they all are, he wouldn’t be surprised if that’s how it is.
Kon is shifting uncomfortably next to Tim, obviously irked by the intensity radiating off of all of them. Well, Tim isn’t. He won’t break.
Tim looks around the restaurant, planning every possible escape plan. Most of them are absurd, senseless plans, ones to distract himself and indulge his want to get the hell out of here. But he stays. Because he won't let them have the satisfaction of seeing him stand down and giving up first.
“Dada. Uh uh foot,” Lottie says, breaking the silence.
“You don’t like your fruit?” Tim asks, turning his attention to her.
“Uh uh foot,” Lottie says. She gets a handful of blueberries that she’s mashed in her tiny fists and throws it into Bruce’s hair.
Tim snorts, covering his smile with his trembling hand.
Bruce, surprisingly unaffected, wipes his hair with a napkin and turns his attention to the girls.
It’s as if he’s seeing them for the first time. And maybe it is. He hasn’t looked at them at all this whole time they were here. Did he feel like he couldn’t?
No. It’s because he’s disgusted by them. He can’t even stand to look at them. He thinks they’re abominations.
Kon squeezes Tim’s arm gently, giving him a soft look. ‘Are you okay?’ he mouths.
Tim takes a shaky breath and nods.
To his surprise, Bruce is looking at the girls with a soft eyed expression. A small smile adorns his lips, the corner of his eyes crinkling. He wiggles his finger at them.
Lizzie cackles loudly, blowing a raspberry at Bruce.
Bruce smiles wider, his eyes somehow softening even more.
And Tim… doesn’t know what to do with that.
He had been preparing for rejection. Disowning from his family. Maybe ousting from the bats entirely.
But this? This… oddly paternal adoration. Paternal? Grandpaternal? Grandparently? This… this softness that is taking over Bruce’s expression is… weird.
It’s just weird.
It’s unBrucely.
Bruce had always been stoic. Sure, he had his moments, but he was always a man that had already lost his world. Tim had picked up the pieces of Bruce that had shattered and glued them together with Elmer’s liquid glitter glue and it never quite stuck right because Bruce never stayed idle enough for the glue to dry because Elmer’s liquid glitter glue just takes forever to dry and the glitter flakes off and…
Where was this metaphor going?
“Tim?” Kon whispers, nudging Tim’s side.
“Sorry,” Tim murmurs, snapping back out of his head.
“What are their names?” Bruce asks.
And Tim stops. Because he figured by now Bruce would have somehow cyberstalked their aliases to find everything out about them.
“The one with the impeccable aim is Elliot,” Tim says. “And the one who has more banana on her bib than in her mouth is Elizabeth.”
“Beautiful names for beautiful girls,” Bruce says.
Are those… tears in Bruce’s eyes?
“My apologies,” Bruce says, wiping at his eyes. “Just… I hadn’t expected out of my sons for you to be the one with children first. You’re… you’re still a kid.”
“I’m not a kid,” Tim snaps. “And I’m not your son.”
Bruce flinches. “No, I know,” Bruce says. “Just… you didn’t get to be a kid. And I know that I played a part in that too. But… wow. You’re not a kid anymore, are you?”
Tim doesn’t know how to respond to that so he doesn’t.
Dick clears his throat. “So you guys live around here?”
“We’ve got a place,” Tim says. “After I destroyed the League, I ended up having a lot more money than I knew what to do with.”
Bruce and Dick both flinch at the admission.
Tim knows he’s playing this dirty just to get a reaction from them but… it’s almost like he’s testing them. To see what will finally make them realize that Tim isn’t worth it and leave him again. He knows that it does no good but… he needs this. He needs to prove it to himself and he’ll keep whittling away at their defenses and comfort until rather they call him out or they leave.
“Well,” Bruce says slowly, “it’s good that you have the assets to provide for your daughters.”
Tim blinks. “Right.”
“So, Kon,” Bruce says, moving the attention away from Tim. “Things going well on the farm?”
“Shit,” Kon curses softly. “I totally just left work without telling my boss why. I have to go make a call.” He starts to get up but freezes. “Tim,” he says softly. “Is it okay if I…”
“I think we can handle not killing each other for a few minutes while you’re on the phone,” Tim says dryly.
“Are you sure?” Kon asks.
“Call Cameron,” Tim says. “I’m sure he’s worried.”
Kon looks like he wants to argue but Tim shoots him a hard glare and he caves, leaving the table and quickly typing on his phone.
Tim goes back to slurping his bisque.
“Tim,” Dick says, voice hesitant. “Look, I… I’m sorry.”
Tim rolls his eyes.
Dick, obviously noticing but pushing forward anyways, continues. “And I… I can’t imagine what you went through. But I just… I wanted to thank you. For finding Bruce. And I’m sorry I didn’t believe you when you said he was alive—”
“I think you did a little more than not believe me, Dick,” Tim retorts. “Taking Robin and threatening Arkham is a lot more than just not believing me.”
“I know. I know I hurt you and I—”
“But do you?” Tim interrupts. “Do you know? Or did you just convince yourself that you’re empathetic enough to know how much I hurt?” Tim says this with a mocking pout. His expression morphs into a sneer. “Because that’s projection, Dick, not understanding. Sure, you were torn up from Bruce’s death. You had to shoulder the weight of the cowl. But you didn’t understand what you did to me. You were grieving? Well, boo fucking hoo. Sorry that you were so wrapped up in yourself that you didn’t realize we could’ve grieved together. That you could’ve used even a pinch of that ‘big brother energy’ that you poured into Damian while you were ignoring me or calling me crazy to even notice that maybe I wasn’t coping like you thought I was.”
Tim’s eyes narrow. “Because I always had my shit together, right? Why worry about Tim? It’s not like his parents and his exgirlfriend and his best friend and his boyfriend and his second father just died. No, he’s fine. I’ll just put all of my focus on the assassin child and coo and coddle him while he tries to maim and murder Tim. Tim can handle it. He’s not giving him a chance. Well guess what? He didn’t deserve a chance and you don’t deserve any second chances either. Fuck. I don’t even know what I’m doing here.”
Tim takes a deep breath. “Sorry Damian. This isn’t about you.”
There is no apology to Dick though, and that speaks volumes.
“And you,” Tim swallows back a sob that wants to escape. “You all said that I killed myself. You… how could you do that? Was that all my life was worth?”
“Your life doesn’t have a measurable worth, Tim. It’s priceless,” Bruce says.
“Then why did you say that?” Tim asks, tears pooling in his eyes. “Why did you take all of the things that made me persevere, that I worked so hard to accept and move on from and grow from and… and make it into the sob story that ended my life?”
“It was the easiest way to keep the press out of—”
“Oh, it was easy?” Tim asks. “It was easy? Well, I’m so happy that you made my death easy for you.”
Tim sneaks a glance at Jason and all he can see is the sadness in his eyes.
“I don’t want your fucking pity,” Tim spits.
“It’s not pity,” Jason says. “You know I get it more than they ever will.”
And Tim deflates. Because he does. He does know and it’s… it’s been so long since someone truly understood him.
“It wasn’t easy, Tim,” Bruce whispers. “Your death would never be something that we would take… easily. It… Tim, you’re my son. As much as Dick and Jason and Damian. You… your death mattered. And maybe to the media it was a blip in their headlines but for us it… it was an ache that never ended. You saved me and I couldn’t save you and I—”
To Tim’s horror, Bruce sobs.
“You’re alive,” Bruce says. “You’re alive and we’re all doing this wrong. Because it doesn’t matter, whatever fingers we want to point, because Tim, I don’t care if you hate me or never want to see me again. Just know that I am so happy that you’re alive. And that I love you, son. And I am proud of you for living. And I’m sorry I never told you that.”
Tim stares at Bruce, speechless, and finally, he breaks.
Ugly, loud, snotty tears. Sobs that wrack his entire body and make his chest feel like it’s fuzzy. Hiccuping between gasps of breaths.
There’s a pair of strong, warm arms around him and Tim melts into them.
“What happened?” Tim hears Kon ask.
“I don’t know,” Dick says, voice slightly panicked.
“Dada!” Lottie and Lizzie exclaim, distressed.
Tim looks up, and they’re both looking at him with wobbling lips, arms outstretched towards him.
“Kon?” Tim whispers.
“I got it,” Kon says. He pulls the girls from their highchairs and places them into Tim’s lap.
Tim hugs his girls into his chest, kissing the tops of their heads as he hides his face in their hair.
“I’m sorry,” Tim murmurs. “I’m sorry I just… I never thought you would… I never thought you ever…”
“And I’m sorry,” Bruce says. “For making you believe that. For never showing you just how much you matter.”
Tim sobs again and Lizzie frowns, slapping his face with her banana covered fist. Lottie tugs at his hair.
“I’m okay, darlings,” Tim says. “Daddy is okay. More than okay.”
Tim gives Bruce a teary smile.
Tim has forged his own family, thinking he had no place in the one he had forced himself into before. But he still had a place with the bats.
Sure, he isn’t ready to forgive Dick for what he’d done. And he still doesn’t quite feel safe around Jason or Damian. And there’s a lot of still open wounds left with Bruce.
But this is a good place to start.
Just knowing that he has a place.
And that he matters.
He matters.
Tim matters. |
In every world, there are things that fit together so perfectly, most can’t imagine one without the other.
Peanut butter without jelly, a car without wheels. Bakugou Katsuki without his anger and pride, his perfect quirk, and Midoriya Izuku without his kindness, his self sacrificial streak, without the never ending forgiveness toward everyone who’s ever hurt him. It seems absurd to even say it, a world where these things don’t go hand in hand.
But nothing is set in stone, and it’d do you well to remember that.
```````````````````````````````````````````````````````````````````````````````````````````````````````````````````````````````
One of Izuku’s earliest memories involves his Mother, of course it does, most of them involve her in one way or another. And the two that shaped his life from early on happen within weeks of each other, though Inko Midoriya doesn’t realize the impact her words had on her child.
No one ever realizes the impact of words until it’s too late.
He was four when he lost the right to feel his emotions, and he was four when he was told he’d never be a hero.
I’m sorry Izuku. I’m so sorry.
Before her endless apologies wormed their way into his heart and made a nest in the middle of his chest, always reminding him that even his Mother didn’t believe he could be a hero, there are other words.
In this memory Izuku is four, and at the park with his Mother. He’s playing alone, it’s a little too cold for most children to be out. But he’d begged his Mother until she’d broken. And in the quiet of the park, he hears a tiny meow, one he would have missed if anyone else had been there.
In this memory Izuku creeps closer, to find a small kitten, calling out for its Mother. It’d brought tears to Izuku’s eyes, and he’d been quick to get his Mother to help. They took the kitten home with them, warmed it up, and it became Izuku’s very first pet. It’s not until afterwards that his Mother says the words that shape the next six years of his life.
“ Oh Izuku, you've always been such a kind boy. So unlike Katsuki. As much as I love him, I could never raise him. He’d fray my nerves far too much. I love my sweet boy who never has a bad thing to say about anyone. Who never gets mad or hateful. I’m not sure how I would react if you ever called me an old hag like Katsuki does!” She laughs here. “ Don’t ever change, okay? Real heroes are the ones who are kind and forgiving, just like you!”
And Izuku had smiled because his Mother had called him a hero! And he’d promised to never be mean or hateful, though he didn’t think Kacchan was either of those things. He was just misunderstood.
It was such a subtle thing, just a small conversation among thousands he’s had with his Mother, but one of the most impactful. Afterwards, anytime he felt angry or upset, he’d simply smile past the anger. Because when he didn’t he’d notice the little frown on his mothers face and realize he was upsetting her.
And the last thing a four year old wants is to upset his Mother.
This sets the trend for the next six years of his life. Every negative emotion bottled up tight, until he’s set to explode with how much he wants to say.
To the bullies who hurt him when they shouldn’t.
To Kacchan, who is supposed to be a hero but his Mother said heroes are supposed to be kind and forgiving. The very opposite of what Kacchan is.
To the teachers who turn around every time they see Kacchan’s sparking hands draw closer.
SHUT UP DEKU. Your useless, so the very least you can do is help me practice my quirk
To his mother, who simply smiled. “ Oh boys will be boys Izuku. Katsuki will learn. Until then, you just be the forgiving sweetheart I know you are.”
Izuku wants to be a hero more than anything. And his Mother said that a real hero is someone who is kind and forgiving. But Izuku has found that he’s neither of those things. As he grows, he finds more and more spiteful things want to slip out that he needs to stick in the back of his mind. Izuku wants to be a hero, but according to his Mother he could never be a hero because he isn’t kind or forgiving, no matter how much he pretends otherwise.
Izuku is not nice, or sweet. He wants to scream and hurl things but he can’t. He simply has to take the abuse handed out because he’s quirkless and accept it. Smile through it, and accept that it will stop one day and forgive everyone who has ever done it on top of that.
He’s so sick of pretending.
It all comes to a head on his tenth birthday. His Mother had forced him to bring cupcakes to share with his classmates, even though he knows how this will end.
When Kacchan had seen the cupcakes in his hands, he’d sneered and gotten up.
“ Do you think any of us want to celebrate your birthday? You're a Deku, useless. We don’t want you alive, in fact I wish you would just jump off a roof and pray for a quirk in your next life.” Kacchan made sure to scream that in Izuku's face as he slapped the cupcakes out of Izuku’s hands.
The next few moments happen in slow motion for Izuku. His ears are ringing, Kacchan’s words echoing in his head. “ We don’t want you alive. We don’t want you alive. Go jump” The familiar anger that bubbles in Izuku’s chest rises up once more, as his teacher turns, pretending not to hear a thing. His eyes flicker around wildly, searching for one person who wants him alive, who doesn’t wish his death as the anger in his chest chokes him out.
He doesn’t find anyone. All of them are laughing and pointing. He vaguely hears one Kacchan’s cronies suggest they make him eat the cupcakes off of the floor like the dog he is.
Time resumes normally, and the anger in his chest bursts out for the first time in six years. An indecipherable scream erupts from his chest, hands reaching blindly for anything. What his hands touch on is a desk.
That day Izuku learns that the desks in his school are surprisingly light to lift, but they still pack a punch when slammed down on someone’s head. He watches through a haze of anger as Kacchan crumples.
It doesn’t make him feel better, and so he continues this time with his fists, pummeling the unconscious boy on the ground. Screaming his emotions for anyone to hear.
“ I’M NOT USELESS. WHY DOES EVERYONE WANT ME TO DIE. I’VE DONE NOTHING TO YOU. I HATE YOU. I HATE YOU. I HATE YOU.” It doesn’t register when he’s pulled off, fists still swinging even though they don’t hit their intended target.
As he’s yanked out of the classroom, maybe he subconsciously knows that this is the last time he’ll see his classmates, because he memorized the look on all of their faces.Kacchan is crumpled on the floor, his teacher knelt down by him on the phone. Blood pools from his head. It feels better than he thought it would. For once…they’re scared of
him.
And it makes something buried deep within his chest hum with delight to see them afraid of him for once.
Izuku spends the next hour being screamed at by the Principal waiting for his Mother to arrive. Izuku tunes him out until his Mother bursts through the door, hands already wringing anxiously.
“ Principal, surely this is a misunderstanding. My boy would NEVER hurt anyone. He’s far too sweet, let alone Katsuki. They’ve been best friends for years. “ Izuku’s Mother settles next to him, slipping a hand in Izuku’s for support. She turns to him with a small smile.
“ It’s okay sweetie. We’ll figure everything out. I know you never would have done this.” Izuku scoffs and turns away, much to his Mother’s surprise.
“ Ms. Midoriya, I assure you he did in fact attack unprovoked. Not only that but he attacked our star pupil, and now he’s being transported to the hospital. Mitsuki Bakugou is on her way right now. I’m not sure if she’ll press charges, but I will strongly suggest she does. Your son is a monster, and he will be expelled immediately.” Izuku glares at his principal.
“ It wasn’t unprovoked.” He snaps, bloody hands clenched tight. “ Bakugou told me to go kill myself. He’s been hurting me for years, and all anyone has ever done is TURN AWAY. I’M SICK OF PRETENDING TO FORGIVE HIM. I HATE HIM. I HATE HIM.” Izuku screams, throwing off the concerned hand of his Mother. “ I hate you too.” He hisses, turning his eyes on his heartbroken mother.
“ You never believed me, you just said he was roughhousing. I hate you.” Izuku chokes, the tears finally falling. “ I’m so sick of hiding my feelings just because you want a sweet precious boy, who never feels anything besides happiness. I’m not that boy, and I won’t pretend otherwise ever again. I don’t care that I’m being expelled, or that I hurt him. He deserved it.”
His Mother’s eyes are wide with shock, her hand reaching forward trembling. “ I-Izuku…” Izuku turns away. He can hear her start to cry but he ignores it.
The next few hours pass in a blur. When his Auntie arrives, more screaming happens. Izuku breaks once again, throwing her hands off of his shoulder, from where she was shaking him. Laying out the entire truth to a shell shocked Auntie. When they finally leave the office, he’s not sure whether or not charges are being pressed, if he’s been expelled, nothing. All he knows is that the anger still hasn't left.
It’s like now that the anger has erupted, it refuses to go back in. And maybe Izuku doesn’t want it to. He storms into his room as soon as he gets in, ignoring the teary eyes of his Mother.
He’s done feeling bad, done hiding how he feels.
And he’s mad
. Once he’s secluded in his room, the anger bursts through once more. Only this time, there’s no one to direct it at. He begins to throw everything his hands can get a hold of, taking sick satisfaction in how his figurines break upon impact. When there’s nothing left to throw, he begins to shred the posters hanging on his walls.
By the time he’s done, he’s exhausted and his room is destroyed, but the anger has finally begun to simmer down. He slumps onto the ground in the middle of his room breathing heavily, and he feels better than he has in a long time.
He doesn’t know how long he sits there, but the silence is eventually broken by the creak of his door.
“ I-Izuku?” His mother whispers, voice trembling horribly. Izuku doesn’t let himself feel bad about that.
“ What?”
“ We need to talk.” She walks in and sits on the edge of Izuku’s bed, which is littered with shattered toys and poster scraps. “ I…I didn’t know this is how you felt. You’ve always been my sweet little boy, and now this happens?” She’s crying, has been for a while if the red rims around her eyes say anything. “ I don’t know what to do. How to deal with this anger you're showing now.” She cries.
Izuku doesn’t respond, he doesn’t have one. He won’t go back to how he was, he doesn’t think he can.
“ I have a brother.” This makes Izuku pause. He hadn’t heard of any brother ever. “ He’s agreed to have you come live with him.” Izuku shoots up.
“ What? You can’t just throw me away, I’m your SON!” Izuku screams, hands shaking lightly. This is his Mom, he knew she would be upset, but sending him away? That was ridiculous!” Inko bursts into sobs.
“ Oh Izuku, I’m sending you away for your own good. I don’t know how to deal with this, but he will. I’ve hurt you so much. I don’t want to do it again.” And even though she’s crying, and looks like she wants to hug him, Izuku can tell he won’t change her mind. “ I’m doing this because I love you, even if you hate me.”
She gets up with a wobbly smile. “ We leave tomorrow morning so pack your things tonight dear. You've already been expelled from school, and Mitsuki has chosen not to press charges, so there’s nothing holding you here. .” She leaves the shell shocked boy laying on the ground, among the destroyed remnants of his life.
```````````````````````````````````````````````````````````````````````````````````````````````````````````````````````````````
Izuku is woken up at 3 in the morning the next day. His bags are packed, and an extra one sits on top of the ones he’s packed for some reason. His Mother shoos him into the car despite his protests and they spend the next five hours driving to the middle of nowhere. They are greeted by a virtual stranger to Izuku. One he’ll be staying with for who knows how long.
“ Your Izuku?” Izuku nods numbly, watching his Mother pack his things away into a car.
“ I am your Uncle Kato. Let’s go. We can go over the rules when we get to my home.”
Izuku walks toward Uncle Kato’s car quietly. He won’t say goodbye to the woman who’s giving him away, he refuses too.
Even so, he stops when she calls out, hoping that maybe she’s changed her mind. She hasn’t.
“ I’ll call every week, even if you don’t wish to talk to me. I’ll always be here, even if you hate me. I love you Izuku!” Izuku climbs into the car wordlessly, staring at the stranger who is his new guardian.
He doesn’t share the green hair that Izuku and his Mother have. His hair is brown and falls down his back. It’s pulled into a small ponytail. He doesn’t seem very noteworthy, small and slight, with green eyes. He also seems to hate talking, not saying a word after they pull out of the small store they’d met up in.
When they arrive at his Uncle’s house, Izuku is left to unpack for about an hour before being called down.
Uncle Kato sits on the couch and gestures for him to join him.
“ I heard you’ve been angry lately.” Izuku nods. “ It’s not a bad thing. I know it’s what your mother made it seem like, but she’s wrong. Anger is useful, it’s a tool. You want to be a hero right?”
“ I can’t.” Izuku says, voice tight. “ Heroes are supposed to be kind and forgiving. Or like All Might, a smile on their face.” He’s not expecting the boisterous laugh that comes out of Uncle Kato.
“ Well, if those are the requirements, I’m not sure how I became a hero.” Izuku whirls around.
“ You're a hero?”
“ Yes. An underground one named Whisper. And I’ll let you in on a secret. I was just as angry as you are. It’s
not
bad. But you can’t let it control you.”
“ How?”
“ I can teach you if you’d like. You have a long road ahead of you if you want to be a hero, but I’ll help you get there.” And then there’s something in Izuku’s hands.
Uncle Kato had slipped him a pair of gloves, ones used to protect hands from punching bags.
Izuku has always wanted to be a hero, and here is a hero willing to teach him. This is a moment that will define Izuku’s life here on out.
“ Okay Uncle Kato. Teach me how to control my anger, and how to be a hero.”
|
His taxi driver does not know how to drive.
Safely, at least. The ride had started off just fine, with the car going right at the edge of the speed limit. That was until three minutes into the ride, when the taxi driver had stomped on the accelerator, maneuvering in between stationary cars and winding down narrow streets at a speed that made Minho feel as though he was riding a rollercoaster. A welcome feeling, if he was actually on a rollercoaster, and not inside of a car.
He suspects that Jisung had written some special instructions to the driver somewhere. Something along the lines of, please give Minho a near-death experience.
Maybe rich people were above the law like that.
Or maybe his driver just doesn't know how to drive.
Twenty minutes ago, Minho had gotten ready, even putting on the best suit that he owned—the one that he hasn’t worn since his college matriculation. And he looks hot as hell, if he does say so himself.
He had paced around his room while waiting for his taxi—prepaid, courtesy of Jisung—and running through various scenarios in his head. There were a lot of variables at play tonight. Like, whether they would successfully dupe Jisung’s friends and coworkers into believing that they were in a committed relationship, or whether Jisung would blow their cover in a matter of seconds.
Although it had certainly been a while—one or two past lives ago—Minho had been to a million and a half of these so-called “work functions” that Jisung wanted him to attend. Minho was certain that he wouldn't say anything that would play into suspicions. After all, he was the master of amateurish conning. But Jisung, judging from last Friday, did not have as good of a track record with keeping his nerves at bay.
Four minutes before he was set to leave, he flung his door open with his foot with his dress shoes in his hands, and sauntered towards the main doorway.
“You look nice.” Seungmin’s voice boomed out from somewhere within the vicinity.
“Holy shit.” Minho flinched and dropped his shoes onto the ground with a thud. “You scared me. Warn a man next time, will you?”
Seungmin shrugged unapologetically, setting his opened book face side down and crossing his legs and arms. He examined Minho's ensemble, his eyes trailing up and down his body, which caused Minho to cower under Seungmin's scrutinizing gaze.
Two Fridays in a row,” Seungmin pointed out. “That’s a new record for you.”
“What can I say,” Minho replied flippantly. “I’m a changed man.”
Seungmin had shook his head and returned to his book, fully engrossed in the pages, and left Minho to stand by the doorway. Minho picked his shoes up from the ground, slipped his feet into them, and checked his watch, not bothering with the laces until he had made it into the taxi. By patting down his suit pockets hastily, he made sure all of his belongings were in place before he sped towards the stairs, and proceeded to shove himself inside of the car.
So Minho wasn't nervous. He had been to an abundance of fancy dinners and banquets and learned the art of small talk years ago. But somehow, it was as if all of his prior experiences had gone to shit the moment he had stepped inside of the taxi.
Currently, the wheels are jerking and twisting around. The feeling is enough to give him whiplash and conditions him into believing he's nervous, like he's one of Pavlov's dogs, even if he isn’t nervous. Really, not at all.
During the last few minutes of the car-ride, Minho makes the executive decision to slide his phone out from his pocket. As the vehicle continues to jolt, the screen blurs together in an array of colors, but Minho can still make out what the singular message from Jisung says.
Han Jisung: I’ll be by the side entrance
Me: and i’ll be by your side <3
When Minho arrives at the venue—an elegant yet presumptuous hotel—Jisung is rocking on his heels in the same manner he had been last week, while standing by the side of the building conspicuously. Minho watches as Jisung rubs his hands together rapidly, blowing away the friction-generated heat afterward.
Minho double checks his appearance, using his darkened phone screen as a mirror, before pocketing the device and stepping out onto the pavement. Then, in the reflection of the tinted car windows, Minho adjusts the top of his suit jacket that had slid towards one shoulder unnoticed. When he approaches where Jisung's standing, Jisung notices him in an instant with a look of wonder thinly veiling his obvious worry.
“You look...” Once Minho is a few steps away, Jisung's lips part in astonishment. “You look really...” Jisung croaks, “good.”
“Yes sir,” Minho responds, along with a mockery of a prince-like bow. It elicits a couple of forced giggles from Jisung. “And you…”
It’s as if Jisung had stepped out of the picture that Hyunjin had shown him last week. There’s a lot less boyish cuteness; everything about his appearance screams sleek, rich, and professional. Jisung's hair styled neatly and slicked off of his face with pomade. And the suit he's wearing is very obviously expensive—black and tailored so it accentuates his waist, but it's not gaudy, like what his subconscious had expected from someone like Jisung. Yet, there's a key similarity between the Jisung at the bar and the Jisung at the fancy business dinner: the fact that both versions of Jisung are considerably nervous. Perhaps for different reasons, but nervous all the same.
“You look good too!” Minho swats Jisung's upper arm playfully. “Come on, let’s go. We’ll be fine.”
“Will we now?" Jisung says flatly. Apparently, Minho’s peppiness is unconvincing. “This was a bad idea.”
Minho nods. “We will. What happened to that confident son-of-a-bitch at the bar?”
Jisung sends him a glare. “You’re just making fun of me now.”
“I’m really not. Let me try again.” Minho clears his throat and assumes a more neutral tone. “There’s nothing to be worried about. I promise.”
Despite his attempts to ease Jisung, the other's eyes are listless, shifting around and watching each person pass by mindlessly. Jisung's Adam’s apple bobs up and down as he gulps.
“Can I be your enzyme?” Jisung asks after a moment of silence. It's another one of his pick-up lines, but Minho doesn't even know if he could say anything at this point; if this was Jisung’s coping mechanism, Minho will let it slide. This time.
But Minho is unable to hold back his bewilderment. “My what?”
“Your enzyme,” Jisung repeats, enunciating each syllable. “Because my active site is searching for a substrate, just dying for a chemical reaction.”
Minho tilts his head to the side with his brows furrowed. “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”
“Uh...” Jisung looks visibly abashed by his own pick-up line and even more nervous than he had originally been. “I don’t know. I looked it up thinking you would know biology.”
“Why would you assume that I would know biology?” Minho splutters in disbelief, folding his arms over his chest. “What part of me looks like I know biology?”
“I don’t know! Some people just know things, but apparently, you aren’t one of them.” Jisung yelps, but it comes out sounding like an angry whisper. That statement would have come across as an insult had it come from just about anyone else. “Nevermind though, that pick-up line was sort of shit.”
“Sorry sweetheart, but every single pick-up line you’ve used so far was sort of shit,” Minho points out helpfully. The scowl he gets in response says otherwise.
“Am I paying you to insult me?”
“Oh, I’m sorry.” Minho’s lips lift up into a snarky smile. “I certainly don't want to insult my breadwinner boyfriend. He works so hard to provide for the family.”
“Breadwinner boyfriend...” Jisung echoes in a murmur, as if he’s testing how the words taste in his mouth. “Boyfriend…”
Minho rolls his eyes. “Yes, I thought the whole agreement was based on me pretending to be your boyfriend at, what you called yourself, dinners and stuff.”
“I did say that,” Jisung mutters, his voice still tense with worry. “You know, we didn’t even prepare a story.”
“And whose fault do you think that is?”
Jisung doesn't answer, staring off into the distance. His glassy eyes waver.
“How are you even an investment banker?” Minho sighs, slapping a hand over his forehead.
Jisung blinks. “Excuse me?”
“Do you just act on these whims?” Minho asks, finally voicing his skepticism. “I don’t really know much about your whole...” He flails his arms towards the hotel behind them“...thing. But isn’t your entire job supposed to be about predicting and analyzing things? How come you haven't had a real plan for any of this?”
“That’s not even comparable,” Jisung defends, puffing his trademark cheeks out. “I separate my work and my personal life.”
“You obviously don't.” Minho wouldn't be here if he had.
“I obviously don’t,” Jisung resigns, his chest falling with an exhale. “But my thought processes are completely different. I spent a long time learning how to make an Excel sheet in college. You can’t just live a normal life based off a spreadsheet though.”
“I mean…” Minho does think that Seungmin would be the kind of person to life off of a spreadsheet. In fact, Seungmin had created an Excel version of their grocery list—complete with prices, coupons, and budgeting pie-charts—only two weeks ago, even if it had gone unused. But he doesn’t voice the thought. “I guess you’re right.”
“Yeah…” Jisung trails off, turning around and staring at the imposing building behind them. It stands tall, artificial light filtering through the windows. “I don’t know what I was thinking. I really don’t want to do this.”
He eyes Jisung skeptically. If Minho's being honest, he doesn’t think that Jisung’s in any position to complain about the idea that he had come up with himself. Minho is a mere pawn in the game.
“Okay, listen.” Minho’s voice booms over the background noises of passersby and tires on asphalt. “Repeat after me," he says, grabbing onto Jisung's shoulders and shaking him back to life. "I am Han Jisung, the second sexiest motherfucker in the world.”
“I am Han Jisung and I am the...” Jisung falters, wincing at the next set of words. “The... second sexiest motherfucker in the world? Wait, why am I only the second sexiest?”
“Because I’m obviously first.” Minho cups his hands around his face and smirks, one side of his mouth lifted higher than the other. “Come on, you have to actually believe in the words for this to work. Let’s try saying it again. I am Han Jisung and I am the second sexiest motherfucker in the world, and I have the sexiest boyfriend alive.”
“I am Han Jisung.” Jisung straightens his spine, his voice straining with conviction. “And I am the second sexist motherfucker in the world, and I have the sexiest boyfriend alive.”
“Exactly.” Minho’s own body is pumping with adrenaline as he pep-talks Jisung into self-assurance. He’s jouncing on the balls of his feet as he firmly states: “And we’re going to go inside, be the hottest couple they’ve ever laid eyes on, and then we’re going to get the fuck out of there, alright?”
“Yes, we are.” Jisung’s eyes have become steely with determination. His position doesn't waver until he glances back at Minho and drops his shoulders, a frown creeping through the fractures in his demeanor. “But we still don’t have a story?”
Minho scoffs.“That’s what you're worried about? After everything I just said, you’re still worried about our love story?”
Jisung nods bashfully, light pink tinting his cheeks. “They won’t believe us if we don’t have a story.”
“We met in the bar a couple weeks ago and we’ve been taking it slow since,” Minho provides. It’s a simplified version of their actual meeting, plus or minus some details. They’re not exactly lying with this story either, just twisting the truth into something... unrecognizable. “Is that a good enough story for you?”
Jisung swallows thickly and nods.
“And relax,” Minho continues. “You’re going to some dinner banquet with your coworkers, not giving a speech to the entire country. You’ll be fine.”
“Mind you,” Jisung pipes up, his voice grasping at straws of tenacity but still faltering. “I’ve actually given a speech in front of the country before.”
Minho's eyebrows shoot up his forehead. “You have?”
“No, but I thought saying that would make me feel better,” Jisung sighs in resignation.
Minho shakes his head. “Come on, let’s go.”
Jisung takes several deep breaths before nodding meekly, letting Minho intertwine their fingers. He wills away the sensation of clammy skin-to-skin contact away into the back burner.
The hotel’s banquet hall is decorated with flower arrangements propped in waist-level vases. The ceilings are leveled, scintillating chandeliers fixed above them. The floor is covered in a warm-toned and ornate patterned carpet, with round tables filling every inch of space. Sitting on top of the tables are more flowers, various blossoms he can’t name placed in vases etched with geometric figures.
He eyes his surroundings, herds of people standing around the periphery of the room, engaging in small talk. Yet, not even a second after they enter, a deep rumble of a voice takes Minho out of his daze. He snaps his head towards the source of the sound.
“Han Jisung!”
Jisung tightens the grip around his hand.
"Seo Changbin," Jisung says, clenching his teeth. The man walks closer, a friendly grin spreading across his face. But Minho knows better than to trust appearances, so he stiffens, straightening his spine and squeezing his shoulder blades together.
"Who's this?" The man—Changbin—asks, giving him a once-over. He slides his eyes down Minho lazily, starting from eye-level and all the way down to his feet. Then, he nods to himself. "Jisung," Changbin clears his throat, "care to introduce us?"
"Yes, uh," Jisung looks up at Minho, who gives him an encouraging nod. "Changbin, this is Minho, my, uh," he fumbles through his words. "He's my boyfriend. And Minho, this is Changbin, my..."
"Best friend," Changbin finishes for Jisung. “And sorry Jisung, I didn’t catch that. Who’d you say he was again?”
“My boyfriend,” Jisung says, almost inaudibly, his eyes locked on his feet.
“Wait.” The way Changbin’s expression morphs—his eyes as wide as saucers—it’s as if a switch flicks on. “You weren’t joking?” Jisung remains silent while Changbin sticks his hand out to Minho and firmly shakes his free hand. "Wow. It's nice to meet you, Minho. I can't believe you're able to put up with Jisung here, but I'm glad he's finally found someone." His tone is amicable enough, so Minho relaxes, his body reverting to its original position.
"I—"
"You're right," Minho snickers. "He sure is something else."
"Guys, I'm right—"
“And here I was, thinking that Jisung would live the rest of his life as a bachelor, with nothing but money to come home to. And yet, all he ever wanted was true love,” Changbin chuckles.
“This isn’t a drama,” Jisung huffs weakly. All the while, his blunt nails dig deeper into the back of Minho’s hand.
“Well,” Minho responds, smug. “The way to a man’s heart is mo—.”
This earns him a painful pinch from Jisung. Changbin looks at them, befuddled, the grin on his face falling with each passing second. Minho bites back his grimace with a smile.
"So how come you didn't tell us that your boyfriend would be coming?" Changbin turns back to Jisung. "Wait—" he pauses, the look of belated shock overtaking his face. "Does Chan know about this?"
"No, uh," Jisung mumbles, looking everywhere but directly into Changbin's eyes. "I only told you. I haven’t told him yet. He always makes a big deal out of everything."
Minho suppresses the urge to roll his eyes into the back of his skull. Give it up to Jisung for not telling any of his friends that Minho would be here beforehand. At the rate that they were going, their cover was going to be blown sooner than he had predicted. And he had been generous with his initial prediction.
"Well, be prepared then," Changbin says with a snicker. "And it was nice to meet you, Minho. Hope to see you around soon."
Minho acknowledges him with a small wave, the remnants of a grin lingering on his face even after Changbin’s left. In different circumstances, he would have liked to be friends with Changbin. On the other hand, Jisung's chest falls instantly when they’re left alone, a long exhale escaping his lips.
"Are you and Changbin on bad terms or something?" Minho prods, no explanation other than his nosiness getting the best of him.
"Oh no," Jisung fervently denies, untwining their fingers and cracking each one of his knuckles. "Changbin is one of my closest friends. We've been friends since high school actually. He's kind of the reason why I even have this job. It's just that..." Another exhale. "It just feels weird."
"Why? Because you're lying to them?" Jisung doesn't say anything, so Minho continues to speak. "Don't think of it like lying. Maybe think of it more like, bending the truth into something that isn’t true anymore."
Jisung shoots him a stiff glare.
"Besides, he didn't ask that many questions. It looks like we're pretty convincing after all, huh?" He jabs at Jisung's side with his elbow light-heartedly.
"That's the thing though," Jisung sighs. "He seemed too convinced."
Minho knits his eyebrows together. Was that not the goal?
"And that's a bad thing... why?"
"I don't know," Jisung replies, taking Minho's hand back into his own shakily. "But that was only a warmup. You still have to meet Chan."
After hearing Changbin mention Chan just moments ago, in addition to how Jisung is reacting to the sheer thought of introducing Minho to him, he can't stop wondering what kind of individual this elusive Chan person is. The image he has created in mind is one of an unfeeling executive, living solely in clean and crisp suits. Who makes his employees run menial errands during their lunch breaks. Corporate evil personified.
He doesn’t have the time to ponder the thought as they make their way into the middle of the room, clusters of people surrounding them. Their chatter makes for decent background noise, he supposes. The beverages table catches his eye, and he beelines towards it before consulting Jisung, dragging him along and swiping glasses of red wine for the both of them.
"Thanks," Jisung says quietly as Minho hands him a glass. "Is it too late to back out now?"
"Way too late," Minho responds, raising his arm up to clink his glass with Jisung’s. He brings the rim up to his lips, the tart liquid traveling down his throat. "But this night will be over before we know it."
…
Their night is indeed over before they know it.
After five more minutes of meaningless chatter with some of Jisung’s coworkers, they make their way over to the tables, the arrangement conveniently seating them next to Changbin. The rest of the chairs are empty, save for another man sitting adjacent to Changbin, calmly conversing with him about something that Minho would presume to be work related. Although, as he nears, it sounds strangely gossipy.
"Jisung!" the man greets them with a warm smile. "Glad you could make it. How are you?"
"I'm good, Chan," Jisung smiles back easily as he pulls a chair out, but the jitteriness in his hands has not ceased. "How are you?
"Good as usual," Chan responds, but his attention is solely on Minho, their gazes piercing into one another. Chan, however, is the least threatening person he could’ve ever imagined. Consequently, his former impression is shattered as Chan appears to be around the same age as Minho. Instead of corporate figureheads, this banking firm seemingly employed former angsty teenagers who traded in band tees for Tom Ford. "And who might this be?"
"Oh," Jisung blinks, tugging Minho forward. "This is my boyfriend, Minho."
"Hello," Minho says, voice small and foreign to his own ears.
Chan blinks once, slowly, before fluttering his eyelids rapidly in bewilderment. "Nice to meet you, Minho. I’m Chan,” he says calmly. Then, he turns back to Jisung, switching back to his original demeanor, his eyes bugging out of his skull. “You’re shitting me,” he utters, like neither Minho nor Jisung are in earshot. “So you're telling me that Seo Changbin was telling the truth?"
Jisung shrugs, prying his fingers away from Minho’s.
"Hey!" Changbin says, an offended look crossing his face after he registers Chan's pointed jab. "When have I ever lied to you?"
Chan ignores Changbin's remark and diverts his attention back to Minho. "I just didn't think that Jisung would ever find himself a boyfriend. Back in college, he couldn't approach anyone."
"That's what I said," Changbin chimes in. "Jisungie here used to be so shy."
Minho had come to the same conclusion long ago, but he couldn’t miss the opportunity to play the role of doting boyfriend.
"You guys can stop now—" Jisung says, his face gradually heating up with a grimace, before getting cut off abruptly.
"Oh no," Minho insists, leaning forward and holding his hand near his mouth, like he's about to let them in on a secret. "I'll have you know that our little Jisungie here actually approached me first. He was pretty confident about it too." A little too confident, if you asked him, although Jisung's confidence had been oscillating like crazy during their first encounter.
"Really," Chan says, a grin sneaking up on his face as he glances at Jisung, who's visibly pouting in his seat. "I wouldn't have expected that," he smirks, crossing his legs and leaning back, his body pressed against the back of the chair.
“Really,” Minho confirms. “You should’ve seen him.”
"Is this entire night going to be you guys making fun at me?" Jisung shoots back, sulking. "I shouldn't have come."
"You didn't have to," Changbin says, arms folded across his chest. "Actually, you never come to these things. I'm kind of surprised to see you here."
The words pass through one of Minho's ears and out the other.
"Yes, I do," Jisung mumbles back, but it sounds like he's unconvinced himself.
"If you say so—"
Whatever Changbin had to say is interrupted when Minho yanks on the tablecloth with the side of his fist. The force sends his wine glass—still filled with bordeaux-colored liquid—straight onto Jisung's white shirt. The glass lands in his lap, causing Jisung to scoot back, wine trickling down his pants. The legs of the chair get caught in the carpet as he does, his mouth and eyes enlarged into discs.
"Oh my god, I'm so sorry," Minho apologizes, frantically scouring the table for paper napkins, only to be met with folded cloth ones. He doesn't have much of a choice, bunching the cloth in his hand to wipe down Jisung's shirt. It's utterly useless, spreading the stain across the white of the fabric. He tries his luck with the pants, thankfully black, blotting away the liquid, the pristine white napkins now decorated with vinous splotches.
"Minho, it's fine," Jisung stutters out, latching onto his wrist and pushing it away. It's only then that Minho realizes how close his hand was lingering to Jisung’s crotch, the color of his face matching his newly-tinted dress shirt.
"I'll just—" Jisung begins, standing up from his seat. "I'll just go to the restroom and clean up, but I'll be back—"
Minho immediately follows, springing up from his chair. "I'll go with you."
"No, wait, it's fine," Jisung stops him. "I'll be back in a couple of minutes. It's fine."
"Just let him go with you," Changbin says from across the table, exasperation clouding his voice.
Jisung’s shoulders drop at the remark, and he turns on his heels and advances towards the exit of the banquet hall. Frustration settles into Jisung’s features, the air between them tense and stuffy. Minho trails closely behind him, his feet dragging against the carpet.
"Jisung," Minho calls out once they step into the restroom, a gust of overly conditioned air welcoming him. "Are you okay?"
"Yeah, I'm fine," Jisung replies with a sigh, grabbing an excessive amount of paper towels out from the dispenser. He wets the paper towels, ringing the excess water out in the sink, before dabbing it across his shirt. Minho sits down, with one leg dangling off the counter, the other planted firmly on the ground. When Jisung looks up, he locks eyes with Minho, the corners of his mouth lifting into a modest smile that lightens the air around them.
“We didn’t even get to use our story,” Minho pouts. It evokes a snicker or two from Jisung. Still, he doesn’t say anything, rubbing the stain, though his attempts are futile.
"I was just thinking," Minho speaks again, amping up the secrecy in his voice. "It would be really easy to just leave right now."
Jisung cocks an eyebrow, perplexed, until a moment of understanding strikes him. A cough. "You..."
"Me..."
"You..." Jisung narrows his eyes, drawing out the single syllable of the word.
"Yes, me..."
"You did this."
"I have no idea what you're talking about right now," Minho responds, his face a mask of indifference.
"You ruined my favorite shirt," Jisung juts out his lips a little.
Minho looks at Jisung's so-called favorite shirt, but all that his eyes meet is a plain white button-up—though it’s no longer white—with a small logo embroidered with black thread on the collar. "It's a white shirt," he blinks at him blankly.
"My favorite white shirt," Jisung retaliates and returns to cleaning his shirt, with little to no success.
The solution is glaringly obvious.
"Can't you just buy a new shirt? " Minho asks skeptically.
Jisung freezes, clenching the paper towels in his grip. "If I do, are you going to pay me back?"
With a strong resolve, Minho pulls himself off of the marble counter and strolls towards Jisung with slow and steady steps. "And how should I go about that?"
Jisung doesn't take notice of Minho's approaching figure until he's nearly backed into the wall. "Uh, Minho..."
"Well?" Minho questions, his body hovering in front of Jisung's. Jisung's pupils flit from side to side, his face burning red. "How do you want me to pay you back, sweetheart?"
"Um," Jisung stutters, unsure, although his gaze is no longer diverted and fastened on Minho's lips. In return, Minho wets his lips until they're glossy with saliva, tilting his head up and to the side so the vanity lights reflect the gleam. The distance between them is small, close enough that they’re one wrong move away from kissing. Jisung’s stare is undeniable, flooded with obvious lust and want. But before he can say anything else, Jisung bends his knees, and Minho loses the indirect warmth that had been radiating from his body.
Caught off guard, Minho turns around as Jisung crawls out from under him. He rises back up, a smirk on his face as he flattens down the wrinkles in his clothes. There's a certain cockiness to it that Minho can't pinpoint. "I'm not letting you beat me at my own game."
"What game are you playing? Solitaire?"
A sullen look crosses Jisung's face. "Tetris," he eventually answers.
“That’s still not multiplayer.”
“But it could be.”
Minho sighs, runs a hand through his hair—unconcerned with the time and effort it had taken to style it—and makes his way towards the restroom door. He wraps his fingers around the metal of the handle, expecting Jisung to follow suit. “We should leave.”
“Like, go back to the room?”
“No,” Minho says. “Like leave. We have an out, so it’s a good time to just go.”
“Are you sure?” Jisung quiets. “We barely stayed for fifteen minutes. They’re going to notice that we left.”
“Look,” Minho scoffs. “You very obviously didn’t want to be there, and you’ve already made an appearance, so who cares?”
Jisung chews on his bottom lip with reluctance as he fidgets with his fingers.
“I guess you’re right,” Jisung resigns after a moment of hesitation, shuffling over to meet Minho by the door. Without exchanging another word, they amble past the banquet hall and through the main entrance. It goes without a hitch; the coolness of the night breeze washes over them as they exit, the stars sparkling among the twinkling city lights.
“Thanks, by the way,” Jisung mutters into the air, breaking the growing silence between them. “For you know… giving us an out. Even if you had to ruin my favorite work shirt for it.”
“It’s just a white shirt, Jisung,” Minho snorts, glancing back down at his torso. Once again, there is nothing in particular that stands out about his shirt. “I’m pretty sure you have more white shirts at home.”
“I do! It’s my favorite one, though,” Jisung emphasizes, his voice pitchy and defensive. “But as I was saying, thank you.”
Minho hums, though not particularly in acknowledgement. The silence swarms them until he speaks again. “I’m hungry. Let’s go get something to eat.”
“Good idea,” Jisung concurs, stepping in front of Minho and towards the parking lot. “I know the best place to get burgers around here.”
“If you say so,” Minho chuckles, accompanying him close behind. “I’ll trust your judgment then.”
“As you should.”
“And you’re paying, by the way.”
“Of course I am. You didn’t even have to ask twice.”
…
Somehow, Minho had missed the memo that the best place to get burgers was at a McDonald’s five minutes away from the hotel. As they drive into the parking lot, Minho stares, mouth agape, at the neon yellow arches affixed to the building.
“You said this was the best place to get burgers,” he says after an especially extended silence, his eyebrows furrowed. The sign continues to stare back at him mockingly, the luminance of the storefront letters teetering between bright and dim every other second. He had come to terms with the fact that he liked fast food long ago—even going out of his way for it—but the cognitive dissonance was stronger than ever.
“I said the best place around here,” Jisung says, unbuckling his seatbelt, stepping outside, and slamming the car door shut. “Not in the entire world.”
“How was I supposed to know that from what you said?” Minho questions, unable to rip his gaze from the sign. Any longer with his stare and he’s certain that the logo will either begin to swirl or change colors.
“Our only other option was a Burger King ten minutes from here,” Jisung says.
“Fine, let’s dismantle the monarchy then,” Minho groans, slinking out of the car. With impeccable timing, his stomach rumbles from not eating anything for hours. Sue him for thinking that he would be feasting on catered food and free drinks all evening, but any dreams he has dissolves as they step into the restaurant.
They stick out like sore thumbs even if they're the only ones inside. Their attire is wholly unsuitable for the setting, and the room smells strongly of frying oil and drywall. He takes a whiff of the air, the scent permeating through the building as a forever fixture.
As promised, Jisung buys him his food, handing the cashier his credit card—made of titanium and stainless steel instead of lowly plastic—for two meals worth a total of seventeen dollars. The cashier gives them a funny look as she inserts the card into the chip reader. Minho wants to run and hide in one of the bathroom stalls. But their spread of burgers, fries, and extra-large drinks—filled with half lemonade and half Sprite—on the laminate table makes up for it, almost.
They eat in relative silence, the Big Mac that he ordered satiating his hunger. On the other side of him is Jisung, indulging in his burger like a mukbanger who is in desperate need of views.
“My sugar daddy is so generous,” Minho jeers as he picks up a fry and dips it into ketchup. “He bought me a five dollar value meal.”
Jisung squints, part of his face hidden behind a quarter-pounder. His cheeks are filled with food, making it difficult for Minho to feel anything but the overwhelming urge to stick his finger into one of Jisung's cheeks, but he holds back and busies himself by swirling around the straw in his drink, the ice rattling against the wall of the cup. His other hand is occupied with his container of fries, his arm acting as a robotic hinge. Dipping a fry into the ketchup. Shoving said fry into his mouth. And repeat.
"What were you expecting instead?" Jisung speaks up after he swallows his food.
Not this, he thinks. But somehow, it makes more sense than Jisung taking him anywhere fancier.
Minho loosens his grip on the cup and sets it down on the table gently. "I don't know, where do you normally take your sugar babies?" He asks with a blank gaze. "But actually, this seems pretty in character for you."
"What's that supposed to mean?" Jisung asks, his hand freezing as he reaches for the excessively high stack of napkins they had grabbed. Minho shrugs. "Okay. Then, I promise I’ll take you out to somewhere nicer next time, baby."
Minho squints at Jisung, his chin dropped low and face menacing. "Don't call me that."
"You said it first. My sugar baby."
"Jisung. I implore you to please shut the fuck up."
"Aw," Jisung coos. "Is this my first successful attempt at flustering you?" Minho opens his mouth in defense, but the heat creeping up his neck is beyond his control. He bites down on his tongue, unable to deny anything. "I won this time."
As an alternative, Minho rolls his eyes, half-heartedly searching for a comeback while he dips another fry into ketchup, eyes focused on the burger wrappers. Nothing comes to him, so he changes the topic instead. “Your friends seem… nice.”
“They are,” Jisung says. “They’re just a little… I don’t know.” He chuckles, tossing crumpled napkins onto their tray. “I’ve known Changbin since high school and Chan since college, so they just go overboard with their protectiveness. But they don’t mean any harm. I think.”
“You think?” Minho looks up with a sneer.
“They don’t,” Jisung clarifies. “They just like to go overboard sometimes.”
“So…” Minho hums, still swirling his one fry in the container of ketchup for God knows how long. “Are they together?”
Jisung coughs, fighting for breath as he grabs his cup and gulps down his drink. “No, no,” he denies in a rush, waving his hands in front of him. “They’re just really good friends.”
“Whatever you say,” Minho responds with a wink, not really caring about Changbin and Chan’s relationship statuses. Still, there’s something so undoubtedly entertaining about flustering Jisung, with how easily his cheeks redden in Minho’s presence.
“They are,” Jisung repeats adamantly. “We’ve all been friends for a long time now, so I can promise you that they’re not together. They’re like brothers, but thanks for putting that image in my head, I guess.”
“My pleasure.”
“Well, enough about that. I still don’t know what you do.”
Minho's head jerks up. “What?”
“What do you do for work?” Jisung rephrases.
“A lot of things,” Minho sing-songs, skirting around the topic. “Or nothing at all. Take your pick.”
“Come on,” Jisung whines with disappointment. “What’d you go to college for?”
“Psychology,” Minho replies, apathetic.
“Really?” Jisung’s eyes light up, his mouth parting in astonishment. “Are you a psychologist then?”
Minho drops his hands into his lap, resting his back against the cushion of the booth as he surveys Jisung. Jisung holds himself steady as Minho studies every detail with feigned authority.
“You know,” he says afterward. “You seem like a pretty introverted person, but you break out of your shell when you’re with your friends. You also like to engage in risk-taking behaviors, like you get a thrill out of it almost. And you definitely act first before thinking.”
“Wow, you’re good,” Jisung marvels with fascination. “How’d you know all of that?”
Minho fails to hold back his snort. “I memorized two results for those online personality tests a few years ago. It makes for a pretty cool party trick, actually. Everyone thinks you’re analyzing them, but really, you just mix and match the results and it could apply to anyone.”
“Oh,” Jisung deflates, the smile wiped off of his face. Round eyes blink back at him. “So you’re not a psychologist,” he states dumbly.
“I mean, I was majoring in psychology, but I dropped out of college.” A chuckle escapes from Minho’s lungs. “Why are you an investment banker?”
“Why is anyone anything?” Jisung sighs, tossing his head back. “Because I’m really passionate about it.”
“Really.”
“I wish. I do it for the money and because I’m good at it,” Jisung informs him dejectedly. "That’s all that there is to it.”
Minho nods. “That’s half the reason why I’m with you.”
“So you’re telling me that you’re not with me because of dashing good looks?” Jisung presses his hands into his face, his fingers lifting up his cheeks. With his eyes shut, he offers a closed-lipped smile. It’s way too cute for Minho’s liking, and his heartbeat quickens its pace.
“Don’t flatter yourself,” he scoffs, returning to the food that has long gone cold. He picks at the fries, now soggy, limp, and starchy. Though, the taste makes up for the texture, and he pops another one in his mouth. “But to answer your other question, I dance.”
“Are you any good?” Jisung inquires, the stars in his eyes multiplying.
At his peak, he would like to think that he was at least decent. That was probably understating it, though. “I was good enough.”
“Wow.”
“I don’t dance dance anymore though. I just teach at a studio, and I’m trying to open my own,” Minho says, maintaining an impersonal front.
“Wow,” Jisung parrots with wonder, more outwardly enthusiastic about Minho’s venture than he was himself. “That’s really cool, Minho. I hope I can see you open it one day.”
“We’ve known each other for a week, Jisung," Minho scoffs. "Don’t get all sappy on me.”
“Okay.” Jisung almost looks a little proud when he says: “Then, I hope your business fails.”
Minho says nothing, lifting up his balled fist from under the table at a snail’s pace.
“Wait, no,” Jisung splutters in a frenzy, shielding himself with his hands. “Don’t hurt me, please. I take it back.”
Minho drops his hand, but he doesn’t hesitate to chuck a cold french fry in Jisung’s direction. “Bullseye.”
...
Han Jisung: Did you make it home safely?
Me: you dropped me off outside of my apartment.
Me: i’m starting to think that you have short term memory loss
Han Jisung: I can neither confirm nor deny that claim
Me: okay
Me: well what’s up
Han Jisung: The sky
Han Jisung: But nothing really
Han Jisung: Just wanted to wish you a good night
Han Jisung: So sweet dreams baby <33
Me: okay
Me: you know what
Me: don’t let the bed bugs bite daddy <33
Han Jisung: …
Me: what was that?
Me: don’t bite off more than you can chew honey <3
Han Jisung: ...
Me: that was pretty good right
Han Jisung: ...
Han Jisung: Not really
Han Jisung: Actually I just wanted to say thank you
Han Jisung: For you know
Han Jisung: Agreeing to this
Han Jisung: And playing along
Han Jisung: It means a lot to me
Me: you’re welcome
Me: i’ll be the best sugar baby you’ve ever had
Han Jisung: You’re the only one I’ve ever had
Han Jisung: But really, thank you
You received $300 from Han Jisung.
|
__________
"Do you want to - " James begins, at the same time as Sirius, who says, "Can I meet - "
"Yes," Lily agrees, understanding. "You are going to meet Harry, now."
"I'll come along, too," Remus says, setting his cutlery on the Dinner plate, and getting up. "Its been a while since I spoke to Harry."
"Spoke to?" Sirius asks, amused. Remus nods quite solemnly, and Sirius once again, envies his ability to keep a straight face all the time. "He's a decent conversationalist. Certainly better than James."
"I really worry, sometimes," Lily says, as they walk up the corridor. "We're still so young to be parents, and there's a war going on - "
"Nothing's going to happen to Harry, Lils," James says and Sirius nods, still thinking about Harry - strangely panicked about the fact whether a one-year old baby would like him. Was worrying about this normal?
"I know," Lily says, quickly, passing James a quick smile. They look so much like their fifteen year old selves, that these affectionate looks between them still seem fake to Sirius. "Its just that - I wish I could send Harry somewhere. You know, someplace where the war isn't affecting the people so much, somebody who could just take care of him, for a while - "
"How about - " James asks, before stopping, and grimacing. "Nevermind. That's a stupid idea."
Lily looks at him knowingly.
"Petunia?" she asks wryly, which makes no sense to Sirius, and James nods. "I thought of Petunia too, at first, my sister," she adds, for Sirius's benefit, who nods, still confused. He didn't know Evans had a sister. "But - she - well. She hates me. And I wouldn't want her to take that grudge out on Harry - its just. There's really nobody we can even rely on to - "
"How about Ol' Bathilda?" James asks, grimacing like he already knows what Lily would say. "She knows Harry."
"She knows the whole History of Britain as well," Lily says, and Remus snorts. "Nothing special there. Besides, James, she can barely keep track of all her books and her cats. And we just escaped from there. What if Voldemort has people waiting there, for us? Or charms put up in Godric's Hollow?"
They're almost near James and Lily's room. Sirius can almost count the number of ways this could go wrong - because, damn, this feels like a huge moment.
"Why does your sister hate you, Lily?" Sirius asks, idly, his thoughts straying to tiny dark-haired babies.
"Because she's a little bitch," Lily replies, just as they enter the room and James laughs.
Sirius doesn't, because he's staring at the white crib.
Because standing in it, fat fists gripping the edge, has to be the chubbiest, cutest, most smile-y baby, ever - and Sirius suddenly feels like running away from him, because what if he hurt this fragile, little thing in his fluffy blue onesie -
"Li' bich!" Harry James Potter repeats, giggling, his tiny milk teeth showing - and Sirius simply melts right there.
"Harry!" Lily gasps, with wide eyes and an admonishing tone, as James laughs and says in the same tone, but jokingly, "Lily!"
"He is so - " Sirius can't finish, he has to pick him up. And steal him away, possibly. He needs this little fluffy thing in his life.
"Ma-ma! Da!"
Sirius walks to the crib and puts both his hands on the bars, crouching so he's eye-level with Harry, who stares back with wide, green eyes. They're so bright. "Hey, bud," Sirius says, softly, swallowing the lump in his throat. "I'm Sirius."
"Ha-wwy," he says back, importantly and Sirius can't help but be completely charmed. He's so smart. Sirius is sure Regulus never knew how to say his name till he was atleast two. Or three. Harry is certainly an easier name than Regulus, though.
"I'm your godfather, you know," he continues, and spreads his arms a little. Harry obliges immediately, smiling and reaching out to him and its a wonder Sirius doesn't cry. He holds Harry up, sliding his legs to a side, and shifting him to his left. Harry giggles as Sirius winks at him and makes a cross-eyed face. Harry’s mop of black hair, look so much like James's.
He looks back to see James smiling proudly. Sirius wonders if this is the moment that it hits. That James is a father. James, his best mate, his brother - is a Dad. He might act the same, but he's made this - he's made this tiny ball of fluff and brilliance and sunshine that smiles and makes Sirius smile -
Sirius is the actual Godfather to an actual baby.
And he looks like a baby angel.
"Siri," James says, coming closer and ruffling Harry’s hair. "Say it, Harry. Siri."
"Li' bich!" Harry says, immediately and James throws his head back and laughs delightedly. "Atta boy," he says, and Lily glares at them both.
"You can call me Padfoot," Sirius says, smiling at him. "Padfoot. Come on, Harry. Pad-foot."
"Pa!" Harry says, clearly recognizing that.
"Yeah, that's it," Sirius says. "Pad-foot."
"Pa-fu!" he manages, after two more go's and it feels like the greatest victory ever.
Sirius refuses to let go of Harry for almost two hours till Lily ultimately tells him that Harry needs to go to sleep. Harry is - Sirius can't describe it. He's like a miniature James, and everytime he giggles, every high-pitched sound makes Sirius so happy -
Its indescribable. Harry is twenty pounds of pure perfection.
Sirius ruffles his hair and tickles him on the belly, even as Harry talks to his Moo-oy, both of them seeming to understand the strange sounds and syllables they use. Remus looks so warm and cuddly and - homely, its almost physically painful to not touch him.
"I'm going to spoil you rotten," Sirius whispers in Harry’s ears, as he gives him a last, tight hug. Harry keeps gripping his hair and his nose. Its adorable.
"Li' bich," Harry says, soberly and Sirius nods, exactly so. "That's right."
_________
"Mr. Wood?"
Frederick groans and flips over on his pillow.
"Mr. Wood? Mr. Verlac!"
Frederick can hear Alex getting up from his bed, his sheets rustling.
"Mr. Verlac!"
"Ah, fuck," Alex mutters right before he swings open the door of the guest room where they'd slept the night. Standing right in the middle of it, fist raised as if to knock again, is a little boy - first, second year, by the looks of him, freckled and pale - with red hair, a sheepish smile and wide eyes. "Yes?"
The boy jumps slightly, before squeaking out a, "Uh, Mr. Black wants you to get up? Well, he didn't say it like that, but that's what he meant. He sent me to get you."
Frederick laughs, as he gets up and the boy seems to become more comfortable, "Do you remember the way to the Great Hall?"
Frederick and Alex exchange glances, before Alex grimaces and says, "Just wait for us, please."
The boy nods and then starts to go out, before Frederick stops him. He hasn't ever talked to a Hogwarts kid before. Aside from Sirius, that is. "Hey, wait, what's your name?"
"Bill Weasley, sir," he says, smiling in a way that he probably means to be innocent, but it just looks impish.
"Oh, the Weasleys," Alex says, and Bill instantly narrows his eyes, jutting out his chin like he's daring Alex to speak something bad. It's kind of commendable, the pride. "I've heard about your family. Their bloodline's rumoured to have traces of Succubus Blood," Alex adds, to Frederick, and Bill just looks at him, bewildered. He probably doesn't know what it means.
"How many siblings do you have, Bill?" Alex asks, curiously and Bill raises an eyebrow, before saying warily, "Er - five brothers? But my mum's pregnant again. I'm the eldest."
"Succubus blood," Alex agrees, impressed. Bill passes him a suspicious glance.
They tidy up in ten minutes or so, and then walk down to the Great Hall together, asking Bill questions the entire way, who seems happy enough to entertain them. Sirius and Regulus are both there on the red and gold table, Regulus scowling and pushing his food away, and Sirius grinning and trying to shove food in his mouth. James and Lily aren't there. Neither is Remus. Its probably quite early.
" - I am not going to have food from this stupid table, Sirius, so help me - "
"Good morning, sunshine," Frederick greets and Sirius looks up, eyes bright. Frederick hasn't ever seen him this happy before. He's realising that they all thought Sirius was a cheerful, happy sort, but they had never actually seen him happy before. Sirius taps his cheek as if he wants a kiss. Frederick obliges, winking at Regulus, who's shaking his head.
"Morning, dear," Sirius says. "Sleep well?"
"Yeah," Alex says, taking a seat. "Why're you up so early? Nobody except the kids are here yet."
"Yes, well, we've got ourselves a little appointment," Sirius says, smirking. "Didn't want to wake James and the others up. So, we thought we'd tell you both instead."
"Glad we could be of help," Alex says, sarcastically. "Where're you going?
"Hog's Head," Sirius replies, briskly, finishing up his toast in quick bites. "Its an inn in Hogsmeade. The day's free for you two, though. How about you roam around Hogsmeade with all the others? Look around a little, maybe. Train if you want to. Just ask James to show you the places."
Frederick shrugs.
________
"Well, Black, you really are alive," Lucius says, eyes on the rickety square table across which he's sitting in the dingy room at Hog's Head, quite early in the morning. The Blacks had deemed that a good, quiet time - where they couldn't possibly be overheard, because there was nobody here. Lucius was realising that was correct. "I did wonder."
"I'm flattered you wonder about me," Sirius replies, smiling in a way that can also be interpreted as baring his teeth. "And, its Lord Black to you."
Lucius sneers slightly like he has no intention of ever using that phrase, and turns to Regulus, who's sitting on the side, slouching and watching with a lazy smile. "I don't see why your brother needs to be here, Regulus."
"Now you just sound like Mother," Sirius says, dryly and Regulus snorts.
"Hasn't anyone ever taught you not to speak ill of the dead?" Lucius hisses, and Sirius jerks upright, mouth opening in shock.
"Mother is dead?!" Sirius asks Regulus who just stares at him incredulously.
"I can't believe I'm associating with people like you," Lucius mutters, groaning.
"You didn't know?" Regulus asks, blinking and shaking his head. "But - I - you're the Head now! Of course, Mother's dead. How else would you be Head? How did that not come up when you went to Gringotts? And it was in the Prophet like two years ago!"
"The goblins didn't mention anything like that, and I didn't see that in the Prophet, either," Sirius says, and Lucius wonders if this is always how easy it is for the Blacks to accept that their parents are dead. "I thought Blacks followed a Patriarchal System! I never asked, and nobody ever told me."
There's a long, awkward pause, as they both glare at each other and Lucius regrets being born.
"Why didn't you tell me?" Sirius demands and Regulus jumps up from his chair, gesturing wildly. "Tell you? I assumed you knew! Besides, what would I have even said to you?!"
"'Ding, dong, the Wicked Witch is dead?'" Sirius suggests, sarcastically, and Lucius has finally had enough.
"This seems like a family matter to me," Lucius says, addressing Sirius who sits back in his seat, scowling. "Can we discuss what we came here for?"
"Regulus hasn't told me that either, actually," Sirius says, shooting his brother a poisonous glance.
Lucius takes a deep breath, and tries to control the twitch his left eye has developed.
"I've come with an offer," Lucius starts, and Sirius rolls his eyes.
"I decline," he says, like its instinctive. Bloody Gryffindors.
"You haven’t even heard it, yet," Lucius says, and sends Regulus a pointed glance. Regulus remains as unhelpful as ever.
"If it’s coming from you, I don't need to," Sirius says, and Lucius sighs.
"Hear him out, Sirius," Regulus says, finally, and Sirius passes him a long-suffering look.
Lucius sighs, again.
"I tested him under Veritaserum, by the way," Regulus adds, flippantly, like the interrogation was casual. It really wasn't. But Sirius concedes, gesturing for Lucius to start.
Lucius explains. Three things, he tells himself. Three.
Sirius seems almost grudgingly impressed.
________
"So, what's the catch, now?" Sirius asks, finally, exhaling. "You're offering a lot. You haven’t said what you want in exchange yet."
Lucius allows himself a small smile. Gotcha.
"Three things, in exchange for the three I give you," Lucius says, lightly, and Regulus and Sirius exchange a long look. Sirius nods. Lucius continues, "First, Neutrality."
Regulus raises an eyebrow, "We're listening."
"I don't want this to go to Dumbledore yet, but I'm sure you have more accomplices," Lucius says, and none of them argue on the fact or the particular word. Interesting. "I want none of them to ever try to maim or injure me, unless its for a pretence. In self-defense, that is. And when this war ends, I want my family to be acquitted, maybe even awarded, because we helped you."
"Done," Regulus says, inclining his head. "What else?"
"Protection," Lucius says, clearly. "I'm giving you use to a safe-house, but if my betrayal is ever found, there's a possibility that the Dark Lord will find it. I want you to place protection there. Security, you see, atleast two skilled wizards. Or witches. But ones who can protect my family."
"You think I'll send my godson to a safe-house you own with your wife and son, without protection?" Sirius asks, snorting. "Done."
"It had to be said," Lucius says, pursing his lips. "And third," he smirks, and Sirius immediately looks suspicious, "You will tell me what you're doing with these objects you've been collecting. You'll tell me what that Diary is."
"No," Regulus says, firmly. "That information is not negotiable."
"Neither is the Diary, then," Lucius says, easily.
"Why're you still sitting here, then?" Sirius asks, raising his eyebrows. "There's no deal without it."
They stare at each other.
Lucius waits. "I'll take an Unbreakable Vow of Silence," he adds.
There's a long pause. Lucius starts to smile, sure he's won this -
"We'll set the terms of the Vow," Sirius says, reluctantly, and Lucius nods, with gritted teeth.
_________
Its a simple coincidence that Frederick sees her.
Its not even so clear, its actually through the window, but yet.
She's tall, and curvy, and blonde, her hair falling down in perfect curls. Frederick can almost see her green eyes from here. She looks slightly older, but that's hardly ever an issue, balancing a tray of large beer glasses. He glances at Alex, who's looking at Frederick, amused smile on his face, as they stand in the middle of the path in Hogsmeade. Charming little village, by the way.
"To that pub we go?" Alex asks, rhetorically, and Frederick nods, still looking at her, slight smile on his face.
"To that pub we go," Frederick agrees, nodding.
They sit in the Three Broomsticks for quite a long time, and after all his subtle efforts to dig for information about a husband or a boyfriend, after all the butterbeer and iced soda and cheery syrup and pumpkin spice that they drink - Frederick gets a tiny blush, quite a flirtatious smile and a, "You can call me Rosmerta, handsome."
Britain is brillant, he decides.
__________
Lucius nods in acknowledgment, as he leaves the Inn, apparating right away. Regulus and Sirius look at each other.
"Three blind mice," Regulus suddenly says, flatly. Sirius looks at him, confused, wondering if he misheard something. "I beg your pardon?"
"Three blind mice," he repeats, still quite flat. Maybe he's lost his mind, Sirius thinks, bewildered. What was in that pumpkin juice?
"See how they run," he says, and there's no rhythm and there's no reason, either.
"See how they run," he echoes, hollow - and Sirius realises, Oh. The fabled Black Insanity has caught up to him.
"Regulus," Sirius says, gently, ignoring Regulus caroling gloomily next to him. "What are you doing?"
" - cut off their tails, with a carving knife!" he says, and then stares at Sirius, smiling dryly.
Sirius waits.
"You said you wanted me to tell you about Mother's death with a Muggle nursery rhyme," Regulus says, which is no explanation at all. "Well, there you go."
"...did Mother die of rat poison?" Sirius asks, and Regulus sends him another unimpressed look.
"No," Regulus says, rolling his eyes. "She died of heartbreak."
Sirius can't help but snort. "Our Mother didn't have a heart. Wait, so why does that Muggle rhyme tell me about Mother's death?"
"It doesn't," Regulus says, shrugging flippantly. "What it does tell you - is that Pettigrew's dead."
"What?!" Sirius asks, eyes wide.
"I framed him," Regulus says, unrepentantly, and disapparates.
Maybe, Lily and Regulus could be friends, he thinks.
__________ |
Feng Xin cracks open the door leading to the Prince’s room and peers inside. Xie Lian is huddled in the corner of his room cradling his large fox stuffed animal.
He’s been like that for days
, Feng Xin thinks, his grip tightening on the door knob. It pains him to see the little Prince so broken. Feng Xin doesn’t fully understand the situation, only hearing bits and pieces about Xie Lian being grounded and something about a commoner friend. Whenever he tries to pry Mu Qing for more info the older boy always quips back that it “wasn’t any of Feng Xin’s business”, but as Xie Lian’s body guard, isn’t everything involving the Prince his business? What right does a
personal attendant
have to keep info from him!? While Feng Xin may not know all the details, he can tell that whatever happened broke the little Prince’s heart. With a desolate sigh, Feng Xin closes the door, shutting out the Prince.
Feng Xin makes his way into the Royal Chambers to report Xie Lian’s condition. It’s a task he has been doing ever since the Prince was grounded. Though each day has been the same report, Feng Xin doesn’t slack on any of his duties. Feng Xin softly raps his knuckles against the grandiose mahogany doors and then waits for the Queen's acknowledgement to enter. After a few moments standing outside the door the Queen calls for him to enter. Feng Xin makes quick work of opening the doors and slips inside. Once through the threshold he makes sure to close the doors delicately and then turn to quickly bow before he starts his reports.
“His Highness is still sitting in the corner of his room. He has taken two bites out of his morning meal. His drink has remained untouched,” Feng Xin says, doing his best to keep his voice official and void of any emotion.
The Queen visibly sinks at this information, her shoulders taking on a slight slouch. Feng Xin can see hints of bags forming underneath her eyes that he’s sure weren’t there before.
“He really does know how to make a point now, doesn’t he? A real all-or-nothing type.” She smiles but it doesn’t quite reach her eyes. “I’ll be honest with you, Feng Xin. I didn’t think he would have this reaction- If I did I would have chosen a different route.”
Feng Xin nods, his back still ramrod straight as he addresses the Queen. “Your Majesty did what she felt was right. No one has the right to question your reasoning...” Feng Xin trails off as he glances away momentarily before looking back at the Queen, “but, if it helps, I don’t think anyone was expecting this kind of behavior from the Young Prince.”
A quiet sigh escapes the Queen, the sound barely a whisper. “I guess Xie Lian is more like his father than any of us realized. There is no stopping the King once he sets his mind on something and apparently Xie Lian is just as deadset in his ways - so stubborn.”
Feng Xin's eyes widen slightly, not quite sure how to respond to the Queen’s quip about her husband and son. The boy opts to stay quiet, as someone of his stature should stay out of things like this. The silence hangs heavy in the room as the Queen softly watches the young boy. Feng Xin has never done well in the quiet - it’s too eerie for him. He prefers things to be loud and chaotic rather than still like this. His anxiety gets to him, and he lets his leg begin to bounce against the marbled floor. The soft tapping provides some comfort.
“Feng Xin, how old are you and Mu Qing now? It seems just yesterday you were all little kids fawning over my tiny baby. I still remember when you tried to show Xie Lian some “defensive moves” and then proceeded to body slam my barely two year old into the ground,” She says warmly. This time when she smiles it is genuine, eyes crinkling with love.
The boy straightens and face reddens at the memory, “Sorry your Majesty! I was only 5 at the time and didn’t realize wha-”
Raising her hand, the Queen silences his train of thought, “Oh no, Feng Xin I wasn’t scolding you. It is honestly a very sweet memory to me. No one was hurt, so no fault was done.”
Feng Xin relaxes at that before addressing the Queen’s earlier question. “I’m 12 and Mu Qing is 13 now.”
A knowing smile crosses the Queen's face as she begins to speak. “Ah, so Mu Qing
is
older than you. And here I thought you were both the same age.”
Feng Xin huffs at that, folding his arms in front of him. Feng Xin looks off to the side and is definitely not pouting.
“We are! He’s
barely
older than me. He acts like one month makes him so much more mature.” Feng Xin kicks at the slight scuffs he left on the marble floor before continuing, “Mu Qing says he’s a
teen
now and that he can’t hang out with dumb kids like me. What kind of bullshi-” Feng Xin instantly cuts himself off, stumbling a bit with his correction, “um... I mean..
stuff
... is that?”
Nodding empathetically, the Queen tries her best to suppress her grin. “Good catch, Feng Xin,'' She notes, giving the boy a teasing wink. “I wouldn’t be too worried about Mu Qing, he’s just at that age. He’ll come around once he realizes being older isn’t as fun as it looks.”
Feng Xin sighs exasperated. “Everyone says that but WE ARE PRACTICALLY THE SAME AGE!! How is he ‘at that age’ but I’m not?? How does turning 13 instantly make him into
more
of a stuck up asshole?” Once the curse word leaves his mouth Feng Xin straightens and returns back into his soldier stance. He looks up at the Queen, slightly panicked. He was way too informal with her just now.
The Queen continues to look at Feng Xin warmly and waves her hand, dismissing his worries. “It’s okay, Feng Xin. You can relax. Though I will say, someone so young really shouldn’t cuss so much.” She says this with not an ounce of heat or steel in her voice. “But I do adore your bluntness. That’s why I chose you to protect my son. He needs someone like you in his life. Someone with a heart of gold who can help him stay on the right path.”
She looks away from Feng Xin and off into the distance pensively. The Queen eyes the wall intensively without truly seeing it. After a few moments of inspecting the wall the Queen speaks. “Feng Xin, I want you to take Xie Lian to the Temple next to Beizi Hill.”
Feng Xin's head quirks at the sudden requests. “Um, okay. I can do that, Your Majesty. What exactly should I have him do there?”
The Queen, still staring off, responds “He needs to make an appearance there. He’ll understand once he arrives at the temple. They are expecting him…”
The boy nods, still not quite understanding the request. He gives the Queen one last bow before leaving the chamber. Feng Xin is heading off to the Prince’s room and formulating a plan in his mind of how he is going to follow the Queen’s orders. The walk there is shorter than Feng Xin remembers as he is now standing at Xie Lian’s door.
How am I gonna get him to leave? He won’t even leave his room to eat. Feng Xin takes a deep breath and opens the door, this time making his presence known. Xie Lian doesn’t look up from his spot. His head still hidden in his arms and his body not moving.
“Your Highness, the Queen has requested you make an appearance at the Beizi Hill Temple. We will need to get you ready. I’m no Mu Qing but I can help you get dressed... if you want.” Feng Xin stands in the middle of the room as he talks to Xie Lian. He feels too exposed like this. Xie Lian doesn’t respond. If Feng Xin didn’t know better he’d think that Xie Lian didn’t hear him.
“Hey no worries, I can just grab you some clothes. I’m sure it isn’t too hard to find a matching outfit.” Feng Xin blows out air as he busies himself with rummaging through the Prince’s dressers. Eventually he finds an outfit he deems good enough and walks over to Xie Lian. Feng Xin holds the clothes out for Xie Lian. “See, these should be good to wear.” Xie Lian doesn’t budge from his curled up position, the only movement coming from the short rise and fall of his chest.
Feng Xin grips the clothes tightly as a slight pang of rejection blooms in his chest.
“I’m sorry Your Highness, I have to take you there. It’s the Queen’s orders. You know I can’t disobey her” Feng Xin murmurs as he begins to undress and redress the young Prince.
Xie Lian lets himself be moved around like a doll, all the while refusing to look Feng Xin in the eyes. While Feng Xin feels for the Prince, he can’t help but feel this is ridiculous. Feng Xin drags Xie Lian into the bathroom and forces the Prince to look presentable. After Xie Lian is all readied: teeth brushed, hair tied, clothes tidied, the two boys head out. Or moreso Feng Xin heads out while Xie Lian is being partially dragged the entire way out the castle to the carriage that is waiting for them. Feng Xin heaves Xie Lian in through the door and for once is grateful for the intense training he had to do growing up, otherwise there was no way the Prince would go anywhere. Once Feng Xin has them situated in the carriage he nudges Xie Lian’s leg with his foot.
“Are you really going to be like this the entire time? I understand you’re sad but don't you think this is a bit much? I don’t know what happened but you got to suck it up. You are THE Prince of Xianle, you can’t have people see you being all... depressed. It’s fine if you show your true feelings to me and Mu Qing but..” Feng Xin sighs seeing Xie Lian staring intently out the window, still refusing to look at him.
“Fine,” Xie Lian huffs as he watches the trees roll by, “I get it.They don’t want to see Xie Lian. They want the Prince of Xianle.”
Feng Xin opens and closes his mouth, not sure how to respond. His heart bleeds for Xie Lian and the situation he is in but there is still his duty to uphold. Even if they both resent what that means. As the carriage rolls up to the Temple, Feng Xin casts his eyes down as he responds dejectedly but honestly, “Yeah, pretty much.”
Once the carriage rolls to a stop the coachman opens the door for the two boys and then bows out of the way. Feng Xin exits first and then he turns to help the young Prince out of the carriage, who thankfully has opted to use his own feet without Feng Xin needing to carry him.
There waiting for them at the doors of the temple is a plain faced woman. Upon seeing the Prince and his Bodyguard she bows.
“Good Afternoon, my name is Xiao-Ying. I will be receiving Your Highness today. I know we are very excited to be having the Prince of Xianle visiting us.” Xiao-Ying stands up from her bow and gestures for the two to follow her inside.
Feng Xin casts a glance at Xie Lian who doesn’t respond but thankfully still follows her inside. Feng Xin suppresses a sigh before taking it upon himself to thank Xiao-Ying and follow suit. The group of three make their way through the temple. It is small and worn down, though despite the wear and tear it is still fairly clean. Once they reach the innermost section of the temple that opens into a small garden, Xiao-Ying brings them to a halt. Xiao-Ying begins to ramble on about the kinds of flowers planted and the types of fish in the small pond but Xie Lian isn’t in the mood to listen. Instead he lazily looks around the garden vaguely taking in the slightly wilting bushes before something catches his eye. It’s a head of black curly hair. Xie Lian straightens up and tries to get a better look, hoping to catch their face, as currently their back is to the Prince. Those untamed curls are way too familiar to write off.
“San Lang?” Xie Lian experimentally calls out, completely dismissing Xiao-Ying who was still talking. The Prince then begins to walk in the direction of the person he was eyeing. The body to the curls jolt before whipping around, revealing beautiful red and brown eyes.
“Xie-Xie?”
Xie Lian is running now. His little feet are taking him as fast as he can. The Prince tries to stop in front of his little friend but he doesn’t stop fast enough and they collide. Their bodies topple onto the ground as they hear faint yelling coming from Feng Xin. Xie Lian pulls back and smiles wide as he sees San Lang smiling just as hard back at him, both of them opting to ignore the bodyguard.
“San Lang,” Xie Lian whispers, “I’ve missed you so much!”
San Lang giggles as he wraps his tiny arms around Xie Lian. “I-i kn-new Xie-Xie find me! Xie-Xie take so lon-ng. Xie-Xie see m-me faster n-nex-xt tim-me?”
Xie Lian pulls him close again and hugs San Lang with a tight squeeze, earning a small grunt for the younger boy. “Now that I know where San Lang is I’ll visit all the time!”
They stay like that for a while, Xie Lian holding San Lang as close as possible. Xie Lian can feel all the sadness and all the awful feelings inside him dissipate and become replaced by the weight of San Lang in his arms. The Prince finally pulls back from his hug to get a better look at San Lang. He looks well, or well enough, his old bruises and marks are fading and it seems there aren’t any new ones from what Xie Lian can see. San Lang’s cheeks are just as round as before so at least he’s eating.
“Have you been here the whole time?” Xie Lian asks, voice low. It seems like a simple question but it carries more to it. Did you see your parents? Did you even have parents? Are you just visiting? Should I expect you to be here from now on?
San Lang smiles widely as he meets Xie Lian’s eyes, his doe eyes sparkling. “Mmhmm, wai-it for Xie-Xie here all the ti-tim-time.” A giggle erupts from the little boy as he places his chubby hands on Xie Lian’s cheeks. “N-no wait n-n-no more! Xie-Xie here, Xie-Xie here!!”
The Prince feels like his heart is going to burst right out of his small chest. He quickly sits up and pulls San Lang into his lap squeezing the little boy once more. San Lang squeezes back with all his little might, making little grunting noises as he tries to squeeze harder than Xie Lian.
“So, uh, who’s this kid?” Feng Xin finally asks Xie Lian after watching the odd sight before him.
Looking up from his hugging battle, Xie Lian beams at his friend, “This is San Lang! He’s the one I snuck into the castle a while back.”
Feng Xin eyebrow’s furrow upon hearing that, “You did what now?”
Xie Lian ignores the question and directs his attention back to San Lang, seeing him healthy and happy causes a giggle to bubble up. “Ahh, my little tiny baby San Lang. I’ve missed you so so sooooo much. I’m gonna visit you all the time at the temple and then you can visit me at the castle. Maybe after getting to know you better my mom will let you stay with us?! We will have to be extra good until then, okay?”
San Lang nods back eagerly, his hair bouncing. “ I-i be ex-xtra good! Then I-I s-stay with Xie-Xie forever!”
Feng Xin butts in on the two boys’ conversation. “Your Highness, I know you heard me. You snuck this San Lang kid into the castle? How? When? I-” Feng Xin scrunches his face up, now understanding why Mu Qing was being so stuck up about the situation. How did a child... sneak an even smaller child past the guards?
San Lang immediately shoots Feng Xin a dirty look. “N-no.” He says with a fierce look towards the bodyguard, “I-i N-N-NOT your Sa-San Lang. On-only Xie-Xie’s.”
Feng Xin does a double take before looking at Xie Lian, “What the hell does that mean? Isn’t that his name? Is this kid trying to start something? What am I supposed to call him if not by his stupid name?”
San Lang gasps, a look of indignation on his face.“N-NOT S-ST-STUPI-ID!! YOU STU-ST-STUPID! S-S-SAN LAN-NG BEST N-NAME!”
Looking between San Lang and Feng Xin shouting at each other, Xie Lian doesn’t know whether to laugh or cry. It’s quite comical watching a 12 year old argue with a maybe 4 year old. Xie Lian debates whether he should intervene or let the two wear each other out.
Feng Xin throws his hands up in the air. “What the hell am I supposed to call you then? If I can’t call you by San Lang?”
Glaring as hard as he could, San Lang shouts back, “You call m-me Hua Cheng! You n-never s-say S-Sa-San Lan-ng ever again!! ON-ONLY XIE-XIE!! N-NEVER N-NO ONE ELSE!”
Upon hearing the name, Xie Lian perks up and pulls San Lang’s face to look at his. “Wait, is Hua Cheng your real name? Why didn’t you say so?” Xie Lian asks with a smile, “I would’ve used your name if I knew! Hua Che-”
San Lang instantly frowns once Xie Lian says his name. He then surges forward and covers Xie Lian’s mouth with his grubby hands. San Lang starts screaming in protest, “N-NO! I-I Xie-Xie’s S-San Lang! N-no Xie-Xie’s Hua Cheng!! Ne-Never Hua Cheng for Xie-Xie!”
A giant smile spreads on Xie Lian’s face as he watches San Lang’s work himself up, all red in the face. Once San Lang’s yelling dies down and the little boy is left huffing, Xie Lian does his best to soothe the little boy before removing the hands covering his mouth.
“Okay, Okay, I hear you San Lang,” Xie Lian starts with humor in his voice, “You are my San Lang forever and ever and into a bajillion years! Everyone else has to call you Hua Cheng - I get it.”
Feng Xin groans, “How many names does this kid have?” He then turns to Xiao-Ying who has been standing awkwardly off to the side with a tight smile and a concerned look in her eyes. “Ms. Xiao-Ying, do you know his real name?”
“Hua Cheng is the name I was given for him... So I assume that is his correct one...
Probably,
” Xiao-Ying responds, though not confident in her answer.
With a huff, Feng Xin looks at San Lang pointedly and then at Xie Lian. “Your Highness, I don’t like this kid. You shouldn’t associate with him. He seems shady.”
Xie Lian laughs loudly at the thought of San Lang being shady. “Feng Xin, he is just a baby. Come on, look at him!” Xie Lian then grabs either side of San Lang face which causes San Lang to light up. Xie Lian smiles back at the boy before turning San Lang’s face to Feng Xin’s direction. “How can this cute face be shady?” Xie Lian coos out.
Feng Xin looks at San Lang’s face, which is now in a deep scowl glaring back at him. “Kid already has multiple names - could be alternate identities or something like that. Could be a spy from a neighboring country or something. For all we know he could be a trained assassin!” Feng Xin flings his arms about while he talks. “As your bodyguard I can’t have you around someone like that - it’s against protocol.”
Xie Lian tilts his head to the side, dropping his hands from San Lang’s face, “What does protocol mean?”
Feng Xin shrugs, “No idea but what ever
this
is,” he says gesturing to San Lang, “is against it. I can promise you that!”
San Lang sticks his tongue out at Feng Xin which causes Xie Lian to chuckle. “Feng Xin, I gave him the name San Lang. ALSO, he is a literal baby. How can a baby be a spy? He can’t even count past 10!”
San Lang whips his head towards Xie Lian, hurt in his eyes. “Xie-Xie, I-i trying. N-No one teach m-me how. I-I try!” He then flops his arms down to his side and huff his shoulders, “14 so big, I-I don’t kn-now how.”
Grabbing San Lang close, Xie Lian does his best to comfort him. “Oh no, San Lang. I didn’t mean that as a bad thing. You’re still so small. It’s okay to not know how to count to 14 yet. I can help teach you! I am a great counter!! Feng Xin, tell San Lang how great of a counter I am!!”
Both of the younger boys turn to Feng Xin in anticipation. Feng Xin folds his arms behind his head, eyes wide. “I have no idea what is going on right now.”
Feng Xin then looks to Xiao-Ying for help, hoping an adult could somehow fix this situation. She still hasn’t moved from her spot and is still wearing the same awkward expression as before.
“Hua Cheng, maybe you should show the Prince your room?” Xiao-Ying offers up, also not quite sure how to navigate this situation.
San Lang immediately brightens at the idea and rushes his way off of Xie Lian’s lap, tripping slightly. Once standing, he grabs the Prince’s hands and starts tugging at it, “Xie-Xie I-I show m-my room! I-it my turn!” San Lan is beaming at Xie Lian as he puts all his body weight into heaving Xie Lian up.
“I would love to see your room! If you don’t have enough toys I can give you some of mine! I have so many of them,” Xie Lian says as he stands up, holding on to San Lang’s hands tightly so the boy won’t fall over. Watching San Lang’s sparkling eyes and smiling face warms Xie Lian’s heart. The feeling is almost overwhelming in such a small body. Before they start walking off, Xie Lian bends down and plants a small peck on San Lang’s forehead.
San Lang tentatively raises his hand and runs it over where Xie Lian kissed. It’s slow and Xie Lian can see the little boy’s mind running before it all clicks in. San Lang looks at Xie Lian scandalized, “XIE-XIE!” he calls out, “N-NO KISS! KISS-S-SES HAVE COOTIES!!”
“But that just makes me want to give San Lang more kisses! I’m gonna give you all the cooties. You better run to your room fast or I’m gonna get ya and give you so many kisses!” Xie Lian says, raising his arms in a taunting grab. San Lang squeals as he dashes off, a trail of laughter sounding from him. Xie Lian begins to chase after him, making mock grabbing motions at the little boy. Making sure he’s running just slow enough to not catch up.
Feng Xin watches as the two kids run off into a different part of the shrine, laughing and giggling the entire way. He takes a deep breath, and after a few moments blows it out, dropping into a deep squat. Feng Xin then covers his face with his hands and stays like that for a moment.
“Mu Qing was right. I should’ve stayed out of this.”
|
“Babe, I think Madame Seo might actually be my sex guru noona.”
Taehyung usually says many wild and crazy things to Jimin, but Jimin never expected to hear that.
“Sex guru noona?” Jimin asks in disbelief, adjusting the strap of his messenger bag as he approaches BT Enterprises.
“Yes! Like, the filthy talk? The angles that she takes her thirst traps? Genius! After taking notes from her, I sexted British daddy and Seunggil, and those were the best orgasms I had last week.”
“Right. And Seunggil is…”
Taehyung gives this sigh, a little lovestruck and heartfelt. “He’s this handsome gentleman that I’ve been talking to, and he’s so sweet. He gives me foot massages and asks about my day, and he bought me a Hermes scarf for our two-week anniversary.”
Usually, the quick showering of expensive gifts is a red flag. Jimin bites the inside of his cheek.
“Two weeks? That…seems a little soon, don’t you think?”
“It’s because he’s serious about me,” Taehyung responds curtly. “He sat me down and told me that I never made him feel like this before. He compared the color of my hair to summertime in Paris, which by the way, he promised to take me to his chateau in the countryside.”
“I see…” Jimin murmurs.
“You’re doing it again.”
“Doing what?”
“The thing where you’re thinking ‘this guy sounds obviously bad, and Tae is being a naive romantic’.”
“Do you think this guy is obviously bad and that you’re being a naive romantic?” Jimin throws back. He hears Taehyung give an annoyed huff.
“Obviously not because he’s wonderful and kind and loves me,” Taehyung insists. He says this about almost all of his boyfriends who either dump Taehyung after they have sex, cheat on Taehyung with someone younger, or leave him because it ‘wasn’t meant to be serious’.
That’s the problem with Taehyung sometimes. He’s too free to give his heart away to people who don’t know what to do with it.
“Babe, I don’t want to argue about this—” Jimin starts.
“So let’s not,” Taehyung interrupts. “We were talking about Madame Seo. She still thinks she’s talking to Seokjin, and she’s none the wiser.”
Jimin’s chest tightens at the mention of Seokjin’s name. His waist begins to itch.
“Right, okay. Um, well, I need you to meet me at MinSuga tomorrow before they start prepping for VP Kim and Madame Seo’s dinner. Do you think you’ll be free around noon?”
“I can ask Seunggil to drop me off. He’s taking me out to lunch at ten at a Michelin star restaurant. They serve some of the rarest wines worldwide,” Taehyung enthuses.
“You’re doing it again,” Jimin mumbles.
“Doing what?”
“The thing where you go on and on about how your new sugar daddy is pampering you with a life of luxury while I have to clock in for work,” Jimin says, unintentional sharpness in his voice.
Taehyung is quiet on the line, hitting Jimin with an immediate sense of guilt. He’s still feeling weird starting the new week, uncomfortable in his skin, hating how every pore itches when he thinks about Seokjin and his boyfriend and now Taehyung and his new romance. It’s not loneliness. At least, Jimin doesn’t think it is. It’s not even a sexual frustration. It’s just…weird…and he doesn’t like it.
“He’s not my sugar daddy,” Taehyung says coolly. “And since you’re getting ready for work, I’ll leave you alone. I need to get Yeontan’s breakfast ready anyway.”
Jimin sighs. “Babe—” he starts, but Taehyung ends the call before Jimin can get out another word. Huffing in annoyance, Jimin pockets his phone and continues inside the building. The elevators are crowded, so Jimin squeezes between two businessmen and spends the uncomfortable ride thinking about how to apologize to Taehyung.
A small Tupperware bowl is waiting for Jimin, wrapped with a red ribbon with a small card resting on the lid at his desk. Jimin drops his messenger bag in the chair and grabs the card, scrutinizing the handwriting written in the center.
Enjoy these rocks ;)
-Seokjin
Jimin stares at the card, his thumb and pointer pinching it so tightly that it leaves a crease when he tosses it on his keyboard. He pops open the container’s lid and is hit with an overpowering aroma of chocolate, vanilla, and cinnamon.
Muffins. Chocolate muffins with giant chocolate chunks, each one wrapped with pastel-colored paper.
Jimin’s mouth immediately begins to salivate, and his stomach loudly growls. He skipped breakfast again today; Jimin told himself he’d grab something at the vending machine if he were still hungry by the time he arrived at work.
But there are muffins on his desk, delicious smelling muffins for free. Jimin would absolutely love to enjoy free, delicious-smelling muffins and make his cheeks feel warm with happiness as he did.
Muffins…made by Seokjin.
Jimin’s face flares hot, not with happiness, but instead with rage.
He slams the lid back on the muffins, grabs Seokjin’s card, and storms over to Seokjin’s office. Seokjin is quietly checking through his email when Jimin barges inside, jumping with a startled yell when Jimin throws the container on his desk.
“Is this some kind of joke for you?!” Jimin snaps hotly at Seokjin. Seokjin dares to look confused.
“What?”
“You piss me off with all the stupid things you say, then you make me tea without me asking for it, and then you piss me off again by being a jerk about the muffins that I made for you just to be nice—”
“So those were my muffins?” Seokjin asks, pointing a finger with his eyebrow raised.
Jimin stomps his foot. “Never mind whose muffins they were! You’re being a jerk! A stupid jerk, and you’re just the most annoying person I’ve ever met!”
“…I’m failing to see what I did wrong here, Park Jimin-ssi,” Seokjin says, blinking slowly at him.
“Why did you make me muffins?!” Jimin yells.
“Because you made me muffins!” Seokjin yells back.
“I made those for everyone!”
“Agh! There’s no winning with you!” Seokjin groans, throwing his hands up in the air. “Why can’t I just give you muffins?! I had some leftovers and didn’t want them to waste, so I just thought I’d give you some!”
Some leftover. Leftover from who? Jimin’s buzzing brain conjures up an image of Seokjin in the kitchen with Yeonjun, both of them laughing and baking and being gross in front of these muffins that Seokjin decided on a whim just to pass off. They probably fed each other muffins, cuddled up on the couch with romantic music playing in the background. Jimin stares at the container with absolute disdain.
“I don’t want your stupid love muffins!” Jimin blurts.
A blush comes over Seokjin’s face. “I - I didn’t make these cause I’m in love—”
“And just so you know,” Jimin continues, jabbering away so his brain doesn’t have the time to pause and register how red Seokjin’s face is, “I don’t need you baking me anything because I have a boyfriend that is a Michelin star chef who can make me anything I want! He says my hair is like summertime in Paris. He buys me fancy old wine and—” Jimin squeezes his midsection tight, knees coming together as his body begins to hunch over— “and you’re just a stupid jerk that doesn’t even say ‘hello’ or ‘goodbye’ when you see people outside of work. I hate you and your face!”
With that, Jimin immediately bolts out of Seokjin’s office, flees down the bathroom hallway, and throws himself into the first available stall. His face is burning, and his hands are trembling. His mouth feels dry, and his throat feels like there’s sandpaper rubbing against it every time he swallows. Bringing his forehead against his inner forearm, Jimin closes his eyes tight and counts to ten.
Well, there goes his Monday.
Jimin isn’t at his desk when Namjoon arrives at the office at ten, which is odd because he didn’t remember getting a message from Jimin stating that he will be out today. He’s been hoping that his evening meditations have granted Jimin some form of healing over the weekend. Perhaps he should have also asked Madame Seo to supply Namjoon with some more of her healing candles and meditation stones (both products all for the low price of 85,000 won).
Curious, Namjoon heads over to Seokjin’s office, finding his colleague frowning at his computer screen and typing with more force than necessary.
“Good morning,” Namjoon greets with a bow, knocking twice on Seokjin’s door. Even numbers are now good luck today, bringing positive energy and relaxation. Seokjin looks at him briefly, visibly trying to calm his face into a more neutral expression.
“Morning, Namjoon-ah,” he says, typing gently.
“You wouldn’t happen to know if Jimin is in, do you?” Namjoon asks. Seokjin bristles. He resumes typing, the keystrokes increasing in volume and speed.
“He’s here. He’s probably off somewhere making a voodoo doll of me to stab repeatedly. Apparently, I’m the devil incarnate for making him muffins made out of friendship and not love and for not saying anything to him when I randomly saw him over the weekend. Nevermind that I had a drunk little brother to take care of or the fact that he ran off before I could even say anything to him, but noooooo, the entire world has to run on his schedule, and everyone has to adhere to his expectations, and he’d rather be an annoying brat that likes to brag about his stupid French chef boyfriend which is obviously a lie because—”
One of Seokjin’s keys pops out from the keyboard as he types, and Seokjin grunts in annoyance.
“Gah! You see! Look what he made me do!” Seokjin exclaims to Namjoon, gesturing to his broken key. “I try to be nice and apologize and talk to him like a normal person, and every time it just blows back up in my face! He’s the most insufferable person on the entire planet, and now I have a bunch of muffins and a broken keyboard, and I can’t stand him!”
“…So…he’s here?” Namjoon slowly asks.
Seokjin makes a loud, irritating sound. “Yes, Namjoon-ah, your assistant is lurking somewhere around here. Just listen out for the sound of someone cursing my name for eternal damnation,” he responds dryly before he begins to fiddle with the keyboard. Namjoon awkwardly nods his head, quietly leaving Seokjin to his business. Well, he supposes he’ll wait when Jimin pops up.
Namjoon heads to his office and sets his items from home down. He’s brought in another plant today, a small magnolia flower that has always managed to bring a smile to his face every time he looks at it, so he hopes it will bring a smile to someone’s face here. He restocks his work stash of candles, incense, recharged moonstones, and refills his purifier so Jimin won’t have to do much for his daily tasks. He even dusts around his desk and the shelves lined with his occult manuals and books on shamanism.
Two knocks sound at the door, and Namjoon calls out, “Come in!”
The door opens, and he is greeted with the shiny bright eyes of Jeon Jeongguk, curiously looking around before resting on Namjoon.
“Good morning,” Jeongguk says, quietly coming inside. He fiddles around with the door again, leaving it open just a crack before approaching Namjoon’s desk with a small stack of papers in hand. “Um, I had some documents from Namgin that he’d like for you to sign.”
“Oh, thank you,” Namjoon says, accepting the documents with a smile. “U-Um, how was your weekend?”
Jeongguk averts his eyes to the ground. “Not…the greatest…but I read over your fortune this morning, and it made me feel very hopeful that the worst is behind me,” he says with a grin that makes Namjoon’s chest grow warm, heart thudding loudly against his rib cage.
“That’s great,” he says, nodding his head. “Um, also, if you wanted to, um, get anything from the snack machine, even numbers are supposed to bring positive energy and rejuvenate the body by relaxing your senses.” Briefly, Namjoon fumbles for his wallet. “I-I was about to grab something for a quick morning snack. If you want to, um, join me?”
Jeongguk brings a hand to his left ear, though it doesn’t do him any good in hiding how red his face grows.
“I’d like that,” he murmurs. Namjoon smiles, feeling his cheeks stinging with a pleasant burn.
The two quietly leave his office and head to the break room, not looking at each other but still walking in perfect sync. Namjoon catches a glimpse of his reflection in the glass of the snack machine while he examines his choices. He’s smiling like an idiot, eyes crinkled and dimples forming small craters in his reddened cheeks, so he immediately smooths his face down to normal. He glances at Jeongguk briefly, catching the small smile that Jeongguk has on his lips and the pretty color of red that has spread down to Jeongguk’s neck.
Their eyes meet in the reflection of the glass, and Jeongguk stops smiling as well, turning redder. “U-Um, have you found something interesting?” he asks the ground.
“Would you like to try some of this granola?” Namjoon asks, tapping the number four option. “It’s nutritious, and I love the natural honey flavor.”
“Okay,” Jeongguk says, nodding. He reaches for his wallet, but Namjoon is already swiping his card in the reader. “O-Oh, it’s alright, sajangnim,” Jeongguk begins to protest, but Namjoon shakes his head and quiets him with a raise of his hand.
“Please,” says Namjoon, smiling softly, “I like doing this kind of thing.”
He collects the granola when it falls and offers it to Jeongguk, who accepts it with a murmur of thanks. Namjoon waits for Jeongguk to take a small handful into his mouth, watching as Jeongguk’s eyebrows scrunch down in an angry frown. “Mmm,” Jeongguk hums through his chews. “Wow, it’s super sweet.” He cracks some granola towards the back of his molars and giggles. “I like how crunchy it is.”
A wave of heat washes over Namjoon’s face, disappearing as quickly as it arrives.
“I’m pleased you like it,” Namjoon says, and Jeongguk nods before gently taking Namjoon’s hand to pour a small handful in Namjoon’s palm. Namjoon hopes his hand isn’t sweaty, but Jeongguk doesn’t seem to notice or care even if it is. He leans up against the snack machine, enjoying the granola from the bag. Namjoon leans up beside him, their arms brushing as his back presses up against the glass window.
“I didn’t let you know this on Friday, but I had the pork belly from hyung’s restaurant,” Namjoon brings up.
Jeongguk turns to him excitedly. “Did you like it? It was terrific, wasn’t it?”
“It was! I want to have it almost every day now!”
“Me too!” Jeongguk exclaims, letting out a loud and wistful sigh. “I think Hoseok said they’d be closing early tomorrow cause he and his husband are going out, so I’m probably going to have to bring my lunch. I’ve been meaning to cook the chicken in my refrigerator, so maybe I’ll have a dish with chicken?” Jeongguk brings up a hand and begins counting off. “Gimbap, cheese budak, dakgalbi, ahhh, so many choices.”
“…Can I suggest something?” Namjoon asks. Jeongguk nods, giving Namjoon all of his attention as Namjoon begins to dig in his pocket. “Um, I have some lucky dice,” he begins to explain, showing a set of tiny red dice in the palm of his hand. “So you can think of a number to represent one of the dishes you’re thinking about, and then whatever number comes up will be the dish you make.
Jeongguk smiles. “Okay,” he says, clearing his throat before closing his eyes. Namjoon watches the twists and pulls of Jeongguk’s face as he thinks over his options. He wrinkles his nose, puckers his lips, and hums long notes that rise and fall as he thinks and thinks. Namjoon’s face flares hot again, accompanied by a burning sensation in his chest. He catches his reflection again in the vending machine, that dopey-looking grin on his face. It’s a more brutal fight to push his lips back to a neutral expression, especially when Jeongguk bounces on the heels of his feet and opens his eyes to grin big at Namjoon.
“Alright!” Jeongguk exclaims, and Namjoon nods, giving the dice a roll and dropping them between their feet.
Both stoop down to see what the numbers are, causing both of them to bump their heads against each other accidentally. They give a yelp of surprise, hold their heads, and quickly apologize to the other. Then, Jeongguk begins to giggle, and Namjoon can’t help it. He laughs along, rubbing his head that is throbbing and feeling hot under the weight of his palm.
Jeongguk grabs the dice from the floor, examining the numbers. “Eight,” he says, looking at Namjoon with a smile. “So that means sticky chicken and rice!”
“Sounds yummy,” Namjoon says with a nod that Jeongguk nods back in agreement.
“I’ve made it only one other time. My mother was coming in to visit me from Busan and—”
“Hey!”
Namjoon jumps while Jeongguk freezes, watching the color drain from Jeongguk’s face as he turns and looks down the hall at Namgin approaching the two of them. “I thought I told you—” Namgin stops when he notices Namjoon standing beside Jeongguk. The bullish anger that twisted Namgin’s face is now replaced with a jolly smile and a happy-go-lucky twinkle in his eyes.
“Ah! Sajangnim! Great to see you!” Namgin enthusiastically greets, warmly shaking Namjoon by the hand. Namjoon feels his body becoming heavy, his joints going stiff. He hates this kind of attention. The kind where he’s supposed to be the big boss man of the company and everyone is supposed to smile and greet and kiss his ass. Everyone in the company does it, even moreso cause Namjoon’s father is the CEO. The only people that treat him with some sense of normalcy are Jimin and Seokjin.
Well, and also Jeongguk.
Jeongguk looks equally uncomfortable by Namgin’s presence, though it must be for a different reason. Namgin stops shaking Namjoon’s hand and turns to Jeongguk, Namjoon not missing how Namgin’s smile twitches at the corners. “Ah, we were just about to prepare for our meeting today, but I couldn’t help but notice that someone didn’t prepare our room yet,” says Namgin, who slaps a heavy hand on Jeongguk’s shoulder. “Jeongguk-ah, it’s your turn to set up the meeting room, remember?”
“My turn?” Jeongguk asks quietly. His voice is barely audible. Namjoon strains his ears just to hear him, only to recoil with a wince when Namgin suddenly laughs, the sound forced harshly from his lungs. HA HA HA!
“Ahhh, Jeongguk-ah, remember?” Namgin asks, squeezing Jeongguk’s shoulder tight enough for Jeongguk’s face to contort in pain. “You’re supposed to set up for this meeting! It’s not like you have anything else to do, right? So you’re in charge of getting the meeting room set up with the documents and refreshments, right?”
Jeongguk looks at Namgin, then glances at Namjoon. Something in his eyes makes Namjoon feel tense all over, deeply uncomfortable with the hand Namgin still has rested on Jeongguk’s shoulder. He opens his mouth, the words beginning to form on his tongue, but Namgin suddenly turns to Namjoon, and he laughs right in Namjoon’s face. The words get scared down Namjoon’s throat, and Namgin throws a playful arm around Namjoon’s shoulders.
“Sajangnim, you’ll enjoy the breakfast spread that we have for today. Did you know that a little French bakery opened up a few blocks away? Of course, it doesn’t compare to the genuine article, but for a knockoff, it’s pretty damn good, I’d say. The buttery smell of the croissants can get your mouth watering from two football fields away–” Namgin stops and looks at Jeongguk, who is still standing there and quietly looking at the two of them. “Aren’t you going to get the food, Jeongguk-ssi?” he asks, the tone now sharper, no longer friendly. It makes Namjoon’s ears itch. He tries to speak up again.
“...Okay,” Jeongguk mumbles. Without glancing at Namjoon in goodbye, Jeongguk turns around and heads out of the break room. Namgin clicks his tongue, turning even more disgruntled as he looks at Namjoon.
“He honestly slacks off so much, sajangnim,” Namgin confides. Namjoon wouldn’t consider the voice Namgin is using as ‘quiet’. It feels like Namgin wants the entire office to hear how little he thinks of Jeongguk. Namjoon feels himself beginning to shuffle away from Namgin’s touch.
“I wouldn’t say that,” Namjoon mumbles, primarily to himself, but Namgin still hears it.
“Yah, listen, I know what you’re thinking, sajangnim,” says Namgin, almost chasing Namjoon back so he can get that chummy arm around Namjoon’s shoulders and hold him there. “But don’t be fooled by those sweet baby doe eyes. He slacks off and is so slow with his work. That’s why it’s up to me to make sure he gets his act together so that way we can provide you with the best quality of work we have to offer.” Namgin sighs forlornly. “See, I feel like with my skills in leadership mentoring Jeongguk could be better utilized in, oh, I don’t know, a chief position—”
Namjoon spots Jimin exiting the bathroom just down the hall. Panicked, Namjoon calls out Jimin’s name, extending a hand towards his assistant as he yanks himself out of Namgin’s hold.
Jimin stops and looks over at Namjoon, glancing over his shoulder at Namgin. “Sajangnim?” Jimin asks, studying the nervous fluster on Namjoon’s expression.
“Um, hi. I’m sorry, but did I have any emails I need to look at?” Namjoon asks, quiet yet pleading.
Jimin gives another glance at Namgin over Namjoon’s shoulder. He nods his head ‘yes’.
“Ah. Okay.” Namjoon looks over at Namgin, and Namgin quickly flashes him a big grin. “Sorry. I have emails to look over. Um, maybe some other time we’ll talk?” he offers.
Namgin gives him finger guns. “Hey, of course, sajangnim! We’ll talk after the meeting!”
Namjoon nods, dread sitting in his stomach like a rock.
He quietly thanks Jimin and excuses himself, heading back to his office. He glances at the elevators as he passes them and thinks about Jeongguk. He’s probably already out of the building now, but maybe Namjoon could help Jeongguk set up the room again? He bought some more sachets and didn’t have much to do aside from reading over his emails. So, maybe it won’t be too bad if Namjoon just…just…
…Just what?
Namjoon rubs at his forehead, clenching his jaw. He could have spoken to Jeongguk longer had he spoken up for him when Namgin butted his way into their conversation. What was he doing just standing there and letting Jeongguk be spoken to that way? Slacker or not, Namjoon knows that the tone Namgin was using with Jeongguk was a tone he didn’t appreciate. He’s the boss, for fucks sake. Why didn’t he say anything when it mattered? Why didn’t he just open his mouth and tell Namgin to stop?
You always screw everything up.
You’re so stupid, why can’t you do anything right?
A harsh breath comes wheezing out of Namjoon’s chest, the thoughts beginning to take over. Stupid, stupid, stupid. Jeongguk probably hates you now. All because you were too stupid to say anything. You’re so stupid. The thoughts are loud. The thoughts make the sides of his temple pulse, his teeth grinding against each other as he tries to make them go quiet. It's bad energy. He must have done something wrong. He screwed up somewhere. Did he only eat five pieces of granola? Seven? God, he fucked up. He always fucks everything up. He’s so stupid.
Out the corner of his blurry vision, Namjoon sees his father come out of his office to speak briefly with his assistant. His father notices him, quickly rushing over to Namjoon’s side to rest big and heavy hands on Namjoon’s shoulders.
“Namjoon-ah? What’s wrong? What’s happening?” Namjoon’s father quickly asks. His face looks like a smudge of color to Namjoon. It’s getting harder to breathe, and the destructive energy is tainting his senses. He doesn’t even think he can feel his tongue in his mouth.
“I - I need to meditate,” Namjoon pants, sweat breaking out over his brow.
“Let’s sit down for a moment, huh? We don’t need to do all of that—”
Of course, his father wouldn’t understand. He’s not seeing what Namjoon is seeing, hearing the dark energy clouding Namjoon’s mind. Namjoon never knows how to articulate it to him, so Namjoon has to deal with the smear of his father’s face worrying over him, listening to his father’s voice sound like a distant, underwater echo. Stupid, stupid, stupid.
“No, no,” Namjoon gasps, pushing his father away. He runs into his office and locks the door shut, running to his desk to grab his candles. The room feels like it’s spinning, and his knees are buckling. The evil energy will consume his entire body now, rob the sensation from his limbs and the tips of his fingers. What if he tainted his father by letting his father touch him in this state? What if he passed off bad energy to Jimin, Namgin, and Jeongguk without knowing it? He should have sensed this bad energy lying dormant within him. Why is he such an idiot? He’s ruining everything.
Namjoon grabs nine candles and sticks each one around his office space, turning on some new age music to begin the cleansing process. He has to trap the energy and expel it here. He can’t afford to mess up any further.
“Jimin-ah, can I speak with you?” CEO Kim asks, coming to Jimin’s desk just before Jimin can sit back down. Jimin blinks, then nods his head. He follows CEO Kim to his office, glancing at Sooyeon as he passes her desk. She’s currently binging Too Hot to Handle. Jimin rolls his eyes at the people in skimpy swimwear on the computer screen before entering CEO Kim’s office.
“Is there something wrong?” Jimin asks, choosing to stand while CEO Kim sits at his desk and puts his head in his hands.
“Is the…‘search’ coming out okay?” CEO Kim asks.
“It’s going fine, sir. I have a prospective partner ready, but I still need to do some more research before introducing VP Kim to them,” Jimin calmly explains.
“Alright.” CEO Kim still looks bothered, so that can’t be all he wanted to know.
Jimin moves around to the back of CEO Kim’s desk and rests his hands on the man’s shoulders. “Is there anything else you’d like to ask me, sir?” Jimin asks, gently squeezing CEO Kim’s shoulders.
“Ah, no. No, I’m sorry for bothering you when you were just about to get to work. Feel free to leave, Jimin-ssi,” CEO Kim reassures, though he does begin to slump in his seat when Jimin starts to pay attention to a knot at the tip of CEO Kim’s spine.
“It’s of no trouble to me if you have any concerns you’d like me to know about,” Jimin gently offers, rubbing into the knot with his thumb. “Please, I’m sure that VP Kim would not like to see that you are feeling stressed. Tell me what is on your mind.”
CEO Kim lets out a heavy sigh. “…It’s Namjoon,” he confesses. “I just don’t understand him. These last few days, it seemed like he was walking on cloud nine, but just now, he was having one of his ‘episodes’ again, and I just—” CEO Kim raises his hands and squeezes the air in front of him out of frustration. “I just never know how to calm him down when he gets like this, so he just turns to more of this ‘meditation’ and ‘healing crystal’ nonsense.”
Jimin frowns. It must have been something that Namgin said to him. VP Kim looked distressed when he saw the two of them after leaving his sanctuary in the bathroom.
“I’ll try to speak to him, sir, but you know that it’s best to leave him be when he gets like this.”
“But it’s frustrating!” CEO Kim exclaims. “This is the kind of thing that I was worried about. A CEO needs to be able to perform under pressure, and I never know what sets these episodes off! We comply with his ordinances, we allow him to have a minute of meditation at the end of our meetings–we’ve even got special permission from the fire marshall to light ten candles in one room with a max capacity of 250 people. Yet these episodes keep happening, and Namjoon just keeps falling apart. It feels like I’m dealing with him fresh off of his breakup with that girl every time he gets like this.”
Jimin hums. This could be helpful information.
“His previous girlfriend,” Jimin starts, but CEO Kim makes an irritated noise of disgust.
“I don’t want to talk about her,” he grunts.
“Of course, sir. She must have been a terrible person,” Jimin says with just as much venom, punctuating his words with a firm squeeze of CEO Kim’s shoulders. CEO Kim nods in agreement.
“More than terrible. Just an awful, vile young woman that’s poisoned Namjoon’s mind with all this healing crystal and ‘energy’ and - and magic mushrooms.” He makes another disgusted noise. “But I don’t want to talk about her.”
“Of course. Let’s not even think about her,” Jimin says, shaking his head. “I have high hopes that the person I selected for VP Kim will be his ideal person. We won’t ever have to think about that girl ever again. Not her ‘healing crystals’ or her ‘dark energy’ or her ‘magic mushrooms’—”
“All a bunch of nonsense,” CEO Kim spits gruffly. “I’m all for…mindfulness and all that, but whatever garbage she was preaching…it was like a - a cult or something!”
Okay, they might be steering into some bad territory. Jimin gives CEO Kim’s shoulders two light and friendly pats.
“So we’ll just not focus on her,” Jimin reiterates. “We’ll focus on what we can do for VP Kim and how to make him happy now. I promise you, Sir, I’ll do everything to help VP Kim be happy with himself and with someone who will treat him and value him with the respect and care that we both think he deserves.”
CEO Kim nods. The heavy sigh he lets out sounds relieved.
“...I just want him to be happy,” CEO Kim says, resting his hands over his ample stomach. “I just want to look at him and know that he is happy, and I don’t have to worry about him like this.”
“I know, Sir,” Jimin says, voice soft. “I know.” |
(2013)
"Do you love me?" Nadia asks when Oksana has her on her back, three fingers inside her, unrelenting—just the way she likes it.
"Of course," Oksana tells her, breathless and sweating, because Nadia is loyal and lonely and deserves to be loved back and all that minutia. Plus, it's easier to say it than deal with the fallout.
"Tell me."
Oksana closes her eyes, and Anna is there. She is always there.
"I love you," she says automatically, hoping Anna can hear her, wherever she is.
I will never love another, she'd told her, and she won't. Not ever, ever, ever. No one will ever be fiercely strange or exhilarating enough to understand her, accept her, thrill her.
In the chill dark of their cell, she tries to imagine Anna saying it back, but the words come from a voice unknown, faceless and foreign.
-
"You know, if you hadn't been so impatient and pig-headed, you could've waited a few hours for the direct flight."
Eve hears a sigh, first, before a shadow in the corner armchair begins to unfold itself. Long limbs step into the light, a lazy sway of hips, as Villanelle establishes herself with a defiant, cross-armed slump against the back of the sofa. Sweatpants, flip-flops and all. She looks thoroughly, magnificently done.
"Do you know how hard it was for me to get here? I am running out of good passports."
Eve blinks. Lack of sleep can cause hallucinations, who knows.
"How..." she attempts. "How did you... how did you get through security?"
"I told them you had early-onset dementia and had forgotten your lady products." She brandishes Eve's vinyl bag of toiletries like a golden ticket. "Seriously, you can get away with anything if you start talking to men about periods."
"Is that how you got me to stay up till six in the morning breaking into the FSB password vault?" Kenny asks.
"No!" Villanelle says with wide, offended eyes, turning suddenly to Kenny. "I really did have cramps."
"Oh. Okay. Um, who's looking after Pakak?"
"Tulok has him, as usual. Howdy, partner, how's it goin'?"
"Good. Hi. You look... well."
Villanelle grins. "I've been having a lot of sex."
"I'm sorry," Eve snaps, "am I interrupting something here?!"
Villanelle's face sobers. "Eve, wait..."
Eve doesn't wait. She lunges forward, pinning Villanelle to the sofa, which absolutely is not as sexy as it sounds, especially considering they both smell exceptionally like airport.
"You told me you were stealing Renoirs!"
"I am!"
"Then what the hell is this?!"
Villanelle smiles sheepishly. "Side hustle?"
"Are you fucking—"
"I'm joking, are you going to listen or not?"
In the two and a half seconds it takes to release the words, Villanelle smoothly flips them around and backs Eve into the nearest wall—gently, but with efficiency and purpose. She steps back when Eve glares at her, unimpressed.
Villanelle sighs, weary, but there's a spark in her eyes. She's excited—like it's a wash of relief to finally confess.
"I'm going to find them, Eve. All of them."
"Who?"
"The Twelve—and everyone they control. I've been hunting them since I left Rome, but... I needed help." She nods toward Kenny, who ducks his head shyly. "I know who they are now, I just have to find them—and I am. I'm picking them off one by one like mosquitoes."
She steps forward again, into Eve's space, hesitant but determined.
"They will pay for everything they did to me. To us."
Eve looks appraisingly at her, unconvinced.
"And Kenny?" she demands. "Why did you have to drag him into this? Why did you have a picture of him in your office next to all your dead handlers?"
"Did you not see the smiley face? It means we are friends now!"
"Um," Kenny pipes up, "that's not—I wouldn't—go that far."
Villanelle rolls her eyes.
"I needed him, and he needed me. Don’t you get it? As long as they're alive, none of us are safe. Shit, the only reason you’re still alive is because they think if I’m busy mooning over you I’ll forget about them." She smiles wickedly. "Never underestimate a multi-tasker.”
Something clicks in Eve's brain, sets off a series of gears that clank heavily into place.
"He told you to uninvite me, didn't he?" Eve challenges, closing in on them both. "When he found out I was going to see you—that's why you tried to talk me out of it!"
Kenny shakes his head. "I was just trying to—"
"Yeah, yeah. I know. Keep me safe."
"Don't be mad at him," Villanelle pleads. "I made him promise not to tell you anything."
"By that she means threatened my life," Kenny says.
"Worked, didn't it?"
Eve presses her palms against her eyelids, as though it might shut out this goddamn circus of an alternate universe she's tumbled into. Her head is spinning as she turns to Villanelle.
"How long has this been going on?"
"You say it like we're having sex or something."
"Oh my god, that would be so much better than this."
Villanelle makes a face. "It really wouldn't. No offense," she adds to Kenny.
"None taken."
Villanelle sighs. "You don't know your friends very well, do you, Eve?"
Eve blinks. "Excuse me?"
"All Kenny ever wanted was to prove he could do something on his own, out of his mother's shadow. Something that mattered."
Eve looks expectantly at Kenny, who has suddenly become fascinated by the area rug beneath his feet.
"She didn't pressure you?" Eve asks softly.
Kenny shrugs and shakes his head. "She just asked me if I wanted to help her hunt down the Twelve. I... I thought of turning her in, but I realized... what's the point? Still can't trust which side Mum's on, anyway, and Villanelle had already done half the research. We had a much better chance working together."
"So..." Eve realizes suddenly, "you knew where she was. The whole time."
Kenny stares at the floor.
"We had to trust each other," Villanelle says.
"Of course you did!" Eve laughs hysterically. "Of course. Isn't that just fucking perfect, you two are off, what—hunting Horcruxes, and I'm—how many are left, anyway?"
"Seven, plus keepers," Kenny answers quickly, apparently eager to be of help. "There are more of them than Horcruxes, and we don't have Hermione."
"You are better than Hermione," Villanelle tells him with a warm smile, and the kid fucking blushes.
(No one is immune...)
"Lovely," Eve concludes with a defeated sigh. "And I just had to be left in the dark, didn't I?"
"You would have wanted to help—"
"No shit, Sherlock! I've been after them since day one! I have the skills, this is my job, of course I want to help—"
"And I want you safe," Villanelle says with a final, determined sort of shrug. "Fuck me, right?"
"Yeah, fuck you," Eve agrees. "I don't want your protection! I'm not some fucking porcelain doll that you keep on a shelf, okay?"
"Oh god, please," Villanelle winces visibly, "any metaphor but that."
"You don't get to decide what I'm willing to risk!" Eve soldiers on. "And you sure as fuck don't get to lie to me about it!"
"I am allowed to have secrets! That is not the same as lying!"
"You aren't allowed to have secrets that involve me! Not if we're gonna be—whatever the hell this is."
"I don't. want. you. in. danger."
"I don't want you in danger!" Eve counters. "I don't want the next time I see you to be a ten-minute visit in a Russian prison, or find you bleeding out on the street!"
"Why do you care? Huh?" Villanelle prods, angry tears swelling in her eyes. "Why do you care so much about what happens to me?"
"Because I fucking love you, you absolute asshole!"
Sound drains from the room. Every breath stalls, all three bodies frozen in place as the two women lock eyes.
Kenny is the first to show signs of life, shuffling awkwardly backwards toward the door.
"Um, I'm just gonna..."
Vaguely, Eve registers his footsteps and the click of the latch, leaving the two of them in a time-stopping, heart-racing staredown.
In the tiny space of an instant, Villanelle, refusing to believe, shakes her head.
"You don't," she says in a small voice.
"I fucking do too!" Eve bellows. "I am so, fucking, stupidly, irritatingly in love with you! I love everything about you—okay, not everything, but most things, and even when I hate you, I love you. I love your gorgeous fucking hair and the way your stupid, gorgeous smile lights up your entire stupid face, I love your dimples and your boobs and your accent, the way you taste and the way you touch me and the way you shovel food into your mouth like a fucking toddler. I love how—how human you are, how superhuman you are, how unpredictable and dangerous you are, and I want to share your ridiculous life with you and your stupid dog, I want to hunt down international crime organizations and eat breakfast naked and fuck on the piano and watch Netflix with you. I want to do everything with you, even though it'll probably get dull and ordinary and one day we'll murder each other over how to load the dishwasher. Okay?!"
Villanelle's face is a strange, messy mix of euphoric and tear-stricken. "I've never had a dishwasher."
"Fine! I'll wash, you dry."
And then Villanelle is lunging forward, kissing the very breath from her body, and Eve is alive once more.
It is a long, long time before they come up for air, and Eve is suddenly very glad Kenny knew when to dash. Villanelle's hands are tangled in her hair and her eyes are darting all over Eve's face, like she's waiting for the punchline, waiting for the gotchya, the catch that makes it too good to be true.
Eve cups her stupid, gorgeous face in her hands. "Are you gonna say it back, or what?"
Villanelle nods feverishly. "I love you too. And... I know you're not mine, but... I am yours."
"You idiot. I've been yours since the first time you looked at me."
Villanelle beams, and it's so beautiful Eve is forced to drag herself down a notch back to reality.
"Look," she says, steeling her face into something grown up as she takes hold of Villanelle's hands. "It's not always gonna be like this, you know? Relationships get... boring. You argue, you hurt each other..."
"We do that already, silly. And I get bored on my own, I'd rather do it with you."
Eve smiles, but brief. "And... if one of us wants out? If... if it doesn't work?"
Villanelle shrugs. "I won't try to kill you."
"I won't either."
For a moment, they separate. Eve extends her hand, and they shake on it.
Villanelle smiles. "Want to find some Horcruxes?"
"God yes."
+ + +
(2020)
"Wait, wait, wait—" Kenny leaps from his swivel chair, shoving a freshly printed stack of papers into Villanelle's hands. "Addresses. Diaries. Photos."
Villanelle nods absently and stuffs them into the mesh side pocket of her backpack.
Kenny rolls his eyes, "Honestly," and retrieves them, relocating them to the inner zipper pocket. "Burn it the second you get there."
Villanelle nods.
"Got your passport?"
Villanelle nods.
"Ticket?"
"Kenny, she's a professional," Eve tsks, eyes fixed on her monitor.
Villanelle, wide-eyed and silent, accepts the forgotten ticket from Kenny's hand and holds a finger up to her lips.
"Careful," Kenny says, backing away. "Don't, you know... be yourself."
Eve snorts and wrenches herself from her workstation. Villanelle is still rolling her eyes when Eve reaches her, and Eve keeps a solid meter of space between them, assessing her ability to let go.
"Be careful," she repeats with as much pragmatism as she can manage.
Villanelle smiles. Licks her lips. Eve ignores it.
"Fuck's sake," Eve fusses, stepping forward to adjust Villanelle's near-invisible earpiece. "Turn on your mic this time."
"Yes, mum."
"Fuck you."
"I love you too."
They watch one another for a moment, mesmerized. This part hasn't changed, not yet. Not the shivers that race down Eve's spine or the swirl of emotion in the pit of her stomach. The words haven't yet lost their novelty, their dazzling effect that leaves both of them giddy and Kenny in the depths of discomfort. She yanks Villanelle into a short, tight hug, whispers a "love you" into her ear, and releases her.
Not to be outdone, Villanelle draws her into a deep, searching kiss, and is gone.
Silence hits—a quick, efficient blow, suffocating and thick. Eve stares hard at the door.
"She's gonna be okay," Kenny says, and Eve forces herself to breathe.
"I know."
"Are you?"
Eve turns to face him, surprised to find the smile already tugging at her lips.
"Yeah," she says. "I am."
* |
The sun came out in Gravity Falls and Stanford Pines woke up with a loud gasp, almost falling from his chair.
"Stanley!" He looked around worriedly. Where were they?! Where was his brother?!
He calmed down enough to realize he was in a bedroom, his old bedroom. Right. The portal. Sebastian. They were back...
He pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed. Right. He had been reading his Journals last night, he couldn't believe his nephew had been using it as his own personal diary, and apparently fell asleep. Portal travelling was tiring...
Some rooms away, Stan was waking up in a panic. He fell asleep on guard! What if something happened to Ford?! What if they stole the weapon!
"Ford!"
He heard a yell when he moved erratically and it took his a time to realize the voice he heard wasn't Ford's but Sebastian's.
Stan looked at Seb sheepishly, watching him drowsily rub his forehead.
"Sorry, dimension travelling makes you a bit paranoid...and also living with Ford"
Seb chuckled drowsily and laid down again, curling up next to his brother.
"Can we eat?" Stan asked with a dumb smile.
"HHmph...sleep" Seb mumbled and turned around, trying to pull the blankets over him, but Stan was crushing them.
"Come on! I'm hungry!" Stan poked his brother's ticklish side and the younger man squeaked, flinching away.
"I HATE when you do that!" Sebastian shouted with his cheeks and eye red, but his triplet laughed loudly.
"Well, you are awake, can we get food now?"
Seb grumpily got out of bed to make breakfast and Stan cheered.
"Food! Food! Food!" The older man for 37 minutes chanted as he followed his brother.
"Stop!" Seb whined but laughed. "What time is it? It..." He looked at the clock. "It is 6:24, Fez! Are you insane?! Did you really wake me up so early?!" The blond complained.
Stan shrugged and opened the fridge. He sniffed the milk he found and deemed it edible. "I'm hungry"
Stanford heard movement downstairs. He grabbed Journal 3 and walked downstairs. His hair was all disheveled and he hadn't shaved yet so he looked like a cute, nerd mess.
He stopped by the kitchen's door when he saw Stanley and Sebastian laughing in the kitchen.
"Stop! You are going to drop the flour, Fez!"
"Please! I know exactly what I'm-AH!"
"FEZ!"
Stanford watched how the bag of flour drop to the counter and cover Stan and Seb's faces.
Stanley turned around when he felt someone watching and relaxed when he saw it was his oldest brother.
"Hey! What's the word, Sixer?!"
Seb smiled widely. Today was a new day. He was going to make his brother like him again, even if it took him another 13 years.
'He will hate you forever'
"Hi, Sixer!"
Ford nodded in his direction to show he heard him and turned to look at Stan. "What are you doing?"
"Stancakes! Wanna help and see the magic?"
"Eh...I pass" Ford lifted his glasses to rub his eyes. "I need coffee"
"I was about to make coffee" Seb told him. "Do you want me to make you a cup?!" The younger man offered and Ford stared at him. He grabbed a piece of bread before turning around.
"You know, I suddenly don't want coffee anymore...I'll be in the basement"
Seb's forced smile fell as soon as Ford was out of sight. "Ok...Another day it'll be..."
Stan rolled his eyes and caught Ford before he could leave. "Oh, come on, Poindexter! Join us for breakfast! Then you can go do science all day if you want!"
The man with glasses pouted as he was dragged towards the table and forcefully sat down.
Stan patted his shoulder and smiled. "So, stancakes? Yes?"
The blond smiled slightly as Ford sighed. "Do I have a choice?"
"Nope!"
Ford sighed, nodded defeatedly and pulled out Journal 3 to continue writing. "Alright"
While Stan and Seb worked on the pancakes, the twins woke up with the unusual movement. They yawned and went downstairs, realizing they had fallen asleep with their clothes on, and found the three men in the kitchen.
Oh right! Their uncles Stans!
"Uncle Ford!" Dipper smiled widely, his brown eyes sparkling with joy. The Author! Eee!
"Hey, kids!" Seb smiled. Maybe if he acted as if nothing happened, they would too? He really didn't want to lose his niblings.
"Oh, good morning, kids" Ford nodded.
"Hey, what's up, kiddos?" Stan greeted.
Dipper looked at Seb with confusion. "Um...What are you doing here?"
Seb used all his willpower to keep his smile on his face. He knew he just had to give them time to adjust to the shocking news of his past, but it still hurt to see Dipper judging him and Mabel not smiling at him like always.
"We are making breakfast, duh! Kitchens are for that, kid" Stan laughed, successfully taking the tension off the air. "We are making Stancakes, it is pancakes, but made by this handsome chef"
Mabel giggled at her uncle with long hair and skipped to the table to take a seat. "I'd like to try Stancakes! I bet they'd taste even better with glitter!"
"Glitter?" The Stans repeated and looked at their nephew.
"That's Mabel for you" Dipper shook his head with a smile and sat down next to Ford with an excited grin.
Stan proudly gave the children the food, left a juice box on the table and forced his younger brother to sit next to their niblings.
Mabel gave her blond uncle a small smile before starting to eat and Seb beamed.
His niece didn't hate him!
"What are you writing, Uncle Ford?!" Dipper asked, leaning against the tall man to see. "Is it something about new space creatures?!"
"Um, no, Dipper" Ford smiled softly. "Just a few things about our time in space."
Dipper squealed and got closer to Ford, who visibly winced. Human Contact! Too close!
"What did you see in those years? Did you meet aliens? How did you breathe? Which dimension you liked the most?"
Ford focused on the last question, mainly because it was the only question he understood from the excited boy, and was about to reply it was the parallel dimension where Sebastian never returned after Filbrick kicked him out the first time when they were 15, so he never broke his machine and he became a renowned scientist, but Stan interrupted him.
"Man, there were some crazy dimensions out there! There was this Gambling Dimension! It was so cool!"
"Oh, yes. Lottocron Nine…I remember you wanted to stay there" Ford laughed.
"Well, yeah, who wouldn't?" Stan shrugged and then looked at his niblings and younger brother. "Unfortunately, I accidentally flirted with the wrong alien lady, she ended up being a security guard"
"What happened?" Mabel asked.
"She realized Stanley was cheating" Ford supplied. "And we were chased away by creatures with 6 arms and 3 eyes who wanted our eyes as compensation for the gold Stanley 'won'"
The twins laughed and Seb smiled. Oh, Stanley hasn't changed a bit. He did exactly the same with a game of poker at school against some older guys from whom they had to escape later on. Seb managed to finish the only pancake he put on his place with a relieved sigh.
Stan put two more pancakes on his brother's plate, ignored his whine and turned to look at his niblings.
"So, kiddos! You have been spending the summer with Sebas, huh? I bet you had fun! My brother is crazy, I bet he made stuff around here really fun"
The twin's and Seb' smiles decreased. Their adventures had been fun...Would they ever have them anymore? Dipper didn't trust him and Mabel was trying really hard to do it again.
"Oh...yeah! Summer has been fun! I made friends in a party Uncle Sebas made for us after his birthday-" The girl gasped. "Happy past birthday for you too!"
Stan smiled widely and ruffled her hair as Ford muttered an embarrassed "Thank you"
"We almost got killed by dinosaurs because Sebastian put Mabel's pig outside when she specifically told him not to" Dipper shrugged, and Seb winced when Ford glared at him.
"Sounds like something he'd do...He has never been good listening to instructions" Ford shrugged too and sipped his coffee HE prepared himself.
Seb pushed his unfinished plate away slowly, suddenly not in the mood to eat the food he didn't want to begin with, and Mabel closed her mouth.
Stan wanted to groan in frustration. Damn it, kid! He had to mention that to Stanford!
"Uncle Sebas saved my pig though..." Mabel objected softly and Stan smiled relieved.
"He punched a pterodactyl on the face to save Waddles"
Stan nudged his older brother's arm and smiled. "Heard that?! He punched a dinosaur! Wish I could do that someday"
"Excellent. He fixed the problem HE created." Ford said and Seb growled. As he was still without his eyepatch, they saw how it started turning red.
'Sixer will always hate you. Why do you still care what he thinks? We don't give a damn about people's opinions, remember?!' Bill2 sneered.
Not if they are my family, then I CARE!
Mabel winced a bit and looked down. That was the only thing that bothered her. That eye...That demon had that eye and it was so hard NOT to think he was controlling her uncle...
"Damn it, Ford. Get over it" Stan scolded the man with glasses and Seb continued glaring.
"Yes. I broke your stupid project! You don't need to continue repeating how stupid I was! And I already told you I am sorry!"
"That doesn't fix anything" Ford replied calmly as Seb lost more and more his temper.
"If I could go back in time to fix your stupid machine I'd do it, Sixer, but I CAN'T! I can't fix it! It was supposed to happen! What do you expect me to do?!" Seb screamed angrily, feeling his eye watering.
Mabel pouted. She hated fighting. Then she frowned a bit in thought. Go back in time…
"Hey, Uncles Stans! Um, one time we went to the future! We fought for our lives in a place where a giant baby ruled and killed the losers" Mabel said, trying to change the topic.
The caught the Stans' attention. "Do you mean Globnar?" Ford asked with a raised eyebrow.
Mabel nodded with a smile. "We won!"
"You actually went to Globnar?!" Stan gasped. "Ford, I told you we should have invoke Globnar!" The middle triplet complained.
"Are you insane?!" Ford and Sebastian said at the same time. Ford looked at his younger brother and Seb lowered his head. Awkward.
"Globnar is extremely dangerous, Stanley!" Ford scolded. "You can get erased from existence in those battles! Why did you kids even go?!"
"We stole a time-machine from a time traveler and he challenged us? Blondin said that, right?" Mabel asked, still not getting his name right.
The Stans, especially Ford, looked incredibly curious about the adventure and Dipper smiled, thinking it was a great opportunity for him to get closer to the Author and to show him he was serious and mature about weird and supernatural stuff!
Mabel spoke before him though. "Yes! It was a few days after we got a baby Dino! His name was Compy"
"You put the egg under me while I was sleeping!" Seb complained. "That thing followed me around for days!"
"Well, you have fire powers no?" Dipper shrugged. "We thought you would be warmer than the heating lamps"
Stan snorted loudly before laughing and Ford raised an eyebrow. A dinosaur egg? Hatch?
"Anyway…" Dipper turned his attention once more to The Author. The guy was just in front of him, oh gosh!. "So, everything started in our friend Soos's birthday-"
"The gother-like creature?" Ford asked and Dipper frowned but nodded.
"And we were trying to get some candy…"
Unknown to the twins, the story started long before, or rather, much later than they thought. It was the year 207̃012 and sirens were ringing in the Infinetentiary. A cloaked figure ran away from the officers searching for him. He had escaped the place and he didn't plan on returning any time soon!
The same officers who arrested him, Lolph and Dundgren, were chasing after him. "I've got to hand it to this perp, no one's broken out of the Infinitentiary 's either the bravest time convict I've ever seen, or the dumbest"
Blandin turned and ran into a wall. "Ow!" He stumbled with some barrels and fell over, revealing his face to the officer. "Oh! My time-knee! Oh, time-dang it!
Dundgren deadpanned at him. "Definitely the dumbest"
Lolph pulled out his gun and pointed at the scared man. "You're surrounded by the Time Paradox Avoidance Enforcement Squadron. Anything you say can and already has been used against you in future is it, Blendin. End of the timeline. Any last words?"
Blendin looked around scared and started stuttering. "Uh-uh-uh-uh-I-I-I-I... I INVOKE GLOBNAR!"
The crowd around them started muttering among them and Dundgren nodded slowly.
"Very well, speak the name and century of those accused"
Blendin growled. "The Pines family who ruined my life! Sebastian Pines and the kids Dipper and Mabel Pines! 21st century!"
Dundgren searched in his tablet and found a clip of the twins and Seb running around the yard, shooting at each other with silly string. The clip of the Pines was shown on every screen with the words "GLOBNAR TRIBUTES" over it.
Lolph shook his head slowly. "May Time Baby have mercy on their souls"
The next day in our present timeline, the twins were trying to get some candy from the vending machine, completely unaware of what was hiding behind it.
"Candy! Candy! Candy!" The chanted, watching the machine about to drop their bag of candy, but it got stuck.
"No! It's trapped!" Dipper exclaimed worried and Mabel cried. "Everything is terrible forever!"
"Psst. Hey, dudes! You wanna know a trick?" He hit the bending machine with his hands and elbow. "Bibbity-boop. Wop!" The vending machine opened and the children smiled widely. "A genius taught me that once" He grabbed the candy and threw it at the twins exclaiming "This just in: weather stations are calling for a... candy blizzard!
"Forget taking off the wrappers! I'm eating these now!" Mabel stuffed handfuls of unwrapped candy into her mouth and stubbornly started chewing.
"Soos, you are the greatest human ever to live." Dipper nodded at the man with a smile and ignored his sister when she started coughing.
"Agh! Oh! That was a mistake!" She said as she choked before collapsing to the floor.
"Hey, no sweat, dude" He put some money in the machine to repay the candies he took. "I'd do anything for the Pines family. Sebastian is one of my best friends!"
"Aaaww" The twins cooed. Mabel did so from her spot on the floor, half cooing half coughing and hitting herself in the stomach to spit the candy "Hack! Haw!"
Soos chuckled and waved at them to continue working.
Dipper waved back but when the man disappeared, he realized Soos left his wallet on the table. "Whoa! Better makes sure he gets his wallet back"
"Wait! I've never seen Soos' wallet before. Don't you wanna learn some Soos secrets?" Mabel grinned mischievously.
"I don't know if we should be-" He opened the wallet anyway and took out a membership card. "Wo-oah! Soos has a membership to Laser Tag? Ha ha, I didn't know they let grown-ups in there!"
"And look" Mabel pulled out a salami that defied reality by fitting in the wallet. "Emergency salami! Soos, my respect for you has grown"
Dipper grabbed his driver's license and read it aloud. "Jesús Alzamirano Ramirez. Organ donor. Birthday: July 13th." Wait a minute. That's today!" The boy gasped.
"Woah…" Mabel gaped.
"That's weird. I wonder why he didn't tell anyone…" Dipper hummed in thought. Who wouldn't tell anyone if it was their birthday! That was insane! He didn't want presents or to have an entire day dedicated to him?! Mabel and he adored their birthday!
"Uh-duh! It's probably because he wants someone to throw him a surprise party; I can relate. I've been waiting for a surprise party my whole life!" Mabel smiled.
Candy suddenly appeared and threw confetti on her. "Surprise!"
Mabel frowned and turned to glare at the girl. "Too little, too late, Chiu…"
Candy sighed sadly and walked away. "Awww"
The twins shared a look and nodded determined. They needed to make a surprise for Soos!
Mabel went to prepare the food while Dipper informed Candy of their plan. The other girl decided to help and called Grenda to get more help.
They organized the surprise party under the direction of the twins, and decorated the front part of the Shack.
Grenda started painting a say that said "It's your birthday yo!" and Mabel shouted.
"More exclamation points! More I say!"
"Wow, you guys thought of everything!" Grenda said before adding even more exclamation points.
"Grenda, twins are born birthday experts" Mabel smiled and Dipper put cake on the table before approaching the girls.
"We've shared every birthday together, so we know how to make them perfect" Dipper shrugged smugly and high fived his twin, touched her heels with his and blew a party blower together.
Dipper stopped. "Hey. Places everyone! I hear footsteps!" Everyone went to hide behind the table and Grenda shouted.
"Everyone be QUIET!"
Candy appeared, leading Soos to the surprise party while wearing a blindfold. "Alright, you promised a giant hummingbird, so I'm expecting to see a giant hummingbird…" Soos said.
"Three, two, one..." Candy yanked the blindfold off and Soos frowned when he saw the party.
"Huh?"
The three kids hiding came out and exclaimed. "Surprise!"
"Happy birthday, you king on Earth!" Mabel smiled widely. "We got everything you love. Cake-flavored pizza, pizza-flavored cake!" She led him to a tent labeled Razzle-Dazzler. "-And one more treat..." She opened the curtain to reveal Toby Determined in a red sequined leotard with a big sparkly blue bow. He started dancing as Soos as the curtain opened.
"Razzle dazzle, friends! It's me! The Razz-dazzler! This is what my life has become!"
"I…I…" Soos stopped, staring at everything with a frown.
"Quick! Everyone pose for the birthday smiles memory album!" Mabel instructed and without warning, she took a picture. She waited excitedly for the photo to appear but when it did, she pouted when she saw Soos was frowning.
"Soos, what's wrong?" The boy asked and Soos shook his head.
"It's uh. It's nothing. I, uh. I gotta go fix a pipe or something…" He walked away with his fist clenched, head down and eyes closed tightly. He knew the kids did it with good intentions, but he really didn't need to be reminded of this day…
Soos left, walking around the corner of the Mystery Shack, and as soon as she was gone, Wendy and Sebastian walked in from around the same corner, staring at Soos confused and worried.
"Question Mark…" Seb said softly, but his employee shook his head.
"Hey, did you guys see Soos?" Wendy asked. "What happened to-?"
Both Seb and Wendy visibly grimaced when they saw the party organized by the children.
"Oh shit" Seb sighed and covered his face with his five-fingered hand.
"Oh no. Oh no, no. Okay, you guys didn't know so it's not your fault, but Soos hates his birthday" Wendy told the twins, who made the most horrified expressions ever.
"What?!"
"It's a total mystery. I guess he's been like this since he was a kid. Some weird personal biz…"
"There's gotta be something we can do!" Mabel cried.
"We've tried everything" Seb shook his head. "I even petitioned the government to have this day removed from calendars. Now I'm not allowed on three states..." Seb mumbled.
'Haha! That was a good day'
Everyone followed Soos and poked their heads from behind the house, looking at Soos sitting on the porch and looking at a postcard that said "Hello!" from New Orleans with a sad expression.
"I don't know, guys. Maybe we should just leave him alone, you know?" Wendy suggested.
"No one should be alone on their birthday" Dipper argued with a sad pout. "There's gotta be a way to cheer him up. We just have to try harder!"
"You're right, Dipper! It's time for us to bring out the big guns!" Mabel grinned. "Quick, someone blindfold him again and take him to the car"
Seb grinned evilly and picked up the cloth from the floor. "I'll do it" The man gave a war cry and jumped over Soos, who screamed startled.
The blond made a now blindfolded Soos float to his car and sat him on the passenger seat while Wendy, the twins and Mabel's friends sat down behind.
Soos knew his boss wouldn't take him anywhere…too dangerous, but he was still nervous. Where were they even going? Why was everyone giggling so much and so suspiciously?
Seb parked on front of the Laser tag place and everyone got out of the car excitedly. "Come on, Question Mark!" Sebastian laughed and helped Soos get out of the car and into the place.
"Alright, guys. Blindfold me once, shame on you. Blindfold me twice- wait a minute" He paused. "Hot dog smell? Sticky floors? Future sounds?" He took off his blindfold and smiled. "Laser tag? I-I love laser tag! How'd you guys know?" Soos asked with a smile.
"Um, we definitely didn't rifle through your wallet?" Mabel started laughing awkwardly and Seb face-palmed. They needed to work on that…
"Welcome to the year 8000. Society: collapsed. Fog machines: everywhere" The Laser Tag Announcer said and Wendy looked to the side, noticing something weird with the walls.
"Are these walls just mattresses spray painted purple?"
Seb hummed. "Think this place used to be a mattress store…"
"I-I don't know, guys. I'm not sure I'm up to this today..." Soos said.
"Come on, Question Mark! I'm putting a ridiculous thing on my chest just for you!" Seb put his arm around the younger man's shoulders. "It'll be fun!"
"Don't worry, Soos. As soon as you start playing with us, you're gonna have a great time. We promise, no matter what happens, we won't leave your side!" The girl exclaimed happily.
"Well, I guess I could give it a shot…" Soos muttered and Seb patted him hard on the back.
"Prepare for laser battle!" A voice announced. "In three, two, GO!" A buzzer sounded and everyone ran inside.
Dipper and Mabel had to drag their groaning Uncle to the room to wait for Soos inside because he was apparently going to tie up his shoe, when suddenly the entrance turned completely white with no visibly door.
'This is not right. This is bad, kid'
Seb stood in front of his niblings when he saw two guys standing there.
Oh no...He remembered those guys...
"Whoa, this is even cooler than I imagined!" Mabel smiled and ran towards the frowning men. "Look how real these laser guys are!" She kicked the man in the crotch twice but frowned when his crotch spoke.
"Kick deflected! Thank you for buying Digi-cod: the smart codpiece!"
"Wait, what?" Mabel raised an eyebrow.
Dipper gasped and looked behind them, only to see the only exit closing behind them. "Oh no! Soos!"
The kids screamed, but Seb just sighed because he wasn't surprised anymore by the shit they were always getting into.
Mabel started kicking the wall repeatedly but Lolph laughed.
"Nice try. But that's solid time-tanium, kid! There's only one way out of here!"
"Through me!" The Pines turned around at the sound of the hitch-pitched voice. Sebastian groaned loudly when he saw Blendin's head and hands.
"Oh, uh-" Blendin noticed that was the only thing showing from his body and punched his wristwatch to get his uniform to work correctly. "Sorry... C-come on..." His uniform finally went back to its normal gray color and he grinned. "Through me! And that's, what it would be like if I'd just...gotten it right the very first chance, but it's still as effective"
Dipper and Mabel gasped, Seb deadpanned. Didn't this guy get arrested?!
"The time traveler guy! What did you say your name was again? Blendo... Blondin..."
Dipper snapped his fingers and smiled. "Blar-blar!"
Seb snorted loudly. Blar-blar..."That's perfect, Pinetree"
"There it is!" Mabel smiled, but Blendin glared even more at them.
"It's Blendin! Blendin Blenjamin Blandin! How could you not know my name after you ruined my life?!"
The Pines looked at each other, confused.
"Initiate flashback!" Blendin exclaimed and he pressed a button on his wristwatch, projecting a holographic screen that showed some footage. "It was after you stole my time device to win your stupid pig! I was cast out of the Time Anomaly Removal Crew; my whole life's purpose!"
They saw a hand ripping off Blendin's name tag, and his suit turned into a prison design.
"And then I was given ten squared life sentences in time prison! I spent every day since then planning my vengeance!"
In the flashback, he squished the mashed up food he made to look like the Pines.
Blendin turned off flashback. "And now finally, it has come!"
"Look, we're sorry about all that, but we're in the middle of something really important right now" Dipper rubbed the back of his neck.
"It's our friend's birthday today, and we promised we wouldn't leave his side!" Mabel grinned sheepishly.
"Yeah, get lost Blandin." Seb crossed his arms with a huff. Seriously, what was wrong with him? They just kidnapped them!
"What? You think some dumb birthday matters right now?!" Blendin shrieked. "Do you know where you are?!" The bald man asked them with a glare.
"Welcome...to Globnar!"
The far end of the room opened and the Pines gaped at the Globnar arena.
Globnar...They were challenged to Globnar...
'Fuck. We can't cheat this time, can we?' Bill2 asked.
Sebastian and his niblings gripped the glowing bars as they watched the humans and creatures fighting each other in different events. There was a man falling through a portal infinitely, a woman was literally on fire, a man got eaten by a glob monster, some others were fighting on a moving clock and others were fighting with age-altering weapons.
'Fuck, fuck, fuck'
Fuck, fuck, fuck. Seb bit his lip.
"Is this a reality show? Are we in Japan?" Mabel asked faintly.
Blendin gripped the glowing bars with a mad grin. "It's gladiatorial time combat!"
The Pines saw a man in a green future suit fall and a man in a sky-blue future suit was lifted up by a rock as the winner.
"The winner gets a precious time wish, and then decides the loser's fate!" Blendin grinned madly.
The winner smiled at the pleading man and raised thumbs up before changing it to thumbs down.
The twins gaped in horror as the loser was eliminated by a purple beam of light.
'Well shit.'
Blendin grinned maniacally at the Pines. "And the three of you are officially challenged. Dundgren! Get me my war-paint!" He ordered the other office and walked towards him.
"Ok, listen you two" Seb dragged the kids away from the officers. "I'm going to challenge Blendin, you stay here." It shouldn't be that hard, right? He did it once as a weak little triangle...
"Are you crazy, Uncle Seb?!" Dipper exclaimed but Seb laughed.
"A little yeah"
Mabel called the attention of her deadpanning brother and grinning uncle. "Guys, no! We need a way out of here! But how?" She asked worriedly.
Dipper looked around the room in thought, and his brown eyes widened when he saw Lolph with a time device. "I have an idea"
The blond looked in the same direction and chuckled. "Genius, Pinetree!" Seb whispered with a grin and high-sixed his nephew.
"Hang in there Soos, we're coming for you..." Mabel whispered under her breath. They needed to return, they promised Soos to be with him.
"Ok. We need to distract him." Dipper mused aloud. "So, I'll go grab the time machine, Uncle Seb you stay in sight of the guards so they don't suspect anything, and Mabel, you will distract, ok?"
Mabel nodded with determination and after her family gave her thumbs up, she approached Lolph.
She cleared her throat when the guard looked at her frowning. "Oh my stars! Could it be? My little, uh-hum..." She looked at his name tag. "Lolphie! It's me! Your great-great-great-" She looked at Dipper who was slowly walked behind him to steal his time tape and he signaled her to keep going.
"-great-great-great-" Dipper held up his hand in a stop gesture. "-great grandmother!" Mabel smiled "From the past times!"
Lolph stared at the girl menacingly bit then smiled with his eyes shining. "Gam Gam?!"
Seb snorted and saw Dipper take the time device from Lolph's belt.
Good boy! He was good at stealing!
Unfortunately, as Dundgren painted Blendin's face, the bald man noticed them. "Yeah, neon green is good, this is a good color for me. It's fierce- Who? What? No! You can't let them escape! Stop them!"
Blendin jumped at Dipper and Mabel, who dodged him and started running. Blendin tripped with Dundgren who also tried to jump at them.
Seb laughed and stood up to meet with the kids.
"Gam Gam! How could you?!" Lolph cried and Mabel grinned at him.
"I ain't no one's Gam Gam, sucka! You just got time-tricked!" Mabel laughed.
"Nooo!" Dundgren and Blendin shouted as the kids prepared to use the tape.
"Okay! I think...I've...got it!"
Dipper saw his Uncle catch up with them and let go of the tape. However, before the three could leave, Sebastian was pulled back by his shirt, and he watched horrified as his niblings disappeared.
"NO!" He cried and tried to escape from the man's grip, but the twins were already gone.
He looked up and saw Lolph was the one holding him up. "You don't play about someone's Gam Gam like that!" He sniffled as he glared at Seb.
"Kids!" Sebastian screamed.
-.-
Dipper and Mabel screamed as they fell. They luckily landed on a mattress and looked around confused.
"Uh... Are we back?" Mabel asked.
Dipper grimaced. "Oh, no, look! Mabel, the laser place is a mattress store! We went too far in the past!"
Mabel huffed a bit. "Time travel, man! Why you gotta be so complicated?!"
"Wait. Where is Uncle Seb?!" Dipper asked, but before they could think about it, the twins yelped when they saw a bright light forming. The officers! Dipper and Mabel duck under a bed as Blendin, Lolph, and Dundgren landed on a bed close by.
Dundgren looked around. "It looks like they overshot their destination by 9 years..."
"I don't see them!" Blendin said and wiped off his face-paint. "You better find those kids! The three of them need to be there!"
"You'll get your justice, Blendin." Lolph assured, but Blendin continued complaining.
"I'm gonna keep stammering until you find them! I-I-I-I-I-I-I-I-I-I-I-I..."
Lolph sighed tiredly. "I hate that guy…"
"Let's move" Dundgren said before the two of them jumped and flipped over the mattresses to land in front of the door. "YEAH!" They smiled and fist-bumped before walking out outside.
"Ok. We just gotta to go forward 10 years." Dipper said as they crawled from under the bed. That couldn't be that hard. "We can be back before Soos even realizes we were go-Darn it, Uncle Seb is still their prisoner!"
Before they could even worry about him, Mabel gasped. "Oh no!" She pointed at the time machine, which was dented and radiated blue electricity. She grabbed it and showed it to Dipper. "The timey thing, it's busted! Can you fix it?" She asked worriedly.
Dipper bit his lip. "M-m-maybe. I need some tools. And I think I know where to get some…" The two looked outside the glass door and saw a sign which read 'GRAND OPENING! MURDER HUT 1 MILE!'
"Uncle Seb said the Shack used to have that name." Dipper commented as they exited the store.
"Geesh! I'm glad they changed it!" Mabel laughed.
As they walked down the street, Dipper said. "Let's try to lay low. We don't want to change the future. Or cause the future. I forget how this works exactly." The boy mumbled.
They saw Tyler listening to a boom box mounted on his shoulder, Sheriff Blubs had an afro and the man who had a lot of tattoos was getting his first tattoo. There was a billboard which showed Bud Gleeful and a baby Gideon which read "BUD'S AUTO's BABY JUST TURNED ONE!" Said billboard was covered in graffiti though and the word baby was crossed out and replaced by 'monster'. Bud was even given a curly mustache.
The handwriting was awfully familiar…
"Wow, nine years in the past…" Mabel sighed and saw a little Robbie chasing a little Thompson and spraying him with a water gun. "Everything is same-y, but also different-y."
They looked at Toby dancing tap at a studio and they frowned.
"A dah buh dee, dah buh dee do, yeah! Look out Broadway, here I come!" Toby exclaimed happily, but Mabel banged on the glass to get his attention.
"This dream goes nowhere, Toby!" She yelled before resuming their walk towards the Mystery Shack. As they walked they jumped back when two little girls rode up to them on their tricycles.
Woah!" Upon further inspection, the twins realized they were Tambry and Wendy!
"Oops, sorry!" Tambry apologized and Wendy whispered something into Tambry's ear.
"Haha! My friend thinks you're cute!" Tambry exclaimed and pointed at Dipper. The boy gaped.
"Oh-my-gosh, Tambry!" She pushed her friend off her tricycle. "Shut up!"
Dipper blushed a bit and laughed nervously as he rubbed the back of his neck. "Thank you. I mean... you're super young, so this is weird…"
"Heheh, now you know how she feels, creep!" Mabel hit him in the shoulder laughing.
"Heh heh, yeah…" Dipper muttered as he watched the little girls rode away. "I-uh. Huh. Wow." He paused, actually taking Mabel's words seriously. "Wooow..." He frowned seriously.
They eventually arrived to the shack and hid behind a tree to spy on them. The Mystery Shack, or rather the Murder Hut, was literally only a few months old. Their Uncle must have had just opened it! Everything was new and Seb hadn't bought a lot of things yet, like the Golf Carts or the picnic tables. They saw their Uncle cheerfully talking to a group of tourists by the entrance and Mabel gaped.
"That is uncle Seb?!" The girl exclaimed and quickly covered her mouth to muffle her shriek. "He had long hair!"
"Sh! Mabel!" Dipper scolded his twin, but the girl continued giggling. "He looks super young and handsome!"
"Ew, Mabel!" The boy groaned. "He is our Uncle!"
Mabel stuck her tongue at the boy. "Well, he was." He still was, why denying it? But when he was younger he looked even cuter!
Dipper rolled his eyes. She better not tell Sebastian he wasn't handsome anymore or the blond was going to cry the entire day. "Come on, before they notice us!"
They sneaked inside the Shack through the window, Mabel definitely cooed when she saw baby Gompers, and after looking around for a bit, Dipper found a toolbox on the Gift Shop. "Hah! Bingo!" He picked up a screwdriver that had ' ' written on it, and sat down on the floor to try and fix the Time Machine. "Alright, let's see…"
As Mabel looked around in case someone came, she noticed a boy around their age, maybe a little older, banging on the glass of the vending machine. "Ah, c'mon candy. Fall. Fall! I fixed you yesterday!"
She approached him with a smile, glad to show off the trick Soos showed her earlier in the morning. "Allow me. You just need to know a guy on the inside! Bippidy-boop. Wop!" She copied Soos's method to open the machine and grabbed some candy for the boy. "Jackpot!" She turned to give the boy his candy but gasped when she recognized him.
"Thanks, dawg!" He took the candy Mabel was holding. "You must be some kind of genius!" Now he knew how to trick the system! Mr. Pines will never notice!
Soos started inspecting the attractions to make sure they looked fine and Mabel quickly ran towards her brother.
"Alright. I think I've got this thing working." Dipper said to himself as he used the screwdriver. He was suddenly grabbed and shaken by his twin.
"Dipper, Dipper. Look!" She turned Dipper's face and forced him to look at Soos.
"No. Way!" The boy gasped.
They froze when they heard a familiar voice groan loudly and the three kids in the Gift Shop turned to look at the door.
"Hah! Soos, I just squeezed out all those tourists' money! Should have seen this man's face when I-" 29 year old Sebastian Pines, long hair, same eyepatch, wearing a black normal suit, stopped in his tracks from untying his bun when he saw two kids in the Gift Shop.
"Um…"
The twins winced and closed their eyes at unison. Darn it!
"Hey, Mr. Pines!" Soos smiled and ran towards his boss.
"Kids, we are actually close now, your parents might be waiting for you…" Seb grinned sheepishly and pulled out his hairband, letting his long brown curls fall past his shoulders.
Both the twins gaped.
"Yeah, dudes! But you can always come tomorrow!" Soos offered with a smile.
The twins slowly obeyed and walked out of the Gift Shop, but when the door was closed, it didn't stop them from quickly running towards the window to spy the two people inside.
"Damn, those kids looked awfully familiar…" Seb muttered and he sat down behind the counter. Soos shrugged. "I have never seen them."
The man shook his head and turned to look at Soos. "So! Kid! I actually have something for you!"
The twins shared a confused look but didn't comment.
"For me? Why?" The boy asked confused.
"Yeah, for you!" Seb smiled and opened a little drawer from the counter to get a little box. "Here! I know it is your birthday, dumb boy!" He smiled widely, showing off his fangs.
Soos' smile slowly decreased and looked at the box with a small pout.
Seb's excited grin also disappeared, and was replaced by a frown. "Soos? Kid, what's wrong? You don't even know what it is to hate it so soon…" He joked.
"I…Thank you, Mr. Pines…it's just…" Soos sighed. "Since-Since last year I don't feel like celebrating my birthday too much…"
Seb pouted in thought, but soon enough he was smiling again. "Alright! Pft! Who said anything about birthdays?! You?! 'Cuz it wasn't me! This is for the Best Employee's day!"
Dipper smiled slightly and Mabel cooed silently. It was so cute how Seb cared so much for Soos!
"That doesn't exist, Mr. Pines!"
"Oh, sure it does! Now take it before I give it to Gompers!" Seb joked and Soos laughed innocently. He grabbed the box and smiled at his boss. "Thanks, dude!"
Dipper and Mabel sat down on the floor with thoughtful expressions. "Did you hear what Soos say?" The boy asked his sister in a quiet voice.
"Yes! Something happened last year! That could be the birthday where that personal biz went down! If we went back in time just one year, we could finally find out why Soos hates his birthday!" Mabel grinned.
Dipper looked at his hands and looked at the screwdriver and the fixed Time Machine. "Alright, but let's be quick!"
They went back one year back. Unknown to them, the Time officers noticed they used the time machine again and followed him into the past too.
The twins were surprised how the Shack still looked like a normal house. Seb hadn't even started planning to build the Murder Hut! They didn't have time to think about that though, so they went back into town and towards Soos' house.
There was a birthday party going on in the backyard and the twins spied on them from behind some bushes.
They saw Soos, now a little younger than before, and he was surrounded by two smiling young women.
"Who's a handsome birthday boy?" One of them cooed and squeezed the boy's cheek.
"It's you!" The other woman smiled.
Abuelita approached them carrying a box and chuckled. "Soos, you are such a lady's man!"
"They're my cousins, grandma, gross!" Soos stuck his tongue out. He smiled when Abuelita opened the box she brought with her. "I got you a racecar cake." The old woman smiled
"Man, I don't know why Soos hate his birthdays, this looks great!" Dipper exclaimed and Mabel nodded in agreement.
As they watched Soos lick the frosting off the racecar of his cake, they saw a boy taking the seat at the head of the table.
"Uh, sorry dude, but could you move seats?" Soos asked him. "That's the seat of honor."
"Uh, who's it for?" The kid asked.
"Oh, heh. It's for my dad actually. I haven't seen him in like... eight years. But he's coming today!"
Mabel and Dipper shared a worried look.
The doorbell rang and Soos jumped from his seat. "That must be him!" He wiped his face and fixed his party hat before running to the front door. Mabel and Dipper followed the boy and looked inside the house through a window.
Soos took a deep breath and nodded to himself. "Alright Soos. Today's the big day. Be cool. Be. Cool…" He opened the door and his smile left his face when he saw it was only the Mailman.
"Postcard for…Soos" He handed him the letter and left.
The twins noticed that the postcard was the same they saw present Soos holding earlier in the morning.
"Sorry, champ. Couldn't make it this year. Real busy again. See you next year for sure…Dad…" Young Soos read aloud and he sighed sadly.
His cousin Reggie and Abuelita walked towards the sad boy with worried expressions.
"Hey, don't sweat it, cuz. You'll see him next year!" Reggie tried to cheer him up, but Soos only looked down.
"Heh, yeah. Next year…" The boy pulled out a box full of postcards, all from different places but which had the same message. He simply put the new postcard in. "Uh, I'm gonna go lay down… You party without me dudes." He said softly before walking away to his room. He even ignored his Abuelita telling him about his presents.
"So that's why Soos hates his birthday…" Dipper frowned sadly as they sat down on the grass. "It's the day he realized his dad wasn't coming back…"
"So, how much partying can fix that?" Mabel asked, but before Dipper could answer, he was suddenly attacked with a water gun in the face.
"Heheh, dorks. Young Robbie!" A little Robbie cheered before running away. Dipper gritted his teeth. Even as a toddler, he was annoying…
The twins changed their spying spot and found the window that took to Soos' bedroom. They reached it just in time to see Abuelita walking into Soos' room.
"Soos! I made you cookies shaped like dinosaurs!" The woman sing-songed.
"I don't want cookies. I wanna see Dad again!" Soos rested his face on his palms and sulked.
"And he wants to see you, he's just... busy…" Abuelita forced a smile. Urgh. She hated that man.
"Busy in New Orleans..." Soos pouted and rolled his eyes.
"Aye, yes...Trust me. You will feel better someday" Abuelita hugged the sad boy and the twins pouted, feeling their hearts aching. They couldn't imagine something like this. It took them a while to get used to being without Mom and Dad their first days in Gravity Falls. They couldn't imagine not seeing them for years!
"Ugh, this is awful…" Mabel groaned.
"We promised Soos a happy birthday, but how can we give him that now? This goes beyond anything we know how to fix." Dipper confessed sadly.
"T-This way!" The twins gasped when they heard Blendin shriek.
"Oh No! Hide!" Dipper hissed and the twins quickly went to hide behind a tree.
"They've gotta be around here somewhere. I-I-I think I heard them!" He looked at a tree and Lolph pointed at it with his gun. "Freeze!" He shot his laser gun at the tree which blew up, but it was only little Robbie, who ran away crying scared.
"Trace their chrono-signatures. They are in this year now" Lolph announced.
"Man, the sooner I defeat those Pines in Globnar, the sooner I can win my time wish!" Blendin squealed happily.
"Tell you what I'd do if I had a time wish. Retire early. Spend more time with the kids…" Dundgren's happy daydream was interrupted.
"Naing Niang Niang Niang Niang, with the kids!? Don't you know a time wish can do literally anything?! Any impossible problem solved-" He snapped his fingers. "-just like that? I mean, imagine the possibilities!"
Dipper's eyes widened. "Wait, Mabel, that's it! The time wish! If we defeat Blendin in that space battle..."
Mabel picked up. "...Then we can wish that Soos' dad came to his twelfth birthday!"
"And Soos' birthdays would be fixed forever!" He snapped his fingers with a smile. "All of them."
"But do you really think we can win Globnar?" Mabel asked and Dipper sighed.
"It's the only chance we have… Besides, it's for Soos. He would do the same for us…" They casted a glance at the sad boy inside the house. "And we aren't alone, Uncle Sebastian is also challenged and he can use his powers! We can make it work" The twins nodded at each other and walked out from behind the tree with their hands behind their backs.
"Here we are Blendin. We surrender…" Dipper said.
"It's them!" Blendin screamed.
"Freeze!" Dundgren pointed his gun at them as Lolph did the same and shouted. "Careful, they're from the past. They might have powder muskets or slap bracelets.
"Look guys, no tricks this time. We're ready to challenge you, okay?" Dipper shrugged and Blendin smiled widely.
"Yes! Let the Globnar begin! Prepare... for... GLOBNAAA-" Blendin's high pitched scream was cut off and a green mute symbol appeared in front of his mouth.
"Hey, turns out I can mute him." Lolph grinned.
"Man, I wish we'd known that earlier…"
"Where is our uncle anyway?" Mabel asked and the agents sighed and Dundgren said. "He was left in charge of another agents. You will see him there."
"Initializing!" Lolph pressed a button wrist and a flash of white enveloped them. They disappeared from the backyard and unknown to Dipper, Uncle Seb's screwdriver fell from his pocket and stayed behind.
"Wait, so you two really travelled back in time? Not one, but twice?" Ford asked with his brown eyes wide. His glasses tilted so he fixed them and pushed them back to the bridge of his nose.
"Not just twice!" Mabel informed her oldest uncle. "Blendin was upset because we stole his time machine earlier in the summer and we used it to go back in time lots of time so Dip Dot could win a plushie for Wendy!" She happily exclaimed, making Dipper blush embarrassed.
She couldn't say that in front of the Author!
"How does time travelling feels like?" Ford asked curiously, ignoring his half eaten pancakes. He had been so invested in his niblings' tale that he forgot he had to eat.
"It is weird!" Mabel nodded. "It is all tingly in your body"
"You can even catch on fire!" Dipper added, feeling incredibly proud when Ford hummed and stroked his chin.
"Fascinating" He muttered.
Stan groaned. "Yeah, cool. Nerd stuff." He turned to look at his younger brother. "What were you doing while the twins spied on your younger self?" He teased and Seb pouted annoyed.
"I…I was with the guards…" Seb mumbled suspiciously and everyone turned to look at him with different expressions on their faces.
"URGH! Fine!" Seb sighed. "So…the twins left…"
"No!" Sebastian struggled to free himself from Lolph's iron grip. "Let go, idiot! They are just kids! Don't you even dare hurt them!" He growled, showing off his fangs.
"Oh, they weren't 'just kids' when you and them ruined my life!" Blendin spat, leaning over Sebastian. The blond growled, hating having him so close to his face and snapped his jaws. Blendin shrieked and jumped back, luckily avoiding getting his nose bitten by the crazy man.
"We have to go find them!" Blendin demanded Lolph and the two officers sighed tiredly. "We will, Blendin." The blond officer nodded slowly, wishing he was somewhere else than here.
"It's officer Dundgren from the Time Anomaly Removal Crew, we need backup to guard a prisoner. We have a situation." He spoke into his wrist device and almost immediately, a flash of white glowed and two more guards appeared.
"Keep an eye on him, the kids escaped and we will retrieve them." Dundgren said as he used his wrist device to locate the stolen time machine. The new guards put shackles around Seb's wrists and held him firmly.
"If you hurt them, I swear I will kill you really slow and painfully" Seb threatened the bald man with a growl. Blendin simply smiled at the yellow clad man and patted his curls patronizingly. What could he do anyway?
"Oh, I will enjoy erasing you from existence…" Blendin giggled and turned to look at Lolph and Dundgren. "LET'S GO!" He shrieked.
Seb watched the officers and Blandin disappear in a flash of light and he groaned loudly. "Guys, let me go?" He looked at the new officers, but they shook their heads.
"They are going to hurt them! They are my niblings, let me go!" He snarled.
One of them snorted. "Oh, you three are dead meat anyway…Newbies never survive Globnar, let alone two little kids."
"I already won Globnar!" Seb spat, but regretted it as soon as he said that. He groaned.
'Haha, you are stupid'
Guard 2 raised an eyebrow curiously. "Oh, really? You?" He asked doubtfully. Surely this guy was lying.
Guard 1 squeezed his wrists a bit more and grinned down at Seb, forcing him to kneel. "Even if you survived once, it doesn't mean those kids are not going to die…" He sing-songed just to annoy him and abuse his power.
Seb saw red and before he realized what he did, his hands burst into hot blue flames that burnt Guard 1 who was holding him.
"AAHH!" Guard 1 screamed as Guard 2 immediately pulled out a gun and pointed it at him.
Seb escaped his grip and stepped back. Ok. They wanted to piss him off? They freaking did it! Still with his hands in fire, the blond growled at the officers.
"Come get me, assholes!" Seb roared as his eye under his eyepatch turned black. No one spoke about his family like that! No one!
'Kill them! Go find Shooting Star and Pinetree! They want them dead!'
He shot fire at Guard 2 just because he could and grinned when the man dodged the attack and shot at him. Seb jumped out of the way and snatched the weapon from the man's hands with his man.
"Do you even know who I AM?!" Seb laughed madly. "I am the most powerful-!"
Unfortunately for Seb, his speech was cut when he was tackled down to the floor by four muscled man and his flames extinguished.
"Back up! We require back up!"
Sebastian winced when his head was slammed against the white floor. He should have thought this better…
Soon enough, he found himself being escorted down a hallway by all the guards. Guard 1 wasn't here, hah, weakling, couldn't stand some scorched hands, and was thrown to the floor.
"What are you?!"
"Um, I think you meant 'Who', it is super rude to call someone a 'what'" Seb smiled at the fuming guard.
"Well, Time Baby will decide that!" Another man hissed.
He was thrown into a huge white room before he could even process what he said and he looked up, gaping. There were around 12 more guards inside the room and a giant angry looking baby in the middle of them.
'For fuck's sake…'
"Urgh…Time Baby…" Bill's anger towards the cosmic entity had stayed with him too, and now Seb was scowling at the sight of the baby a normal human would be fearing.
"SEBASTIAN WILLIAM PINES"
'Please, kill him! We did it once! Please!' Bill2 begged.
"What's up, Time Baby?" Seb smiled tightly. "You done being a tyrant and making people kill each other for fun?"
"DON'T DISRESPECT ME!" The giant baby shouted loudly. How dared he? He was just a mortal and weak human!
"Time Baby, this man has powers and he attacked two of our officers." One of the guards who brought him here accused him.
"They were saying my niblings were going to be killed, did you expect me to stay with my arms closed?!" Seb raged in the man's direction.
"POWERS?! WHAT KIND OF POWERS!?"
"The cool kind!" Seb laughed. "Can I leave now?"
"YOU ARE INTERRUPTING MY BEAUTY NAP! AND YOU ATTACKED MY OFFICERS"
"I just burnt him a little!" Seb pouted. Again. They were bothering him! "And well…that nap is not doing much…"
Bill2 was laughing loudly in his mind. This brought back an incredibly old memory and Seb watched Bill, still as a gray triangle, sassing Time Baby before he was sentenced to 20 squared life sentences in the Infinetentiary *.
Why was he like this? Bill couldn't keep his eye shut, and it was his fault he couldn't keep his mouth closed either…
Time Baby frowned at the human, examining him from his yellow hair, his single uncovered eye, his bowtie, his yellow vest and black pants.
This human felt so familiar…As if he had sensed his energy before…
Wasn't he-?
Before the baby could put two and two together, he was a baby after all and this was all so difficult, another guard suddenly appeared and informed the giant the Globnar tributes had returned.
Time Baby immediately ordered the guards to take Sebastian away because he had to preside over the match. Yaya for his lack of object permanence and attention!
As Sebastian was also a Globnar tribute, he demanded the guards to take him to his niblings and a guard reluctantly grabbed him roughly and teleported them to the middle of the arena.
"And that's how I avoided getting imprisoned in a dictatorial regime ruled by a giant tyrannical baby" Seb concluded his story.
'Again!'
The four other Pines gaped at him, and it was Stanford who reacted first.
"YOU INSULTED TIME BABY!" That definitely sounded like something Bill Cipher would do.
"He is an as-jerk" Seb changed his insult to protect his niblings' ears a little.
"And I got upset! I didn't know where the twins were or if they could do something to them. I was really worried for you two." Seb looked at the twins and gave them a little smile. While Dipper looked down troubled, Mabel smiled back. Their Uncle could have been a super crazy Dorito guy…But that didn't mean he didn't love them…right?
"Ok…The important thing is that he is fine, no?" Stan put a hand on his older triplet's shoulder and grinned tightly. "NO?!"
"Yeah, yeah." Stanford waved a hand and looked at his niblings. "So how did you win Globnar?"
"Oh, it was crazy!" Mabel and Dipper exclaimed with a smile and Seb couldn't help but smile too.
"Everyone was looking at us, punching their fists in the air and shouting 'Globnar!'" Dipper said.
The twins, their uncle and Blendin teleported at the same time in the arena and stared in shock at the screaming people.
"Kids! You are alright!" Seb smiled widely and opened his shackled arms as wide as he could to hug them.
While the twins hugged their uncle, he was fine! A huge hole opened up in one side of the arena and Time Baby floated up out of it.
'Dramatic much, huh?'
"SILENCE!" The giant ordered and most of the arena shut up, except for one guy, who dumbly disobeyed Time Baby and was shot with the baby's laser vision.
As Seb scoffed, the twins gaped at the sight of the baby. "That is one big baby…" Mabel commented.
Time Baby raised his chubby eyes, not really paying attention to the people down there. If he did, he wouldn't have cared about Sebastian either. "Welcome Globnar tributes! I have a very important nap to get to so let's make this quick. You each have a chance to settle your time-feud through gladiatorial combat.
A robot appeared carrying a baby bottle shaped like an hourglass, it was filled with some universal-textured substance. "You will have until Time Baby finishes drinking the cosmic sand in this hourglass." The robot said and floated closer to the baby.
"NO!" Time Baby's voice boomed as he whined.
"Come on." The robot poked Time Baby with the bottle.
"OW!"
"It's good for you."
Seb deadpanned at the scene. Seriously? This guy ruled over time?
"Get ready, Pines! When I get that time wish, you'll wish you were never born. Or rather, you'll wish you were born, because I'm gonna wish you were never born!"
"Dream on. There's three of us!" Dipper challenged the man.
"And we have hair!" Mabel stuck her tongue out. Seb grinned at that one. Haha. Bald.
"Oh-oh, yeah? Well I have training!" Blendin twirled a spear dramatically "What do you think I did in prison all that time?"
Mabel blinked. "Uh oh…"
"And we have powers…" Seb whispered to the kids who smirked confident. Yeah! They were going to win!
Dundgren suddenly approached Sebastian and put a bracelet on his left wrist which beeped when it clicked. "HEY!" Seb whined.
"Powers aren't allowed." He said simply before leaving the arena with Lolph.
"Uh oh" Dipper said this time.
"Let the Globnar... BEGIN!" Time Baby announced and the Pines looked up, seeing the scoreboard light up, revealing each team had zero points. Their handcuffs fell off and Blendin screamed.
Then Globnar events were much harder than Seb remembered from Bill's memories. Well, of course, here they were actually fighting for their lives, unlike Bill who cheated the entire competition…But still!
The first even was literally fighting on a giant clock with huge sticks and they had to touch Blendin while avoiding falling to the floor.
It was embarrassing to say the bald chubby man got the three Pines on the floor in no time, earning the first point.
For the next event they had to ride futuristic cycles that defied gravity. As they could choose who made which activity, Seb sent the twins on that one. Not that it didn't look fun as hell, but more height meant less speed.
The twins crossed the finish line first and gained a point for their team.
The next event consisted in some sort of chess-like game, and Seb was chosen by the kids to go on that one. As they played though, they were interrupted by a monster with a clock face because this game consisted on running for your life WHILE playing.
Stupid Time Baby.
They didn't know how long it took, but they played hundreds of games. Blendin chased them on a giant wheel; Blendin and Mabel had a 'time dog' eating contest; they fought in robotic cuckoo clock suits; the twins had a wheelbarrow race against Blendin; Mabel, Seb and Blendin fought with spears on unicycles on a tightrope as Dipper swam for his life through clocks to get away from a time shark. Then even played a game that resembled a giant Jenga.
Eventually they reached the last event and the Pines and Blendin managed to push the clock-faced monster through a door in the wall.
The Pines panted tiredly, covered in dirt and dust, and turned to look at Time Baby who nodded pleased.
"Very good. You have escaped the Cyclocks!"
"Yes! Blendin for the almost-win!" Blendin cheered and the Pines grimaced when they saw the score was 764 to 763.
"Uncle Seb…" Mabel pouted.
"Don't worry, pumpkin, we are going to kick Blendin's ass in this one!" Seb reassured the girl. This last event was worth a lot, they HAD to kick Blendin's ass or they could start saying bye to their existence…
'Globnar is not fun when you don't know if you can win or lose…' Bill2 pouted mentally and Seb growled.
"There is only one final challenge for Globnar." Time Baby announced. "An ancient game, thousands of years old, chosen for its exemplification of pure strategy: The ancient art... of LASER TAG!"
A course and laser guns appeared and Seb raised an eyebrow.
"The one who touches the victory orb first will win!" The giant baby declared.
"Laser tag? Seriously?" Dipper looked up at his uncle who shrugged.
"Oh, I know it doesn't seem that challenging now-" Blendin held his gun firmly. "-but just wait till they turn on that fog machine. You'll be done for! You just wait until ya-"
Dipper started shooting the man multiple times and his glowing vest repeated 'Hit!' every time.
"Aw, man…" Blendin sighed sadly and the male Pines grinned.
"Shooting Star, grab the orb!" Sebastian shouted when he saw Mabel running up the top of the pyramid.
He couldn't believe it! Another Time Wish! This was incredible! They could wish for ANYTHING! ANYTHING AT ALL! He could ask his triplets to come back!
"Got it!" Mabel touched the yellow orb and everything went white.
Time Baby finished drinking his cosmic sand and his chubby face was covered in the substance. "It is finished!" He announced, seconds later, the robot made him burp.
The crowd cheered loudly when the Pines' score went up to 999.
"No! No! No! No! Nooooo!" Blendin took his hands to his head as he cried and Seb happily high- fived his niblings.
"YES!" They cheered. "Pines! Pines! Pines! Pines!"
"You have made victory in Globnar…" Time Baby told them. "Before I give you your time wish, tell us; what fate have you decided for the loser?
"Oh, jeez..." Blendin whimpered.
"DEATH!" Uncle and niece screamed, raising their fists in the air.
"Mabel! Uncle Seb!" Dipper frowned and the girl giggled sheepishly. "Sorry. Got carried away..."
"I am being serious!" Seb complained but the twins continued talking.
"So Blendin did try to wish us out of existence, but it was kind of our fault for ruining his life…" Dipper reasoned.
"Yeah, and he's kind of too sad to be a real bad guy…"
"Maybe if we treat him right in the present, he'll turn out better in the future." Dipper smiled. Seb pouted at the twins.
"But-But Globnar…"
Mabel giggled and poked his uncle's belly. "You don't actually want death! You are too good for that!"
Seb blushed and shut up as Dipper turned to look at the giant. "Okay. As long as you keep an eye on him, we'd like to set Blendin free, and restore his position at the Time Anomaly Correction Unit." He said.
"And give him pretty hair!" Mabel added.
"So be it..." Time Baby nodded and Blendin's handcuffs fell off.
"Wh-what? You'd do that for me?" A mustache-shaped hair grew on his head and he giggled. "I got my job back!" He placed his hand on Lolph's chest. "I feel like hugging somebody!"
"I can kill you in eight different ways." Lolph threatened and Blendin quickly removed his hand. "Yes, sir"
The Pines turned to look at Time Baby who was rubbing his face with his little hands. "Now, children. What is it that you want for your time wish?"
A glowing orb floated down between Dipper, Mabel and Seb.
"Oh my god it's happening!" Seb squealed. "Ok! I don't know about you, kids but I want-!"
"Thank you, but the wish... isn't for us." Mabel told the baby and Seb slowly turned to look at her.
"What the heck do you mean it isn't for us?! It is a TIME WISH!" Seb cried horrified. What in the world his niblings were thinking?!
The twins winced. Right they haven't told Uncle Seb about the plan.
"Not you? But then who? Who is worthy to receive such power?!" Time Baby asked dramatically.
"Uncle Seb, we were thinking to give it Soos…" Mabel said softly and Seb raised an eyebrow.
"Why would you want to give Question Mark a time wish?"
"Well, we learnt that he hates his birthday because he learnt his Dad wasn't coming back that day" Dipper rubbed his arm sheepishly. Seb tensed up at the mention of his friend's Father.
He had once asked Abuelita about him…He just knew the man was an asshole. Relatable, but it didn't mean Soos deserved that. Filbrick hated him because he was a freak, Soos was such a kind and loving soul. Why would his Father not want to see him?
"So you want him to wish to see his father again…" Seb finished the idea slowly. The twins nodded with tiny smiles and Seb sighed. He crouched in front of the little kids and he hugged them tightly. They were too good for their good. And their goodness made him weak…
"Ok…Question Mark deserves that…" He smiled and the twins hugged him back. They knew their Uncle would accept! They saw how much he loved Soos as a kid!
"Soos Alzamirano Ramírez. 21st century." Seb told the giant baby with red eyes and Time baby nodded.
He made the Time Wish into a tiny orb and ordered Blendin to take the winners to their time.
"Haha! That is so awesome!" Stan hit the table with his fists. "Aside from the fact you could have died, it is awesome!"
Ford gaped at the kids and Sebastian. "You…gave a Time Wish to someone else…"
"He is our friend, and he deserved it. It was his birthday." Mabel shrugged.
"You-You-" Ford was speechless. For once he didn't know what to say. "At least tell me he used it for something useful! Like to end world hunger! Or the cure of every single disease! Or to have world peace!"
"He wished to have an Infinity Pizza!" Mabel told her uncle wearing glasses.
"Like, you bite it, and it comes back!" Dipper smiled. "I wrote about it in the Journal! Did you see it, Uncle Ford?!"
"That is a good time wish." Stan agreed. Ford didn't seem to agree too much, because his left eye started twitching, much to his younger triplets' amusement.
"I-I think I will go to my lab…" He said faintly as he grabbed his plate to take it the sink. Infinity Pizza…
"Can I go with you, Uncle Ford?!" Dipper ran after the Author like a duckling and Seb, Stan and Mabel stayed on the table.
"Um…So your friend is happy with his wish?" Stan asked awkwardly and Mabel nodded with a smile.
"Yeah, and he said we are his family!" The little girl exclaimed.
"Um…" Stan pouted. He hated not knowing what to talk about. "What is on TV now?" It couldn't have changed that much right?
Mabel's eyes widened. "Oh! You will LOVE DUCKTECTIVE! Come on! I have recorded most of the episodes!" She grabbed her older uncle's hand and pulled him towards the living room.
She stopped at the entrance and saw Sebastian quietly picking up the dishes to wash them. "Um…Uncle Sebastian…" She pouted. "You-You can…come if you want…" She smiled a little.
Seb turned around in surprise, not actually thinking the girl would talk to him. He smiled widely when he saw her smiling. "Um…" He wanted so much to go with his brother and niece, but while he sincerely appreciated Shooting Star's attempts to try to trust him again, he knew he had to give her a bit of space.
"Don't worry, sweetie. I-I will stay cleaning things up here. Show Fez all the episodes ok? Especially our…our favorites…" He smiled.
Mabel looked down for a second before nodding. "I will, Uncle Sebastian." Then she turned to look at Stanley. "Come on, Uncle Stan! This is the best show ever!"
The two were gone and Seb quietly grabbed a glass to clean. He couldn't help but be hurt by how she wasn't calling him 'Seb' or 'Sebas' anymore…
It was alright, though…She was going to trust him again…eventually.
-.-
After cleaning the kitchen, Seb poked his head in the living room and found the twins watching Ducktective with Stan, who was really concentrated on the episode and was still in his underwear and undershirt, showing off his well-defined and toned muscles. What a cocky bastard…
He wondered why Dipper was here, but he was almost sure Ford didn't let him come down to the basement with him.
'You want to go with them, Seb?' Bill2 mockingly cooed in his head. 'You know they will leave if you go in there, no? Pinetree hates you now, he doesn't like you!'
Seb sighed silently and slowly made his way back to his office. Bill2 was right. Besides, he had to stop being so damn selfish. Stan deserved to be with the twins too, not just him, and the twins deserved to spend time with Stanley.
He just had to wait, he had to be patient…
He went to this office to work, but as much as he wanted to get distracted doing something else, get distracted like he always did, this time, his brain didn't seem to want to stop thinking of the kids. He couldn't stop thinking of their betrayed expressions, of Dipper's angry scowl, of Mabel's scared grimace, and Question Mark…
He didn't know what Soos thought of him at the moment…He had known the man for years and he had also lied to him about who he used to be. What if Soos hated him too? He had been so busy worrying about losing the kids that he didn't think about the possibility of losing his employee and friend…
Seb groaned and hit his forehead against his desk, multiple times. Why did Stanford have to show his eye to them?! Why did he want to hurt him so much?! Even if he had been Bill, it didn't mean he was The Bill who tricked him into building the portal! No one told him to build the portal anyway! If he had been less naïve to talk to a strange creature he wouldn't be hating him right now!
'They would have learnt the truth eventually…' Bill2 sneered. 'They would have discovered you are a horrible and filthy monster. They would have hated you anyway. No one likes you, why do you even try?!'
The blond man would have continued hitting his forehead against the edge of the desk if he wasn't feeling dizzy. He groaned as took his six-fingered hand to touch the zone and flinched. Yup. He was definitely getting a bruise after this.
Stupid weak ass blood vessels bursting and bleeding…
'Why don't you show Stanford how much of a demon we can be, Sebas?' Bill2 purred in his ear and Seb unconsciously turned on a flame in his left hand. 'It would be so easy, no? Burning down this stupid house with everyone inside…At least then he would have a reason to call you monster…'
Seb stared at his hand on fire and took a deep breath. No. Good bye invasive thoughts. He wasn't hurting anyone. "I am trying to prove I am good, dumbass…" He mumbled to himself.
He blinked at his still stretched hand and he sighed heavily when he saw the long scar on his right wrist…Right. One of his failed attempts…The man cradled his wrist to his chest and used his left hand cover it before closing his eye. If it had worked…If one of those attempts had worked…His brothers wouldn't have been lost in other dimensions, his nephew would have grown up with his dad…Stanford wouldn't hate him this much, the twins wouldn't hate him right now…
Sebastian only realized he had started crying when he heard knocking on the door. He wiped his tears from his brown eye and shakily walked towards the door to open it. If it was Stanford, he wasn't in the mood to argue if he wanted to take away his office too…
He opened the door deadpanning, but his eye widened when he saw the person on the other side.
"Question Mark…" Seb whispered. The kids must have left him in. Soos came here a lot, even when the Shack wasn't opened. Like today. Because it was under repair…Again.
"Hey, Mr. Pines..." The younger man grinned easily.
"Uh…H-Hi…" He said sheepishly and moved aside to let Soos in.
"Do you still have candy here? I'd die for some candy right now!" Soos asked, looking around at room before sitting down on a chair.
Seb blinked confused but nodded anyway. He lived off candy. He had a horrible sweet tooth. He opened a drawer and handed his employee a bar of chocolate. Soos happily accepted it. "What are you doing here, kid?" Seb asked straight to the point. He thought the man wouldn't want to work for him after he discovered he was a horrible, disgusting, ugly, freak, monster.
"Oh! I wanted to show you something, dude! "Here, dude! Open this!" Soos exclaimed and stood up to hand him a small box wrapped up with a gift paper.
Seb smiled slightly and looked at Soos. "I don't get it…"
"Just open it!" The man insisted and Seb silently obeyed. He tore off the paper and gasped softly at the object inside. There were two framed pictures here. The first one was the one they took in Soos' birthday in the laser tag place. The second one was a much older picture. He still had his hair long and completely brown, and he was wearing Ford's suit and a yellow bowtie… Next to him, there was a smiling chubby boy. Both of them were dramatically pointed at the recently opened 'Murder Hut'.
He remembered the picture was taken at the inauguration.
He had gifted this picture to Soos on his birthday…
"Soos…" Seb sniffled and wiped his leaking eye, overwhelmed by his emotions. "You still have it…"
"Of course!" Soos smiled softly. "The candy's that came with it aren't here anymore though, they disappeared the first two days!"
Seb chuckled but accidentally let out a sob.
"And I still keep the letter you wrote me, dude…" Soos said softly before looking down in thought. He had been thinking a lot of what happened yesterday with the Pines. After Wendy hung up, he couldn't go to sleep, staring at the ceiling restlessly. He couldn't understand how his boss was the triangle guy, it was too weird, but it made more and more sense the more he thought about it…
He remembered he pointed out how they acted and sounded familiar after all…
Soos thought all night and all morning after that. The triangle guy was evil, but Sebastian had never hurt him or anyone in town.
My Abuelita says you worked with a scientist here, is it true? Apparently many people create legends about you and what you hide, Mr. Pines"
"Really? And what do you think of me?"
"I think you are nice and funny, but I don't know more to believe something about you that might not be true"
He remembered the first time he officially met him. He brought him his screwdriver. Soos told him himself he couldn't judge him if he didn't know him…But what if he had been lying? What if his kindness was fake? Like when the triangle guy tricked everyone into thinking he was him to steal the code!
It was then when he remembered the presents. Sebastian had given him a present every birthday, all of them with little letters or notes. He liked giving presents, he said he only did it with his friends. He looked into the box he kept all of Seb's presents and found the picture he had gifted him for his 13th birthday.
"I…Thank you, Mr. Pines…it's just… since-since last year I don't feel like celebrating my birthday too much…"
"Alright! Pft! Who said anything about birthdays?! You?! 'Cuz it wasn't me! This is for the Best Employee's day!"
"That doesn't exist, Mr. Pines!"
"Oh, sure it does! Now take it before I give it to Gompers!"
And he found the first letter from that time, wishing him a super epic happy birthday (later changed to Best Employee's day, or best handyman's day) and how proud and grateful he was for his help around the Shack. He never mentioned his birthday because he knew Soos wasn't comfortable with it, he just casually mentioned he won the present and tossed it to him with a smirk.
It was then that Soos understood an evil triangle guy wouldn't give presents to his friends (unless pain counted as a present), he wouldn't give letters, even less try to make Soos feel better. He wouldn't be Soos's best friend.
Sebastian sniffed again and wiped the tear that fell over the framed picture. He gave Soos' presents because he barely got presents himself as a kid. They usually were for his triplets and he could borrow them, but they weren't his.
"I don't care who you were before, dude" Soos put a huge hand on Seb's thin shoulder. "Being a triangle before doesn't mean you stop being my best friend now…" He smiled like a dork and this time, Sebastian let out a loud sob. He clung to the younger man and sobbed relieved.
Oh god! Question Mark didn't hate him! He-he actually still liked him! He couldn't fucking believe this!
Soos patted his hair solemnly as he cried. "The little dudes will like you again, Sebas…" He said. He barely called him by his name. This meant serious business. "They just need time to remember all the adventures you had together and I will convince them to trust you again too!"
Sebastian wiped his tear on Soos' shoulder and sniffled angrily. "God, I hate you, you are too nice and dumb, kid…" He mumbled but he actually didn't mean it, and Soos just chuckled.
"I get that a lot."
After the two ate some chocolates in Seb's office, the blond could officially introduce Soos to Stan who apologized for calling him a gopher and thinking his name was Zeus. Then, Soos showed Stan around the Mystery Shack and Seb didn't stop laughing the entire tour at Stan's marveled face. He said he wished he had thought of this before! He even talked to Soos about investing here and making this place even bigger and cooler to take more money out of naïve tourists. Stan, always the businessman…
Sebastian felt much better after Soos' visit. He felt some of the tension lifting off his shoulders. If Soos could see he wasn't Bill anymore, that meant the twins, and eventually, Ford could too. It gave him hope.
He used his yellow eye to look for the twins and found them playing on their room.
He just had to wait… |
*Literotica rules apply
*
'Geez, will you two grow up already?'
Romy and Luis watched their mother come in and sigh when she saw her kids occupying the couch. Luis sat back, reading a French novel for class and Romy had nestled herself with her stomach down on his lap, zapping through the TV channels.
'You're supposed to be adults, but you act like ten year olds, clinging to each other all the time.' Their mother sat down in her comfortable chair with her drink. 'If I had known you'd still be like that I would have preferred you two fighting like most brothers and sisters did when they were little.'
The sibling looked at each other, then grinned at their mother. 'Would it help if we start fighting now?' Luis asked.
'Oh god, no!' said their mother, rolling her eyes up. 'You're too big to spank and send up to your room without dessert.' She took a sip from her drink and looked at the cruise tickets on the table next to her. 'At least I won't have to worry about you tearing down the place. Unless you kept it a secret that you found a boy or girlfriend?'
'Pfft.' said Romy. 'Guys are stupid. They're only interested in me because of my looks. And if I need a handsome guy for something, I'll just use brother.'
Luis chuckled behind his book. 'See? No chance to find the right girl because they're all jealous when my cute little sister hangs around me.'
'You'll both end up old and alone.'
'More likely old and still hanging around on the couch like that.' said their father, coming in from a quick visit to the neighbours. 'Maybe a few cats extra.' he chuckled and put the tickets into his coat pocket. 'I've left the contact details with Debbie and Frank. Frank offered to drive us to the airport tomorrow to save us cab fare. He had to get up early and head in that direction anyway.'
'Oh, that's sweet of him.' their mother said. 'Then we're all set.'
She finished her drink and kissed her kids good night before going upstairs to get some early sleep. The siblings wished them a good night since they wouldn't join their parents on their month long cruise along South America. Fernandez wanted to give his wife something special for their twenty-five year anniversary, and the siblings suggested and chipped in for a luxury cruise. Their mother cried in happiness because she had always loved to go on a long cruise.
Romy switched off the TV and rolled on her back plucking on a lock of hair. 'What about Francesca?'
'Hmm?'
'That girl in your French class? You're not interested in her?'
Luis flipped a page. 'She's nice, smart and pretty. But I just can't get interested in her that way.'
'She asked about you yesterday.'
'Well, I'm afraid I'll have to let her down then. Not my type.'
'What is your type then?'
He thought it over for a moment. 'Actually, no idea.'
Romy chuckled. 'You're hopeless.'
He hit her forehead playfully with his book. 'Says Miss-no-guy-will-ever-meet-my-standards.'
'At least I have some kind of standard to measure with.' she chuckled and tickled him.
He knew she loved to take advantage of his weakness, but she did have the same one and he attacked her back. Half a minute later they were out of breath on the floor. Romy rolled on top of Luis when she got some strength back. 'Maybe they're right and we are hopeless. But then we should be careful doing this before we die of a heart attack.'
Luis smirked. 'I think that would happen even before we get old.'
'I guess we're doomed then.' she chuckled and gave him a quick kiss before crawling up on her feet. 'Good night, big brother. Don't forget to get up early to see mom and dad off.'
'Sure.' he said and sat up, looking for his book.
***
Romy looked at her brother's peaceful sleeping face, carefully lifting up his blanket to expose the back of his naked body because he couldn't sleep with clothing on, and slapped his rear, waking him up screaming.
He looked bewildered for a moment, saw his little sister laughing and jumped at her, grabbing her by her waist. 'You little minx!' he said, dragging her to his bed to bend her over his lap, smacking her ass playfully while she kept laughing. 'Sneaking up on me and scaring the shit out of me, eh?'
'I told you you had to get up early.' she said between laughs. 'Your own fault.'
He let out a grunt and fell back on his bed, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes while she pushed herself up from his lap, snickering. 'At least part of you is up early.' she said and poked his hard dick. He grabbed his pillow and threw it at her. 'Get out!'
The family carried the luggage out the door to Frank's car a little later. 'Morning all.' he said, opening the trunk and doors.
'Morning Frank.' said Fernandez. 'Thanks again for giving us a lift.'
'It's nothing.' said Frank, taking the suitcase from Marielle and putting it next to Franks in the back. 'I might even be in the neighbourhood when you come back so give us a call on the trip back.'
'We'll keep an eye on the kids as well.' said Debbie, seeing Marielle looking back at the house.
Marielle hugged Debbie. 'Thanks. But I'm afraid those two are so boring you'll make more noise than them in the meantime.'
'Moomm..' said Romy, faking a pout.
The siblings hugged their parents before they got into the car. 'Have a safe trip and give us a call when you arrive.' said Romy.
'And postcards so we know which ports you've been at.' said Luis.
'We'll do.' said their mother and they waved for a while after Frank drove off.
'No plans for wild parties then?' asked Debbie, nudging Luis.
He grinned. 'Oh, I do. I want to have a wild night with a marathon of Star Trek and Alien movies.'
Debbie chuckled. 'I hope I won't have to call the cops then.'
'We'll bribe you with a nice bottle of wine.' said Romy, hanging on Luis's arm.
'You really are bad.' said Debbie and shook her head in fake exhaustion. 'Well, if you need anything, come on by.'
'Thanks.' said Romy, giving a quick wave before they went back inside.
**
Luis stretched and yawned inside.
'Lazy bones.' chuckled Romy.
'I had to study last night.' he said. 'Unlike some.'
'Can't help it that I won't have to take the same classes as you for another year.' she said, playfully sticking out her tongue.
'Prepare yourself then.' he said and looked at the clock. 'At least I can get a couple more hours of sleep before first class.'
Setting the alarm on his mobile phone, he decided to use the couch because his own bed would be too comfortable now and make him oversleep. He had barely fallen asleep when Romy walked into the living room. She did feel a little sleepy herself and figured she might as well join him. She took off her jeans which weren't comfortable to sleep in and snuggled up with her back against his front. She had always enjoyed his warmth and used him as a heater when she felt cold, and after wrapping his arm around her she fell asleep quickly. When they woke up from his alarm he wasn't much surprised to find her in his embrace. He slapped her ass. 'Who's the lazy bones now?' he said, chasing her off the couch.
She smirked at him. 'Then you shouldn't have been so comfortable.'
He shook his head. 'Let's just get to school.'
***
To include their children in their anniversary, Marielle and Fernandez had given the siblings tickets for an all expenses paid dinner and late movie on the day they'd celebrate it on board. Luis was just checking which shirt he'd wear when Romy walked in in just her panties and held up two short dresses.
'Which one?' she asked. 'Blue or black and red?'
He watched her as she held first one, then the other in front of her. 'I'd say blue.'
'Really?' she asked and held it in front of her. 'Why?'
'The weather's warm, so you can show off your shoulders and back with that strapless thing.'
She smiled and draped the dresses over the back of his chair. 'Okay, but then you need to wear something matching.' she said and nudged him aside to look at his shirts. She pulled out a few, held them in front of him, then settled on a black one with stripes the same colour blue as her dress. 'There. Wear this.'
'Fine.' he said, taking it from her and giving her a pat on her ass. 'Hurry up and get ready to go. We still have a thirty minute drive.'
'It's customary to wait for the lady to get ready.' she said and stuck out her tongue before leaving.
**
Romy giggled as they walked with their arms linked from the parking lot to the restaurant down the street.
'What's so funny?' Luis asked.
'Oh, the looks on other faces when they see this handsome young man escorting a girl.'
He glanced sideways. 'More like the girl catching their attention in this short sexy dress.'
'You picked it, remember?' she said, squeezing his arm once. 'Maybe you just wanted to show off your cute little sister?'
'Only in the hope you might attract the right guy for once.' he said, smiling deviously.
'And then run off with some bimbo yourself, right?' she giggled. 'No way the right guy is here, so you're stuck with me.'
He let out a big sigh. 'Woo is me, who will be stuck with his little sister forever. At least she's nice to look at.'
She slapped his arm giggling. 'Pervert.'
**
Since they had chosen a horror movie to watch later at the theatre, they both ordered their steak bloody. Luis asked the waitress what she recommended for desert and she suggested the lover's coupe, speciality of the house. Luis wanted to clarify, but Romy said 'We'll take it.' before he could say a word.
'You know what people will say.' Luis said.
'Nobody here knows we're brother and sister. They'll say what a lovely couple we make.' she said with a wink.
'They'd better not know, otherwise you're the one who's going to explain.' he said, then thought about it. 'On the other hand, maybe I should explain. You'd put up some outrageous story and then we're in deeper.'
She looked innocently at him.
'Yes, you.'
She chuckled and Luis was glad the waitress came with their coupe, a glass bowl filled with ice cream and fruit, and one spoon.
'We're missing a spoon?' he asked.
'It wouldn't be a lover's coupe if we gave two spoons, would it?' the waitress said with a wink and a smile. 'Enjoy.'
'Right.' he said and Romy scooped up the first bite for him.
'Say ahh..'
He looked at the spoon she held in front of his mouth and could see an older couple smiling at them. He resigned to play along, as long as they could get out of there fast, and took the bite. Then he had to feed her and got even more embarrassed with the soft moan she made at each spoonful.
'Tease.' he said as they walked out of the restaurant.
She giggled and clung to his arm. 'Wouldn't you want to get the best experience out of your little sister if you had no real girlfriend to take with you?'
'Not exactly what I had in mind.' he said and she giggled more.
**
The horror was scarier than expected, and Romy crawled real close to Luis, clutching his arm each time something shocked her. Luis had to snicker several times but was glad she hadn't noticed.
'That was horrible.' she said after they left the theatre, clinging to his arm again.
'So you loved it.'
She slapped his arm. 'I hate it when you're right.'
'Then you must hate me all the time.' he chuckled, getting the car keys out of his pocket.
'You're right I do.' she said while he held open the passenger door for her. 'I made it my mission in life to make yours miserable.' She poked his nose and smiled before getting in.
'Happy to give you a purpose in life.' he said and closed the door.
**
Part of the road home went past a small forest without street lights, so Luis drove carefully in case they came across wildlife. He could see from the corner of his eyes that his little sister was keeping an eye on the edge of the road, fiddling with her fingers. 'Afraid one of those movie monsters will come running out from the trees?'
'No way.' she said, sticking out her tongue at him. 'I just don't want you running over any cute animals.
'So ugly animals are okay to run over?'
'No!' she said and hit his upper arm. 'Just keep your eyes on the road.'
He suppressed a chuckle when she leaned a little closer to him, the moment the edge of the forest touched the road. A few minutes later the road led away from the trees and Romy seemed to relax. This part of the road was straight, and Luis thought he saw something dark on the road at the edge of the light from the high beams. He slowed down in case his eyes didn't deceive him.
'What is it?' asked Romy, seeing him stare.
'There might be something on the road.'
She scanned the road and saw a dark shape in the otherwise dark grey reflection of the asphalt. 'I think I see it.'
Luis slowed down more and soon they stopped, the headlights revealing something big, black and furry.
'What is it? A bear?' asked Romy.
'Looks too slim for a bear.' he said. 'More like a dog. A really big one.'
'Go around it, see if it's dead or not.'
Luis moved the car next to the animal and Romy peered out the window to see any signs of life. 'I don't see any movement. No blood on the road either. It does seem to be a dog though.'
'Well, we can't leave it on the road, it might cause an accident.' he said and backed up the car, lighting the animal again.
'Careful.' Romy said, staying by the open door while Luis walked up to the animal.
'Afraid we'll end up in our own horror movie?' he said, although he had taken the umbrella from the back seat just in case, even if it hardly qualified as a weapon. He moved around the animal, listening and looking closely. When he heard nothing he poked the animal with the umbrella a few times. Satisfied that it was indeed dead, he waved at his little sister. 'It's dead all right.' he said, examining the head. 'It's not a dog I've ever seen before.'
'Yeah.' Romy said when she dared to come close. The short muzzle, rough black fur and big ears didn't match anything she remembered. Neither did the massive paws and legs. Grabbing it by the scruff, they pulled the animal to the side of the road. 'Damned heavy..' she said.
'It's going to be a feast for the worms.'
'Don't say that. Even if it looks like a monstrous dog.'
Back at the car they washed their hands with water from a bottle, then continued on their way home.
They felt tired enough to go to sleep so Romy kissed her brother good night.
'Don't have nightmares now.' Luis said, grinning.
'Please, I'm not a little girl.' she said, pinching his nose.
'You'll always be my little sister though.' he said, ruffling her hair.
'Just don't come crying to me if you can't sleep.' she said and smirked before disappearing into her room.
Luis went into his, undressed and sighed, glad to get into his comfortable bed. It only took him a few moments to fall asleep. Romy fell asleep quick as well, but was plagued by images of the movie monsters and the animal they found. She felt she was surrounded by them and they all wanted a piece of her. She heard the echo in her ears of screaming for her brother in her dream when she woke up.
Her heart pounding in her chest, she rubbed her face and took deep breaths to calm down. It made her feel somewhat better, but she didn't like to go to sleep alone anymore. Sighing deep, knowing she had to admit defeat to her brother, she got out of her room and peeked into his. He was fast asleep and wouldn't wake up easily, so she crawled under his blanket with her back against him, feeling like a little kid. He mumbled something, wrapped his arm around her and continued breathing softly. She felt a thrill from sneaking into his embrace and imagining the look on his face when he'd wake up, but mostly she was glad she could relax enough to get back to sleep.
***
'So, do you want to tell me a story, or am I right in knowing the truth?' he said after waking up and finding his sister spooned up with him.
'Actually,' she started, then thought quickly. 'I heard you calling out for me and found you having a bad dream, so I figured I'd calm you down with my presence. You slept peacefully again.'
'Right.' he said. 'When I never had nightmares before in my life from movies, yet you have.'
'First time for everything?' she said, giggling.
'Just get out before I poke you out, I need to go.' he said, pulling his arm away.
'I'm going.' she said, rubbing her ass against his morning wood once. 'You've poked me long enough with that thing.'
Before he could say anything she rolled out of bed giggling and left for her room. He just sighed 'Sisters..'.
**
'Hey Luis.'
'Hey Will.' Luis said as his friend walked up to him at school.
'Is it me, or does your sister look extra hot today?' Will said, watching Romy meet up with her friend Clarice.
'You still have no chance. She's as cold to other guys as ever.'
'Maann..' Will said and put his hand on Luis's shoulder. 'Still not letting go of her brother, eh? You're not having much luck with the girls while she's at your side all the time.' He looked up at the sky. 'But then you're not very interested in other girls anyway. You two aren't doing anything bad together, right?'
Luis looked calm at Will, then Will chuckled. 'I know, you have no idea what you like in a girl.'
'Exactly.'
'Just wait, one day you'll be shocked when you find out what suits your fancy.'
**
After classes were over, Romy met up with Luis at the entrance. 'I was asked by Clarice to help her with her assignment. Can you pick me up later? We'll be staying at the library.'
'Sure. Need to go shopping anyway.'
'Thanks.' she said and gave him a quick kiss. 'You're the best brother a little sister could have.'
He grinned. 'Just remember that.' he said and gave her a quick wave as he left. He had just finished preparing dinner when he got the message from Romy that they were done with studying. He replied he'd be on his his way.
Romy waited outside at the library entrance, which had closed a moment ago. Clarice had already been picked up by her father because they would join friends for dinner. Romy didn't feel like doing anything and just looked around while dusk settled in. Things were pretty quiet so any sound seemed much louder than it was. A door from one of the homes across the field closed, followed by a car driving away. Someone called out to his dog. Wind made leaves rustle. Nothing unusual, but she got a strange feeling in her gut. She leaned forward to look at the street corner where Luis would come from by car. A faint noise seemed to come from a group of bushes on the field. There was no movement so she sat straight again. A few moments later she heard the noise again, just a little louder and from the direction of a row of trees. She looked, thinking it might be a dog walking around but there was none.
'Idiot.' she told herself and checked the time. Luis should arrive any minute now. She got startled by the noise of breathing and jumped up, looking around quickly. 'Someone there?' she asked, but the sound had faded away.
Feeling nervous, she started to walk across the field toward the corner, hoping her brother would get there really soon. Once more she heard breathing right behind her. She turned around, ready to swing her bag at some creep but the field was empty. 'Brother, where are you?' she whispered, then hurried to the street and felt glad to see him arrive at the same time.
'Brother!' she shouted and waved.
He stopped, got out and she jumped into his arms to his surprise. 'Whoa. What's wrong?' he asked, feeling the tightness of her embrace.
'I'm just happy to see you.' she said, relieved he was with her.
'Right.' he said, petting her head. 'Let's go, dinner's waiting.'
She nodded and looked around the field one more time before getting in the car.
**
Back at home they ate and watched an action movie they wouldn't be able to watch with their mother around. She couldn't stand the amount of violence in this one. Romy had draped herself across her brother's lap as usual. She had forgotten the scare she had at the library, but now she felt hot and a little groggy. Luis noticed she felt warmer than usual from his lap and his hands resting on her back.
'Sis? Are you okay?' he asked and felt her forehead. It looked like she had a fever.
She rolled on her back. 'I don't feel too good, no.'
'Better get you to bed then.' he said and she held up her arms. 'Carry me?' she asked and he grinned. 'Anything for my poor little sister.' he said and lifted her up in his arms.
She snuggled up to his chest as he held her close, taking her upstairs and into her room to put her on her bed.
'Help me undress?' she asked.
He rolled his eyes and sighed. 'Only this once.' he said, helped her take off her sweater and pants, then put on one of her night shirts before tucking her in.
'Thanks.' she whispered while he made sure she was comfortable. He caressed her forehead and cheeks. She kissed his fingers once, then closed her eyes.
'Sweet dreams, and be well in the morning.' he said, then went down again to watch the rest of the movie.
Before going to sleep, he peeked into her room and heard her soft breathing. He figured he'd let her stay home tomorrow even if she felt better, to make sure she got enough rest. Not long after he fell asleep a wail woke him up. Before realising what happened his door slammed open and a whining creature came through the doorway. He moved back at once against the wall at the sight of clawed feet and hands, sharp fangs and glowing eyes in the little light from outside. There were no swearwords he could come up with to express his fright. In the moment it took for the creature to move in his direction he grabbed the baseball bat from a shelf next to his bed and swung it back, intent on hitting it with all his might. The creature let out another whine and stumbled back on the floor against his desk. 'Brother, no!' it whined terrified, tucking in its legs and holding up its arms in defence.
He gripped his bat tight, getting off his bed and taking a closer look at the trembling creature whining '..it's me.. ..it's me..'. He recognised the shirt it wore. 'Romy..?' he said and it took a peek from behind it's arms. 'Yes.. It's me..' it said. He watched the tear filled eyes and knew it was her. He didn't understand why, but he knew it was his little sister. His own little sister Romy.
He dropped the bat on the floor, staring at her. 'How..?'
She lowered her arms, looking up at him in desperation. 'I don't know.. I woke up to find myself covered in fur and when I looked in the mirror I saw this ugly creature staring back at me.' she said, holding up her hands covered in light brown fur and claws at the end of her short fingers. 'I'm scared, brother.. Help me.. Please help me..'
He knelt down next to her and she crawled into his arms, crying while he held her, stroking soft down the back of her head and hoping this turned out to be a freaky dream. When she had calmed down a little bit he helped her to his bed where he cradled her gently on his lap.
'What have I done to turn into this.., this horrible thing?' she whined.
He wiped her short wet muzzle dry with tissues. 'I can't imagine what caused this, but you're not horrible.'
'But I am!' she said. 'I'm covered in fur! I'm like a horror dog! A werewolf!'
She cried again and he pulled her head against his chest. 'Yes, but then you're the cutest version I've ever seen.' he whispered while cuddling her.
She let out a chuckle and hit his arm weakly. 'This isn't funny. You wanted to kill me with your bat.'
'I know, but you scared the crap out of me when you stormed in like that. You could at least have knocked.'
That drew out another chuckle and hit on his arm. 'I hate you..' she whispered.
'I know. So keep doing that instead of hating yourself.'
She caressed his bare and wet chest. 'You're soaked from my tears, sorry..'
He stroked her head. 'I don't care. If my little sister needs to cry she can use it anytime.'
The comfort he gave her relaxed her enough for tiredness to force a yawn out of her and he lifted her chin up. 'Let's try to get some sleep. Then we'll try to figure things out in the morning. You can sleep with me if you want.' She nodded and they snuggled up together under the blanket. He stroked her hand in his with his thumb. 'You do feel very warm and soft.'
'Didn't I before?' she chuckled, feeling a little happy.
'Well, yes, but this is different. Not saying better, so don't go all woman on me and twist my words around.' he chuckled.
She grinned. 'Oh, I will when it suits me.'
'Great.' he sighed. 'Sleep tight, little sis.'
'Sleep well, big bro.'
***
The next morning she woke up first, sadness filling her chest at seeing she hadn't dreamed the whole thing. She wanted to cry but she felt a squeeze from her brother's arm around her and a nuzzle against the back of her head. "I can be a pet to him at least, if I never change back." she thought and stroked his arm gently. Not much later she felt him stir, then stretch and yawn. She turned around to face him, smiling softly while he looked sleepy into her eyes.
'I'd like to say good morning, but we haven't been dreaming last night.'
'No, we haven't, but I do feel a little better thanks to you, so it's good morning.' she said and gave him a quick kiss. 'Oops.' she said. 'Force of habit.'
He pulled up one corner of his mouth. 'Just don't lick me all over my face.'
She started poking him, making him laugh. 'Oh, you wish! I'll lick you all over like a rabid dog and you'll love it!'
He defended by tickling her and managed to jump off his bed while she squirmed. He sat on the floor, leaning back on his arms and took a few deep breaths while she calmed down, sitting on her knees on the bed. She caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror and looked away. 'Did you mean it..?' she asked after a moment.
'Mean what?' he asked.
'When I said I looked like a horror dog..'
He tried to remember last night and realised what she meant. 'Yeah, I do.' he said, smiling softly. 'The light brown colour and fluffy fur suits you.'
Her tail wagged once and she took a glance at the mirror. 'I'm scared though.'
He nodded.
'I'm afraid to look at my body.'
'I think I can imagine.'
She fumbled with the hem of her shirt. 'Will you tell me how I look?'
He gave her a gentle smile. 'Sure.' he said. 'If it'll help you.'
Feeling nervous, she stepped off the bed and stood before him. 'Take your time.' he said. 'I don't think there's anything to be afraid of.'
She nodded slightly and took a few deep breaths to slow down her racing heart. Then she grabbed the hem of her shirt and pulled it up over her head to hold it in front of her chest. She watched his face as he looked up and down her body.
'You're somewhere between dog and human.' he said. 'Your legs resemble those of a dog, your upper body and arms look more human, although covered in fur, your face resembles that of a dog again, but you do have a cute short muzzle and big floppy ears.' he said, then noticed a slight wag from her tail. 'Your curly tail is cute too.'
She felt embarrassed and looked away. 'Geez, I told you to look, not make me out like some cute puppy dog.'
He grinned and stood up, turning her towards the closet door mirror and squeezed her shoulders lovingly. 'Then look for yourself. It's true.'
She glanced once to get used to seeing her reflection. It did look like a dog standing on her hind legs for a moment. She glanced several more times, looking up from her firm paws and legs to her face, which caused her most trouble. Seeing the caring look on her brother's face helped her look at hers, and she did get the feeling of seeing a real puppy dog. She lowered her hands, revealing two small humps on her chest. "At least that shape hasn't changed." she thought and a slight smile formed.
'See? Despite what happened, you're still very cute.'
'Shut up.' she said. 'But thanks..'
The alarm clock startled them and he shut it down with his heart pounding in his chest. 'I'll call in sick at school. That'll give us some time to think of something.'
She nodded and he grabbed his pants before going downstairs. She looked back at her reflection, her white panties contrasted with her light brown fur and she wondered if that area had changed or not. She took a deep breath and pulled down her panties, expecting the worst, but all that showed was a little crease in the short fur covering her chest and abdomen. She spread her legs a little and moved a finger carefully down there. A tingle went through her hips when she slid her finger across her clit and pussy. It hadn't changed beyond being covered in short fur, although it seemed sensitive now. She had never felt so sensitive there and wondered if it felt normal like this for other girls.
When she heard her brother come up the stairs she pulled her panties up quickly and went out of his room. 'Did you call?'
'Yeah, told them it looked like we came down with the flu and would stay home for at least a few days. I also let Will know and he said he'd tell Clarice.' he said and thought she was scared again. 'You okay? Feeling scared again?'
She shook her head. 'Not so much anymore. I'm going to look for something I can wear.'
'I'm going to take a quick shower, then we'll have breakfast.'
**
'Damn.' Luis said.
'What?' Romy asked, chewing slowly on her sandwich.
'That big dog we found on the road!' he said. 'Maybe that's the cause.'
She pondered about it. 'But why aren't you affected then? You were handling it more than me.'
He nodded. 'Maybe it didn't have an effect on me, whatever it had, or was.' He gulped down the rest of his milk. 'I'm going to look for it.' he said and wanted to leave the table but she put her hand on his. He looked at her pleading eyes. 'Come back quickly.' she said. 'I'm afraid being alone. And be careful.' He leaned closer and placed a gentle kiss on the top of her muzzle. 'I will, sis.'
She watched him drive off and hugged herself, smelling his scent in her fur and relaxed a little.
**
He drove the whole length of the straight piece of the road several times, then stopped at the spot he guessed where they had found the animal. There was no sign of it anywhere he walked up and down the road. Disappointed he drove back home.
'It's gone.' he said, finding his sister waiting for him at the door.
'Gone?'
He nodded. 'Not a trace. Maybe it wasn't dead after all.'
Romy grabbed his shirt and moved tight against him. 'What if it's coming for us?'
He embraced her, stroking her hair. 'Then it would have come to us already. It probably wandered off somewhere.'
'But then it might infect more people.'
'Yeah, so let's see if there are reports about it.'
They started with the first source of information they had, the internet. They knew not to expect much but had to start somewhere. Luis sat at his desk, typing queries into several different search engines while Romy leaned against his back with her arms around his shoulders, checking out the results and websites. Most were fantasy and horror sites with the standard werewolf, werecat, and were-anything stories. Some sites claimed they were real but the evidence looked really bad. Some sites discussed genetic engineering but none showed anything remotely close to mixing of different species, let alone humans and animals.
After several hours of fruitless searching Luis had to stand up and stretch his sore legs. 'Damn.' he said, rubbing the back of his thighs. 'I need a break. My head's full of junk.'
'I'm getting hungry.' she said, then looked at her hands. 'Unfortunately I don't think I can make you something without getting hair in it.'
He grinned and ruffled her hair. 'Don't worry, I'll make us something.'
Luis made them grilled sausages and they were so tasty, the siblings were stuffed when they crashed on the couch. He laid back and Romy snuggled up to him. His phone beeped and he read a message from Will. 'Clarice asked if she needed to get us anything and come by. He'd join her then.'
'No!' Romy blurted out. 'They can't!'
'Don't worry.' Luis said as he replied. 'I'll let him know we're fine and will message them if we do need something.'
She nodded and let out a sigh of relief.
'I need a nap. All that food is making my head feel more stuffed after searching the internet for so long.' he said, putting away his phone and closing his eyes.
'Yeah..'
He turned his head and looked at her face, seeing the sadness in her eyes. 'We'll find something.'
'I just can't get the thought out of my head that we won't, and I'll be like this for the rest of my life. What will I do? Where can I go?'
He moved his arm back. 'Come here.' he said. She turned to him and laid her head down on his shoulder, her muzzle in his neck and her arm around his chest. 'If it comes to that, I will take care of you and be by your side.'
She smiled softly. 'You're going to have even less chance of finding a girl, you know that?'
He grinned. 'You'll just have to be quiet and I'll tell them you're my pet.'
'Meanie!' she said and pricked her claws in his chest.
He laughed and took her hand in his. 'All right, all right, I'll let you talk.'
'I'll make you talk.' she said and bit gently in his neck, causing him to squirm.
'I give up!' he said. 'I won't call you my pet.'
She let him go and looked at his devious grin. She was happy he was at her side and managed to cheer her up. She gave the bite mark in his neck a soft lick. 'Maybe I'll let you once in a while.'
He squeezed her hand. 'We'll try not to let it come to this.'
She nodded and closed her eyes, thinking she hadn't realised he smelled so good before.
**
By the time they woke up they were refreshed enough to take on another marathon search. Still, there was nothing that they hadn't seen before and even Luis felt bad. 'Sorry sis, looks like this is a dead end.' he sighed.
She squeezed him lightly with her arms around his shoulders and nuzzled his neck. 'Don't apologise, you've looked all day for my sake.'
'I had hoped to find at least one clue.' he said, stroking her arms. 'I'll try the library tomorrow. And I could check out the book stores, those with older and second-hand books.'
'I don't know how to ever make it up to you.'
He grinned a little. 'I'll think of something to make you remember your whole life.'
She pricked her claws into the sides of his chest again, making him laugh. 'Maybe I should just keep this form. It does have some advantages.'
**
They spend the evening eating dinner and watching comedy to take their mind off things for a bit. When they were tired enough they went upstairs. Romy fiddled with her night shirt, the only thing she could wear now.
Luis understood. 'Go, I'll keep the light on for you.'
He saw her smile and her tail wagging, then she hurried to the bathroom to brush her teeth. He shook his head and smiled, tidied up his bed a bit, undressed and read a few pages from his book when she walked in. 'Ready now?' he asked and she nodded, crawling into bed with her back against his front.
'Good night, sweet brother.' she whispered, turning her head to him.
'Good night, cute little sister.' he whispered, putting a kiss on the side of her muzzle and held her close.
His comfortable warmth and smell made her fall asleep quickly again.
***
Luis felt strange, remembering pieces of a dream where he chased his sister, seemingly on all fours, when he woke up. He felt relieved she was sleeping in his arms, then noticed he didn't feel fur against his legs and arms. He propped up a bit and found her back in her human form. 'Sis! You're human again!'
With a moan she stirred, stretched a bit, then rolled towards him with half open eyes. '..what..?'
'Sis! You're back to normal!' he said, pulling the blanket away to look at her.
She looked at herself, then laughed, overjoyed to be herself again. 'Brother! I'm back!' she said and hugged him tight, kissing his cheek.
He kissed her back on her cheek, holding her tight. 'Everything's normal again.'
'Yes, normal.' she said after she got out of bed and checked herself in his mirror. when he went to the bathroom she pulled down her panties to look at the patch of now light brown hair between her legs. "That's different though." she thought, but if the change in colour was all that changed, she didn't mind. Curious to see if the sensitivity had gone, she touched her pussy and let out a soft moan. It hadn't. The tingling feeling was pleasant, so she stroked soft with her fingertip around her clit and along her pussy lips. When a moan escaped her throat the moment she pushed against her clit she startled herself. Feeling embarrassed she pulled up her panties and went to the bathroom to take a shower.
'So, everything back in place?' Luis asked when she walked in.
He was just rinsing off and she took off her shirt and panties to get in directly after he was done. 'A hundred percent human again.'
'Too bad, I was thinking of buying you a nice collar today.' he chuckled.
'Hey!' she said and smacked his ass. 'I'll put you on a leash! Now get out, it's my turn.'
He dried himself off as she moved under the shower with the water already at the right temperature. She never needed to fiddle with the handles when she got in right after her brother. Feeling the water run down her skin was almost like a thing she hadn't experienced in ages. If she would've still been covered in fur she couldn't feel this.
'Do you feel like going to school today?' he asked, hanging the damp towel on one of the bars.
She splashed water in her face for a moment. 'I still feel kinda tired, so I'd like to stay at home for today.'
'Okay. I'll message Will to notify the teachers we'll be back on monday.' he said, leaving the bathroom.
**
Through the day the siblings read and watched a couple of movies in between naps. By evening the stress from the last days had faded away. Romy was using her brother's lap as a pillow as she often did when they were both reading. He was absent-mindedly scritching her stomach when he noticed her giggling.
'What?' he asked, looking down at her grinning face.
'I'm no longer a pet dog, you know?'
'Huh?'
She nodded with her head to his scritching fingers.
'Ah.' he said, stopping it. 'Then again, you always do curl up with me like you are one. Maybe I will have to treat you like one.'
She put her book away and clawed at his stomach, growling. 'You'd like that, wouldn't you? I'll bite you!' she said, growling into his shirt, making him squirm and laugh.
'I give! I give!' he said, trying to ward her off. 'You're not a pet dog!'
She growled and clawed him more until they heard her phone beep several times. Smirking at her brother she backed off. 'Lucky you.' she said, and read her messages. 'Clarice asked if it's okay to come and watch the spy thriller she talked about last week. She bought the DVD today. Will can bring a bottle of vodka for mixing drinks.'
'Sure. We've got enough snacks and soda.'
Soon after dinner their friends arrived and settled with everything in front of the TV. Will made the mix and served everyone a big glass. 'To Clarice, for providing tonight's entertainment.' he said, holding up his glass.
'Yay girl!' Romy said, settling between her brother's legs, who sat back on the couch with Will next to him and Clarice next to Will.
'To your recovered health, guys.' Clarice said and Luis started the movie.
The action and romance was better than most movies and they thoroughly enjoyed it, even more while drinking. Romy sensed something next to her during a romantic moment and looked to her left to see Clarice and Will leaning against each other. She nudged Luis and gave a slight nod to look to his left. He saw and gave her a wink.
Romy took out the DVD at the end of the movie and turned on a selection of rock music while Luis grabbed more snacks from the kitchen. 'I always enjoy these movies.' she said. 'Especially with good company, right Clarice?'
'Yes.' Clarice said while Will filled up glasses again. 'Alone is just boring.'
Romy nodded and winked at Luis who just got back. 'So, when will you tell us about your favourite companion?'
Clarice looked at Romy and Luis smirking. 'What?'
'Don't "What?" me, and don't try to fool us by pretending to be busy, Will.'
Will looked up from the drinks at the siblings, then at Clarice and grinned. 'Damn, they're on to us.'
Clarice blushed and chuckled. 'Fine. Will and I decided to give it a shot while you were sick.'
'Maybe we should be sick more often for your sake then.' Luis said.
Will laughed and put his arm around Clarice's shoulders. 'I don't want to have to depend on you to keep her by my side.'
Luis sat down, taking his drink and holding it up. 'Much luck to the new couple then.'
Romy grabbed her drink and sat on her brother's lap. 'And many sweet moments.'
Clarice and Will took their glasses and clinked. 'Thanks, guys.' said Will. 'We weren't sure how to tell, with us coming from best friend's sides as our only connection up to now. we haven't had much romance in our lives, so we still need to learn.'
They all took a drink, then Will let out a sigh. 'Then again, we sort of have you as example.'
'Us?' asked Romy.
'Come on,' said Clarice. 'You two are an old married couple the way you stick together.'
'Exactly.' said Will and chuckled. 'The only difference is age and not having kids. Beside being brother and sister.'
Romy and Luis looked at each other, then he took a big drink while she fiddled with hers.
Clarice and Will looked at their blushing faces. 'Wait, don't tell me..' said Clarice.
'No way.' said Will. 'You guys..?'
Clarice saw Romy stroking her belly. 'Have you..? Are you..?'
'Actually..' said Romy and looked at Luis, putting her hand on his chest, then smirked. 'I'm hungry. Make me a sandwich, brother.'
He smirked. 'Sure, sis.' he said and slid her off his lap, smirking at Clarice and Will who groaned.
'Damn you flirting siblings!' Will said. 'Do you have any idea how everyone is thinking you really do those things?'
'What things?' Romy asked, looking innocently.
Clarice laughed while Will took another drink. 'You two are the weirdest of the whole school. Both brother and sister have never gone out with someone or shown interest. Yet when they're together they're like glue.' Clarice said. 'I get asked sometimes if I know how you two deal with lover's trouble. You're unofficially the best couple on campus.'
'Really?' asked Romy, perking up. 'Hear that brother? You should be proud.'
'About a clingy little sister who needs her big brother to wipe her ass constantly?' he said from the kitchen. 'Definitely.'
Clarice and Will laughed, then more when Romy said 'My ass is the finest you'll ever wipe, so don't complain!'.
Luis came back with the sandwich which she ate after getting back on his lap.
'Could we ever be like that?' Will asked Clarice.
'I can ask my parents to adopt you.' Clarice chuckled.
'I don't think my parents would mind..' Will said, tapping his chin thoughtfully.
Clarice hugged him. 'Somehow we'll just have to manage.'
They spent the rest of the evening finishing the vodka and talking about anything, then the siblings said goodbye when Clarice and Will left to walk home.
'You get her home safely.' said Romy.
'I'm rather hoping she gets me home safely.' said Will, holding Clarice's hand.
'I always new you were a wimp.' said Luis.
'Whatever gets me the girls.' said Will, laughing.
Romy and Luis watched them until they went round the corner and got back inside, quickly cleaning up the bit of mess.
'You know, I'm happy for Clarice.' said Romy, collecting the glasses and bowls. 'She's not the easiest to approach, and Will is a nice guy.'
'Yeah,' said Luis, straightening the pillows and turning off the stereo. 'I'm glad Will found someone too. I hope they'll enjoy themselves for a long time. They're both pretty mellow.'
Romy switched off the lights in the kitchen and walked upstairs with Luis. 'Are we really an old married couple?'
He pondered for a moment. 'If we are, then I think it's not too bad. No complications so far.'
'You're just lazy.' she chuckled and poked him.
'Whatever works.' he said grinning. 'Good night, sis.'
'Good night, brother.' she said, giving him a quick kiss.
Before he could get into his room, she took his arm and he looked back at her.
She gave him another quick kiss. 'And that's for your support these last days.' she said, then hurried to her room, glancing at him before going in.
'Sure.' he said, smiling.
***
It was still dark when Romy woke up. Unable to get back to sleep she figured she'd snuggle up with her brother, thinking she would feel comfortable enough to sleep a bit more. She went to his room, quietly opening his door to not wake him and knelt next to his bed. His breathing was slow, so she carefully crawled under his blanket, moving with her back against him. He stirred for a moment, then muttered '..sis..' and put his arm around her. She loved his warm embrace and stroked his arm. Then froze when she felt fur.
'Brother..?' she whispered.
He muttered again.
She turned slowly around to look at his face, heart racing. 'Brotherrr..'
He stirred, letting out a soft growl.
She looked closer at the white furred, wolf like face. 'You might want to wake up now because this isn't a dream again..'
'Hmm..?' he growled, opening his eyes slightly. 'Sis..? What are you doing in my bed..?'
'Never mind that.' she said, stroking his cheek. 'We're not done yet.'
He blinked. 'What are you talking about?' he asked, caressing her forehead and seeing his hand. 'The fuck..?' His eyes opened wide as he looked at his hand covered in fur. He sat up at once, looking down at his body. 'You gotta be fucking kidding me..'
'It happened to you too..' she said, almost choking on her words and cried. He turned towards his little sister, tears running down her cheeks. 'I must have infected you or something.' she said. 'I'm so sorry, brother.. I should have never gotten so close to you..'
She wanted to get out of his bed but he grabbed her arm. 'Sis..' he said, then pulled her close. 'This is not your fault.' He stroked her back gently. 'It would have happened anyway, I'm sure.'
She cried softly in his chest fur. 'I thought it was all over..'
He caressed her hair. 'Don't worry. I'll probably turn back in two days like you did.'
He held her until she stopped crying, then she stroked his chest fur. 'Once again I soaked your chest.' she said, a reluctant smile forming.
'And I told you that my chest was available any time you need to cry.' he said, wiping her tears from her cheek. 'Only this time it involved more hair.'
She giggled for a moment, then held him tight. 'Does that mean I can buy a collar for you today?'
He growled playfully in her neck. 'It better be with sharp spikes.'
She chuckled and ran her fingers through the fur on his back. 'So this is how it felt when it happened to me.'
He ran his fingers through her hair, really smelling her scent for the first time. 'Only not as soft as your fur.'
She smiled softly. 'Yours is plenty soft.' she whispered, snuggling up to him.
He laid back with her, sighing. 'I just hope it's over by monday, and we can get back to our normal lives.'
She scritched his chest. 'Until then time may slow down, it's way cool to have a werewolf brother.'
He chuckled. 'And werewolves used to be creatures to be feared. Damn you, romance freaks.'
She grinned and closed her eyes, liking the smell of his fur. 'You'll wish you won't change back to being human with all the beautiful girls fighting over you.'
'Too bothersome.' he said, caressing her back. 'I prefer simple things.' She stayed silent and he looked at her when he sensed her slow breathing, seeing she had fallen asleep. 'Heh,' he whispered. 'looks like I'll always have you.'
**
Romy drifted out of her sleep, a warmth and softness she hadn't felt before seducing her to keep her eyes closed forever, but unable to keep her thoughts away. She opened her eyes at once and watched the white fur she laid her head on. '..brother..' she whispered, caressing his chest.
'I told you not to worry.' She looked up at her brother, a gentle smile on his wolf face. 'For a man it's a dream to come true, to be a fierce and fearsome predator.'
She smiled softly back at him. 'There's no way you'd ever be fearsome.'
He looked at her, putting on his best puppy eyes. 'Really..?'
She chuckled and kissed him. 'Not ever!'
He growled and pretended to bite her and she fought him off until she fell out out of his bed, laughing. They looked at each other, then Luis sat up and sighed. 'Well, let's get this over with.'
Romy stood up and took his hand in hers. 'Let's get you cleaned up first and wash my tears out of your fur.'
He protested a little but she dragged him into the shower. She turned on the water, telling him to set it to the right temperature, and undressed before pushing him under the flow of water.
'Hey, easy.' he said as she ran her fingers through the fur on his head.
She smiled at him and he surrendered. 'I don't want my brother feeling sticky all day because of me.'
He let her soak his head, chest and back, running her fingers through his fur. He became very aware of her touch, much more than before. Just like her scent. Her wet body smelled very good to him. Despite having her shower right next to him plenty of times before, this time it was different.
'There.' she said. 'You're free of any trace of me now.'
He grinned. 'You've stuck to me so much since we were little, I doubt if I ever get rid of your smell.'
She pinched his cheeks. 'That's just proof you're actually my property.' she chuckled, then turned around to get out of the shower.
Her buttocks touched his lower body slightly and it sparked an unexpected stir in his groin. He turned away from her, turning off the hot water.
'I'll make breakfast this time.' she said as she dried off. 'Fried eggs and ham?'
'Sure.' he said, cooling off a little. 'Sounds good.'
He waited until she went out of the bathroom before turning off the water. It had never felt so sensitive before.
**
He had found big enough shorts to fit him but felt too warm to wear anything more, so went down in just that. He figured he wasn't going outside anyway. Besides, the smell of food had a bigger impact than usual and he could eat a horse. Literally.
'Hungry?' Romy asked, sliding the eggs out of the pan onto his plate.
'You have no idea.' he said, barely keeping himself from drooling.
'Make some more?'
'Please.' he said and started on the first batch.
Romy fried all the eggs they had before he felt satisfied. 'Damn. Even I didn't eat that much when I was turned.'
He gulped down his glass of milk in one go and smacked his lips. 'I haven't felt so hungry ever before. Must be some male wolf thing.'
'I hope it won't last. You'll eat a whole week worth of shopping in a day.'
'I might have to resort to hunting then. good thing cows don't run fast.' he chuckled.
'Just don't get caught.' Romy said, poking his nose. 'I'm not getting you out of trouble.'
He grinned and pulled her close. 'You're better at getting me into trouble.'
'Hey, no fair.' she said and pushed him away. 'Now get out of the kitchen so I can clean up.'
He smirked as he went into the living room while she gathered the dishes and tried to cool down from his embrace.
**
When she went upstairs she caught him posing in front of his mirror. He sensed her presence and flexed his muscles. 'So, what do you think?'
'That you're so vain from having hair all over your body, it's disgusting.' she snickered.
He stuck out his tongue. 'Admit it, I look good.'
'Yeah right.' she said, waving him off and walking to her room. 'Dream on!' Inside her room though she needed to sit down, trying to cool down from the flash of heat she felt through her body when she saw him. "What's happening to me?" she thought.
By the time she went back down she found him lying on the couch, reading his book. 'Not going to search for a cure?'
He shrugged. 'Not bothering if it's cured tomorrow. Might as well take it easy.'
'But what if it hasn't gone away?' she said, sitting on the edge of the couch, touching his stomach.
'Then I'll just have to continue searching.' he said, smiling gently at her. 'But it probably won't come to that.'
She couldn't resist the sudden urge to snuggle up to him and laid down next to him. He let her rest her head on his chest and stroked his claws gently through her hair. 'Don't worry, sis.' he whispered.
She smiled softly and closed her eyes, smelling his scent and caressing his fur, trying not to think about touching him all over. It was crazy, she knew, but she would like to know what it would be like, to feel his fur all over her skin. She sighed, then drifted slowly into a nap.
**
Beeping from her phone awoke her. She blinked and found him asleep. She slipped out of his embrace and checked her phone, seeing a message from Clarice, asking if she had left her earrings the night before and saying she would drop by since she was on her way home from the store. Romy felt panic coming on, imagining the reaction of Clarice when she saw her brother like that.
'Brother, wake up!' she said, shaking him.
He let out a growl as he sat upright at once, scaring Romy with his fangs bared, then blinked his eyes. 'Sis? What's going on?'
She took a deep breath to calm down and pulled him off the couch. 'Clarice is coming this way. She probably left her earrings here.'
He took a sniff of the air and pointed at the pair on a windowsill. 'There.'
She looked at the direction he pointed out. 'That was fast.'
'I just smelled her scent.'
She looked at him. 'I had a better sense of smell too, but how good is yours?' she asked, more aware about how she smelled.
'I ignore the smells.'
She was curious to hear more, but a knock on the door prevented her from asking. 'Quick, go upstairs.'
'No need to tell me.' he said and sneaked up the stairs before his sister opened the door.
'Sorry to bother, but I wanted to wear them on my date with Will tonight.' Clarice said.
'No problem. Brother smelled them on the windowsill.'
'Smelled?'
Romy shook her head. 'I mean found.'
Clarice chuckled. 'Sounded like you let him go through the house like a hunting dog.'
Romy gave a nervous smile and led Clarice to the living room.
'Thank goodness!' Clarice said as she picked up the earrings. 'They're the best I have.'
'Well, I'm glad they didn't get lost.'
'Thank Luis for me.' Clarice said as they walked to the front door again.
'I will.'
'He's not here?'
'Just off to the store. We ran out of eggs.'
Clarice stepped out of the door, then turned around. 'By the way, you don't have a dog, do you?'
Romy's heart stopped for a moment. 'No, why do you ask?'
'I thought I smelled one last night and now.'
'Ah.' said Romy, thinking of an excuse. 'We., did babysit one of the neighbour's dogs a couple of days when they were away on family business.'
Clarice nodded. 'Must be it.' she said. 'Anyway, see you guys at school again. Don't forget to thank Luis.'
'I won't.' said Romy, waving goodbye. 'See you tomorrow.'
She closed the door and let out a deep sigh. 'What will we do when this happens with mom and dad at home?' she asked, hearing her brother coming down the stairs.
'I guess we can only tell the truth then. Hiding would make things worse.'
She moved up to him and hugged him tight. 'I don't want us to end up as lab specimens.'
He caressed her hair. 'I'll never let you, or me, end up like that. Neither will mom and dad.'
Reading and a classic movie filled the rest of the day and evening before they went back upstairs.
'Do you think you'll be back to normal tomorrow?' Romy asked, holding her brother's hand.
He smiled and stroked her cheek. 'I'm sure I will, so get to bed and sleep without worries.'
She nodded. 'I'll try.' she said and kissed his muzzle. 'Good night, brother.'
'Good night, sis.' he said as she walked backwards to her own room.
She undressed and crawled into bed, but it just didn't feel as comfortable and it took some time before she fell asleep.
***
First thing in the morning she hurried to his room to check up on him, happily relieved to see his usual face again. She kissed his forehead and smiled at him as he woke up.
'Sis..?' he asked, then remembered his form the day before and checked his hand. 'Back to human.' he said and smiled sleepily. 'Told ya.'
She chuckled and hugged him. 'Even though you were very huggable, welcome back.'
He ruffled her hair, yawned and stretched. 'Too bad I have no excuse to skip this monday morning.'
She pulled off his blankets. 'No, so get going to the shower so I can get in after you.'
He smacked her with his pillow before she retreated to her room, then went to the bathroom. He was barely wet when she came in.
'Too early.' he said, squirting body soap in one hand.
'That's okay.' she said, undressing. 'Wash my back, and I'll wash yours.'
'Fine.' he said, letting her move under the shower head to get wet while lathering his front.
She took the bottle, squirted some on his hand and hers, then lathered her front while he did her back. She liked the way his hands massaged her. 'Next time I feel sore, I'll have you massage my shoulders and back.'
He loved the way her smooth skin felt under his hands, more aware than usual of her curves and sweet smell and wouldn't mind doing this more often, then felt a tingle in his groin. 'Only if you ask really nice.' he said, then turned away. 'You're done.'
'All right.' she said and started on his back, thinking how it would feel to press her chest against his back, what his reaction would be. She shook her head at that wrong fantasy and turned the shower head on his back, rinsing it. 'Clean.' she said and turned around. 'My turn again.'
He took the shower head and rinsed her back, caressing it with one hand. He barely touched her behind and it sent a shiver up her spine. She kept her cool and rinsed her front when he was done with her back, feeling her nipples poking out to her embarrassment. She got out when she was ready, glad he hadn't seemed to notice.
'I'll start breakfast, so hurry up.' she said, taking her night shirt and panties and getting out of the bathroom.
'I will.' he said, glad she hadn't seen his erection, and rinsed his front, taking the temperature down a notch.
Back in her room she looked in the mirror. 'What's going on with you? Behave!' she told herself, then dressed.
Luis followed her down soon and wolfed down two bowls of cereal.
'Still such a huge appetite?' Romy asked.
He nodded. 'I guess it's a lingering effect.' he said, although he could guess what increased his hunger this morning.
He was glad they had arrived at school for the distraction, and at the end of the day he seemed his usual self. Romy had forgotten the morning too and clung to him like she always did.
**
During the week they visited Clarice and Will at home in the evening, part of the time to study, part just hanging out. The whole transformation ordeal seemed like a weird dream already.
Until Romy woke up saturday morning and found herself covered in fur again. She stormed into her brother's room, crying.
'Brother..' she cried into his chest while he stroked her back, trying to comfort her. 'Why is it happening again..? Why..?'
'I don't know, dear sister, I don't know..' he whispered, cradling her while trying to wake up.
After a while she calmed down. He wiped her cheeks and muzzle. 'I'll go down to the book stores I had on my list, continue the search.'
She nodded and sniffed. 'Okay..'
He took a quick bite, then drove off for the first store on the list. It was a small store and the clerk directed him to the back for the supernatural section. He couldn't smell anything but dust collecting on the shelves and books. There were plenty of regular horror tales of werewolves and vampires, some other transformations, but no discussions about real life events. The clerk mentioned another store which might have what he was looking for and Luis thanked for his help.
The second store, located at the top floor of a three story shared building, had a modern style in contrast to the antique books they sold. Again he checked every possible book, but had to leave empty-handed again. At the end of the day he had visited all the stores on his list with nothing to show for but tired feet and hunger from skipping lunch. Feeling sorry to disappoint his little sister, he went back home.
'Brother!' she said, welcoming him at the door and jumping into his arms. 'How did it go? Are you tired? You look tired. And hungry? I managed to make dinner without getting hair in it.'
He smiled gently at her and loved her wagging tail. 'Sorry, sis, I couldn't find any decent book on this.' he said, seeing the sadness in her eyes.
She shook her head and slowly wagged her tail again. 'Don't apologise. You've been gone all day to find a clue.'
He took off his coat and shoes, then crashed down on the couch. Romy brought him a chicken dinner which he ate eagerly. She chuckled at the sight. 'Who's the animal here?'
He roared playfully at her, then continued devouring his dinner. Her tail wagged lively when she walked back and he couldn't take his eyes off the seductive movement. He could smell her scent despite the food and see the back of her panties under her tail as it held up her shirt. Excitement filled his chest and stirred his loins and he hit himself mentally for looking at his own little sister like that. He ate slower and tried to focus on that, but when she sat down next to him to eat he couldn't resist glancing at her shapely furry legs. Memories returned from the nights of warm softness while spooning her. He smacked himself in his head, thinking he'd love to have her next to him every night. He quickly finished the rest of his dinner, stood up and put the empty plate in the sink.
'There's more, if you want.' Romy said.
'Thanks, I'm full.' he said and passed the couch quickly to the stairs. 'I'm tired, so I'm going to bed early.'
'Oh..' she said, hoping they could have watched another movie together. 'Can I sleep with you tonight again? I-'
'No. I mean, I'm really tired. I'll just see you tomorrow again.' he said, then went upstairs.
Romy heard him go into his room and poked at her dinner with her fork, her tail flat on the couch.
Luis lay on his back, staring at the ceiling, trying to get the images out of his mind of his sister. Her cute floppy ears that perk up when he stroked her head, the way she scrunched up her short muzzle when one of the eggs had gone bad, her tail wagging happily as she moved around or fought him for fun. He slapped his hands into his face, growling, then sighed deep. He knew what was happening, and he had no idea how to handle it. A sniff in the hallway caught his attention. He listened and heard another one just outside his door, then a soft whine. The sniffing sound moved away, followed by the door from his sister's room. For a moment it was silent, then he heard a muffled whine. He sat up, heard more whining and growled '..damned..', his chest caving in as his heart twisted in it. he knew he had been too cold to her and hated himself for it.
He got out of bed, went to her room, opened the door carefully. 'Sis..?' he said, then heard her soft crying under her blanket. 'Sis..?' he said again, moving next to her bed. 'I'm sorry..'
She sniffed. 'Don't.. I know I shouldn't be bothering you when you already spent all day searching for me.' she said. 'I don't want you to have to smell an ugly dog like me all the time. I understand why you're tired of having to take care of me.'
She cried softly again and he sighed, sitting down with his back against her bed. 'It's not you.' he said, pulling up his knees to lean his arms on them. 'It's me, and I dislike myself for it.'
Her crying stopped. 'What do you mean? It's my fault that I only depend on you like a needy mutt..' she sniffed.
He shook his head. 'No, you're not a needy mutt or ugly dog. I think you're the cutest thing I've ever seen, and I only now realised how much I'm attracted to you.'
She went silent and he looked down, fearing her reaction.
'..attracted.., to me..?'
'..yeah.. I love your cute face, your adorable floppy ears, your unruly fur, your curly hair, your playful tail, your legs, perky breasts and fluffy ass.' he said, thinking he might as well spill out every thought he tried to block before.
She was silent again, then he heard her move, felt her hands on his shoulder and stiffened.
'You mean that?'
He nodded. 'So if you hate me I understand. If you want to punch me or rip my dick off, I won't resist.'
Her hands moved down his chest, pulling him back against the side of the bed and he stiffened again when her muzzle touched his neck. When he felt a kiss instead of fangs piercing his skin he became confused. 'Sis..?' he asked, feeling more kisses in his neck.
She sniffed once. 'You want me, even when I'm like this?'
He swallowed. 'Yeah. It doesn't matter if you're human or like this.' He smiled softly. 'It just might be because you're like this that it all started.'
She let go of him, he heard her move on the bed, then saw her shirt dropping to the floor next to him, followed by her panties. 'Carry me.'
He turned towards her, looking puzzled at her gentle smile and red eyes.
'Carry me to your room.'
'Why..?'
She caressed his cheek. 'Because I want my first time to be in your bed, surrounded by your scent.'
His eyes grew big and she kissed him softly. He froze until she pulled back. His heart tried to beat itself out of his chest. '..you really..?'
She nodded. He got on his knees, slid his arms under her back and legs, then lifted her up carefully in his arms, never taking his eyes off hers. The sensation of her body in his arms made his dick grow hard faster than ever before, but he didn't really notice as he carried her to his room and laid her gently down on his bed.
'You're absolutely sure?' he asked, leaning close to her.
She reached out and caressed his hard dick with her fingers. 'Yes.' she whispered. 'I want my dear brother inside me.'
She spread her legs to let him crawl between them, then lifted up her knees. 'Brother should take his little sister, put his dick deep inside her.' she said, holding out her arms to him.
He bend over her, his dick rubbing between her already moist furry pussy lips and kissed her. She opened up to him and he slid his mouth over hers, letting his tongue search out for hers and kissed her with every bit of passion flaring up in him. She wrapped her arm and legs around him, running her fingers through his hair, sliding her tongue along his. She pressed her pussy harder against his dick, lifting her hips more to help him position his dickhead at the right spot. With a twist of his hips his head found the entrance to her sweet centre and slid slowly inside.
Moaning softly from the thrills building up inside her, she kept kissing him, not wanting to let him go. Her heart raced with the sensation of being taken by her own sweet brother. She let out a longer moan when he filled her up completely, pressing his abdomen against her pussy and sensitive clit. She moved her hips a little up and down and he matched her movement.
He groaned softly, feeling his dick slide inside his little sister's hot pussy. Pulses of heat shot from the tip of his dick to his hips. With every press the pressure in his dick and balls grew and tightened her pussy. The thrill they felt of brother taking his little sister brought them soon to a climax. He growled, pressing his dick deep inside her as it throbbed, shooting out his seed in her and it triggered her own orgasm with a long moan while they kept kissing. Breathing through nose and mouth, they couldn't let go of each other's tongues. He loved her scent, taste and touch so much it kept his dick from going limp completely, and it soon burst with energy inside her wet pussy again.
She squeezed his dick hard with her pussy, moaning for him to continue. He growled and moved his dick inside her again, slow but firm. The sensation of the taboo, the love and desire they had for their own sibling made them extra aware of the pleasure enveloping them. Every sound, smell and touch got amplified and it didn't take long for the both of them to reach another orgasm together.
Panting, they caressed their lips, licking the tips of their tongues. She kept her legs around his back and he ran his fingers through the fur on her ass. Their desire stoked their energy and lust, and kept them going like this until after a long time and uncountable climaxes they laid back on the bed, wet with their sweat.
Luis clutched his fingers between Romy's as they held hands, their faces turned to one another. She smiled, moved her head closer and kissed him softly. 'I love you, dear brother.'
He kissed back and smiled. 'I love you, my sweet little sister.'
She stroked the wet fur on her chest. 'I really smell like a wet dog now.'
He chuckled. 'And it will turn me on from now on, every time I smell it.' he said, turned on his side and kissed her neck. 'So come here, press that wet fur against me and let me sleep with you in my arms every night.'
She smiled, turned to press her back against his body and smiled as she closed her eyes. 'Only if you cause my fur to get wet.'
He growled playfully in her ear. 'It will be my honour.' he said, scritching her chest fur slowly until they fell asleep.
**
Romy moaned in pleasure as she woke up slowly and pressed her body harder against Luis. She stroked his hand in hers and noticed a soft feeling. looking at their hands she saw his was furry. She looked back and found him sleeping in his transformed state. She was more surprised it didn't surprise her, than being surprised at the transformation. She turned around carefully not to wake him, and caressed his white muzzle. He blinked his eyes and yawned, giving her a nice chill down her spine at the sight of his sharp teeth.
'Morning, lover.' she whispered.
He smiled sleepily. 'Morning, beautiful.' he whispered and caressed her cheek. He froze when he noticed something had changed. 'Oh damn..'
She chuckled and kissed him. 'It's my turn now to prove how attracted I am to your wolf shape.' she said and crawled against him, running her fingers through his fur while she kissed him again.
Luis kissed her carefully deeper, worrying he might bite her by accident but he soon relaxed as she pressed her mouth hard against his, seeking out his tongue and inviting him in. Her hand slid down his front and she found his hard dick to slide her fingers along. After a minute she pulled back, smiled at him, then moved down to wrap her lips around his dick to experience his taste and smell. He groaned as shivers ran through his dick, sensing every movement from her tongue going around and along it. It didn't take long for her to pull him into a burning orgasm, squirting his seed in waves in the back of her mouth. She kept on licking and sucking him, sending even more shivers through her brother's dick and balls while she moaned in pleasure.
He pulled her hips up to him, moving one of her legs to the side of his chest and slid his tongue along his sister's furry soaking pussy, licking up every bit of her juices before teasing her rock hard clit and sliding his long tongue deep inside her, making her shiver and moan hard with his dick in her mouth.
They couldn't get enough of each other's taste and kept licking until they had no strength left in their mouths after several more climaxes. Romy moved back into his arms, resting her muzzle against his, smiling and glowing with satisfaction. 'I love you so much..' she whispered.
Luis caressed her cheek and ear. 'I'm still surprised you do, wondering if this really is a dream.'
'It better not be.'
'I guess now I know what I want in a girl.'
'What?'
'For her to be the most adorable puppy dog there is.'
She chuckled. 'So you don't want me when I turn back human?'
He grinned. 'Then I want to cheat on my puppy with the most adorable little sister a brother could have.'
She poked him and chuckled. 'You are the worst brother a sister could have!' she said, then kissed him. 'And I love him more than anything in the world.'
They cuddled until their stomachs reminded them they should get up today. Romy pulled her brother under the shower with her to wash their sweat out of their fur. Running their fingers along each other's body caused them to kiss and have sex one more time during the shower.
They didn't bother dressing and ate breakfast while Romy laid with her stomach on his hips, feeding him from the big plate of food on his chest while he fed her. Her small breasts flanked his once again hard dick the whole time and when they had enough she cuddled up to him, knowing they'd be at it again after their nap.
They made love any way they could the rest of the day and the evening, resting in between by reading. Late in the evening they moved up the stairs, their muzzles locked in a deep kiss, even when they crawled into his bed and gave into their carnal lust again.
***
In the morning Romy found herself back to being human, while her brother was still wolf. The sensation of his fur against her naked skin gave her goosebumps all over her body and made her clit and pussy twitch. She felt his hard dick between her buttocks and guided it inside her, waking him as she moved her pussy over his shaft. Luis didn't hesitate and held her tight, pressing his dick deeper inside his sister, inhaling her scents deep inside his lungs. He let his hands run all over her delicate body, leaving traces of heat on her skin and making her shake with pleasure. She squeezed hard on him as she heard his growl and felt his dick throb, then moaned with her own orgasm while he came inside her. Her hungry pussy sucked and squeezed everything out of his dick before they started all over.
Feeling completely drained after a few hours, Luis looked at the clock and realised it was monday already. 'Fuck. We should have been in school today.'
Romy's eyes went big as she became aware of it as well. 'Oh shit.. What are we going to do?'
Luis let out a deep sigh. 'Let's just call it a sudden family matter. Which isn't far from the truth actually, heh.'
He saw a devious smile forming on her face. 'Let's make it matter all day then.' she said, running her fingers through his thick chest fur.
'You're insatiable.'
'And you're not?' she said, scrithing under his chin.
'Only because you keep me going.' he grinned.
She heard a protest from his stomach and laughed. 'Guess I'll have to keep your stomach going first.'
'Don't mind if you do.' he smirked.
She dragged him into the shower first though, where she indulged in feeling his wet fur all over her skin. She came from grinding her body against his while he massaged her ass and pussy, then returned the favour, licking and sucking his dick, swallowing everything he had to give.
**
They had just eaten when Romy saw Debbie walking up to the house through the window.
'Quick, scram.' Romy said, gesturing to her brother to go upstairs. 'The neighbour's coming.'
He ran up the stairs and dove into his room just before the doorbell rang. Romy grabbed the pair of jeans she had taken downstairs, put them on quickly and checked herself before opening the door. 'Good morning.'
'Good morning Romy.' Debbie said, fiddling with her thumbs. 'I'm sorry if I seem nosy, but I had noticed you two hadn't gone to school a few days last week, and I hadn't seen you go by this morning, so I was wondering if there was something wrong, or happened. If you're just skipping school I'm not going to say anything, I've done that myself when I was your age.' she chuckled. 'I was just a little worried.'
Romy saw the embarrassed smile on Debbie's face and smiled. 'We caught a bit of the flu last week, and it looks like brother had a relapse yesterday, so I'm nursing him today.' she said, taking a step back. 'Come on in, unless you're worried about catching it too.'
Debbie's face turned back to her cheerful self and stepped inside, following Romy inside. 'Sorry to hear that then. I hope it's not too bad.'
'No, it's not that bad, but I made him stay home today to get lots of rest and make sure he's fully cured tomorrow.'
Debbie smiled at Romy. 'You two are so close and caring, I don't think I ever was like that with my brother.'
Romy looked away. "You have no idea just how close." she thought, then gestured at the kitchen. 'Would you like a coffee or something else?'
Debbie shook her head. 'Thanks, but I've got to go shopping before a few friends come over this afternoon. Do you need anything?'
'No, we're fine, and have plenty stocked. Thanks for asking.'
'Well, I'm glad everything's fine, so I'll be going now.' Debbie said and walked back to the front door. 'But if you think of something, let me know.'
'We will, thanks.' Romy said, glad there was no trouble.
Just before Debbie opened the door she sniffed once. 'Did you by any chance get a dog?'
'Eh, no. Why do you think that?'
'I smell one.' Debbie said, then shrugged. 'It's probably lingering in my nose from one of Mary's, my friend who has two dogs. I visited her last evening.'
Debbie opened the door and Romy followed her out the door to see her off, then went back in and upstairs to her brother's room, finding him hiding under the blankets. 'Danger's over now.'
He sighed, pulling the blanket aside. 'Good. If she had seen me it would have given her a heart-attack.'
Romy smirked. 'And if she had seen you rushing up the stairs on all fours like a dog, she would have laughed.'
Luis threw a pillow at her. 'I'll have you running on all fours next time.' he growled playfully.
She held the pillow close, watching the furry and sexy body of her brother as he sat on his knees on his bed, his long, thick tail swishing lazily, his pointy ears standing straight. 'Do I have to be running?' she asked, smiling seductively.
He let out a low growl. 'No, you don't..' he said, his blood pumping from just the way she looked at him. 'Or wait for a next time.'
'Good.' she whispered, moving towards him, unbuttoning her jeans.
**
'I can't believe we had so much sex these three days.' Romy said, cuddling up with her brother while they watched a movie after dinner.
'I can't believe we had sex at all.' Luis said, kissing his sister's forehead. 'To have this sudden desire when we were just very close siblings before.'
She plucked at a stray patch of his fur. 'Would you ever regret it? What we did.'
'Are you kidding?' he chuckled. 'I hope I can stay this nuts with you for the rest of our lives. Unless you have any doubts?'
She shook her head. 'I can't imagine not making love to you every day or night.' she said, looking up at him and running her fingers from his neck to his cheek. 'We won't be able to soon though.'
'Ah, right.' he said, remembering their parents would come home soon.
'And what about the future? Can we even live together? Hide it from our family and friends? I don't want to leave you..' she said, her voice trembling as tears filled her eyes.
Luis held her tighter, smelling her hair. 'I have no idea what will happen. And then there's this slight problem of craving to sniff your butt lately.'
She chuckled. 'Guys can disguise that because they're dogs anyway.'
'Oh? Then it's the same for girls acting like bitches?'
She chuckled and cried in his chest fur. 'What do we do..?'
'If the worst happens, I'll take you far away, find some kind of night job where I won't have to meet people and take care of you.'
She looked up, pulled his face closer and kissed him. 'Then I'll take care of you as well. Come what may.'
He kissed her back, his whole being overflowing with love for his little sister and they kissed until the movie was long over. He turned off the TV, picked her up in his arms and carried her up to his room where they made slow love for hours until they fell asleep.
***
This time the alarm clock woke them up and Luis felt relieved he was back in his human form again. They didn't have the time to take pleasure in each other, but enough to quickly satisfy their lust under the warm running shower.
When they arrived at school Clarice stared Romy in the face.
'What?' Romy asked.
'What happened yesterday?'
'Well, it seemed our granny had a bad accident, so we went to her, but it turned out okay.' Romy said, glancing at her brother.
'I was worried you got sick again.' Clarice said. 'I messaged you.'
'We forgot to charge our phones, sorry.' Luis said.
'Well, it's fine.' Will said, slapping Luis's back. 'Although you seem very happy. Did something good happen as well?'
'Happy?' Luis asked, trying to keep a straight face.
'Yeah,' Clarice said, looking at the siblings. 'you're positively glowing.'
Romy chuckled while Luis grinned.
'What?' Clarice asked.
'I finally got brother to watch Coast of Hearts with me last night, although it took some beers.' Romy said and winked at Clarice. 'I think he fell for Else Windsor in her white dress.'
'Shut up.' Luis said and nudged her. 'Like you didn't swoon over Carl Deveraux.'
The siblings chuckled while Clarice and Will rolled their eyes, knowing very well nothing made sense with them.
***
During the week both Romy and Luis were happy to get home after school and the couple of times joining Clarice and Will for pizza or burgers. The front door would barely have closed when their mouths were joined as one and they made their way upstairs to his room. Because of the little time left they had decided to make the best of it and indulge in their passionate lust.
'Mom and dad are going to be back in two days.' Romy said, her fingertips caressing her brother's chest.
'Yeah..'
'They deserve to know..'
He caressed her back silently, staring at a point beyond the ceiling for some time. Her soft breathing told him she had fallen asleep. There was no choice in his opinion. He would tell their parents that they were intimate, that he loved his own little sister as a woman to spend his life with. He would take the brunt of the anger and shame about to come down on them, leave the house if necessary. He could go away, take a job, and wait for Romy to come if she would. The sudden purpose in life surprised him.
***
'What's going on between you and your brother?' asked Clarice, looking at Luis who was talking to Will a bit away.
'Hmm? Brother?' asked Romy, pondering the choices of drinks in the vending machine.
'Yes, brother.' Clarice said, tapping her fingers against the can in her hand. 'The brother you've always clung to, but suddenly have been glancing at constantly, have been holding by two fingers often. And you're just glowing all the time, like.., like you've found a dream lov-' She looked at Romy, whose smile was just a bit off.
'What are you talking about? It's always been like that.' she said, pushing her choice of drink on the panel and filling the slot with coins.
'Oh no.' Clarice said, shaking her head. 'You're not going to lie to me and say it's always been that way. I know what I see, and I have seen myself doing it. You and Luis are on intimate terms.' Romy tried to smile, but Clarice could see the tension in her face. 'Damn girl.' she said and pulled Romy into a hug. 'You're not that good in hiding things so you better tell me everything and you won't be alone.'
Romy started to cry and Clarice was glad they were at a quiet corner of the campus and the guys weren't looking in their direction. She stroked Romy's head until she went from crying to sniffing and pulled back.
'Thank you.' Romy said in a coarse voice when Clarice gave her a handkerchief.
'If you don't want to talk now I understand, but please tell me when you're ready.'
Romy nodded.
'For what it's worth, you could have done much worse for yourself. He's perfect enough that many girls want him. And girls won't resent you for being his sister, but for taking him away from them.'
Romy had to chuckle at that image. 'I think they've been doing that for years already.'
Clarice hugged her again. 'And now I really need to hear the whole story. I won't be able to sleep until you spill it all.' she said, squeezing Romy.
Romy chuckled again. 'Fine, fine. Let me ask brother.'
Luis and Will saw the girls coming back and Luis saw his sister's red eyes. 'Sis? What happened? Have you been crying?' he asked, taking her face in his hands and caressing it.
'I have, but I'm fine now.' she said, caressing her brother's cheek. 'But is it okay with you to tell them? Clarice sort of knows.'
Luis looked surprised at Clarice, who nodded. 'I guessed it.'
'Guessed what?' Will asked, confused by the talk. 'What's going on?'
Clarice punched his arm softly. 'Just wait.'
Luis looked at his sister again. 'If you're sure.' he said, and she nodded. 'Okay then.'
'This evening?' Romy asked Clarice.
'All right. We'll be there.'
Romy hugged Clarice tightly before she and Luis went home.
Clarice looked at Will's puzzled face and chuckled. 'Come, we're going to the store. We need some stiff drinks tonight.'
**
Will seemed playful when Clarice and he arrived at the sibling's home. Romy put them on the couch and sat down on the floor between Luis's legs in his embrace. Will tried to hide his curiosity while Clarice took his hand. Romy cleared her throat. 'Clarice, Will,' she said, putting her hands over her brother's, who gave her a light squeeze to ease her nervousness. 'Luis and I have been lovers since last weekend.'
Clarice looked at them, biting her lip and trying not to cry. Luis looked at Will, who just sat there silently.
'Will?' asked Luis.
Clarice looked at Will. 'Will, sweetie?'
'You bastard.' said Will.
They expected a tirade now.
'So that's why you told every guy to forget about hooking up with your sister. You wanted to keep her all to yourself.' he said, squeezing Clarice's hand once. 'I'd be so jealous if I didn't have Clarice.'
Clarice laughed. 'And I thought only the girls would react like that.'
Romy and Luis let out a deep sigh, relieved with their reactions. 'So you're not resenting us?' asked Romy.
Will shrugged. 'You're both very smart and you've been so close for so long that everyone suspects you anyway. I'm sure you both know what you want.'
'So, tell us now how it started.' said Clarice.
'Actually, that brings us to our second problem, which will be even more unbelievable than what we just revealed.' said Luis, pulling up photos from his mobile.
'What's this? Costume party?' asked Clarice when she and Will were looking at the mobile.
'That's us actually.'
'Well, it looks great, both costume and mask, but what is the problem?'
'When I said it's us, I really mean it's us.'
Will looked at Luis. 'You're not making any sense.'
'Those aren't costumes, or masks.'
Clarice and Will looked at the serious faces of the siblings.
'Wait wait wait..' said Will. 'You mean to say that's, real life you?'
'So far twice for a couple of days.'
'You're trying to pull a joke on us, just after we believed you actually started to get intimate together.' Will chuckled.
'No, we're not.' said Romy. 'I didn't want to believe it, wished to wake up from that nightmare when I first turned into, that creature.'
Luis squeezed his little sister lightly in his arms. 'You meant to say, that adorable sexy creature, right?'
She blushed. 'I'm not..'
'If you weren't, how come we didn't fall asleep until the early hours in the morning?' he whispered in her ear and kissed her neck, making her giggle.
Clarice clearing her throat brought them back from their moment. 'Right. You'll have to make this very believable to us.' she said, handing back the phone. 'Start from the beginning.'
Romy told them about the first night she found herself turned into a large dog. Luis interrupted, stating clearly how cute she actually was, causing him to receive an elbow from his sister. She continued, speaking fondly of how her brother searched for the creature which might be the cause, and the hours spent on the internet and how her brother turned after her.
Clarice and Will thought their days away from school made more sense now. Then Romy told about how she turned again, and the distress she felt when she thought her dear brother didn't want her anymore, just when she realised how much she loved him. Her face lit up when she told how he confessed to her, making him blush and Clarice giggle. Will just grinned, knowing what courage it takes for a man to declare his love. Romy said she wanted her brother more than anything and confessed her true feelings as well, which led to their first night of more than sleeping together. When she finished recalling the days until monday Clarice and Will just stared at the siblings.
'This is some story.' Will said. 'But I still can't buy it.'
'It does sound too fantastical.' Clarice said. 'I mean, it's basically a werewolf tale, who would believe that?'
'I want to, and I believe you, but it just won't stick in my brain.' Will said.
'How about you stay the night?' Romy asked, looking back at her brother. 'Maybe it'll happen again tonight.'
Luis nodded. 'I guess that would be the best way to prove it.'
'Could you stay tonight?' Romy asked Clarice and Will.
They looked at each other. 'I'm sure my mom won't mind me staying, just need to call her.' Clarice said. Will shrugged. 'They don't mind me staying away, as long as I'm back in school on monday.'
While parents were called Romy and Luis prepared sleeping bags and pillows for everyone to sleep in the living room together. Romy giggled, saying it was going to be a real sleepover. The table was moved to the side, pillows were stashed against the couch and the bottles of liquor and soda and the snacks were placed between two pairs of sleeping bags for each couple's use. Luis and Will selected a couple of good movies while the girls went upstairs to change. When they came down in nothing but two matching black night shirts the guys whistled their approval.
Will pulled Clarice close. 'You look as fine as ever.' he whispered, which deserved him a kiss from her.
When they looked at the siblings they went silent from the picture perfect moment between the two. Romy gazed into her brother's eyes, holding his shirt at his chest. He held her back with one hand, the other carefully combing her hair back behind her ear. They didn't need words to express their feelings for each other. A gentle kiss full of love passed between them before gentle smiles and an approving hum got them back to the present.
'Damn, that was the sweetest scene I've ever seen between lovers.' Clarice said. 'Anyone who would object to you two getting together would cease their protest at once.'
Romy looked up at her brother's blushing face, smiling gently. 'Nothing will take me away from him, nor will I regret anything.'
Will whistled. 'Damn Luis, do you even know the amount of luck in the universe you have?'
'That wouldn't even come close to how I feel.' he said, grinning proudly.
'Well, us girls have shown how sexy we can be, how about you guys?' Clarice said, folding her arms with a smirk on her face.
Will and Luis stuck their heads together, whispering, then Luis turned off the lights apart from the one behind the TV. Will turned up Billy Idol's License to Thrill and the girls wondered what they were up to when Will moved Clarice and Luis moved his sister back onto the couch on the rhythm of the intro. The guys then moved back, swinging their hips and moving their hands down their chests. They danced without taking their hands away from their body, following the slow underlying beat of the music. The music sped up, guitar screaming, Will moved in front of Luis, and the girls held their breath when Luis wrapped his arms around Will and grabbed his jeans, unbuttoned it and pulled down the zipper enough to let them hang loosely around his hips. While they moved their hips in sync, Luis took Will's shirt and pulled it up slowly, pulling it over his head when Will held up his arms and tossed it at Clarice who giggled excitedly.
The girls started to feel hotter when the guys thrusted their hips in sync with the music. Will turned to face Luis and ran his hands down Luis's chest, crouching to move all the way down his thighs, then back up to lift Luis's shirt over his head and toss it at Romy, who held it tight against her face. This time Will unzipped Luis's jeans and they turned with their back to the girls, their hands in their necks and thrusting their hips with the beat of the music. The girls growled playfully at their lovers.
The guys grabbed their own jeans with one hand, and the other's with their other hand, then pulled them down bit by bit on the beat, bending forward until they stood back up, stepping on their socks to slip them off their feet as they danced out of their jeans. Luis turned and moved in front of Luis, who moved his fingers from Luis's thighs up to his chest, while Luis threw his head backwards.
The girls let out a howl in approval and the guys turned their backs to them again, grabbing their underpants and pushing them down in one quick move, making the girls squeal at the bare bottoms in front of them. They shook their hips on the music, then turned around, thrusting once at the girls with a loud roar, then went down on their hands and knees, crawling towards the girls, running their hands up their legs and growling into their underbellies. The girls ran their hands over their lover's backs, moaning softly in pleasure.
'Does that satisfy your wish?' whispered Will at Clarice, looking up at her.
'Hell yes!' she said and kissed him.
Luis just needed to look up at his sister to receive a passionate kiss.
'Damn, where did you learn to do that?' Clarice asked, wrapping her arms around Will.
He grinned. 'Some time ago we were wondering what girls saw in strip shows from men, and watched several videos to learn their moves. Eventually we thought we could do better. Or at least, differently.'
'You sure did surprise me.' she said, smiling and caressing his cheek.
Romy held her brother's face between her breasts, making Clarice chuckle. 'Don't suffocate him now.'
Romy giggled as she let her brother's head go. 'I'll bet he'd be happy to die like this.'
'Well, I wouldn't complain. Much.' Luis said, tickling his sister's sides and making her squirm.
'Movie! Movie!' she said, trying to ward her brother's quick fingers off.
He chuckled. 'All right, movie time.' he said and turned on the movie.
'You guys aren't going to wear something?' Clarice asked when they got into their sleeping bags.
'Doesn't the thought of having a couple of handsome naked guys this close please you?' Will asked, making the first drinks.
'Well, it does..' she said, grinning.
'Then enjoy a reversal of the usual roles of men having naked women around them.' he said, pulling up one corner of his mouth in a smirk.
Romy chuckled. 'I don't mind, although I only need my brother.'
'Good. Although I wouldn't mind being able to make Clarice a little jealous.' he said and received a playful smack on the back of his head.
'If you need me to be jealous, just ask.' she grinned.
They all settled with drinks and snacks, cuddling up close as they watched the movies until they fell asleep.
When Romy woke up for a moment and felt soft fur, she figured it had happened again. She stroked it, then saw it wasn't her arm that was covered in fur. She turned around and saw her brother had turned this time. He looked peaceful in his sleep and she kissed him softly. 'It's you who is adorable, my darling brother.' she whispered and cuddled up to him. 'I will always belong to you.'
***
Clarice and Will almost popped their eyes out of their sockets when they saw the wolfman Luis had turned into.
'You got to be kidding..' Will said. 'It just has to be a perfect costume..'
Luis reached over to his pants, pulled out his pocketknife and cut his arm, surprising his sister.
'Brother!' she said, taking the knife away from him and putting her hand over the bleeding cut. 'What are you doing!'
'Just a little proof I didn't put on a costume, or put on a mask during the night.'
'Dude! You don't have to go that far to prove your point.' Will said, grabbing the paper towels by the leftover snacks for Romy to use to stop his bleeding.
'I wanted to show how serious our situation is.' Luis said, looking at his sister's worried face. 'How much I want to spare my sister from hurt.'
Clarice put her hand on his. 'We understand. so don't do anything to make Romy worry anymore.'
He nodded and laid his hand on his sister's, looking into her eyes, smiling gently. 'I won't.'
After Clarice and Will were done touching his fur he sat on the couch. 'So, now you know our second problem. It seems to only last a few days, but I have no idea if it'll always be like this, or if it'll get worse.' he said, his ears flattened.
His sister cuddled up to him. 'We can't keep this secret forever here. We can't keep skipping school with excuses.' she said while her brother caressed her hair.
'It's a problem, yes, but the first thing will be your parents.' Clarice said. 'How will they react, and I'm not even talking about your relationship.'
'I'm just going to lay down the truth and take full responsibility.' Luis said. 'What happens, happens.'
Romy caressed his cheek. 'You're not going to take that alone. I'm part of it, just as much as you.'
He kissed her softly. smiling. 'You're ruining my chance to be heroic.'
She chuckled. 'Good. You're already more than a fairy tale knight to me.'
'They should be docking this afternoon and call us to let us know when they'll fly back here. Let's enjoy ourselves before the difficult moments come.' he said, petting his sister's head.
'You still got that old console?' Will asked Luis.
'You're going to try to beat me at Street Maniac and fail miserably again?' Luis said, a sly smirk forming on his face.
'I beat you plenty of times before!' Will said, punching Luis's shoulder.
'Right.. Once in ten doesn't count.'
'Them's fighting words! Go get that thing and we'll see who's eating dust soon.'
Luis laughed as he went upstairs, digging up his old game console from the back of his closet. Soon the four of them were tearing up the digital streets of the city with their choice of cars, Will and Luis taunting and fighting each other all the time. Then Clarice won the race.
Romy laughed her ass off at the guy's faces while Clarice smirked at her superiority.
'I think your console has been getting problems during the years.' Will said.
'I agree.' Luis said.
'While you pay tribute to queen Clarice, I'll go make us hot dogs.' Romy said and hopped giggling into the kitchen.
She got out the buns and sausages, put them in the oven and turned it on, then leaned against the kitchen counter. Luis came up behind her and embraced her. 'You're really worried, right?'
She nodded, a tear falling on the counter. 'What if they're going to hate us? If they want us out of their lives?'
'Have a little faith in mom and dad.' he whispered and planted a kiss on her head. 'They might get mad or sad, but do you really think they'd stop being our loving parents?'
She sniffed, turned around and ran her fingers through her brother's fur. 'No..'
'Then don't worry.' he said, kissing her wet cheeks.
She gave him a tender kiss. 'I love you.' she whispered.
'I love you, sweet girl.'
The ring of phone came from the living room and Will shouted 'It's your mom and dad!'.
Luis went back and answered his phone, talking to his father about the time they'd get back, then hung up. 'They're going to land this evening and Frank's able to pick them up at the airport on his way here. They should get here around seven thirty.'
'Would you like us to be here when they come home?' Clarice asked, seeing Romy's nervousness as she brought in the hot dogs.
Romy smiled a little. 'Thanks, but we'll manage.'
Clarice gave her a hug. 'You can always come to us.' she whispered.
'So, how can we distract you until that time?' asked Will with a slight grin.
'Lose miserably.' Luis said and he pulled out the next game to fight Will.
This time Clarice and Romy sat close on the couch, watching their men turn into kids.
'You two are really courageous.' Clarice said, holding Romy's hand.
'How so?'
'Because you confessed your love for each other. I don't think many people would admit it and just live with a secret.' Clarice said. 'Even I hadn't confessed my love to your brother, and I'm not even his sister.'
Romy's eyes grew big and looked at her friend. 'You're in love with my brother?'
Clarice smiled. 'I just had a big crush on him for a long while, knowing it wouldn't lead anywhere. Will knew and helped me through it, which caused me to fall for Will, even if he hadn't expected that.'
Romy squeezed Clarice's hand. 'I think brother would have been happy to hear that.'
Clarice nodded, then looked at Will's energetic back. 'I think it's for the better. Somehow I feel you two were meant to be together.'
'Like a romantic fairy tale.' Romy chuckled. 'Although it does seem to be the truth.'
'Clarice!' said Will, turning back to her. 'Tell that jerk he's cheating!'
'What!? You're just incompetent! Like you always were!' said Luis.
'Tssk.' said Clarice. 'I guess I'll have to give my body to someone who doesn't whine like a little kid when he can't win in a simple game.'
Will turned to Luis. 'Replay! Now!'
Romy laughed as Will restarted the game with renewed energy. 'You're so mean.' she said to Clarice.
'Just keeping him on his toes. And he'll get his reward anyway.' Clarice said with a wink.
**
Will heard the car horn outside. 'They're here.'
Clarice hugged Romy tight. 'I don't know what to say in this situation so I'll just say good luck.'
'Thank you.' Romy said, hugging back tight.
'Hang tight.' Will said, clasping one hand with Luis and giving him a manly hug.
'Will do.' Luis said, hugging back.
'We have your back.'
'You're good friends.' Luis said, looking at Will and Clarice. 'We'll let you know how things turn out.'
Clarice and Will nodded, then went out the door.
'Oh, hello there Clarice and Will.' said Marielle as she walked up to the house. 'How are you two doing?'
'Very well.' Clarice said. 'We just had a sleepover with Romy and Luis and stayed until you came home.'
'Oh, you don't have to go for our sake.' Marielle said, kissing Clarice and Will's cheek.
'Well, we don't want to keep you up after that long trip. We'll hear about it later.' Clarice said. 'Besides, it's time to go home and eat.'
'You sure?'
'Yes, we'll make it up later.' Clarice said, then walked with Will to the other side of the street.
Romy came out and hugged her mom tight. 'Welcome home, mom.'
Her mother gave her a kiss on her forehead. 'Happy to be home, no matter how good the vacation was.'
Fernandez thanked Frank for the ride and gave Debbie a couple of specialities as souvenirs, then followed his wife and daughter into the house, his hands full with luggage. He dropped it in the living room so Romy could hug him tight.
'How's my little doll been?' he asked.
'Good.' she said, then let him go and stepped back.
'Where's Luis?' asked her mother.
Romy felt her heart beat faster. The time had come.
'Mom, dad, can you sit down?'
Her mother looked worried at her daughter's averted face. 'Has something happened?'
Romy pulled on her shirt. 'There's something we need to tell you.'
'Did you get into trouble?' her father asked, frowning.
Her mother sensed the distress of her daughter and put her hand on her husband's arm. 'Let's sit down and hear her out, dear.'
They sat down on the couch while Romy looked at the stairs where her brother came down silently. 'You know about werewolves, right?'
'Yes?' her father asked, raising one eyebrow.
'You know how some movies show them as bloodthirsty, others as caring creatures?'
Her mother nodded as she knew stories, her father didn't really watch any of that.
Romy stayed silent for a while, fiddling with her fingers. 'Luis..' she whispered.
Her mother sat on the edge of the couch. 'What about Luis? Tell me.'
Romy couldn't tell her parents and Luis spoke up. 'Sis wants to tell you I've had something unbelievable happening to me.'
'Luis?' his mother asked, her and her husband's attention turning to the stairwell.
'Please don't freak out.' Luis said, then appeared from his hiding place.
His mother clasped her hands before her mouth. His father tensed, looking wide eyed at his son. 'God have mercy..'
'It's me..'
'You're kidding, right?' his father said.
Luis shook his head. 'I wish I were.'
His mother stood up and moved closer. 'Luis, is it really you..?'
He nodded.
Tears ran down her cheek as she carefully touched her turned son's cheek. 'How..? Why..?'
'We don't know. It started two weeks ago, and we've turned twice for a couple of days before.'
His mother looked back at Romy. 'We..?'
Romy nodded. 'Yes.' she whispered.
Luis caught his mother as her knees gave out. 'Mom!'
He helped her back to the couch where she tried to regain control of herself. Romy hurried to the kitchen to fetch a glass of water.
'Dad?' asked Luis, looking at his father.
Fernandez looked at his son, reached out and touched his arm. 'I'm not dreaming this, am I?'
Luis shook his head. 'I'm afraid not.'
'Can you fetch me a stiff drink?'
Luis gave him a soft smile. 'Sure, dad.' he said and filled a glass with his father's cognac and handing it to him.
'It's not, painful?'
'It happened in our sleep so far.'
His father nodded, then downed the contents of his glass, handing it to his son to have it filled again.
'Romy?' asked his mother.
'Mom?' Romy asked, taking the glass after her mother had drank a bit.
'It has happened to you too?'
Romy nodded.
'You won't believe how adorable she looks.' Luis said with a chuckle, getting a nudge and shy smile from his sister.
They sat silent for a while until Luis's stomach protested again. Romy chuckled.
'You haven't eaten yet?' their mother asked, finding something she can deal with.
'No.' Romy said. 'We've been too nervous to eat since you called.'
Her mother took a deep breath. 'I'll make dinner then. At least that'll give me something normal to hold on to.' she said and stood up.
'Are you sure?' Romy asked.
Her mother smiled at her. 'I can't have my kids getting hungry, no matter how they look.' she said, then went into the kitchen.
'Make extra for two.' their father said.
'Extra?' Romy said.
'I think your friends could use something to eat too.' he said, nodding at the couple at the other side of the street. 'Looks like they won't leave until they're sure you're okay.'
Luis smiled. 'Yeah, might have guessed.' he said, then went to the door to open it and beckon Clarice and Will inside.
They looked worried as they came inside.
'We heard the story.' Fernandez said. 'Even though Luis is here in the flesh, it'll be a while before it sinks in.'
Will looked at Luis. 'I'm glad it has turned out well so far.'
'We just couldn't leave without being sure you're all right.' Clarice said to Fernandez.
'Thank you.' he said. 'You're good friends.'
They talked about the cruise while Marielle and Romy made dinner and continued about it while they ate. After Luis and Romy brought back the plates to the kitchen, their father leaned back with another cognac. 'What else is going on?' he asked.
The young ones turned silent while his wife looked at him. 'What do you mean?'
'I know there's something more to this story. I can see it in the way they look at each other. Another secret lingers between them.'
Marielle looked at her daughter, who looked down.
'It's true.' Luis said. 'There's something more..'
'Brother..' Romy said, putting her hand on his.
He smiled gently at her, turning his hand to take hers, then looked at his mother and father. 'Mom, dad, I've realised my true feelings and taken Romy as my girlfriend.'
His father and mother froze.
'It's not only him!' Romy said. 'I've also taken brother as my boyfriend because I love him more than anything!'
Their parents kept silent as they watched them.
'Mom..?' Romy asked, tears welling up in her eyes. She saw her mother stand up and leave for the kitchen. 'Mom..' she whispered, tears rolling down her cheeks.
'Dad?' Luis asked, seeing his father pinch the bridge of his nose and frown. 'I know it's unforgivable to do this to your daughter, but she's the only one for me.'
His father shook his head. 'Leave us. Your mother and I need some time.'
The kids stood up.
'Please don't hate us.' Romy said to her father before they went to the front door.
'If you need a place to go..' Clarice said, hugging Romy tight.
'Thank you.' Romy said, wiping her cheeks.
'Bro..' said Will to Luis, trying to keep a straight face.
Luis nodded, forcing a smile. 'I know..'
Romy and Luis waved goodbye to their friends, then went upstairs. They looked at each other at Luis's bedroom door.
'I want nothing more than to stay at your side.' Romy said with trembling voice.
'I know.' Luis said, choking down his words. 'I understand.'
Romy kissed her brother, afraid it might just be the last time. For a brief moment they conveyed their love, then pulled apart to go into their own bedrooms, keeping their eyes locked until the last moment.
Luis heard his parents come up later and go into their own bedroom. His mother halted for a moment, hearing her daughter cry softly into her pillow.
***
Luis woke up from a knock on his door after having finally fallen asleep. 'Breakfast.' his father said.
Feeling groggy like never before, he dressed and went downstairs, expecting the worst possible news. His mother served pancakes and eggs as he sat down. A moment later Romy walked in, his heart aching at the sight of his little sister's red eyes.
Their father put a pancake on his plate, smearing butter on it. 'Your mother and I have been discussing this matter all night.'
The siblings held hands under the table without looking away from the surface, both of them afraid of what might come. Mostly afraid to be split up.
'Did you think about the talk of the town when they find out?'
'I've thought about moving to the other side of the country.' Luis said. 'I can make a living anywhere with my skills.'
'And I'll follow him anywhere.' Romy said, holding her brother's hand tight.
'You're really serious.' their father said, cutting his pancake.
'I'll do anything to make her happy.' Luis said, glancing at his sister who smiled softly at him.
Their father ate his pancake while their mother cleaned the dirty dishes.
'When we were at a port in Argentina we met a nice guy at a restaurant.' their father said. 'We started talking and he's a businessman in a branch related to the company I work for. It turned out there's a need for a local supplier for our products and I discussed this with our accountants and the board. The suggested plan is to open up a branch office and locally assemble a couple of our products there. Of course they need a head they can trust over there, but it'll be a long term job if things go well.'
He took another pancake from the stack and poured syrup on it. 'Which means, for whoever takes the job, they'll have to move to that country for at least a year. Although it will take about half a year before everything's set up.'
Romy and Luis looked at their father, trying to understand what's going on.
'In other words,' he continued. 'I guess if you're really happy together your mother and I can leave for Argentina with a little less troubled heart in a few months.'
The world stood still for a second.
'Wait,' Luis said. 'you're okay with us?'
Romy watched her mother wiping her cheek and moved to her. 'Mom? Is that true?'
Her mother nodded at her, smiling gently and Romy hugged her tight, crying.
'Seriously, dad?' asked Luis.
His father nodded. 'We trust you. Although it will take some time for us to feel comfortable with it, we've accepted you've made a difficult choice.'
Luis felt tears well up in his eyes. 'Thank you, dad.'
His father cleared his throat. 'Now, we can talk to school, find an excuse to have you absent sometimes, and it might be possible for you to work part-time for the company on the website and software, seeing you are pretty good at those things.'
Luis went around the table and hugged his father. 'I'll do my best not to bring further shame on this family.'
His father pat his back. 'Just make sure you two are going to be happy. Then there's no shame in it.'
Romy hugged her father next, kissing his cheek.
Luis regained his hunger and wolfed down the rest of the pancakes, fighting over the last one with his sister before their mother added another stack.
****
Luis looked from his work on a website for a new client, up at his sister holding their month old daughter, feeling very proud. 'When did they say they'll visit?'
'They'll be able to catch a flight in three weeks when dad can take a few days off. Mom said business is going well and he's very busy.'
He moved closer to Romy, kissing their daughter on her forehead before softly kissing her.
'I love you so very much, puppy.' he whispered.
She smiled at him, caressing his cheek. 'I love you, brother, my sweet wolf.'
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Chad's evening was filled with more frustration than worry. He'd had that little goody two shoes right where he wanted her. Five more seconds and all his hard work would have paid off. He'd spent almost two weeks seducing the stupid girl, and he needed it to work. There weren't many virgin's left at school, and most of the ones left weren't pretty enough to be worth his time. He had to make each one of the remaining cunts count.
Between his good looks and his dad's money, there weren't many girls he couldn't fuck if he wanted to. He just had to spend a couple days making them feel like he was different, that he cared, he thought as he walked through the sparse wood of spruce and pine, using his nose to follow the smell of burning. If he wasn't going to get any pussy tonight, he was at least going to find out why. Besides, leaving that slut Lisa all alone in the car for thirty minutes would at least bring her down a peg or two. Maybe she'd give him a hummer on the way home as an apology, he thought. Blowjobs as a whole were overrated, but the added thrill of getting one while driving made them almost as good as actual sex.
Those sexy thoughts of Lisa bobbing up and down on his dick were erased when Chad came over a rise to see a smoking crater surrounded by felled trees. In the center of the crater was an object obscured by smoke and steam, and though there was evidence of a fire earlier, all that was left of it now was charred wood around the impact site. Chad walked cautiously closer, trying to get a better look in the darkness. It looked like a big rock. A meteor or meteorite; he always forgot which were which. It was cool, but not exactly cool enough to justify his dick being dry. Still, he might as well get a picture for bragging rights he thought, as he reached for his phone.
It wasn't in any of his pockets though. "Fuck!" Chad swore as he realized he had left it in his car. What was the point of walking out this far if he couldn't prove it to his friends? He paused trying to decide if it was worth going to get it and then come back or if he should just call the night a bust and then go home when suddenly, the rock split open down the middle, cracking and falling into two pieces like an egg. It was the weirdest damn sight and he cursed himself for not having his cellphone to post it to youtube.
Moments later though he heard the sound of something skittering in the shadows, and he wished he had a flashlight instead. Did something come out of that rock? What the fuck would come out of a rock that fell from the sky? Slowly Chad started to back up from the crater, eyes darting this way and that. Was that just a shadow or...? Chad almost fell backwards as he saw a bit of unexpected motion out of the corner of his eye. Whatever it was didn't look quite human.
"Hello?" He called out, "Is anyone there? I come in peace alight? Just come out and I'll help you with whatever you need. Hello?"
There was no motion when he was talking, but as soon as he stopped, he could hear feet crunching through the dead leaves and underbrush. Fuck this, Chad thought finally, I'm out of here. He turned and started bolting toward where he thought his car was, easily outdistancing whatever was making the sound. Let's see this X-files bullshit keep up with a member of the varsity team, he thought, running as fast as he dared in the starlit forest.
That was his last thought before he was tackled from behind a few seconds later. He didn't hear it coming. One moment he was jogging away, and the next he was tumbling down a slope, wrestling with a form in the darkness. "What the..." was all Chad had time to utter before the fall knocked the wind out of him. At the bottom of the small hill they rolled to a stop in a small clearing, giving him the chance to finally see what it was he was struggling against. He wished he hadn't. It was a parody of a human. It had the right amount of limbs, and eyes, but it was like it had been drawn by someone that had only read about people in books and never actually seen one.
"Get the fuck off me,' Chad shouted, using every ounce of his considerable strength to try to break free. The thing on top of him didn't break a sweat though, and as Chad watched the features of its face started to blur and change while it studied him, becoming more and more human by the moment. Suddenly without any warning it bent down and started to kiss him, forcing it's tongue deep inside it's mouth. It wasn't like french kissing a girl though. The tongue was long and probing, like it was made to catch flies or ants. It was even more disgusting than the time he'd tried sushi. Thankfully after a few seconds it was over and it pulled back.
But when it pulled back enough that he could see it again, the deformed monstrosity had been replaced with a milfy bikini model. In fact, as he watched, the bone structure and musculature continued to change, morphing beneath her now tanned skin to make her tit's bigger, her waist tighter, and her hips wider. This should have horrified him - indeed, at the back of his mind there was a part of him that was screaming, but when she let go of his hands, he didn't try to escape... it was all he could do to keep from groping some alien tities.
"You like," She asked in broken, heavily accented English, "You touch me please?"
Chad was hardly one to refuse such a kind offer and immediately started to fondle her D cup tits. They were sexy as fuck, he thought pressing them together, but she'd look a lot better if they were even bigger. Chad had scarcely finished thinking about it, when suddenly her body started to change again, conforming to his every fantasy. Her hair got a little longer, a little lighter, and her lips a little poutier. The real change though was what happened within her tits. In a series of small explosions and ripples of titflesh deep inside her already exquisite mammaries, they expanded, growing in his very hands until they were spilling out of his grip - G cup tits at least. The kind you might see on internet porn, but never in real life - and here they were in his hands. Fuck Lisa, he thought, after tonight a skinny little cock tease would never be enough for him.
"You want taste?" the anonymous slut asked, smiling coyly. "Please kiss. Please." As erotic as all of this was, it would have been enough to scare the pants off of any sane person, but all it was doing was making Chad hard. Sure it was impossible and crazy, but he wasn't about to look a gift slut in the mouth; he sat up and latched his mouth to the offered nipple, attacking it with his tongue and teeth for all he was worth. The alien fucktoy on his lap started moaning almost immediately, but Chad barely noticed, because as soon as he started to suck, his mouth filled with warm sweet fluid. 'Milk,' he thought? 'Is this bitch pregnant or something?' He didn't stop though. The more he drank - the more he wanted to drink. For her part she just held him close moaning as he had his fill.
"Mmmmm," she sighed, "You drink. You change. You obey."
"Change?" he asked, breaking away painfully from her sweet bosom. "Change how?", he asked, already feeling different.
"You see," she said, getting off of him, and helping him to his feet before tugging at his shirt and pants. Chad got the hint and stripped until he was as naked as she was. He should feel cold right now he thought idly, but instead he felt euphoric and more than a little high. But more than anywhere else the warmth was concentrated in his dick. It was rock hard despite the cold, and at almost 8 inches, it was longer than he'd ever seen it, but it didn't seem to be done quite yet because even as he watched it got darker and slicker.. Increasing another quarter inch with every pulse that traveled through him. The mystery woman grabbed his dick then and started to jerk it slowly, causing precum to ooze out with each feathery stoke.
"Mmmmm," leaning down to lick it clean. "I take your sperm now,'' she said matter of factly before engulfing the head with her open mouth while her tongue snaked out to do it's own part. Chad watched as her serpent tongue came out of her mouth, all ten or twelve inches of it and wrapped around the shaft like a snake coiling around its prey.
"That's right you little cocksucker," Chad said, getting into it, "You drain my balls like the alien whore you are." He'd never felt anything like this, not even when two girls on the cheerleading squad had sucked his cock at the same time after they won the game at homecoming. It was an inhuman level of bliss, and that pleasure kept away all the terrible thoughts about what a monster like this would do to him when she was done.
And if all she wanted to do was suck him dry, she'd be done soon, he thought through the lusty haze he was lost in. There was no way he was going to last another minute. In the end he didn't even last a whole minute from the time she'd started inhaling his cock before he came down her sexy throat. He shot jet and jet of his hot thick cum into her mouth.. Maybe two or three times more than he usually did as he leaned against her shoulders for support while she drained him dry. Once she pulled her mouth off his still hard dick, he let himself slowly sink down to his ass before laying back on the dead leaves and soft humas of the forest.
"God you're good at that baby," Chad said, breathing hard, "If your mouth is that talented, I can only guess how good your pussy is."
"You want pussy?" She asked, spreading her legs slightly so he could see her wet hairless slit glistening purple in the moonlight. "You want fuck me?"
"I sure do baby." Chad said, looking at her lustfully while his chest heaved. Her pussy was the wrong color, but he tried to convince himself that it was just a trick of the light. "You just let me rest for a minute and I'll fill you with my cum again."
"Sorry, no sperm left," she said as she sunk down to straddle his hips, sliding her leaking alien cunt against his still alien hardon. "You want eggs? My eggs? You want breed?"
"Yeessss... " Chad hissed, a slave to the slick friction on his new dick as she slid back and forth letting her pussy glide across his now massive cock. If she wasn't careful she'd make him cum from this alone in twenty or thirty more seconds.
"Tell me you want inside." She said, her language less broken and more fluent with every minute she was with him.
"Why tell you how bad I want to be inside you," Chad retorted, picking her up and pivoting them until he was on top and she was beneath him, "when I can show you." In the same motion he forced his dick halfway inside her, and they both hissed in pleasure together. He couldn't say if it was what she had done to his dick, or if it was something special about her alien pussy, but it was exquisite; he had always thought there was something special about virgin pussy, but this popping cherries seem like throwing a hot dog down a hallway. He was in love and he didn't even know her name. The only thing he did now was that he never wanted this to end.
So he pulled his dick out and then thrust it back in hard, each time making some progress, but not quite bottoming out in her the way he craved. He wanted... no, he needed to sink the last two or three inches of his monster cock into her so he could reach that hot white center of molten pleasure that he knew was waiting for him. While he strived for it though, he watched her impossible tits jiggle and sway under the barrage of his hips. The effect was hypnotic, and he could watch them all day. At least that's what he though until he finally forced the last half inch of his dick inside the thing... the woman beneath him; then he felt a profound feeling of pleasure and completion wash over him.
When he tried to pull out to thrust in again, he was vaguely concerned to discover that he couldn't. His dick had caught on something and was locked inside this alien cunt. It didn't bother him too much though. Some weird outerspace muscles were continuing to stroke his dick, so it a way it was like the best of both worlds: all of the pleasure, none of the work. After a moment of confusion, he just let himself enjoy it, looking into her stranger almost human face.
"Mmmm," she moaned beneath him. "You take my eggs now," she sighed.
"That's right baby," he said, "I'm going to fill you..."
"You take my eggs," she interrupted "and you give them to all the women you crave. No one will tell you no." Chad wanted to ask her what she meant by that, but then he felt a strange, almost painful pressure at the tip of his dick; something was forcing it's way inside of him.
"What the fuck?" he cried out, trying to pull back, and away from this, but he was trapped. "What are you doing to me bitch?" he asked, a note of anger piercing the haze of lust he'd had so far.
"Shhhhh," was her only response, as he pulled her head down against her giant pillowy tits. "Just take it baby. You like it soon. I promise."
But there was nothing to like about this. It felt like the time Tracy had tried to put a finger up his butt while they were fucking last year: kinda painful, but mostly just gross. But this time he couldn't just jerk her hand away. In fact, come to think of it, he couldn't do anything. If this alien slut said something, he felt the need to obey, and there didn't seem to be anything he could do to stop it. So he just felt the pressure increase more and more until something at least the size of a marble popped inside of him. It was in that moment, when the bright flare of pain mixed with the pleasure in his body that he understood what this bitches undulating pussy was for. Each feathery stroke forced whatever she was putting inside of him further in, back towards his body. Once the first thing was an inch or two inside of his cock, he felt another one pressing against the tip of his cock.
"What... what are you doing to... to me?" he asked, gritting his teeth against the intensity of the sensations.
"Just what I said, baby." She cooed, reaching up to stroke his hair, "I took your sperm to better understand human genome, and now I give you my eggs to share with all the women you wish. You run out, no worry, I give you more."
"What?" Chad asked, uncomprehendingly. The first egg was near the root of his cock, the second was towards the center, and the third was just getting ready to force it's way into the tip. "How many are... fuck..." he hissed with pleasure at the latest violation. Did it make him gay that he was enjoying this on some level, he wondered. "How many eggs are you giving...me?" he finished his question, almost afraid of the answer.
"Twenty... thirty..." she said, lost in the pleasure of filling up her first servant on this planet. "As many as will fit. Enough to make you very full. Very happy."
The idea that this would happen to him two dozen more times filled him with impotent rage. He was Supposed to be the one knocking up sluts... not getting pegged by some intergalactic dyke. But he couldn't bring himself to do say any of that. Instead he just held on to her tits for dear life as the surges of pleasure and pain from these eggs came faster and faster. He could feel his ball sack starting to fill with them, and a new sensation was beginning to war with the overwhelming pleasure and pain he was struggling against: a need to breed. He needed to find a home for each and every one of his queen's eggs in the fertile womb of any slut he could hold down.
Chad's last rational thought before he was swept away in the storm of the sensations overwhelming him like a tornado was that tomorrow school was going to be a lot of fun.
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Dr. Porneau's Pet: Part 2
by Prevert One
Dr. Armand Porneau, who was neither dead nor missing, watched the beautiful young woman splashing playfully in his pool. "Wow!" he thought, "I've seen some big'uns in my time, but damn! Thank you Ms. Wells and thank you God for creating her."
Dr. Porneau's knowledge of Tiffany was acquired through etat du art technology: motion and sound detectors planted throughout the island, house, and pool; hidden cameras covering every inch of property. The moment Tiffany set foot on the island, she was tracked. "Wow!" he thought, "Will you look at that!"
Typically, people who trespassed were either stray surfers, boaters, or drug runners. Their looks ranged from butt ugly to reasonably hot, but nothing like Tiffany. The surfers and boaters he ignored; they usually left after a few hours. The druggies he gave to the Coast Guard, or if they were inclined to set up shop, his pets.
Tiffany was a rare treat; within seconds of stepping ashore, her face was on Porneau's monitors. A few taps on the keyboard conjured up her driver's license, birth certificate, college diploma, and Facebook profile. "What's this girl doing wasting her time as a reporter?" he asked, "She belongs in Playboy or Penthouse."
Porneau watched Tiffany wander around the grounds. The house was secure; Porneau had the place sealed tight after his accident. She went to the back aaand, "Oooo, she's found the poolhouse." Porneau's cameras followed the girl, "Come on! Come on! Go in! Yes!"
He switched to the pool's cameras and watched her approach the water, "Oh boy. Is she going to take a swim?" The water was special; a little concoction between him and one of his pets. It was a genetic brew with aphrodisiac properties.
Originally he had plans to market it as a perfume additive, "It's no more harmful than whale puke." The accident disrupted those plans. "Oh! She's going in!" He zoomed on the blonde; she stepped into the water. "Oooo! This is going to be good," he thought, licking his lips.
Porneau's accident may have changed his body somewhat, but he was still a red-blooded American male. He never minced words about his admiration for female anatomy. Even before the accident, people were shocked by his crude, blunt, vernacular. They expected a genius, not an overgrown fratboy. "I am a genius, so I can act like an overgrown fratboy," Porneau replied.
Porneau jolted when Tiffany gasped at the water's touch. "Ah boy, it's up to her pussy. Come on, a little further." When the water was up to her chest, Tiffany's nipples perked. Porneau switched to the underwater cameras. He saw how they stood out in the fabric of her bikini bra. She had wide half-dollar areolas, "Damn! She is hot!"
Porneau took his cock and began to stroke. His accident left him unable to wear pants; he didn't even need lubricant for related reasons. He watched the blonde move through the water, timing his strokes to hers. She broke the surface and orgasmed; he matched it with a blast from his prodigious member.
"Oh man," he thought, thankful he had the foresight to point away from the monitors. He pressed the button for the autocleaner (a gift from his technologically gifted counterpart), "You're going to be busy tonight," he told it.
The curvy blonde splashed ashore. She sat for a few moments, quivering, muttering. "Ah, she's trying to figure the water out." She stood and started towards the door, "Uh uh! We can't have that. I want this honey to stay awhile."
Porneau's finger hovered near a switch, but wait! The girl stopped. "What's she doing?" Tiffany walked back towards the water, a pensive look on her face. She looked around the hall, then at the pool. A decision was made; she reached behind her back, "Oh no! She's not going to do it, is she?!"
Porneau was drooling; his wish (and the aforementioned editor's) was confirmed as Tiffany untied the bikini bra, freeing those wondrous melons, "Yes!" and then the bottoms. Porneau zoomed on the crotch, "Dark muff, not too bushy, I like that."
The girl ran back into the water and began to play. Porneau's cameras showed every curve, captured every move, from the water-influenced conical tits to her spread legs. He saw her pussy, swollen with water-induced lust, and made a decision of his own, "That does it! I'm bringing out Roger."
Porneau's career as a government-connected mad scientist was not without hiccups. The accident responsible for his altered condition was a prime example. When it occurred, the government wanted to move him to a secret research facility in Nevada. He'd been to the lab before, on business. It was a shithole.
"Boring as fuck." Porneau promptly informed the "men in black" that he had enough goods on enough important people to cause catastrophic damage. If the media found out, and the media would, "If you assholes even think of putting me in that pit." Besides, he didn't trust his research in the hands of "Those fucking idiots."
He made a deal; he'd stay on the island, throw some genetic tidbits their way; they'd leave him alone while he worked on his personal problem.
Dr. Porneau, with considerable government assistance, moved his research lab and living quarters underground. The island was hollowed out; vast underground tanks were constructed for his pets. The swimming pool was modified; the island was stocked with state-of-the-art-surveillance.
The house was sealed, the lab and living quarters packed with the most advanced technology. "Not quite a shithole," he thought. The living area looked more like a bachelor pad. The lab was world-class. Porneau occupied his time searching for cures to his condition.
Porneau's pets were byproducts of years of research, combining and re-combining DNA, usually sea animals. Usually he euthanized the results, but occasionally he kept one or two for various reasons. Some produced profitable chemicals; others were kind of cute; and some provided entertainment, like Roger.
Porneau named him after Roger Corman. He considered naming him Russ after Russ Meyer, but decided Roger was more appropriate. Porneau was playing around with some DNA, "A little octopus here, some sea slug there, a touch of whale, a dab of lamprey. Boy! I can't wait to see what comes out. Bwahahahaha!"
The result was something that squirted what looked like invisible ink. He examined the substance and found properties similar to ambergris. It was extremely water-soluble. Porneau tested it on lab rats and watched them shag each other into a coma. He took another look at the substance and thought, "Kaching! Kaching!"
A perfume additive that could mean millions, 'billions!' in moola. Unfortunately his accident happened shortly thereafter, delaying his project indefinitely. Meanwhile, Roger grew from a little squidling into a big, horny....well, Tiffany was about to find out.
Porneau tapped a few keys, flipped a couple of switches, then sat back to watch the fun.
Tiffany was too busy playing, enjoying the water on her bare skin, to notice at first. The French doors silently closed and locked. Several tiles on the floor leading to the pool slid open, revealing hidden nozzles. The nozzles trickled water over the tiled slope, turning the floor into a slippery, frictionless trap.
A grinding clank, as of a chain moving across metal, reverberated through the poolhouse. Tiffany stopped; she floated in the pool, her pleasure forgotten, "?! What was that?"
She looked at the floor and noticed the water. Her bikini floated in the pool, swept in by the water flow. Then she noticed the doors were closed and felt a chill crawl up her spine, "Uh oh; I think it's time to leave."
Tiffany started to swim towards the floor when she heard another sound. It began as a series of gurgles that seemed to emanate from beneath the pool. They were followed by a "whoosh!", similar to a washing machine as it filled with water.
Tiffany tread water and heard more clanks and grinds; a 'cluk! cluk! cluk! cluk!' sound of chains working their way through gears. The pool began to vibrate, ripples spreading through the water. Tiffany's chill became a cold fear, "Ok, now it's really time to leave!" She swam toward the floor, unaware of the horror unfolding beneath her.
A crack appeared on the tiled bottom; bubbles began an effervescent flow from it. The crack traveled in a straight line, before turning ninety degrees, traveling and turning until it formed a square. The square was a panel, a large underwater door, that receded and moved to the side, leaving a large black hole.
Two glowing eyes appeared in the darkness; eyes that grew larger; eyes that were focused on the prey above. Through the hole came Roger. Tiffany, focused on getting to the floor, didn't notice Roger coming behind her. He was a surprisingly quiet creature for all his size and bulk.
Tiffany's feet just brushed the bottom when she felt a tap at her shoulder. The startled woman turned around to look and, "Aaaaaah!!"
To Be Continued
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Hank’s reassuring words were enough to soothe even the anxious and utterly overloaded android who finally let himself relax in his companion’s arms rather than maintain the unrelenting deathgrip he’d been keeping on Hank’s unfortunate shirt. Connor felt himself sag in Hank’s hold, his head resting against the man’s shoulder as a feeling the android would almost describe as “worn out” crept into his body and drug down his overworked limbs until the machine was all but being held upright by the policeman's arms alone.
“Connor, are you…” Hank began to ask but trailed off, muttering thoughtfully as if trying to find the exact right word. “Tired?” The lieutenant finally questioned uncertainly, pulling back from the embrace to gaze into his android’s face, squinting critically at the mechanical man who merely blinked slowly at his companion for a long moment, fighting the urge to let his orbs falls shut.
“Androids do not get tired.” Connor reminded his companion stubbornly but his eyes drooped even as he spoke and Hank merely shot him wry smirk in response, already beginning to tug the engineered man upright until they were both standing.
“Uh huh. That’s great, Connor. Very interesting.” Hank snorted dryly, keeping a hand on the android’s arm to guide him out of the bathroom and into the familiar hallway beyond. “Sleeping on the couch obviously didn’t work out all too well, so I guess, if you want, you could… You know.” The policeman began but merely let himself trail off with a stiff shrug, though the android’s sensors informed him the lieutenant's vitals were rising again.
Connor did not, in fact, know and his blank stare must’ve clued his companion into this fun little factoid.
“You could sleep with me.” Hank muttered out in a single breath, jamming all the words together in such a way that Connor likely wouldn’t have been able to decipher the phrase at all if the android hadn’t gone back into his stored audio memory and replayed the sentence a few times, slowing it down for clarification before finally understanding the offer.
“I would like that, lieutenant.” Connor replied easily, finding himself reluctant to be left alone at the moment and unsure of why this response sent Hank’s pulse skyrocketing alongside his body temperature. Humans were so odd.
“Great, well, you’re not climbing into bed with me in a fucking suit.” The man grunted embarrassedly, his cheeks reddening as he spoke. “And you’re not calling me lieutenant when I literally just asked if you wanted to sleep with me, Connor, c’mon.” Hank grumbled as he drug the android through his open bedroom door and paused to pull it closed behind them, his vitals still rising rapidly for some inexplicable reason - Though Connor did note that the steady rise seemed to spike significantly whenever Hank used the phrase “sleep with me.”
“Okay, Hank.” Connor replied softly, feeling his own internal temperature rise as his hands found their way to his tie and began plucking the carefully knotted cloth free of its usual rigid structure.
“Connor, why the hell are your cheeks turning blue? Are you gonna barf again?” Hank questioned over his shoulder as he moved towards his closet and opened the long door to reveal the piles of clothes within. However, before the android could respond the man seemed to catch up with what he’d said earlier and his vitals spiked again, alarming Connor as his companion’s heart rate neared the level the android deemed dangerous. (It wasn’t dangerous, really, but the android worried about his partner, okay?)
“I’m getting you something to wear!” Hank quickly amended, pulling a dark hoodie with the letters “D.P.D” scrawled across it in a thick, bold font free from the confines of the closet and thrusting it forcefully towards his companion as if trying to prove the truth of his statement.
“Oh! Thank you, Hank.” Connor replied easily, reaching forward to grasp the hoodie and then to receive the pair of stained, grey sweatpants shoved his way a moment later, laying both items at his feet before pulling his tie the remainder of the way off and beginning to unbutton his white undershirt.
“For fucks sake, Connor!” Hank startled frantically, stormy eyes widening and pulse hitting dangerous levels as his gaze fixed intently on the android’s stilled hands for a moment before he spun away from his companion, now gazing at naught but a wall, though his heart rate didn’t lower in the slightest.
“Hank, I feel the need to inform you that your vitals are nearing cautionary lev-” Connor tried to warn his partner, forgetting his task and leaving the first three buttons of his shirt undone as he moved towards the man who only glanced back at him once before snapping his neck back as if Connor and slapped him.
“Give a man a minute to turn around!” Hank shot back sharply and Connor froze in place, an internal timer for one minute appearing at the edge of his vision as the android patiently waited for the time his companion requested to pass. “Metaphorically, Connor.” The lieutenant corrected after a moment, likely prompted to clarify this by the lack of noisy motion behind him as he was obviously not glancing back at what was happening, the man’s gaze locked intently to the far wall as if breaking it for even a moment would result in a fallout of catastrophic measure.
Connor resumed this task with less precision and grace than one might expect from the usually impeccably skilled android, stripping not an activity he was expected to perform in the line of duty and thus not something that had been programmed into him. This left him fiddling with the buttons for far longer than he’d like to admit as the mechanical man briefly thought to search up a quick program to aid him in this endeavor but quickly deterred from that course of action as the results the guy received for “stripping” were not exactly what he had in mind.
“Connor, you shut down back there?” Hank prompted after a long moment, turning his head slightly to check on his companion but letting his gaze linger when Connor proved to have made no further progress than the last time he’d looked.
“No, this is just isn't something I’m accustomed to.” Connor huffed exasperatedly, sounding oddly human in his frustration even to his own ears. “I’m usually only given new clothes when I get blood on the old ones.” The android attempted to elaborate but talking and unfastening buttons proved to take too much processing power and his hands failed to do anything more productive then jam the plastic piece into the wrong section of fabric a few times.
“Would you look at that, a new addition to my list of Creepiest Things Connor’s Ever Said to Me” Hank snorted dryly with a roll of his eyes but after only a few more moments of watching Connor pathetically fail the simple task, the lieutenant finally turned back to full on face the android. “I thought you were supposed to be a wonder of technology? How can you handle hostage situations but get defeated by a plastic button?” The guy snorted humorously but there was a tone of companionable amusement to his voice rather than cold mockery so Connor made no protest when his partner moved to stand before him.
Hank said nothing but batted Connor’s still fiddling hands away from their horrible failure to replace them with his own, unfastening the stubborn button with such ease than it was painfully obvious the button was not stubborn at all as Connor had labeled it. The man was taller than the android, having to look down to see the buttons as he towered slightly over the shorter guy and Connor vaguely realized he’d have to stand on his tiptoes if he wanted to reach his partner - Though the android had no clue where the obscure thought had come from, though a light “software instability” warning in the corner of his vision assured the RK800 model that it wasn’t in his programming.
Hank continued to make his way down the trail of buttons, handling them all with rapid precision that Connor envied as the android trailed the man’s fingers with his eyes, watching with unveiled interest as his companion's digits made quick work of the last button and left the automated humanoid’s chest and abdomen bare. Connor was grateful Cyberlife had gone to the trouble of making his body realistic- “Software instability” his alert warned him - giving him a slightly toned build with and all the details one would expect to find a on normal human man for the purpose of integration. The only giveaway was the luminescent circle of his thirum pump in the center of his chest, shimmering a soft pale blue that cast his entire upper body in a radiant glow.
“You’re a regular walking nightlight.” Hank jested lightly, though his voice sounded slightly strained and the man swallowed thickly before visibly fighting to break his gaze away from the android and turn back toward the wall he seemed to have become great friends with in the past two minutes. Connor barely resisted the urge to warn him about his vitals.
The android shrugged off his suit jacket and undershirt, folding them both neatly before placing his tie atop them and moving on to shimmy out of his dress pants, making sure to fold them as well before redirecting his attention back to the clothes Hank had given him. The android grabbed the sweat pants and stuck his legs through both holes before pulling them up and yanking the drawstrings as tight as he could get them. Still, even as Connor did his best to tie a loose knot in the fraying strings meant to keep the pants in place, they were baggy on him and hung awkwardly low on his hips.
“You can turn around now, Hank.” Connor informed his partner as he reached for the dark hoodie next, assuming just pants would be decent enough for the man to at least stop eye-raping the wall considering the guy had literally just unbuttoned his shirt a few minutes ago.
Hank turned back around to face his companion with a humorous smirk and a bright glimmer in his eye, as if he were about to make some jest, but when his gaze actually fell on the android the man’s face went entirely slack instead. The guy spluttered something unintelligible as his stormy eyes went wide and blank like a deer staring straight into the headlights of an oncoming freight train before fixing on where the sweatpants were slumping past Connor’s hip bone to reveal carefully crafted V-lines and mole speckled skin, Cyberlife really having gone all out to make one of their most advanced models as human as physically possible, complete with imperfections and everything a human could want. (May or may not have been by Elijah Kamski’s insistence…)
Connor slunk his arms into the hoodie and tugged it over his head, the mass of cloth swamping him entirely in its huge folds and plush fabric but the android found it to be a pleasant sensation. The hoodie was incredibly soft and large enough to burrow himself deep into, but what Connor liked about it most was that it smelled of all the things the electronic man had come to associate with Hank.
Sure, that entailed booze, musk, and dog, but the scent was so utterly Hank that Connor found it to be a comforting mix. The automated detective turned his head down to nuzzle into the collar of the thing, letting his eyes fall closed as he sucked in a deep inhale and breathed the familiar smell in like a drug, instantly feeling himself relax slightly as the comforting scent washed over him and soothed his wired mind.
“Connor,” Hank called from a few paces behind the android as Connor prepared himself for something along the lines of “stop that,” or “dude, that’s so creepy,” but instead received only a soft, “Come to bed.”
Connor turned around to see Hank already under the covers and scootched to one side to make room for the android, watching his partner with expectant eyes as the electronic man finally brought his face back up from the soft folds of the hoodie and walked to the opposite side of the mattress. The automated detective carefully crawled on top of the mattress and pulled the blanket up to shimmy underneath it despite the fact that it wasn’t really necessary whatsoever. Androids didn’t feel cold... But being under the blanket would put him a little closer to Hank. (“Software instability”)
“I’ve got some of that blue goo shit if you need to refill or whatever.” Hank muttered reluctantly, still diligently facing the wall and keeping his voice incredibly even despite the fact that his vital readings were going nuts. “Looked like you lost a good bit.” The guy added in explanation when Connor failed to respond immediately, the android still a little too taken aback but this new piece of information to react.
“You got thirium?” Connor questioned uncertainly, wondering if he’d perhaps heard the lieutenant wrong or misunderstood somehow as he scooted a little closer to his companion - To hear him better, obviously.
Hank only gave a grunt of what seemed to be acknowledgement in reply but did turn so that he lay on his back rather than facing as far away from Connor as he possibly could, so the android was counting it as a positive interaction nevertheless.
“Why?” Connor inquired, scootching just that much closer to the man who turned to gaze at him with such a bored expression one might think his android had asked if water was wet rather than a totally valid question to which the answer was not at all obvious.
“I heard android’s need it.” Hank replied shortly, as if this answered anything but after only enduring Connor’s persistent stare for a few moments the man heaved a reluctant sigh and went on. “What if you, I don’t know, get hurt or something?” The man finally caved, glancing away from Connor to put his gaze on the ceiling above, staring at the markless white surface as if it were a beautiful work of art, his gaze soft and thoughtful but not all together without a touch of adoration.
Connor was satisfied to let things rest at that, allowing his eyes to fall closed and preparing to go into simulated sleep but Hank’s voice roused him just before the android initiated the program.
“Don’t go back to Cyberlife.” The man demanded softly but firmly, hesitating only a moment before continuing on. “I don’t want them to turn you off.” Hank stated simply, keeping his voice amazingly even for a guy who’d just offered to let an android stay in his home indefinitely and, vicariously, since sleeping on the couch with Sumo had already been ruled out, in his bed.
Connor could easily tell Hank that it was only for the night and that being in stasis didn’t bother him… But he didn’t want to. He didn’t want Cyberlife to shut him down and have to be worried that they wouldn’t turn him on the next day. He wanted to stay here with Hank. He wanted to live in his partner's house, to eventually come to call it a home. He wanted to wear these clothes that smelled like Hank. He wanted to pet Sumo whenever he pleased. He wanted to sleep in Hank’s bed with him every night and not have nightmares that made him puke anymore.
Connor wanted so many things and he wasn’t supposed to do that at all.
“I’d like that, Hank.” Connor replied again, feeling some of the tension he didn’t know he had keeping him tense drain from his muscles as he sunk into the mattress a little further and tilted towards Hank so his forehead bumped the guy’s shoulder.
“How the hell could you think I’d replace you?” The android’s partner asked the ceiling softly as he slunk an arm over his companion's shoulder before slowly rolling over the face the mechanical man, his searching eyes boring into the machine with such intensity it was impossible to not tell the truth.
“I am defective, Hank.” Connor stated simply, keeping his voice even and detached despite the warnings coming to crowd his vision as if actually stating the words aloud made them true. “System Malfunction: Report Problem to Cyberlife” one, glaring notification in the center of the android’s vision red in bold, red letters but Connor blinked it away so he could watch his partner’s face and gage his reaction. “I’m sick, and I’m scared, and I
want
things, Hank.” The android elaborated softly before the man could simply tell him he was wrong, blinking slowly as he waited for a response - Even still though, Connor was confident Hank wouldn’t replace him.
“What things do you want, Connor?” Hank asked softly, bringing a hand up gently cup the android’s cheek so that the synthetic skin there melted away to present glistening white plastic as the automated creation tilted his head into the touch.
“So many things. I want to wake up here with you, and pet Sumo everyday, and be your partner at work, and wear these clothes in the evening, and sleep here each night,” Connor began to list off, letting his eyes fall closed as an overwhelming sensation of pure, unadulterated
want
bubbled up inside him before the android trailed off, the realization that he could sum all this up with one, over-ruling desire smacking him in the face like a cold burst of water. “I want you, lieutenant.” Connor whispered softly, letting his eyes drift back open to half-liddedly gaze at the man across from him.
“You’re not defective, Connor.” Hank began softly, rubbing his thumb slowly over the revealed plastic with a look of wonder. “You’re deviant.” The man informed quietly, quitting his methodical stroking to bring his hand to the back of the android’s head and, all at once, the warning signs plaguing Connor’s vision disappeared.
“I am a deviant.” Connor parroted back slowly, running the words carefully over his tongue before letting them poor tentatively over his lips as the hand on the back of his head guided him to tip his neck forward.
“And quit calling me lieutenant.” Hank scoffed gently but tipped his own head forward to press his forehead to the android’s, human skin meeting synthetic plastic but neither pulling away from the foreign touch.
|
Being home felt nostalgic. It was always that way. Even though school was only an hour away, coming back felt like being a visitor.
“
Mi amor,
what do you want for dinner tonight?” Lance's mother asked after he'd put his bags in his old room.
“Anything as long as you make it, Mami. I've missed your cooking.”
“
Bueno,
if you came home more often, you wouldn't have to miss it,
tesoro.”
Lance sighed and gave her a smile. She touched his cheek lightly and went into the kitchen. From the couch, Veronica whistled and gestured him over.
He sat beside her as she flipped through the guide on the TV, looking for something to catch her attention. “How's everyone over there?” she asked. It was a broad enough question to ask in front of his mom, but Lance knew what she meant.
“Good. Hunk and Pidge aren't coming until Thanksgiving day so they can work on some papers and projects. Keith said his parents are going over to his house for dinner.”
Veronica nodded. She hesitated before her next question. “Are you… gonna go see Coran?”
“Of course. I already told Romelle I'd stop by tomorrow.”
Veronica’s eyes flirted toward the kitchen before her voice dropped. “Does Keith know?”
With a grimace, Lance shook his head. “I'm still… trying to figure out how to explain it all. But I will. Eventually.” Veronica gave him a dubious look and Lance rolled his eyes. “Ma doesn't know anything, does she? About Keith, I mean.”
She shook her head. “I haven't said anything.” Lance nodded and gave her a grateful smile. “I think she's wondering about me though because I keep telling her about all these bisexual singers and actors. She gave me a funny look last time I mentioned Michelle Rodriguez is no. Like come on, she loves those fast and furious movies, and she can't tell?” Lance tried to stifle a laugh at that. “You think you'll tell them this week?”
“God, no. I feel like I'll ruin Thanksgiving.” Veronica gave him a reprimanding look, but before she could protest, he said, “Look, it's that movie you like about the lovebirds with cancer.”
Then, just as he expected, she punched his shoulder. “You can pretend to hate The Fault In Our Stars all you want, but I will always remember how much you cried the first time you watched it,
flaco.”
It was hard trying to get rid of the heavy feeling that came from being home. It wasn’t that Lance didn’t like being home; he loved it. He loved getting a chance to catch up with his siblings over a drink from Starbucks or greeting his dad when he came home from work or just getting the chance to sit with his mom on the couch while she watched recording of her favorite soap opera from the night before. He looked forward to all of it.
He also looked forward to seeing Coran and Romelle. They were like extended family, and they were important to Lance. But there was no denying the melancholy that came from seeing them too. Each time Lance went to see Coran, there were as many tears as there were smiles and laughter.
In short, it was usually emotionally exhausting to be home. If Lance was completely honest with himself, he was also carrying a lot of guilt about Keith. About seeing him behind his parents’ backs, about going to see Coran when he was with Keith, about not telling Keith he was going to be seeing Coran.
He was keeping secrets from Keith, from his family, and it even felt like he was keeping a secret from Allura. The flurry of emotions made it feel like he had so much happening. He tried to remind himself to take it step by step. He just had to get through dinner that night. He could worry about everything else as it happened.
Keith called a little after dinner. Mama was doing dishes and Papa was taking a shower. Veronica was on her computer. Lance ducked into his room and answered with a soft, “
Hola, mi koala.”
He laughed as he heard Keith groan on the other end. “Here I thought we’d gotten rid of that nickname.” Lance rolled his eyes, even though Keith couldn’t see him. “So how’s your first night back home? Are you happy?”
“Yeah, definitely,” he said with all the honesty in the world. “I love coming home to see my family. And it was good. It was a lot of hugs today. I still have to see my brothers, they’ll probably stop by tomorrow. How are things on your end?”
“Well, it hasn’t even been a full day and Shiro’s already teasing me about not being with you. I’m two seconds away from hitting him over the head with a pan.” Lance laughed and shook his head. “Okay, well I just wanted to… you know, check on you.”
“Uh-uh, what were you gonna say?” Lance asked, noting the hesitance and the way the words trailed off.
“Nothing!”
“Liar.”
There was a huff on the other end before Keith answered, “I was just gonna say I wanted to hear your voice….” He said it softly, and Lance felt his cheeks heat up instantly. “Hello?”
“Yeah! I’m here, sorry. Just flustered,” he said with a laugh. “That was… aha, that was unexpected and I’m-
oh my God.”
He smiled at the floor, imagining that Keith’s face might be just as red as his own. “You’re cheesy, you know that?”
“Oh you have
got
to be kidding me, you are way cheesier and-” Lance started laughing too loud to hear what Keith was saying, and eventually Keith joined in. “Yeah. I guess it’s easier to be cheesy with you. But you definitely have me beat in terms of cheesiness.”
“See, now I’m craving pizza.”
“Didn’t you just eat?”
“What’s your point?”
Keith laughed, and Lance could picture him rolling his eyes. “Alright, well, I gotta sit and eat my dinner, so… I’ll talk to you later?”
“Sounds good.
Buenas noches, mi principe,”
he said softly.
He couldn’t help the smile on his face as he laid back on his bed. It was almost unbelievable the way they had changed from the first time they met. Lance still remembered how closed off and cold Keith was at first, how he seemed to be suspicious of everything and anything Lance said or did. He remembered the hesitance in each touch, the caution behind the things he said to Keith.
Now it was so different. He was still Keith, still stubborn, impatient, temperamental at times…. But overall, he was… softer. It was the best word for it. And Lance noticed it was only ever with him. When he was with Shiro, he was a little more playful. When he was with his dance group, he was a little more stoic, still trying to figure out the right way to be their captain.
Meanwhile Lance got to see every shy smile, the blush he stopped trying to hide, the light touches and the way he leaned into Lance’s touch now. He got to see the version of Keith that craved to touch and be touched whether with soft blankets and a movie or under the moonlight that filtered through the window onto his mattress.
The progression was slow, so it took moments like these in which Lance missed him and found himself smiling stupidly at nothing for him to realize how drastically different everything was. And all in a little over two months.
“Whatcha smilin’ at?” Veronica said in a singsong voice. Lance lifted his head and saw her standing at his door.
“Nothing, what’s up?” he asked, the smile still plastered on his face.
Veronica eyed him suspiciously, but she didn’t pry. “Do you wanna watch a movie with me? I’ve been meaning to show you this one I think you’ll love.”
Lance chuckled and nodded. “Sure, let me just get into more comfortable clothes.”
“Sweet, I’ll start the popcorn.”
---
The next day felt like a routine, despite the fact that it had been a few months since Lance had come home. He woke up to the smell of coffee, the sound of his dad leaving for work, the sound of
Despierta America
on the living room TV. He turned over and fell back asleep until Veronica managed to flip him off the bed to wake him up and eat breakfast. Then he caught up on a recording of a soap opera that his mami liked, mostly asking questions because he was completely lost.
By the afternoon, though, he was in his car and driving down the familiar route to Allura’s house. Coran’s house. He parked in the driveway, staring at the large garden beside it, sectioned off by a gate. A metal long chair that had been painted white before was now rusting slightly, but remained sturdy beneath a magnolia tree in the center of the garden. Next to it was a matching cart with a netted pattern.
Lance could almost picture Allura sitting there in her favorite tank top, her paint splattered jeans, and sandals, under the shade of the large leaves and branches. He remembered filling the cart with their books, reading some of each others’ favorites under summer sun or even in the brisk early stages of Texas winter. Glasses of iced tea or fresh
limonada
on the cart in the summer or mugs of
chocolate Abuelita
or
champurrado
in the winter.
At that moment, magnolia leaves were strewn in shades of brown around the garden. The rose bushes were withered from the colder temperatures. The grass was a little overgrown. Lance walked to the gate entrance and took a deep breath.
He went to the door and rang the doorbell, trying to balance out the mix of heaviness and lightheadedness.
It took a few moments before the door creaked open and Lance was staring at a red-haired man dressed like he’d just been at church.
“Lance! My boy, it’s good to see you!” Coran exclaimed, bringing Lance into a hug. He smelled like peppermints and cigars. Lance hugged him back just as tightly. For a second, he thought he felt Coran shaking, but when he pulled back a few moments later, he seemed fine. “I’d begun to wonder about you. Come in, come in!” He ushered Lance inside where flowers lined the large window sill on the wall by the door.
The place hadn’t changed at all. Each time Lance had been there, it looked the same. The one thing that changed was the TV that went from a thick version to a flat screen that was mounted on the wall. And the flowers. The flowers bloomed and sprouted in different intervals, and they were the one sign of change in the house. At that moment, Lance noticed three different pots with the same pink bromeliad flowers- Allura’s favorite. The rest blended them in, but no other flower appeared in more than one pot except those.
Under the television was a long wooden table with a series of photos in addition to those on the walls. Pictures of Allura’s parents, Coran’s late wife, Romelle’s graduation photo, a few photos of her and Allura as kids, a framed art piece Allura had made him, and even a photo of Lance with Allura around Christmas time.
“I’m sorry I didn’t call first,” Lance said as he took a seat on one of the couches.
“Nonsense, you know you’re always welcome. I hate phone calls anyway.” Coran sat on the couch perpendicular to him and took out his cigar kit.
“Romelle’s not home?” Lance knew Romelle hated when Coran smoked inside. Allura hated it too, but Lance knew Coran often smoked when he had the house to himself.
Coran chuckled. “No, you just missed her. She went to the mall with some friends. So tell me, how’s school been? How are your friends?”
“School’s been good. I’ve got mostly A’s, one B. Ready to graduate, I think. One more semester to go. Pidge and Hunk are good. I told them I was coming earlier and they said to tell you hi.” Coran smiled at that. “What about you, how have you been?”
He let out a puff of smoke away from Lance, left to dissipate in the living room. “I’ve been well. Retirement is suiting me. Mostly, I just try to keep busy and tend to the garden and the flowers. Romelle keeps me company in the evenings and television never ceases to amaze me.” Lance laughed, and Coran smiled back at him. “Have you got anything new for me to read?”
That made Lance’s smile drop. “Ah. No…. I haven’t written. Unless you want to read a paper about the efficiency of globalization through media that I did for my history class.”
Coran raised an eyebrow, not laughing at the joke. “Nothing? Not even a haiku?” Lance shook his head sheepishly. “I thought you were starting to consider song-writing.”
“That didn’t last. Not with… everything. I just haven’t been able to write. It’s kind of nice though, I have more time to read.”
Coran regarded him for a while. “My boy, have you put your life on hold?” Lance furrowed his eyebrows, unsure of what he meant. “When I met you, you told me you wanted to be a writer. And you were surprised when I told you to bring me your first published copy and any drafts you wanted another set of eyes for.” It was true. Lance had nervously admitted his career plans, fully expecting to be scoffed at or brushed aside or maybe told to have another option that was more realistic like his father had told him. “If you’re not writing anymore, what are you planning to do?”
Lance sighed and looked away. His eyes landed on the pink flowers by the window. He felt a knot in his throat that made it impossible to breathe or swallow. “It’s just… hard. Once she was gone, I couldn’t write about anything that wasn’t that moment. I was stuck in the misery of losing her for months. I told myself not to write anything about it again, so I could move on-”
“But you haven’t.” Lance’s eyes flickered to Coran, filled with tears that blurred his vision. “You haven’t moved on from that moment. Because that moment is keeping you from writing.”
Lance didn’t respond to that. For a long while, it was silent. Lance didn’t want to talk until he could be certain his voice wouldn’t shake. Coran waited patiently, occasionally puffing on his cigar. It felt like everything was crashing onto him.
He thought of how he hadn’t managed to write anything since he told himself not to write about Allura. About how refusing to write about her felt like an insult to her, but writing about her would feel like an insult to Keith. Then he began to think about those moments when
something
tried to string together in his brain when he was with Keith, but it never managed to form. Because he felt like it would be wrong to turn his poetry to someone new. Because he was terrified Allura would bleed into his words for Keith.
And that spiraled into a heavy feeling of guilt for being in the house he’d spent so much time with Allura in, with their picture staring him in the face, missing her while being involved with Keith. He felt bad for not telling Keith, for not telling Coran that Keith was even in his life. He felt horrible for wishing Allura could be there, holding him, whispering assurances.
His body shook with the effort it took for him not to fall apart. But with the few runaway tears that left wet marks on his jeans served as the breaking of the dam. A few tears turned into an incessant stream of them, and Lance was unable to fathom how his body had managed to break within one moment to the next.
Coran put his cigar away and moved to sit beside him, offering a tissue box. “How do you- how do you do it?” Lance asked between gasps for breath. “I lose Allura and I feel like I’m still trying to piece my life back together. You- you’ve lost so much more, and-” Lance buried his face in his hands. “God, everything just hurts so much.”
“Maybe it’s a survival instinct. I don’t know. Each loss takes a part of me, Lance. You don’t stop missing them. The pain doesn’t go away. You think I don’t still cry for my wife? Or Allura? You think Romelle doesn’t?” Coran sighed and looked down at his hands. “I understand that you’re in pain. And I understand that she’s still in a lot of the things you do. But I worry about you.” Lance looked at him, trying to dry his face with his sleeves. “I worry that you might always live in this loss. You’re so young, you have so much to experience. You have words to write that no one else will ever be able to write. You have a heart that can still welcome someone new. You have so many possibilities that you otherwise close yourself off from. I know in my heart that Allura never wanted that for you.”
“I know she wouldn’t,” Lance whispered. “But I’m… so scared that….” Lance shook his head and wiped at his eyes angrily, only for more tears to fill them. There was too much he was afraid of. He couldn’t fit it into a cohesive sentence.
Coran didn’t say anything. He waited for Lance to figure out his words. He offered tissues when Lance’s own thoughts led to more sudden tears.
“She was one of my best friends,” he whispered, his voice cracking at the end. “I miss her so much.”
“I know,” Coran said. His voice shook, which helped Lance not feel so stupid. “You’re not leaving her behind by living out the rest of your life, my boy. I’m sure that even if you were my age, married, with kids… her memory would still be with you. But it won’t be so painful. It’ll be a comfort.” He placed a hand on Lance’s shoulder. “Her memory isn’t meant to hold you back, you know?”
“But she’s in everything,” Lance said helplessly. “I can’t write without her trying to replace the ink in my pen. Even with someone else-” Lance cut himself off, feeling like he’d said a curse word in church. He looked away and clenched his jaw, willing for Coran not to have heard it.
It was quiet again. But Lance’s panic had taken over, keeping the tears at bay. “Have you started dating again?”
The question sounded… hopeful. Which wasn’t what Lance was expecting. He shook his head. “Not… dating exactly….”
Coran hummed. “But you’ve met someone?”
A feeling of longing filled his chest as he thought of Keith and his wisteria colored eyes. He nodded slowly. “The first person I’ve wanted this badly since I lost Allura.” He let out a humorless chuckle. “When we’re together, I feel normal… okay. Everything’s bright again. I can breathe. But when we’re apart… I feel like I’m constantly holding this voice back, constantly trying to drown it out.”
“Voice?” Lance wasn’t sure how to explain it without sounding like a lunatic. “Is this voice by chance telling you that you shouldn’t be opening up to someone new?”
Lance looked at Coran with tears streaming down his face. He felt like he was collapsing in on himself, and he was only vaguely aware of Coran’s arms around him as he shook. “I loved her,” he sobbed. “I still do, and I don't think it will ever go away. I don't want it to. But I feel like I'm lying or-or hurting someone. If I still love her, how can I let this person into my life, but if I do let him become that someone who I can start over with, does that mean I'm forgetting Allura? How do I even explain, how could any of this ever get answered if she's gone, she's-”
Clean shushed him as he cried into his sweater sleeves, finding it hard to breathe.
“I think it's time I told you what she said to me when she was in the hospital,” Coran said with a voice that was barely a whisper. Lance felt himself shake some more. “Do you remember the day you left to bring her one of her books?”
Lance nodded. “She wanted me to read to her.”
Coran nodded and shifted so he could face Lance better. “She also wanted you out of the room.” Lance frowned, staring at him in confusion. “That day, as soon as you’d left, she turned to me said, ‘Uncle you’ll have to help him.’” Lance started shaking his head stubbornly, his lip quivering as more tears gathered in his eyes. “She said, ‘Don’t let him be alone. Don’t let him forget-’ ah, what was it she’d said?” He thought for a second and smiled. “‘Don’t let him forget how big his heart can be.’” Coran sniffed and wiped at his eyes. “She knew you’d be conflicted the day you fell for someone new. But she said, whenever that happened, I was to tell you it was okay. Because she said anyone lucky enough to experience a taste of your love deserves the full experience. Like she had.”
Lance couldn’t stop gasping for breath. He hadn’t cried this badly since the day of her funeral. He couldn’t even talk, and he couldn’t stop shaking his head. Coran’s calloused hand settled over his own, keeping it from shaking.
“Your heart, and the way you feel things to the fullest is what’s made you a writer, my boy. And I know, just like Allura did, that your heart is big enough to fall in love with someone else without erasing her from it. You deserve to experience those things again, Lance. And this… person must be very special if you’re tearing yourself up this way. But you’ve done nothing wrong. You’ve done exactly what she hoped you would.”
It was exactly the kind of thing Allura would do. She’d tried to tell him herself once, but Lance told her to stop talking like her life was over. He wouldn’t listen to her goodbyes. He refused to hear her talk about Lance being with someone else when he’d already imagined their entire life together. He needed her to believe she would walk out of the hospital too.
But she had made one request. She’d asked Lance to check on her uncle now and then.
“He gets lonely. I don’t want him to be lonely. I told Mellie the same thing. He likes your writing. You should send them to him when you visit home.” Lance had kissed her forehead and promised he would annoy Coran to the ends of his days and she’d giggled at him.
So it made sense that she’d asked Coran to do the same for him.
It took a while before he could compose himself again. A handful of tissues later, he managed to make the tears stop. Now his eyes burned and he kept sniffing, but… there was something peaceful in his heart. He’d asked for some way to know for certain that he didn’t need to feel guilty, and now he had it. In Allura’s own words.
“Funny,” he murmured. “She still knows all the right things to say.”
Coran laughed, and it turned into a half-sob midway. He nodded and wiped at his eyes. “Yes, it would seem so.” He let out a sigh and let the silence settle for a bit. “So what’s his name?”
“What?”
Coran smiled at him. “This person you’ve started to fall for.” Lance stared at Coran, speechless and slightly panicked. His body heat spiked and he tried to figure out something to say.
“H-how-?”
“You mentioned a ‘him’ earlier. Unless I misheard?”
Again, Lance felt like a gaping fish, his mouth opening and closing, trying to figure out what to respond. He could have easily said Coran misheard, like he'd suggested. In fact, a large part of him planned to. The words in his head were
no no no, I said them not him.
Instead what came out of his mouth was, “His name is Keith.”
Coran hummed and raised an eyebrow. “I see. And what do you like about Keith?”
Lance scoffed and sniffed. “Lots of things. I like how his nose scrunches up when he smiles at me. How he's a quiet movie watcher. I like how he plays with my hair sometimes. How stubborn he can be. How sweet he is. He comes off as really distant and y’know this tough guy with a hard exterior….” Lance shook his head and smiled at his hands. “But he's a softie. He likes hugs and he blushes a lot and he saved a puppy from a dumpster then named it Kosmo with a K so it would match his name.” Lance wiped his eyes as he looked across the living room to the photo of him and Allura. “But I feel like I'm still tip-toeing around him sometimes.”
“He doesn't know about Allura?” Now Coran sounded surprised.
Lance shook his head. “I don't know how to tell him. Or when. We'd argued about it before. He didn't know about my poetry and my sister said something and it just spiraled-”
“Well you were keeping something huge from him. You didn't tell him about a huge part of who you are. And now you're not telling him about a huge part of your life. You will always feel like you're holding back if you're not honest, Lance.”
“I know, I know, I….” Lance laughed and put his head in his hands. “You know when I knocked on your door I wasn't expecting to come out to you. Much less for your reaction to be so calm.” He took a deep breath and tried to sit up straighter. “My parents don't even know. They don't know that I'm interested in someone. Much less that it's a boy.”
“Well, yes, coming out can be very difficult. For a number of reasons.”
Lance furrowed his eyebrows and looked at Coran. There was something about the way he said it. About the calmness in his voice when talking to Lance about it. “Are… you…?”
Crow’s feet appeared in the corner of Coran’s eyes. His moustache tried to hide his smile, but the lines of his face gave it away. “High school sweetheart. His name was Alexander Laurens.”
“I- I-” Lance stammered and resorted to nervous laughter. “Oh wow. I mean- I thought….”
“Yes, many people did when I got married. She knew about him. Romelle does too.” Lance laughed, this time more out of shock as he ran his hand through his hair. “You should know, that if anything goes wrong at home, you will always be welcomed here, my boy. But I'm fairly certain it won't come to that.”
The words “thank you” didn’t seem like enough. Not when Coran had said everything Lance needed to hear and more. Not when his company had eased some of the heaviness in his chest from his visit home. Lance hadn’t realized how badly he needed an adult to tell him he was okay, that it was all okay, and it would all
be
okay.
Instead of talking, Lance leaned over and wrapped his arms around him, finding comfort in the peppermint and cigar scent that clung to his clothes. It was a rare thing for someone to say the very words you needed in a moment.
He was allowed to miss her. He was allowed to still love her. And think about her. But he knew she would kick his ass if he let doing those things stop him from living his life as well as he could. He could also let Keith in. He could maybe one day fall in love with him and love him as much as possible without it making his love for Allura any less. He could be happy without being guilty.
“I don’t know how to express what this means to me,” he finally said before pulling back.
Coran smiled at him again and nodded. “I understand. Just keep visiting me. And bring me a poem some time.” Lance chuckled and shrugged, forcing his immediate dismissive response back.
Maybe.
Maybe was better. “In the meantime, come join me in the kitchen. I want to have some food prepared for when Romelle comes and I’d like to hear about your classes as well as this boy.”
He stood up and headed to the kitchen with Lance at his heels. He began taking things out of the fridge and pantry, occasionally having Lance get pans for him or other ingredients he forgot. As Lance told him about the day Veronica met Keith, he peeled potatoes for him.
It was strangely natural talking about Keith to him. There was no faltering in Coran’s responses, no hesitation around the pronouns. He didn’t talk about Keith as much as he wanted to, though. It just didn’t feel right to him to tell Coran all of this when he still hadn’t told his parents.
It was a terrifying idea, of course, but Lance at least wanted to give them a chance. It was nice to have adult validate him this way. To help him feel like this was just another minor detail, not some huge revelation or something to make a big fuss about. It was relaxing. A relief.
After Lance explained the plot of the latest Netflix hit to him, Coran asked, “Are you staying to eat? You can eat now, I’m sure Romelle won’t be too much longer.”
“No, it’s okay. My siblings and I are getting dinner together to catch up before Thanksgiving tomorrow. It’ll be a full house tomorrow.” Lance smiled at him. “And you and Romelle are still invited this year.”
“Oh, I appreciate that, my boy, but it’s fine. Romelle and I have our own little dinner to do.” Lance nodded and started for the front door with Coran. “Give Hunk and Pidge a hug for me when you see them. And don’t forget- my home is always open to you whenever you may need it.”
Lance smiled and and nodded. “Thank you so much. For everything. I really thought this would be the time I came over and didn’t cry.”
Coran laughed lightly and shook his head. “No, no, it’s fine. It’s all part of healing. Have a safe drive, okay? And keep working hard in school.”
“I will. I’ll try to stop by again before I head back, but if not I’ll be back on your doorstep when I get back for winter break.” He waved as he headed out the door. It was significantly colder outside, and he tugged his jacket tighter around himself.
He started his car and waited for it to heat up a little, staring at the garden again. He and Allura used to extend their goodbyes to the gate, smiling and kissing over the top. They always found something to linger a little longer, and Lance always tested how many more goodbye kisses he could get before she laughed and nudged him, telling him to get going before it got dark.
“We’ll have plenty of time for kisses tomorrow,” she’d say with a smile.
Lance smiled at that memory as he took a deep breath. He let it out slowly and shut his eyes. Then he whispered, “I still miss you. I can’t believe you’re still looking out for me,
morena.
” He chuckled and pulled out of the driveway to head back home.
The peace and quiet of the moment didn’t last. As soon as he got home, he heard Marco and Luis arguing over each other with Veronica shouting over them to argue another point. He had no idea what it was about, but the laughter between words and the smiles on their faces told him it was just another round of banter. His mother was standing in the doorway to the kitchen, watching and insisting they lower their voices, but she was also laughing at them.
Once they realized Lance had walked in, they broke away from their argument and greeted him with shouts of, “Hey there he is!” and “
Oye, nunca cambias, flaco!”
His brothers got out from around the table and engulfed him in hugs. The kind of hugs they never used to give each other unless serious things happened. The kind of hugs that become normal after Lance left for college.
Then Marco got him into a headlock and it was like they were little kids again. “Dammit, Marco!” Lance snapped, grunting as he tried to free himself. “You have kids now, man, why are you like this?”
“You’re still my baby brother,
pende-”
“
Oye!
Don’t call your brother that!” Mama snapped immediately, giving Marco a warning glare.
“Sorry, Ma.” Marco turned his attention back to Lance, still keeping him trapped. “So? How’s life our little college boy?”
“How much you got left?” Luis asked.
“I can probably graduate next December. I have senior standing even though I’m a junior.”
“Damn, dude. Not just first gen, but early grad too? Nice.” Luis smiled at him, and Lance noticed a hint of pride in his eyes, similar to when he’d won first place in a swim meet in middle school. Even though he only teased Lance over his speedo.
He smiled back, but was still preoccupied with trying to get Marco to let him go.
“Alright, let him go, I’m hungry,” Veronica said, coming to his rescue. “Anyone else craving pancakes?” A chorus of hungry yeses filled the dining room and Marco finally let go. “Alright, Mami,
al rato llegamos.”
The four of them went over to kiss her cheek before heading out the door with her reminding them to have fun and call if anything happened.
Without fail, they quickly became the loudest table at the nearest Denny’s. It was inevitable with them, laughter and arguments and years of habitual speaking mannerisms. Lance found himself continuously switching between English and Spanish quicker and more often than usual, found himself talking louder than he tended to in school, and even faster than he usually did in English.
It was a moment of relief, of his body and mind realizing he was home.
Marco’s kids were with their maternal grandparents so they could spend all of Thanksgiving with the McClain side the next day. Marco said Nadia had a project in school about what she wanted to be when she grew up and she'd said she wanted to go to a college like her uncle Lance and aunt Vero. Lance tried not to tear up at that, but Luis teased him for the way he choked up at that anyway.
Veronica and Lance talked about their classes and the struggle of finding a job that was flexible enough for bizarre class schedules.
Then Luis brought up his girlfriend and how they were coming up on their one year anniversary soon.
“I was thinking, you know…. I really love her and… I don't know. I think I wanna ask her to marry me.” The clatter of silverware stopped. Chewing stopped. The three other siblings froze, staring at Luis expectantly, waiting for a sign that he might be pulling their leg. Instead, his eyes flickered to each of them. “What? Too soon? You don't like her? What?”
“No, no, no! We love Maya. It’s just.... You’re serious,” Veronica realized. He nodded.
“You’re getting married?” Lance asked. He would be the first. Marco still hadn’t gotten married, and while Mami had been upset about it at first especially when they started having kids, it wasn’t too big a deal. This was huge, especially since Luis was known for never wanting to get married.
“I mean no. Not yet. Not soon. I still need to ask. But it’s… something I’ve considered.”
“Well shit,” Marco said with a laugh as he reached over to punch Luis’ shoulder. “That’s great news, man. Have you told Mama and Papa?”
Luis shook his head. “You guys are the first to know.”
“
Aw!”
Veronica pinched his cheek and he swatted her away.
“Man. It’s so crazy to think that we’re all… grown up, you know? Kids, marriage, college. Shit,” Lance mused, more to himself than anything.
“Yeah, hard to think that 10 years ago you were trying to eat raw
chiles
so you could grow a moustache, huh?” Luis teased.
“That was
your
fault! You said it helped!”
“
No te preocupes, manito,
at least you didn’t wet the bed until you were seven,” Veronica said. Luis covered his face and threw a crumpled up napkin at Veronica.
“You wanna play dirty? Alright, then-”
Instead of catching up, they began reminiscing. All those moments in their childhood when they argued over the remote and didn’t hug because they swore they annoyed each other and taking the last pack of Gusher gummies was the worst thing they could do to each other. Veronica recalled when Lance would braid her hair for school. Marco remembered when Luis had first come home heartbroken over a girl. Luis remembered Lance’s first poetry journal. Lance remembered waking up to Marco putting money under his pillow for his tooth and pretending to still be asleep. They remembered arguments, like when Marco had cut a chunk of Veronica’s hair or when Luis punched Marco in the face in a fight for the first and last time, or when Lance got mad at Marco for coming home late and scaring Mami.
“God bless our parents
,”
Veronica said with a smile and a shake of her head. “We were a handful.” She wiped her mouth with a napkin and stood up. “Be right back.”
As soon as she was gone, Marco kicked his leg under the table. “Okay, you’ve got about three minutes to spill before she gets back.”
“What?”
“Catch us up, man. Latest parties? What happened to that Nyla chick?”
“Nyma? What about her?” His brothers stared at him with confused expressions. “We’re friends.”
“With benefits,” Luis snorted.
“Oh, n-n-no!” Lance shook his head and laughed nervously. “No. That- that ended a while ago.”
Marco raised an eyebrow at him. “Did you go for someone else? Was she trying to be official or something?”
“Wh- no? No, I just… stopped. We’re not doing that anymore, we’re just friends. Really. No new fuck buddy or anything, just….” He shrugged and gestured pointlessly with his hands.
Marco and Luis looked at each other then at Lance. “Oh. Okay then. Cool,” Luis said.
They were awkwardly quiet until Veronica came back a few moments later. “What’s with the weird looks?” she asked.
“Lance has a girlfriend he’s not telling us about,” Marco supplied. Veronica choked on her water and spit it back into her cup.
“What? No I don’t!”
“Well
someone
made you want to settle down and stop all the flings, so if you’re not dating her, you’re at least very interested in her,” Marco said. Luis nodded in agreement. “So… what’s her name? Is she in your class?”
Lance wanted to scream. He wanted to flip the fucking table. He hated the panic that infiltrated his chest the second people started throwing female pronouns around. He hated that the default expectation was that he’d be with a girl. He hated that he felt frozen under their eyes, teasing without realizing the actual fear and anxiety they just unleashed in him.
Without another word, he stood from the table and bolted. He noticed a few other people at different tables glance over at him, and the awkward hush that had fallen over his own table. But he kept walking. The anxiety in him was manifesting as energy he needed to let out, and if that meant opening the door a little too hard, then so be it. He went outside and walked around to the side of the diner to sit on the curb.
He put his head in his hands and tried to take a deep breath. In that moment, he wanted to talk to Keith. He wanted to hear his voice and let it wash over him and calm him down. He wanted his hugs, and that reassuring kiss he liked to give him on his forehead before using his thumb to smooth out the crease between his eyes.
But Keith wasn’t there. That was the hard reality, and wishing for him after being too scared to tell his brothers about him felt stupid. His mind began racing with worst case scenarios.
What if Marco kept the kids away from him? What if they cancelled on Thanksgiving dinner? What if Luis stopped talking to him and didn’t even invite him to the wedding?
Were those things Lance could actually imagine his brothers doing? No. Not after all those laughs as the ate pancakes at eight o'clock at night. Not after all those memories and the hugs they gave him when they first saw him. But they were very real fears in his heart. He had no idea what his family thought of same-sex relationships. For all he knew, it could be the worst imaginable thing to them.
“Lance?” He tensed when he felt a hand on his shoulders. Veronica sat beside him and he could hear Luis and Marco’s steps as they stood behind them. “
Flaco,”
she insisted, tugging at his shoulder gently.
He took a breath and picked his head up. “Yeah. Yeah?”
Veronica’s eyes held everything. The worry, the understanding, the promise of a secret. Even the apologies on behalf of their brothers because they didn’t know any better at that moment.
“We weren’t trying to upset you, man. We were just messing around,” Marco said behind him.
“Yeah. We didn’t even think it might have bothered you because of Allura. We didn’t know you went to see Coran until Vero told us,” Luis added.
“That’s not-” Lance sighed and swallowed his words. He wasn’t angry with his brothers. They didn’t know. How were they supposed to? It was… everything else. Everything he didn’t want to explain to them the night before Thanksgiving. “I know. It’s cool, don’t worry about it. I didn’t mean to… barge out like that.”
“Come on. Yeah you did,” Luis said with a smile. “You’ve always had a flair for the dramatic.”
Lance chuckled at that and Marco sat beside him on the curb. “We’re sorry for pushing.”
“It’s cool. It’s what siblings do,” Lance said. He felt Veronica squeeze his shoulder again. “Sorry for… ruining the mood.”
“Ah, family gathering are never really family gatherings without an awkward moment, right?” Marco said. “Come on, let’s get back to Mami’s.”
They got off the ground and Luis threw an arm around his shoulders, jostling him playfully. “We good?” Lance smiled and nodded. “Cool. And hey, next time we’re pushing too much… just tell us, okay? We’ll stop.”
Once again biting his tongue, Lance faked a smile and nodded. “Okay. I will. Thanks.”
Despite the fact that his brothers apologized and had picked the banter back up in the car, Lance’s heart wasn’t in it. He was too wrapped in his own head now. He passed it off as being tired, and his brothers pretended to believe it.
They left a little later, and Lance quickly dashed into the shower before going to bed so he could avoid anymore heart to heart talks. As he laid in bed, he checked his phone and saw a text from Keith.
Hey pretty boy. Haven’t heard from you today you doing okay?
Lance smiled to himself, his heart fluttering. A check up text wasn’t something Keith would’ve sent when they first met. It was nice to know Lance was important to him now.
Yeah, im good babe. Sorry. Just been all over the place today visiting people and all. How was your day?
Lance stayed up a few more hours talking with Keith. For those moments, secluded in his room with Keith keeping him company through the phone, Lance felt better. He wasn’t so focused on the anxiety of coming out to brothers and his parents. He wasn’t worried about what would happen after. He was just there, smiling at the things Keith said, and feeling flustered beyond belief.
He started falling asleep at some point, and barely managed to send a goodnight text before his eyelids became too heavy.
The following day, like any holiday in the McClain household, everyone was up before nine. Lance wasn’t particularly fond of it, but Veronica loved the chance to toss him onto the floor to wake him up. After eating some
carnitas
his dad brought home, his mama and Veronica started cleaning the house while his papa whisked him away to the yard.
“Wanna clean out the garage or mow the lawn?” he asked as he opened the garage door.
“I can mow,” Lance offered. His dad smiled and rolled the lawn mower out. Before Lance even managed to get it going, he saw his dad bring out a cooler. “Pa, you know Mami doesn’t like for you to drink when we’re gonna have a big dinner,” Lance shouted over the motor.
His dad conveniently pretended not to hear him.
After mowing the grass, Lance still had to help with what was left of the garage. But his dad also let him sneak a beer of his own while they worked. Lance listened to his father sing along with a booming voice to the Spanish music on the speaker he had. It was fun to see because his dad liked to dance in place sometimes as he cleaned, his feet skidding along to the music. Lance knew it was one of the things that swept his mom off her feet. She loved how he danced, how he could twirl and spin her to the songs that played endlessly. He’d heard her tell the story of falling in love with him.
“Pa?” His dad hummed in question before drinking more out of his beer bottle. “How’d you fall for Mami?”
“
Como?
Where did that come from?”
Lance shrugged. “She always talks about how you’d take her dancing on dates. I’ve heard her version of how she fell in love, but I never asked yours.”
His papa chuckled as he swept some of the mess out of the garage. “Well. I met her at a dance.” Lance knew that much. “She was in a pretty sparkly dress. You know how she loves sparkles.” Lance laughed and nodded. “Her hair though. All the girls had their hair curled, or tied up in a bun or in
trenzas.
Not your mom. Your mom had her hair loose, no braids, no curls. Just long, brown hair over her shoulders. I saw her and… I don’t know. I couldn’t look away.
Algo de ella como que….
I just had to talk to her.” Lance looked up from the trash he was gathering to look at his father.
There was a fond look in his eyes. A look that told Lance he was still just as in love as he had been when he was younger. A smile that made Lance long for that kind of connection.
“So I did. I asked her to dance, and she said yes. The smile on her face each time I spun her was the most beautiful smile I’d seen in my life. We got some food from a food truck by the club we were at with the friends we went with. She kept laughing at everything I said, and I wasn’t even making jokes!”
Lance smiled as he thought of the way his mom described the same moment. She’d said his father kept using all these flirty lines on her that she couldn’t take seriously. But she liked the way he made her laugh.
“Her laugh was more beautiful than her smile. And I decided right then that I wanted to hear it again and again and again.”
“You knew that fast that Mami was the one you’d marry?” Lance asked.
“No. I knew she was the one I wanted to marry the day we had our first big fight.” Lance furrowed his eyebrows. He hadn’t heard this part. “
Me gustaba andar de mujeriego.
At least until I met your mom. Well, one girl that lived a block away from me wasn’t very happy with that, and she made a big scene at my house while your mom was visiting. We’d been dating about six months. We ended up arguing that day. Really badly.” He shrugged and took a breath as he leaned against the broom handle. “I realized that even though we were mad at each other, and even though we said stupid things, I still wanted to be with her and only her. So I went to talk to her the next day and apologized. I proposed two months later.”
Lance let out soft laugh as he stared at his father. He couldn’t believe that. He couldn’t believe the way people could make things work so fast. It was the kind of stuff that happened in TV shows, and yet it happened to his parents. “Wow. So you were a player, huh, Pa?”
His dad laughed heartily and shook his head. “Answers vary.”
“Oh yeah? How so?”
“I would say yes. Your mami would say it was all talk.” Lance laughed and figured that sounded about right. “
Orale, pues,
stop trying to get out of cleaning. We’re almost done,
m’ijo.”
Lance rolled his eyes, and nodded before taking the trash out to the bin. They snuck another beer in before going back inside once they were done. The smell of Fabuloso permeated the entire house. The kitchen was pristine, and there was music playing on the speaker in the living room. He could hear his mom and sister singing along to Enrique Iglesias from different parts of the house.
Then Veronica came from the hallway with her hair up in a ponytail and pushed back with a headband.
“How do you get sweaty from mopping?” Lance asked, noting the way her baby curls stuck to her forehead. Her eyes narrowed, and he immediately regretted speaking. “Never mind, never mind, I’m sorry!”
“Uh-huh. Here, take this bathroom trash out.” She gave him the the bag and turned back down the hallway. Lance grimaced, but took it out quickly before getting back inside.
With the garage, lawn, and house as clean as possible, they took turns taking a shower and getting ready. Mami and Veronica had to be first because they had to do their hair and their makeup. Lance was next because even though he didn’t use makeup, he did like to mess with his outfit and his hair. Papa was always the quickest to get ready, so he was the last.
The turkey had been in the oven, and by the time Lance went to shower, the other side dishes were quickly made. About an hour later, Marco and his kids arrived. Then Luis with his girlfriend, Maya. Lance figured this was Luis’ way of alluding to the fact that he was thinking about marriage since he knew Mami had a rule about bringing people home.
Nadia and Sylvio were very excited to see Lance, and they immediately tackled him onto the couch to hug him and torment him in the way six year old twins do.
“Uncle! Uncle look! My toof fell out!” Nadia said, sliding her tongue where her canine tooth should’ve been.
“Oh! It did! Gonna call you
Chimuela
now.
Te trajo dinero el ratón?”
he asked. Nadia nodded and held up her five fingers to show she had five dollars. “That’s awesome!”
“Uncle Lance, look, I got Pikachu on Pokemon Go!” Sylvio said, showing him the phone he’d been given for his birthday from his mom’s side. He showed Lance the catalog of pokemon he had caught and how he named them all different things, speaking through a congested nose.
Luis and Maya brought a green bean casserole and mofongo stuffing. Meanwhile Marco brought flan and a chocolate cake which he’d made with the kids. It was kind of funny seeing the mix of American and Hispanic foods. As the placemats were being set up and plates were taken out so people could serve themselves, and the food was arranged, Lance felt his phone vibrating in his pocket.
He pulled it out to see Keith’s caller ID. He answered with a questioning, “Hello?”
“Hey, pretty boy.” Oh, how Lance missed that voice. A smile immediately stretched across his face. “Busy?”
“We’re getting ready to eat. What about you?”
“Uncle Lance, are you gonna eat my cake?” Slyvio asked.
“Yeah, little man of course. I just gotta eat real food. I’ll be right back, okay?” Sylvio nodded and Lance went out the front door so he could hear without the sound of his very loud family distracting him. He went to lean against the tailgate of his dad’s work truck. “Hey, sorry. Hispanic families getting ready to eat are always kind of hectic.”
“It’s okay,” Keith answered with a light laugh. “It’s good that you’re having a good time. We actually already ate, and they’re getting ready for Black Friday.” Lance grimaced and groaned, which made Keith laugh a little more. “Yeah, I know. We’re those people. But anyway, I don’t want to keep you from your family and your food for too long, so…. Uh, I just wanted to let you know that…. Well, I know it’s not exactly the most romantic holiday or anything, but… I’m thankful for you this year. For sticking around and… you know, proving me wrong in the best ways.” Lance couldn’t think for a moment. He was rendered speechless. “I’m sorry, that was cheesy, I-”
“No, no, no, no!” Lance interrupted. “No! No, it was… it was really sweet,” Lance answered, laughing and blushing. He kicked at the ground and looked up at the dark sky. “I’m just processing it. I’m not used to you saying stuff like that. But I like it.” Lance took a deep breath and shut his eyes. “I’m thankful for you too, you know?”
“Yeah?” Keith asked. Lance could hear the nervousness even in the laughter he used to try and cover it up.
“Of course. I’m thankful that…. Look, you’re…. I know you don’t really know the whole story, but you’re….” He sighed and opened his eyes. He ran a hand through his hair and stared out at the street.
He must have been quiet for too long, because Keith nervously asked, “You still there?”
“Yeah! Yeah, I’m here. Sorry. Words haven’t been my forte lately.” He let out another shaky breath. “Listen. You don’t know the whole extent of it, but… believe me when I say you’re really important to me. Everything we have…. Keith, I never thought something like this would happen after… my last relationship. So yeah, I’m thankful for you too. And everything you don’t even know you’ve done for me.”
There was a soft sigh on the other end. “Yeah, I know the feeling,” Keith whispered. “I… I miss you.”
Lance smiled and felt the knot in his throat dissolving slightly. “I miss you too.”
“Okay, okay, I don’t want to keep you. Call me if you can later tonight. Or just text me. Enjoy your food, okay?”
“Okay I will. Bye, enjoy the Black Friday shopping.” Keith let out a groan which made Lance laugh before he said bye and hung up. Lance hung up and smiled at the sky for a second before he turned to head back up the driveway to the front door. Only to freeze when he saw Luis standing next to the truck, looking like a deer in headlights.
For a second they just stared at each other. Lance’s entire body felt like ice. Something about the look on Luis’ face told him he hadn’t just come out of the house.
“Luis. Wh-What are you doing? How long have you- how long-? What did you-?” Panic flared in his body, compelling him to get on the defensive. “What the hell did you hear, Luis!”
Luis didn’t answer, his mouth opening and closing like he didn’t want to speak. Suddenly Lance couldn’t breathe. He physically couldn’t hold enough air in his lungs. His brain couldn’t think enough to process the fact that he needed to breathe, and words kept trying to tumble out, robbing him of more breath as the panic rose in him until he was stammering with tears in his eyes.
“Whoa, hey,” Luis said, gripping his face with one hand. His fingers dug into his cheeks, and Lance still couldn’t stop hyperventilating, couldn’t stop trying to simultaneously think of a way out of this and try to figure out what Luis had heard. “Lance!” Everything was blurry and confusing and Lance was certain the ground was moving under him. He was vaguely aware of Luis’ hand gently slapping his cheek several time to get him focus. “Lance! It’s okay, hey, you’re alright, it’s okay, look at me.” Lance finally managed to shut his mouth. “You’re shaking, man.” Luis’ hand moved to grip the back of his neck, steadying him. “I got you. It’s alright, Lance.”
“Y-You’re not supposed to eavesdrop on people, you asshole,” Lance managed to say, his words practically tumbling over each other.
Luis brought him into hug. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry, I know, I’m so sorry.” Luis hugged him until he was able to regain some type of slower rhythm to his breaths. “I was just… I didn’t think….” Luis sighed and pulled away, keeping his hands firm on Lance’s shoulders. “Don’t cry,
manito.
I’m sorry. This should’ve been something you told me when you were ready. We thought you were hiding a girlfriend, and I was just gonna tease you, I didn’t mean to….” He shook his head. “I’m so sorry, Lance. I won’t say anything, I promise.”
“Oh my God,” Lance breathed out. “Am I still invited to the wedding?”
“What?”
Lance shook his head. “I thought you’d be mad, or…. I don’t know, I was scared you wouldn’t invite me, or… I don’t know, Luis, I was scared-”
“
Ey, calmate.
C’mon. Of course you’re invited. I need my best man there.” Lance stared at him with wide eyes. “I was… planning on asking differently, but hey. Obviously shit changes…. Partners in crime, right? Ride or die?”
“Really?”
Luis nodded and gave him a sad smile. “I’m not mad, man. Why would I be mad? A little… surprised. I need to… wrap my head around it, but…. It’s
okay,
Lance. Come on, don’t cry. You know Mami’s gonna ask questions if you do. Come on, it’s Thanksgiving, we got food we gotta eat, okay?” Lance nodded, still shaky and uncertain. “I won’t say anything. And whenever you’re ready, we’ll talk more about all of this.” Lance nodded again, and wiped his eyes with the back of his hand. “Come on.” Luis threw an arm over his shoulder and led him back to the door.
When they got back inside, everyone was still talking over each other, trying to get the kids food while also getting their own and figuring out the seating at the table. Luis tousled his hair lightly before blending into the chaos. He grabbed a plate and led his girlfriend to the table. Lance managed to grab a minimal amount of food since his nervousness and the fear that had coursed through him diminished his hunger significantly.
When he sat down, everyone had to wait until everyone had their food and was seated so they could say a prayer before eating. Mami led it, of course, and once “
amen”
was said, everyone immediately started eating. It seemed that Luis had mentioned Maya coming to dinner before because Mami wasn’t surprised about it. But it seemed she might have caught on a bit to what was going on because most of her focus was on Maya.
That was fine by Lance. He was still trying to gather himself. Veronica was busy with the kids, and Marco was talking to their papa. Once most of the food was gone and all that littered the table were beer bottles and soda cans, the kids started watching a movie in the living room while the adults talked at the table. Lance busied himself by gathering the trash and arranging the dishes so they didn’t look so intimidating in the sink. Before he could decide to just go ahead and wash them to give himself more time to get over his shock, Veronica pulled him aside.
“Hey,
flaco,
you okay? You barely spoke during dinner, and you hardly ate.” Lance nodded. “What’s wrong?” Her voice lowered. “Did something happen with Keith?”
He shook his head, then looked at her. “Luis found out. About Keith. He called me earlier and Luis overheard. He’s cool with it, I’m just… still reeling from everything”
Veronica’s eyebrows went up as her jaw fell open. “Oh shit.” She turned to look into the dining room where the others were still talking and joking loudly. “H-How do you feel?”
“I’m fine,” Lance snapped. Then he sighed. “I’m sorry. I’m fine. I’m just trying to catch up. I wasn’t expecting it and I wasn’t expecting for this to happen today, and I wasn’t expecting the reaction.” He scratched his head nervously. “And now I keep thinking about how to tell everyone else.” He took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “I just need to distract myself.” Veronica bit her lip and hesitated. “What?”
She winced and shrugged. “It’s just. Usually when you got anxious about something, you would write. Maybe you should try that.”
Lance grimaced and stared at his hands. “Maybe. I think I'll check on Hunk and Pidge first. I haven't heard from them.” Veronica sighed, but pretended to believe Lance's lie. She smiled and then took the cake to the table.
Lance went into the living room to hang out with Nadia and Sylvio as he texted his friends. He didn't want to tell them about the emotional exhaustion he was feeling. He just wanted to catch up with his friends. He wanted to hear about the scientific argument Pidge’s family had because that's what their dinner talk typically consisted of, if not about some recent study. He wanted to hear about the newest recipe Hunk learned that day because his mom and sister always had a new thing to teach him when they had holiday dinners.
Nadia tugged on his arm at some point when the group chat was making plans to go see a movie when they got back from break.
“Tio, can you make me a braid like Elsa? Papi didn't know how to, and I got a
chongo.
”
Lance chuckled and gestured for her to sit in front of him. “Sure thing, Chimuela.”
As Lance work on getting Nadia's long hair into a braid, Sylvio peeked up from his phone. “Uncle Lance, how do you do that? Who taught you?”
“Your abuelita. Wanna learn?” Sylvio hesitated before sitting next to Lance and watching. “See, you take some more hair and add it, then loop it under here, like this.” Lance went slower so Sylvio could see until he finished the braid and Nadia stroked it happily. “Maybe next time Sylvio can do it for you,” Lance said. “I used to do them for Tia Vero.”
“I won't be able to do them like you though, Uncle Lance.”
“That's okay,” Nadia said. “Tio, can we play the PlayStation? I wanna play Minecraft.”
“Plants vs. Zombies is better,” Sylvio argued.
Lance stopped them before they could start arguing. “We can play both, yeah? Each one for a little bit.” They nodded and Lance set up the game for them.
It was funny how much better these six year olds were than him. And they had no problem teasing him about it. So while his dad and brothers went to keep drinking in the garage, and his mom, sister, and future sister-in-law talked over coffee and cake, Lance distracted himself by playing with his niece and nephew. They made him laugh and kept him busy by forcing him to play the game or rambling about something that they were learning in school or TV shows they liked.
“You're really good with kids,” he heard. Lance glanced over at Maya who was smiling at the television.
“Ah, thanks. Mami says Luis and I never grew up.”
“You're telling me. Luis still gets excited when the ice cream truck drives by.” Lance laughed at that shrugged. “Well hey, let me know if you want us to take them off your hands, okay? The guys are all outside.”
“Oh, it's cool. Thanks, Maya.”
She nodded and went into the kitchen. Lance looked at his niece and nephew. They were both leaning forward as they played. Something heavy settled in his chest.
Fear was exhausting. When he started liking Keith, he didn't expect all of these anxieties and worries to come with it. He hadn't thought about it. Maybe that was on purpose in a way. Not thinking about having to come out and what to do if it went wrong let him focus on Keith. On getting to know him and falling for him a little more each day.
Now though, the reality was right in his face. He imagined his mami crying, his father screaming, Nadia and Sylvio confused because they weren't allowed to see their uncle anymore.
But he'd thought of worst case scenarios with Vero and Luis. And they didn't happen. His brother and sister accepted him, still loved him, and they would support him. Maybe with Luis and Veronica to help, he would be able to tell Marco too. And if things got more serious with Keith, he'd find a way to tell his parents.
Distracted by looping thoughts, Lance hadn’t noticed the hours pass by. He was both hypnotized by the cycle of video games and occasional outbursts from Nadia and Sylvio and absorbed by his own thoughts and scenarios. He kept thinking of different ways to say it. To bring it up. Kept thinking of the repercussions from the very best- a party thrown in celebration which Lance knew was definitely not going to happen- to the very worst. He didn’t particularly like indulging in the worst. He tried to simply hope that if the very best scenario couldn’t happen, then the worst couldn’t either.
It was well past midnight by the time Marco came back inside to say goodbye. He started saying goodbye to the women at the table, then he moved to the living room to get his kids. Lance spread his arms over Nadia and Sylvio’s sleeping bodies, playfully glaring up at Marco.
“You sober?” Marco rolled his eyes and nodded. “Walk a straight line with your finger on your nose.”
“Oh my God, Lance-”
“Do it!” Marco scoffed, but a smile tugged at his lips as he walked a straight line across the living room. Then he spread his arms as if to ask,
Well?
Lance hummed. “How much did you drink?”
“Lance, I’m fine,” Marco said with a laugh. “I had a beer during dinner, then two more outside. I haven’t had a beer since before midnight, and I haven’t even gotten tipsy. Dad on the other hand is already belting out his songs and talking about his childhood, so.... Gimme my kids, asshole.”
“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” Lance said. “I can help carry them.” Marco picked Nadia up and Lance took Sylvio.
“You braided her hair?” Marco noted. Lance nodded, grimacing as he waited on the teasing. When he would braid Veronica’s, Marco always teased him for it because it was girly until their mama got him in trouble for it. Instead, Marco asked, “You think you could teach me before you go back to school? She always asks me to try and I tried YouTube, but it’s confusing as shit. I’m kind of embarrassed to ask Mami.”
Lance smiled and nodded. “Yeah, I can show you. If you don’t mind being girly.” Marco rolled his eyes and smiled back. Nadia and Sylvio only woke up for a brief second to shift in their seats to sleep better when they strapped them in. “Alright, I’ll see you later, Marco.”
“Bye,
flaco.
I’ll text when I’m home.” Lance hugged him before he got into the car and watched him drive off.
He walked over to the garage where Luis was laughing and singing along with their dad. “
Te va pegar la cruda, Pa,”
Lance said, as his father sang dramatically in response to the light chiding.
“That’s why your mami hid another carton in the house. Tomorrow’s remedy!” He laughed and kept singing, which made Lance laugh.
He looked at Luis, feeling a little awkward and unsure. “How drunk are you?”
“Just a little tipsy,” he said with a smile. “Most of these are Pa’s bottles. But I might head out with Maya soon.” Lance opened his mouth, and Luis interrupted him. “Don’t worry she’s driving.” Lance chuckled and nodded. “Man, three years of college and still the same you, huh?”
Lance smiled and sat next to him. “Shit, they showed one drunk driving video in high school and I got traumatized.”
Luis chuckled, but before their conversation could continue, their dad belted a chorus of the song playing on the speaker.
Then he turned to Lance and started rambling, all in Spanish like he tended to do when he was drunk. He told Lance not to give up on school, that he had so many opportunities, that he was a role model for Marco’s kids. It was the same stuff Lance was used to hearing from him anytime he drank more than he should’ve. He shared a look with Luis as they held back their laughter.
“
De que se rien?
I’m serious. I don’t know about all this writing stuff, but you’re in there. You already got more chances to do something than me and your mami.” Lance kept smiling, reminding himself that it was fine if his dad didn’t see the importance of writing. “
Nos vas a hacer muy orgullosos, m’ijo.”
He continued singing under his breath, suddenly staring out at the driveway as though in contemplation.
Lance sighed and looked down smudging a puddle of spilled beer with the toe of his shoe. Luis nudged him and furrowed his eyebrows, his head bobbing only slightly in question. Lance shook his head and gave him a fake smile. Luis didn’t seem to buy it, but he didn’t press either.
Proud. He was gonna make his family proud. That word was suddenly a lot heavier as an LGBT first-gen Latino than it was when he was just a first-gen Latino.
He saw Luis foot scooting closer until he was obnoxiously hitting it against Lance’s. He looked up with a quirk of his eyebrow. Luis leaned over and said, “Just so you know, you’ve already made us proud,
huesos.”
Lance clenched his jaw to get a grip on the knot building in his throat. He smiled at his brother and nodded. “Thanks, Luis.”
Luis squeezed his shoulder then stood up to face their dad. “Pa, I gotta go, I’ll see you later, alright?” Lance got up and quickly followed after Luis as he went inside. As Luis hugged and said goodbye to Veronica and Mami, Lance worked on calming his nerves.
Once Luis got to him, Lance interrupted before he could start saying goodbye. “Actually. I was wondering if…. Okay, so, um. I wanna tell Marco… y’know since you and Vero know-”
“Veronica knows?” he exclaimed. Lance shushed him, but thankfully Maya was occupying Mami’s attention enough to where she didn’t notice. Veronica did though.
She frowned and walked over to them. “What about me?”
With a groan, Lance said, “Yes. Vero knows. But the point is, I was hoping… maybe you guys could be with me when I tell Marco.”
Vero and Luis shared a look. “I mean, yeah. But what, you think you’ll need us as bodyguards or something?” Luis asked.
“N-no. More just… for support, I guess. He’s probably coming tomorrow so… I don’t know maybe we could go somewhere or….”
“We’ll be there,” Vero promised. “And it’s gonna be fine,
flaco.”
Lance winced and shrugged. Worst case scenarios. Best case scenarios.
“Yeah, we’ll be there.” Luis hugged Lance tightly, for a little longer than their hugs usually lasted. “I love you, Lance. We all do.” Lance sighed and nodded into his shoulder. “I’ll see you tomorrow then, yeah?” Luis tousled his hair again before getting to the door with Maya.
They waved and went out the door. Lance took a breath and Veronica playfully nudged his shoulder. She smiled at him, and Lance figured that with two siblings who supported him, things would be okay.
Their mom went outside to sit with their dad, while Lance and Veronica cleared out the trash. Tomorrow would be another cleaning day, at least in the morning. Shortly after, Lance saw his parents come back inside. They wished them goodnight and went to their room. Veronica started going into hers, but Lance stopped her.
“Could you help me with something?”
She raised an eyebrow. “With what?”
He bit his lip nervously. “Could you help me search up the terms? I’ve been a little freaked out to because of the labels and… I don’t know I felt like I wasn’t allowed because Keith is the first guy I like and…. I don’t know. But I wanna figure it out so I know what to say and how to explain it.”
Veronica smiled at him and nodded. “Yeah, let’s do our research,
manito.”
She gestured for him to go into her room and started her laptop up.
--
The next day, Marco came over after he got out of work. Luis showed a little after, just in time for dinner. Lance couldn’t bring himself to eat with how nervous he felt. He kept going over what he planned on saying in his head, and even practiced his responses to each possible reaction.
It almost felt like being a kid again. With his siblings at the table, reaching over each other for lime, salt, salsa, napkins, a refill. With his dad half watching the Discovery Channel in Spanish, half cracking jokes that no one laughed at until they did. With his mom chiding them over talking more than eating and claiming their dad was more like a kid than an adult, but still laughing at the things they said.
Meanwhile, Lance was quiet, moving his food around and occasionally eating like he used to when he was upset with his school report card. Feeling like a kid made him wonder why he never knew about this part of himself when he was a kid, but he stopped that train of thought immediately. He didn’t need another thing to have a crisis about.
When dinner was over, Veronica suggested going for coffee. Luis offered to drive. Marco agreed only if he was in charge of music. Lance simply followed behind them, his hands in his pockets to keep them from shaking.
The car ride consisted of songs from Lance’s childhood- early 2000s pop, hip-hop, and rock that had Veronica and Luis singing along through laughter. Veronica took Lance’s hand and held it through their mini-concert until they got to the cafe. It was the same one Lance had met with Romelle at.
It had been so much easier to tell her. Lance didn’t even think twice before telling Hunk and Pidge. Meanwhile, with his siblings, the same people who had grown up with him and knew him better than anyone…. Each time he’d had to come out to them, he felt like he couldn’t breathe.
Lance waited until everyone had a coffee. They sat at a table in the far corner of the cafe. It wasn’t too busy, so it felt private enough. Luis and Veronica filled the time with idle chatter, occasionally glancing over at Lance like they wanted a cue.
Then Marco said, “Alright, what gives? Lance you’re always talking non-stop, and I haven’t heard a word from you since you said hi to me when I got to Mami’s. And these two didn’t object to my choosing the music at all. What’s going on?”
Veronica and Luis sat back in their chairs, exposed. Lance looked at Marco and talked himself through breathing.
He gulped and tried sitting up straight. “I have to tell you something.” Marco frowned and crossed his arms. “I don’t know how you’ll take it, but…. I wasn’t planning on saying anything yet, but then I figured why not. I mean I’m going to at some point, so… I may as well, right?”
Marco glanced at Luis in confusion, but Luis wasn’t looking at him. Marco’s attention returned to Lance. “Okay, what the fuck? What’s going on? Are you sick or something?”
“No! No, I’m not….” Another deep breath. He shut his eyes and let the words settle on his tongue. He was so tired. “Marco, I’m seeing a guy.”
When there was no response, he opened his eyes and saw Marco looking at him with narrowed eyes. His eyes slowly went to Veronica, then to Luis. Then back to Lance. Marco’s arms unfolded and he gave a slight nod. “Okay…. Is that it?”
Lance’s eyebrows went up. Veronica let out a nervous laugh. Luis slouched in his seat. Of all the scenarios Lance thought of, he hadn’t thought of this one, as normal as it seemed to come off.
“Wait…. What?”
Marco shrugged and gestured at Lance. “Man,
culero,
you got me over here thinking you murdered someone or something, this is a fucking relief.” Veronica laughed a little louder and Luis joined in. Lance was still in shock, but he was able to let himself smile.
“So you don’t… you don’t care? Than I’m… uh… pan?” That was the first time Lance used the label out loud. It sent a funny feeling through him body.
“You’re a pan?” Marco repeated.
Lance rolled his eyes. “Pansexual. I… I looked up some stuff with Vero because I didn’t know what label to use, and… it’s the one that felt the most fitting. It just means-”
“Romantic or sexual attraction to a person regardless of gender or sex,” Luis intervened. He smiled when the three of them fixed him with a surprised look. “I wanted to make sure I didn’t ask anything stupid, so… I did some research when I got home. My guess was between bi or pan, so… I was right.”
Lance couldn’t help but break into a smile.
“Alright, but hold up,” Marco snapped. Lance looked at him nervously, expecting a lecture. “I’m the last to know? What the hell, man, I’m the oldest!”
“I was scared you’d want to keep Nadia and Sylvio away from me or something.”
The playfulness in Marco’s eyes melted. The laughter was gone. Marco sighed and pushed his coffee aside to lean on the table, his hands interlocked in the center. “Lance. You are my baby brother. You’re the same kid I nearly beat a 12 year old for when I was 17 because you came home with a split lip. The same brother I binged cartoons with even though I thought I was too old for them. The same brother who was so excited to see Nadia and Sylvio the day they were born, you practically ran through the whole hospital and cried when I said you were too young to be godfather.” Marco reached over and grabbed his hand. “You’re the same brother I’ve picked fights with, teased, defended, laughed with, and cried with. You are still
you.
You loved a girl. You like a boy. That doesn’t change the fact that I love you. And it definitely won’t make me keep the kids from you. You’re a good uncle Lance. If anything, you’re gonna be able to show my kids that they can be whoever they want, and that they can embrace it. You’re gonna teach them to take chances and how to be brave.”
The tears streaming down Lance’s face were expected. Though Lance had expected them to be out of pain or hurt. Instead, he was crying from a mixture of relief and the emotions that came from hearing what his brother saw in him. Veronica was crying too, but she was catching each tear before they had a chance to trail down her face. Luis put a hand on Lance’s shoulder and shook him gently.
“I told you that you already made us proud, Lance.”
Marco nodded, clenching his jaw and squeezing Lance’s hand slightly before he pulled back and took a break.
“Oh come on, Marco!” Veronica said, shoving him. “You know you want to cry,
deja de aguantarte.”
Marco scoffed, but sure enough, tears filled his eyes.
The siblings laughed nervously, and Lance tried to get a grip on himself so he could talk. “I know we’re Latinos and we’re not supposed to have heart to hearts,” he started, earning a laugh from his siblings. “But I really can’t thank you guys enough.” He’d planned to say more, but his voice broke and he had to hold back another slew of tears.
“Fuck it,” Marco muttered. He got up, dragging Veronica with him and came around the small table to engulf Lance in a hug. Luis stood up, and Lance was immediately surrounded by all three of his siblings’ warmth. He felt Veronica kiss his forehead, could feel Luis’ hand wrapped tightly around his arm, and Marco was holding them all together. “But seriously, nobody scare me like that again, Jesus Christ.”
They laughed and broke apart to take their seats again. Lance wiped at his eyes, half-laughing at himself. All that worry and fear felt far away now that he could see his siblings smiling and laughing around him.
“So, you gonna tell us his name?” Marco asked.
“Or tell us how this happened?” Luis added.
Veronica grabbed his arm. “
Show them a picture.”
There were so many emotions built up in Lance’s chest, ranging from relief to love. His cheeks hurt from smiling and his breaths were shaky from the release of all the anxiety. “Alright, alright. Hold on.” Lance grabbed his phone and scrolled through the pictures on his phone. He showed them the one he managed to snap of Keith when they were on the ferris wheel. “His name is Keith. I met him at a party-”
“Well, some things never change,” Luis mumbled. Lance rolled his eyes and nudged him. “So… you just met him and were into him? No… panic about liking guys or major revelation?”
“Where exactly did you do your research?” Veronica asked with a snort. Luis made a face at her.
“Well…. I mean, I was confused. I saw him, and I noticed I kept seeing him. Like I was looking for him without meaning to. I’d try to stop staring because that’s fucking weird, but… my eyes kept going back. He said he noticed, so he came up to me.”
“So
he
made the first move?” Marco asked. Lance shrugged. “Okay, okay, go on.”
“You’re holding back,” Veronica noticed. Lance furrowed his eyebrows. “When you were telling me about it, it was like you were writing a romance novel. Now you’re trying to make it less gooey.”
“Well first of all,” Luis said, “I think I speak for both of us when we say we’re offended this one knows everything already. And second of all- I heard that phone call. You are a fucking sap. So tell the story in your Lance way. Your poetic way.”
Lance hesitated. It was strange to go into his feelings for this guy with his brothers. Veronica was right- it was different talking about the same thing when the people you talked to were different. He’d built up a series of frat-boy stories for his brothers, and he was scared to make them uncomfortable or something.
“We won’t make fun of you, we promise. Look, we all know what a big deal this is for you. Honestly, we’ve been hoping for this day.” Marco gave him a reassuring smile.
“If the smile that immediately spread on your face the second you said his name says anything…. Well, it’s a relief to see you like this,
flaco,”
Luis added. “So come on.” He gestured with his hand, prompting Lance to continue.
And with that, it all flooded out. Every little thing about Keith that made his heart flutter, the things he’d been dying to say to anyone who didn’t know him all tumbled out of him without pause.
He told them about his scrunched-nose smile, about the way he tended to pick at the skin on his fingers when he was anxious until Lance grabbed his hand, the way he’d tear up at movies but refuse to cry in serious situations. He told them about the way Keith always used a headband and a low ponytail to keep his hair back when he rehearsed, and how he’d close his eyes and listen when Lance read a poem, and how he liked to play with sugar packets when they went out to eat. He told them about how easy it was to make Keith blush even though he was blushing too as he said it.
“God, he’s just… he’s amazing. Y’know, it’s not like- I don’t feel like I’m fixing him. He’s gone through shit, but he doesn’t feel bad for himself or anything. He was guarded and careful, yeah, but…. I don’t know. I think he’s one of the strongest, most beautiful people I’ve met.”
“How long has this been going on?” Luis asked.
“Since like… really late September? Early October? We’re… not dating, so we don’t have an actual timestamp…. Things just sort of fell into place.” The look on his brothers’ faces made Lance wonder if he had somehow insulted them with the fact that they weren’t official. “Look, it’s worked out that way! He had some stuff to work through, and then there was this sort of ex that made things a lot harder and then there was my poetry-”
“What?” Marco interrupted.
Lance took a deep breath and started explaining the mess with Roland and the way that Keith had burst when Lance refused to show him his poetry at first. Veronica didn’t know about any of it either, so she’d immediately sat up straighter when Lance told them everything. Once they were up to date, Lance sighed. “It hasn’t all been perfect. Right now having no label works for us, you know?”
Marco shared a look with Luis then looked at Lance incredulously. “Lance you gotta be shitting me.” Lance frowned. “You go through all this shit- realizing you’re pan, trying to get him to trust you, taking him on dates, handling this ridiculous ex- and you won’t even ask the guy out?”
Beside him, Veronica nodded in agreement. “I think it’s time,
manito.”
“Ask him out. Ask him out. Ask him out,” Luis chanted.
“No, no, no, wait-” Marco joined in on the chanting, along with beating on the table. “Guys,
no,
shush!” And then Veronica. “Oh my God, you assholes,” Lance said with his face in his hands. But he was smiling too. Because the moment felt normal. Because he could breathe.
|
Rose Tyler swallows Time, and so becomes time's god. At least for a little while. His own people called themselves timelords, but the truth is, they served it, not the other way around. They fetched and carried it, tended and guarded it, and occasionally coaxed it into various shapes for their own amusement. But not Rose Tyler. Rose Tyler stretches out her fingers and time leaps forward to do her bidding. It eats the daleks and gnashes its teeth for a sweeter meal. It grinds the fleet into dust and devours the emperor. But for every altered strand of time there is a price. For knowing everything, seeing everything, you will lose all. Especially yourself. He gathers Rose Tyler, god of time, into his arms. There are tear stains on her cheeks. He kisses her and for a second, he wonders if they'll just burn together, right here. If they'll vanish, consumed by flame, into the universe. Everything must come to dust, she said.
Even him.
But he's not so afraid. Not this time. It's strange, the sense of lightness that comes over him. He's had his miracle, miracles plural, so much for one man. So he tries to remember, as he goes: an old prayer, the only one that made sense. The first lesson of awe. Everything-
X.
-is a beginning.
"Hello," he says. He licks his teeth. They taste new. Rose gapes at him. "Is it weird?" he asks. He points up at his own face and realizes he's slightly in the wrong spot. Well, adjustment period. Totally to be expected. He leans forward and spins the accelerator, punches in a few coordinates. Probably best they lie low for a bit. There will always be Barcelona, Praaccis, the five moons of Ursulon. Unless, you know. He ends up destroying those as well one day. He turns around and Rose is still looking at him like a cornered cat. "You'd tell me if it was weird, wouldn't you? Three eyes, spare nose, hair everywhere but on top?" He spins in a circle, trying to see his own knees. "Maybe an enormous beauty mark? Come on then, out with it."
"You're-"
"I'm," he agrees, pleasantly. "Oh Rose, you've got to tell me. Take a good look." He swoops close to her and she recoils, but not fast enough. He puts his hands on her shoulders, holds her firmly. "This is very important. Am I. Ginger." He blinks. "Am I ginger?"
"Bring him back," says Rose. Her voice shakes, but her eyes are level. "Bring him back this minute." He lets her go and she retreats to the column.
"Is that what you want?"
"Yes."
"Can't," he says. He feels a sudden surge of frustration. He's not sure why. He also can't remember which foot is left and which is right, and so he stumbles on his way to the console. Rose reaches forward reflexively to steady him, but pulls her hand back at the last second. They stare at each other, inches apart. "Rose," he says, mournfully. Is his brain moving faster, or his mouth? He's not sure. "You were never like this before. Thought you liked the novelty. New man," he says, and gestures vaguely up and down his own torso. "I've been lots of new men." His face feels flushed, his limbs rubbery. "Remember? I was pretty for you, once." He snorts. "Fat lot of good it did me. Did you know-" he starts, and then falls face first onto the grating. Rose kneels over him with a little cry of surprise, rolls him onto his side, and sweeps the hair- hair again, blimey, lovely- out of his face. Her eyes look hurt and confused and sparkly and out of focus all at once. Has he said something? He's probably said something. He'll apologize. But he finds he can't see clearly, and so she becomes a lovely warm-colored blur above him.
"Doctor?" she asks. So very softly. He shuts his eyes and smiles.
"That's the one," he says, and passes resolutely into unconsciousness. When he wakes up- much, much later- there's tea spilled all over his pajamas, and Rose is busy saving earth from intergalactic slavers.
Rose Tyler smells amazing. Like clean woman, fresh bare skin and laundered clothes, a hint of drugstore shampoo, a touch of grass, sweat, excitement. Did he ever notice it before? He's sure he did. But never quite with this intensity, this commitment to cataloging every atom that rolls off of her in waves. The file is full to bursting now, now that he's hoarding everything all at once, all the time. How has this happened? His senses are typically sharper than the average tack's, but this is something else. When he holds her close, he inhales like he's diving. He drowns. It's everything, really. Plums taste brighter and sweeter, spring rain permeates his very soul. Jam is a revelation. He lies down in flowerbeds and buries his face affectionately in the scruffy coats of alien dogs and scratches every itch until pleasurable agony shoots through him, scalp to fingertips. He's on overload. He finally knows how candles feel, rockets, yule logs. Everything that burns and burns and becomes something else when the burning's done.
"You're so different," she says to him, when they are lying under the stars on Mela Lura. They are especially fine stars, and an especially fine night for admiring them. He's spread his coat out for her on the pale blue, fern-soft grass. Far away, there's the sound of music, a summer festival, and also a celebration in gratitude of not having been crushed by their own satellite. They've named a dessert after Rose and nothing after him. Yet. All in a day's work, he supposes. Now they are shoulder to shoulder on their backs. Not that he'd like to admit it, but he's spent the last fifteen minutes edging slowly closer to her side, where her hip becomes the softer skin of her stomach, where her arm nests. He has told himself firmly that it's a casual gesture. It's merely gravitational pull. Orbit. Thermal conservation, really. He's an environmentalist. He wonders if she's noticed. "But certain things are the same," she says, finally. He lifts up on one elbow and looks down at her. Her hair's undone again, pooling around her head. One strand is stuck to her cheek.
"What things?"
"Important things," she says. She smiles at him. It's one part sweet and several parts sly. "You still get so offended when anybody criticizes your driving."
"A mallet is a perfectly acceptable-"
"Hmm," she says, and he shuts his mouth with a snap. "Oh, and you still won't admit that Ethelred was right about that bridge." He scowls. "I remember you, neck-deep in muddy water, telling him he was an-"
"-unready ape?" He sighs. "Point taken." He pretends to study his own fingernails. "Anything else?"
"You still love this," she says. She gestures up at the astonishing stars, and his gaze follows her there, and beyond. "All of this." There is a staggering distance between them and the sky, and yet he knows it's nothing compared to the distance between them and those minute pinpricks of light. All crossed in an instant, all within their reach if they choose. The night is limitless and infinite, and also as small as the space around them, the dark that hides them here. They could be the universe's only audience. That thought should sting and scrape at him, needle him with losses and debts, but for the first time, it feels also like a reminder that he is here, with her, alive and close enough to feel her warmth through his sleeve. What was left of him, of the world, wasn't nothing. He feels an old hurt sliding away from him a little, a smaller ache finally unknotting, releasing an inch, leaving him boneless and strangely raw. He can feel her staring at him. When their eyes meet, a shock goes through his spine, not unlike the first time he saw her. He can't pull away, can't look anywhere else. He feels recognized, seen, like a pond of clear water. Her eyes go all the way to the bottom, and find him there. If she could, she'd be reading his mind. There'd be no barriers left between them. He wonders if she sees him as he is, or as he was, or even before that. Or after. She saw it all, didn't she, for a second? What could be, what might be. He wonders what he looks like, to her.
"Anything else?" he whispers, again. This time, when she smiles at him, it's so kind it breaks every heart he has. He couldn't deserve it.
"Just the big one," she says. She puts her hand up to his face, and rubs the skin of his cheek with her thumb, very gently. "You're still the best man I've ever known." He leans down or she leans up, it doesn't matter. What matters is, they meet halfway. What matters is that he kisses her and kisses her and doesn't burn, and he goes on kissing her while the stars go wheeling by.
Afterwards- long afterwards, when she's had a bath and a long nap and he's been lying curled up on his side watching the air go in and out of her- she wakes up slowly with a question already on her lips. "Doctor," she says. She doesn't need to get his attention, she has it by existing. But he appreciates the attempt. "When you-" she pauses. "When you changed. You said something about being a new man. Being a lot of new men." She looks him in the eye. "You said I'd always liked that, before. That I never minded when you changed. You said you were pretty for me, once."
"Am I not pretty enough now?" he says. He bats his lashes. She looks like she wants very much to laugh, but doesn't allow herself.
"Don't dance away from it."
"I could skip."
"You knew me before," she says. He freezes. He underestimates that mental agility of hers, sometimes. So have a lot of other people, to their peril. "You knew me, somehow. And I knew you." He doesn't answer. She waits, and then puts her hand over his. "I don't want you to pretend like you never said that stuff, because I won't pretend that I didn't hear it."
Oh, Rose.
"You're right," he says. "I knew- there was someone very much like you. Not you. But very like. And I lost her. I lost my friend." He swallows against the lump in his throat. "When I met you, I thought, for a second it might- but it wasn't possible. It wasn't, because you're not her. You're so much like her, but you're," he shuts his eyes for a second. "More. You're more. More alive, more everything. I'm sorry," he says, "I'm so sorry, I-"
"Is that why you took me with you?"
"No," he says, quickly. "No. I invited you because I wanted to." He curls his hand around hers. "I wanted this."
"My hand?" She's teasing. But she doesn't know how close she is to the unflattering truth. However much things have changed. He leans down and kisses the back of her knuckles. "Are you starving?" she asks, suddenly. "Or is that only me?"
"On Ferra they make a French toast out of moon cakes. With actual moon flour. They don't call it French, mind you. But the concept's the same."
"Is there syrup?"
"Buckets."
"Hurry, then," she says.
"Rose," says Sarah Jane. She rushes past him, pressing him into a bank of lockers as she goes, and grabs Rose by both hands. Her face is beaming. "Oh, Rose, how wonderful! I never thought I'd see you again. Do you remember, after Tauros, when I said-" she starts, and then trails off, as if a second train of thought has overtaken the first. And then Sarah Jane looks down at their joined hands, which are still holding firmly onto one another, as human hands are wont to do. "Oh dear," she says.
"Hello," says Rose.
"How?" says Sarah Jane, to him. "How did you-"
"Haven't the foggiest."
"Did you stabilize the projection? She feels entirely solid!"
"Well," he scratches the back of his neck. "She is entirely solid."
"Too many chips," Mickey adds, and looks very pleased with himself. Rose coughs loudly into her closed fist, and they all snap back to reality.
"I am in the room," Rose says, with deceptive calm.
"I don't know what you did or how you did it," Sarah Jane says. She suddenly wraps her arms around Rose and Rose hugs her back with a kind of giddy come-what-may. Over Sarah Jane's shoulder, she shrugs at the Doctor and smiles. Free hugs, her eyes are saying. "But I am so glad to see you two again! So very glad."
They wind up in a chip shop after dark, sitting in a cozy circle around K-9 while he takes out old circuit boards and blows on them and bangs things back into place with the bottom of his shoe. K-9 is stoically uncomplaining about it. Sarah Jane tells stories to Rose and Mickey about old adventures, daring escapes. He feels a surprisingly great sense of well-being, a strange familiar comfort coming over him. Another little piece of evidence. A tally in the threadbare plus column of his own personal accounting. A sign of his old life, times gone by, and still going. Things that went on after him, crops he didn't wither, ground he didn't blight. Sarah Jane's really a remarkable woman. They order a second round of chips, and shortly afterwards they are all politely asked to leave by the owner of the place when coolant starts spraying out of K-9's nose.
"EXCUSE ME," says K-9.
"Allergies, eh?" says Mickey. "Tough luck." He holds a chip out to the dog on a fork, and then glances up at Sarah Jane. "Can he eat people food?"
But Rose is quiet, uncharacteristically so. He leaves Sarah Jane and Mickey talking over the finer points of canine computer maintenance and follows her across the road. She sits down on a bench, on the far end, and doesn't say anything for a long while. He sits next to her, leaving a little space. There are vibes coming off her in waves, from the set of her shoulders and her jaw, but he can't read them. She's like a little beetle in a shell. Mickey and Sarah Jane burst out laughing at something, and Rose turns to face him.
"Is that what you meant?" she asks. She nods back in the direction of the car. "You said you lost her."
"I told Sarah Jane I'd drop her in Croydon, but back then-"
"Your aim was just as rubbish?" He grins. "That's not what I meant. You said you lost her. Me. The- the other me. Her." Her face tightens, and she rubs it with one hand and sighs. Finally, she says, "Did you really mean that you misplaced her?" Respiratory bypass or no respiratory bypass, his chest constricts. "Is that what this is? Is this how it happens? One day we're, whatever we are," she gestures between them, "and then-" her hands go wide. "Aberdeen."
"No," he says.
"Are you sure?" she asks.
"Yes." He takes her hand in his. "It's different. I- sometimes it's just," he trails off. Tragically, words fail him. "Different." Idiotic, but utterly true. It's the only word that fits. He folds their fingers together. "I told you I lost her. I lied." Rose's pulse jumps in her wrist. "She was taken from me. By the war."
"Oh," says Rose. "So-"
"No Aberdeen," he tells her. "Not ever." She looks at him with something bright and sharp in her eyes, a light that threatens to spill over, and all he can think is, that is the most selfish thing I've ever said. A better man wouldn't make that promise, knowing what he knows about human lives. But he doesn't care. He doesn't want to be good, he doesn't need to be righteous. He only wants to keep her as long as he possibly can.
"Good," says Rose at last. She's smiling again. "Because I've got big plans for you."
"Oh, really?"
"Yeah," she says. "First off, I don't want to be a dinner lady. I think I'm more of an administrative liaison, don't you?" She tilts her head. "I'll need a twin set and a clipboard."
"You're going to let that lovely hairnet go to waste?"
"It's not going to go to waste," says Rose, mysteriously. And that is how he ends up serving chips and mushy peas to Dr. Rose Marion.
When they come back from that dead planet forever circling its own doom, when the beast in the pit has gone, when the rocket is free and everything is as it was, she takes him down the hall and into her room and undresses him slowly, peels his suit off his back and his shirt away from his skin. He sits on the edge of the bed and pulls his socks off with shaking hands, and then she's in his arms, smooth and naked and hot-blooded, pulling him over her and into her. She laughs and arches under him, meets him halfway and pushes back hard. He puts his face in the hollow of her neck and shoulder and kisses her throat. He sinks into her and dissolves. There's nothing in the universe except this bed, this body that used to be two bodies, and is now only her, only her, the most real thing he has ever touched. He wants to be taken into her, completely, at least for this moment. He will be the projection from now on, an image of life, when really he is just a beat in Rose Tyler's heart, a electrical flicker of her memories.
"You got away from me for a minute there," she says, afterwards. She is lying tangled in his arms and legs, with her chin resting on his chest. It's sweaty and boiling hot everywhere they touch. Wonderful. "Where did you go?"
"Hither and yon," he says. "Now. Have I ever taken you to the Olympics?"
He hasn't.
"It's not Aberdeen," he says, looking around at the beach. "Where are we, exactly?"
"Dårlig Ulv-Stranden."
"What's that when it's at home?"
"Bad wolf bay," she says. "Surprise." He tries to think of something funny to say about that, something to make her laugh or even smile, but there is nothing funny about that at all.
"Are you alright?" he says instead. She nods, mutely. "Is everyone alright?" More nodding. "So you're all- fine. Good."
"You really can't come through?" says Rose.
"I really can't."
"And I can't go through, either."
"No."
"Then what good is this universe?"
"Not much good at all," he says. Rose smiles finally, faintly, and puts her hand up to where his face ought to be. He's gotten his wish in the worst possible sense. He is a hologram, and the irony doesn't escape him. He has made himself as concrete as he can, stuffed as much as himself as he could into that one last crack of space-time, and still it isn't enough. He's just a projection, one that will fade in a minute. He is filing her away like mad, but he knows it won't be enough. He could replay her in his head a million times a day, and it will never be enough again. But of course now he will finally understand where hard-light projections go when they disappear. They go nowhere. They go to a place very much like the void.
"I love you," she says. "I have forever." Oh, old gods. He doesn't have enough hearts to hold this. How can she manage? She's stronger than him. "Take that through with you."
"Rose," he says. "I'm sorry."
"For what?"
"For not saying it sooner. For not saying it every day. Every minute." Her eyes nearly swell shut with tears, but she's really smiling now, broadly, bravely. "Rose Tyler, I-"
He dies on the beach. It only looks like vanishing.
Last time, it made him cold. It froze a part of him and sealed it away, kept the pieces in a block of ice, where they could be seen but not felt. Lying next to Martha on a narrow, rickety sixteenth-century bed, he thinks to himself, this time it's made me cruel. He vows to do better. He saw the hurt on her face, the embarrassment, at Rose would know. He wasn't wrong. Rose would have felt it by now, sensed it. She always found the odd ones out in the world, discovered the wrong-fitting edges of things. She probably considered herself one of those, if he cared to dig into the psychology of it. But Rose also would have told him not to be such a tremendous ass to a clever and kindhearted woman who'd done nothing but save his life and fill his ship with conversation again.
"I'm sorry," he says, to the ceiling. To her, perhaps. Or a more general plea, to the great absence. He has the feeling he's going to be saying it quite a lot. But he is saved from wallowing in that thought by a sudden burst of screaming from the room down the hall. Thank goodness, he thinks to himself, and then again, guiltily: cruel.
Of course it isn't him who finds her. Of course. He's busy being rolled into walls and fed out of a dog dish, when the Master goes digging in his paradox machine and finds the files and brings everyone downstairs in a great show of pomp and glee to view them together. He pushes the Doctor's wheelchair up the ramp and parks him in front of the console while Francine, Clive and Tish stand to one side, eyeing the door and the jacketed guards on either side of it. The Master hammers the controls and babbles to himself about lost bird and cages, but the Doctor can't help looking elsewhere, up and around, through the abused framework of his captured ship, strung with scaffolding and wires. Pulsing with that terrible, world-rending light. But still alive, he thinks to himself. Like Martha. Alive and fighting, somewhere. He feels close to them both, as if he can sense them just over the next hill, and yet they are still so unbearably far away.
"Ta da!" the Master cries. And Rose Tyler appears. It's only a projection, a rendered image in hard light, but the Doctor can't help himself- he pitches forward in his chair and grips the handles with shock. Not possible. Just not possible. Everything was erased. The files were stripped, scorched. The memory cortex was barren. How, then? "Marvelous," he continues. "Just marvelous. Look at the detail!" The Master walks a circle around her. She's frozen in place, paused, as if from a video feed. Or a photograph. Who's recorded these, why? When? His mind reels with the logistics. Was the ship taking notes? "What wonderful memories I have of this one. Your pet pilot."
"You can't hurt her," the Doctor says, forcing himself to relax his shoulders, unclench his jaw. It's the truth. He could swing an axe at her image for a hundred years and dent only air. She's untouchable. He knows from experience all the limitations of that form. "You never could."
"I don't need to hurt her," the Master says. He smiles like a schoolboy, pure delight and selfishness and the pulling-off of fly's wings. "I'm going to hurt you with her." His hand hovers over a button. "What do you think?" he asks Francine, suddenly. "Erase all? Or one at a time?" The Doctor stares at them both in dawning horror. "Pick," says the Master. "Pick one!" he screams at her.
"One at a time," Francine says.
"A mother's wisdom," the Master says. "Leave room for hope," he grins, "and it hurts so much longer." He makes a great show of pressing the controls and Rose Tyler- just after the Olympics, twenty-twelve, jean jacket and windswept hair, trainers, luminous eyes reflecting torchlight- vanishes into thin air. "One down!" he cries. He summons up another one- Rose Tyler in a pink top crossed with zippers, hair loose, eyes haunted- and actually gives himself a dramatic drumroll on the edge of the console before he slaps the button down and sends the projection to oblivion. "Another one bites the dust!"
"Stop it," the Doctor manages.
"You'd like that, wouldn't you." The Master pulls up another- Rose Tyler in a jean jacket again, braids to her shoulders- and contemplates it. "You'd like me to save this one. To let you keep it and stare at it in the long lonely nights." He crouches down to the Doctor's level. "Did you really fall in love with a hologram? Do you have any sense of how deranged that is?"
"Some," says the Doctor. That actually gets him a laugh and then a hearty push that sends him rolling down the ramp to collide with the door.
"Tell you what," he says. "This can be our little ritual. If you're very good, I'll let you press the button yourself a few times. How does that sound?" The Doctor doesn't answer. "I'll take that as a resounding yes." He looks over at Francine, Clive and Tish. "Now, they've got work to do. It's awfully hard to get the Harkness out of the carpets. So we'll meet after breakfast for deletions. Is tomorrow morning good for everyone?" It is supposed to be a flippant statement, but perhaps he ends up regretting it after all, because the following morning is the best morning on record for all the rest of them. Because Martha Jones saves the world. People go back to grocery shopping and driving their cars and complaining about the stock market, all because Martha was willing to walk the soles off her boots and witness countless horrors and finally laugh in a crazy man's face.
"The year that never was," he calls it, later. Martha very carefully does not look at him, but at the door. She can probably see past it, or through it. Her life is on the other side. She is being very kind to him, but they both know. "It'll be as if it never happened."
"No," says Martha. "It happened." And then he is alone again. For all his hoping, all his begging, he couldn't manage even to be the penultimate timelord, one of a mismatched pair. There is nobody left. He is alone with his ship and his shame and the year that never was.
And seventeen remaining files on Rose Tyler. |
“So, actually, what the fuck was with that chick?” asks Beau, the heart of grace and subtlety, as soon as they set foot in the inn.
Molly, who has had just about enough of people staring at his horns for the day, motions to the innkeep. He needs alcohol for this.
“Whole bottle—two of them, actually. Whatever you’ve got for the most awkward conversation,” he says. The innkeep, who is of course a tiefling, takes one look at him and hands him two bottles, listing a price he knows doesn’t cover both. He gives the guy four times the gold he’d asked for out of spite. Molly doesn’t need anyone’s pity.
Normally he’d feel some sense of kinship or pride that this guy’s overcome prejudice and runs a successful business or whatever, but Molly is inches away from running away to join the nearest circus where they don’t ask questions about the scars taking up more of your body than the skin does.
Actually, he’s not even inches away. The only thing between him and running away from this entire conversation is that he actually likes these assholes, and apparently that comes with intermittent honest talk about things that aren’t interesting or entertaining in the slightest. And he feels weird after that story he told earlier about—what was it about again?
Probably doesn’t matter. He taps a horn with Jester’s as he comes back to the group; a brief reassurance that they will face this and all future battles together.
Caleb watches a little too keenly for comfort. These things are supposed to be safely under the radar of standard races with better things to worry about than tieflings running into each other to express trust.
Oh, does he ever not want to have this conversation. It’s going to be painfully awkward and everyone is gonna look at him funny and he hates it already.
“So,” he says.
“So,” Fjord says.
Yep. Good talk. Great time, friends, see you next week when I have to leave the pit I am digging myself into for food.
Maybe he can starve and get buried alive in this metaphorical pit. It would give his life perfect symmetry.
Okay, dark thoughts, dark thoughts. Cool. Cool. Time to face the music.
So he tells himself as he continues to make eye contact with Fjord—who probably can’t tell they’re having a staring contest anyway—and avoid the massive guilt that honest face has him feeling. Fjord isn’t actually any less of an asshole than the rest of them, he reminds himself. He’s just better at hiding it.
“We should probably do this upstairs so that we are not loudly shouting secrets into a busy bar on a Friday night,” Jester says.
“I would die a thousand screaming deaths for you,” Molly says. Which carries the meaning of Thanks bunches, but everything sounds much more dramatic in Infernal and also he wants to know if Caleb is still doing whatever lets him understand them.
Either he’s unsurprised by this pledge of loyalty or he doesn’t understand what they’re saying. Hard to say, with Caleb.
Molly turns his back, still holding his alcohol, and strolls to his and Fjord’s room, and then, thinking, to Jester’s and Beau’s. He doesn’t want to associate someplace he’s going to have to sleep tonight with this awkward team talk.
Something in the back of his mind slots into place and relaxes, so apparently they’ve acquired Yasha on the way to the room. He sprawls on Jester’s bed and sure enough, there she is, making her way into the room to stand awkwardly at the foot. He scoots down to join her.
“Was I about to get myself into trouble?” he asks, and she smirks down at him.
“You were going to try to run away by jumping out the window,” she says. He frowns briefly.
“Now, I don’t think that’s really fair. Would I do that?” He smiles winningly at her, upside down from this angle, and she just gives him a Yasha look.
“It would have been pretty pathetic,” she says. She is standing conveniently in front of the window, now that he thinks of it. He is hurt at this completely unwarranted lack of trust.
Jester makes herself comfortable on the bed, too, and Molly shifts so that she’s not crushing him completely. Actually, the more people shuffle into the room, the more vulnerable he feels lying down like this, but to move now would be to let them know that, so he remains. Jester is blocking most of his vital organs and sitting up straight enough to react, and Yasha is close enough to cover his throat and eyes if he were to be taken by surprise.
Not that he will. They’re surrounded by friends. It’s fine.
Gods, does he hate discussions like this. Make him paranoid.
So now everyone’s in Jester and Beau’s room. Looking at him. Nott and Caleb sit at the head of Beau’s bed with Fjord at the foot, and Beau leans against the door—no escape there. Just. Staring at each other. Waiting for an explanation to bubble up from someplace on its own.
Molly wants to say something, anything, just to break the silence, but his throat is tight and he can’t. It’s all he can do to breathe. He doesn’t want to talk about this. You aren’t supposed to just say these things. He doesn’t want to talk about it. His throat is tense enough to hurt and he can’t make the muscles relax. He needs to say something, break the tension somehow. He can’t talk. He can’t talk and all he can feel is the holes drilled in his soul where the words should be, and nothing is going to come out no matter how hard he tries because he’s empty and everyone will be mad at him and he can’t speak and there is nothing he can do about it, ever, there’s never anything he can do about it—
Yasha’s knuckles come down solidly on his right horn. The shock of pain makes him look up a moment.
“I still don’t know what the fuck is happening,” she says reasonably.
That’s right. Yasha first, everyone else second. He has Jester and he can talk to Yasha. He can almost always talk to Yasha. One thing at a time.
Gods, he doesn’t even remember any of this shit. He shouldn’t be reduced to some mute, empty thing just talking about it to Yasha.
He opens his mouth still uncertain whether his voice will come to him or not, but by some miracle words start leaving his body.
“Horns. Not a lot of tieflings…put holes in them. Willingly.” He looks straight at Yasha and at no one else. No one else is even here, as far as he’s concerned. Just Molly and Yasha having a friendly conversation while Jester guards against the rest of the room and drapes her tail along his side.
He makes an effort to stop his own from lashing and twisting in visible discomfort.
Gods, he should be better at this by now. The scars, the complete blankness where his identity should be, the blood magic, all of these things he can redirect and smile through and it doesn’t matter, but these fucking holes in him—
Yasha nods. “Okay. Did you?”
Gods, it’s so simple when she says it. “No.”
He doesn’t remember any of it, but he knows it hurt so much. The scrape of something inside his bones had hollowed him out and horrified him, tensed every muscle into a painful arch that he could barely feel over the electricity coming from every nerve. He couldn’t move. He couldn’t breathe. All of the tiny unnoticeable movements of his beating heart and whoever’s tools or hands had scraped across his marrow and his soul in a sound and feeling he will never forget. All he can hear is the drag, vibrating through him from parts that should not be vulnerable being drilled into, never to heal, never to scar.
His skin, his muscles, his blood; he gets those back with rest and healing. His horns are exposed bone and they will always be broken.
His mouth forms the shape of empty without his permission, and he refuses.
These holes in him are not all he is. They are not what he is at all. He is what he’s done with them, and what he’s done with them is decorate.
Caleb’s diamond comes out and Nott flinches to her crossbow, but Yasha only smirks faintly when he jumps to his feet on Jester’s bed. He’s getting the sheets all dirty, but to be fair, they did come that way.
“Tiefling horns have feeling. You’re not really supposed to tell folks who aren’t, you know, tieflings; but they’re actually part of us, not like hair or claws, but maybe like your nose. Except they’re also made of bone on the outside and tough as hell to break through, so getting a neat hole in them is pretty damned painful.” He tosses his head to let his ornaments clink. He has nothing to be ashamed of. “I came with ‘em like this, so I can’t say why I’ve got ‘em. But folks who know tieflings from tieflings are gonna think it’s a slavery, tiefling trafficking, horrible torture thing. Faith, earlier, she prob’ly figured I wasn’t here willingly, and when Caleb understood Infernal she had her suspicions confirmed, more or less. Jester and I said he’s good people and she apologized. Happy now?”
He struts to the head of the bed at the corner wall, half covered by Yasha if he wants to duck down and with Jester one more step away. He’s taller than everyone from this vantage point. He doesn’t owe them shit. That’s all they need to know so it’s all they’re getting.
“And the people who did this to you—they still out there?” Fjord asks, finally, exchanging glances with the others. Yasha tilts her head the slightest bit at the question.
Molly shrugs expansively, gracefully; he steps and drops off the bed to sit at the edge of it. “Fuck if I know. It didn’t happen to me. I’d say if they haven’t found me yet, they’re probably not looking too hard. Chances are, whoever had this body before me killed them.”
He gets the impression that his predecessor could pack a serious punch. It comes with the blood cultist package, he imagines.
Caleb’s eyes pin him through and he stares him down. Humans are unnerved by his eyes, he knows. And Caleb hates eye contact at the best of times.
He has nothing to hide and this fucker has nothing on him. He has his sisters at each side and no one here can hurt him.
Caleb isn’t faltering, so Molly takes the next step. “Does this satisfy your curiosity, Mister Caleb? Are you happy with these answers?”
“Caleb didn’t—” Nott begins to defend as Jester tugs the back of his coat back.
“Perhaps we should not be fighting each other over this when we were literally just telling people that we are not fighting, technically. Technically,” she says. “Maybe we should be trying to get along and maybe we can fight something else later.”
“No, no, that is fair,” Caleb relents. “I apologize, Mollymauk, if I have made you feel…cornered. Obviously, you had expected some relative privacy in your native language, and I should not have been eavesdropping. If they will not affect the group, your scars are your own business. I am satisfied.”
Molly, who had stopped paying attention at I apologize, Mollymauk, grins and bounces on the balls of his feet.
“Well, that settles that, then! And look, we didn’t even need to break out the alcohol!” He waves the bottle that did not disappear from his grasp and sees Nott guiltily hide the other half-bottle remaining behind her body. A giddiness he can’t control shivers through him. “Time for drinking!”
Beau moves like she’s going to, but she doesn’t stop him from sashaying out the door and down the hall. He has to get out, he needs to get out of there.
No one follows as he goes downstairs to the bar. No one follows, so he doesn’t need to keep looking behind him. No one is watching him. No one is coming for him; tracking him down like a hunted thing to remove parts of him until he understands that destroying him would be nothing, would be the flick of a hand, so unworthy of time or attention that it has to be drawn out as painfully as possible just to justify the waste of potential in this arrogant gnat.
That’s awfully specific, but it doesn’t matter, because it’s not relevant, because no one is following him. No one is finding him. He’s not even hiding.
So he tells himself as he walks confidently out of the inn and curls up as tight as possible in a dark alleyway where no one can find him.
He'll go back later, and he'll have a good time at the bar, and he'll live with it. For now, at least he has plenty of alcohol. |
You checked your nails as you waited, captive against the wall. Normally you'd have been out and back to your business, but finally someone had done their research and knew you couldn't melt everything, unlike what the media had speculated on for years and years. You rolled your eyes and relaxed your wrist, looking down at your compromising position.
Spread eagle and chained to a wall.
"Makes for some kinky stuff if I can play my cards right..." You muttered. You then smirked to yourself cockily, "And I always do."
You stayed, trapped, against the wall in boredom, counting the seconds, which turned into minutes, which even turned into a few hours. By that time you were bored out of your mind, assuming you were in your mind anyway...
You were also pissed off at your assailants and yourself, more so the bastards that nabbed you. You'd been running for over a hundred years and never got caught, most believing you to be a myth known as "The Devil". But not the guys that caught you. They knew, and they knew everything about your powers it seemed. Healing factor, the elements, and they even knew the secret code to your eye color to telegraph what you'd do. They were good, and you were vengeful.
Soon the door opened and there was some scuffling, two voices seemingly arguing with one another, one with some sort of electronic filter, robotic even. You didn't look up as you heard the voices, the teasing of seeing a face and not putting a hole between the eyes too cruel a self-punishment.
"No way Birdbrain, I'm not doing it!"
"You drew the shortest straw, now shut up and interrogate!"
The owner of the first voice was thrown in and the door was slammed shut behind him. You heard clunky footsteps tediously approach you, leaving you to smirk.
"Scared? Petrified? Shit in your pants?" You spat.
"No, but there may or may not be a little piss smeared on the briefs." The robotic voice said.
You looked up with a smirk, taking in his appearance. Red and gold suit, a white triangle in the middle of the chest. Fists clenched, stance proud, though you could sense the fear emanating from him. Not that you could blame him, you were one scary bitch if you did say so yourself.
"So what're you here for, Clunker?"
Tony lifted the faceplate, clearly unimpressed. "Clunker??"
You smirked, "Too much for ya, short stuff?"
"Na, just a little too predictable. Ya know, like when you're fighting."
While Tony was expecting a sneer and maybe even a threat, he was shocked to see that instead you just smiled.
You laughed, "Boy am I going to have fun with you."
"Gonna have to take me out to dinner first, I've kinda got a thing about ancient serial killers."
You chuckled darkly, "You wouldn't live to see dessert."
"I'm gonna take that as we'd be out of there and in my bed before dessert."
"Who says we'd even make it past appetizers?"
"I don't think we'd make it to the car, because as of right now you do look rather appealing. Vulnerable, open, out of control."
You clenched your jaw. Man had a way with words, a way that you didn't like. He knew what he was doing, disguising his flirtation as a way to bring you down, get you to talk. But he wouldn't be able do it, you were above that. Better, stronger than that.
"Meanwhile there you are, wearing a suit of armor as I'm chained against the wall. Who's the real pathetic excuse of a human?"
"Considering I save lives and you end them 'cause it's fun, I'd say still you, though you are literally quite hot so I think I can look past it for a night."
"Funny, I'm not even human, so by default you lose. But thanks for playing, means a lot." You smirked.
"I'm sure it touches your cold, black heart. You know, under your tits, which I really kinda wanna just stuff my-"
"Stark!" A voice barked over the intercom, "Get on with it!"
Tony rolled his eyes, "See what happens when you force me into doing an interrogation with sexy women, Nicky? It doesn't get done."
"Just get it done." Tony rolled his eyes again and looked back at you, "See what I have to put up with?"
"Never would have thought the infamous Tony Stark would listen to someone else. I have no rules, no one to answer to. It's truly a liberating way of life, one I think you'd enjoy."
"Tempting, but I kinda became Iron Man to, you know, stop death by my work."
"Touché. Shame, you and I could do great things together."
Tony was silent for a few seconds, chuckling to himself after. "Kind of an oxymoron, insinuating you do "great" things when you do terrible things to innocent people."
"Different folks different strokes."
"What're we stroking?"
"Stark!"
"Fine! What's your play, why do you do this? I've seen some videos, you're pretty badass."
"I am, aren't I? How else do you think I've been alive all these years? Being mediocre would've gotten me killed eons ago."
"Which would be a bad thing, because you certainly are not a sight for sore eyes."
"I can't say you're particularly unappealing either. Definitely a one-nighter though."
"I can't even get two nights? Damn,"
You winked, "I would, but I kill my mates afterwards."
"We already have a Black Widow, darlin'."
"Trying to recruit me?"
"That's Fury's plan. At least the part I know, fucker's secrets have secrets."
"Well I say no, I don't follow rules, I break them."
"Glad we have something in common."
"Bring out the wedding march."
"I say let's elope, it's quicker."
"Vegas or Atlantic City?"
"Definitely Vegas, I may not have 3 days to wait for a marriage license."
The door was kicked open and there was a man with a long black trench coat and an eyepatch, glaring at Tony with his one eye.
"Stark!" He shouted, "Since you clearly aren't capable of doing an interrogation with a woman in the room, I'm gonna have to kick your ass out and let Coulson do the work."
Tony rolled his eyes for the third time and winked at you before leaving without another word, a man in a suit taking his place, your desire to get kinky completely erased.
The one time you wanna have some fun...
xXx
You smirked as you swirled in the air, having escaped the grasp of S.H.I.E.L.D. and free to be yourself again. You laughed your wicked laugh as you set fire to a building, soon making it to the ocean and diving under, your eyes turning a deep blue and you swam down farther. The aquatic life was fun to mess with, especially the sharks. You didn't kill them, you just played with them, hung out with them. They were your family in a way, both predators and dangerous. They seemed to sense you were as dangerous as them, even more so actually, so they didn't bother attacking you.
You swam down to your aquatic family, smiling as they kept going their merry way, following along. You could be underwater for five hours before you needed to head back up for air, your powers granting you the luck of breathing underwater for that long. You spiraled along, occasionally swimming under one of your "brothers", giggling like a maniac when he looked around for you. You couldn't remember ever having a family, so you could only wonder if you ever had any siblings. Human siblings, anyway.
Would they be like you? Would they have powers, would they have killed with you? You ground your teeth, unable to remember. Why couldn't you remember?! Your memory went as far back as your twenties-- Your real twenties, not now, where you looked twenty-five but in reality you were about two hundred years old.
You growled and shot up from the ocean, leaving your makeshift family behind. You floated above the ocean, looking at directions to go. There was the US, Europe, Asia...
You smirked and headed off to your destination.
xXx
Tony shot up from his spot in S.H.I.E.L.D. HQ, the alarms going off and waking him up from his much-deserved nap. There were red lights flashing and agents running every which way, none stopping to tell Tony what the problem was, though he didn't need them too. He put his helmet on and immediately flew out of the building.
"Where's she at, J?"
"Paris, sir."
"City of love? Must be thinkin' of me."
"Oh but of course." Jarvis responded dryly.
Tony just snickered and shot off to Paris, wondering just how the hell you got out of your holds, and then got out of the building without being seen. You were under heavy surveillance, plus Coulson was in the room with you since he left. So how you got out was a mystery to him.
Soon Tony arrived in France, expecting devastation and destruction, but surprisingly there was none. It looked the same as always, the whole place did as he flew through. He furrowed his bros.
"Jarvis, did you lie to me?"
"No sir. She is by the Eiffel Tower."
Tony scoffed at the mention of the Tower, "Mine's better."
"If you say so."
The brunet rolled his eyes at his AI, heading off to the Eiffel Tower, slowly descending as he saw you sitting on a bench, observing the grand monument. He cautiously approached you after lifting the faceplate, though the clunk of his suit gave him away. You chuckled on your seat as he walked up to you.
"You'd be a terrible spy, Clunker. At least your looks make up for your incompetence."
Tony grit his teeth at the nickname, "How'd you get out of S.H.I.E.L.D.?"
"The fact you think I'd consider telling you speaks a thousand words about you. You expect to be trusted immediately because of who you are, though I know better. You're Iron Man, Tony Stark, and that's exactly why I wont' trust you. I won't let you take me in, you'll have to kill me first."
"We can help you. We've done it before, we can recruit you and you can use your powers for good."
You smirked and stood up, looking at the man, who shut the faceplate again immediately.
"Oh can you now? What makes you think I want to change, darling? I quite enjoy my time as an assassin, killing is what defines me. Take that away, just who am I?"
"Who you were before you became a cold-blooded murderer."
Your eyes turned silver and you growled, lighting your hands on fire.
"Like I know who that is."
Before Tony could react you lashed out, setting innocent bystanders on fire. You smirked and sent out a strong gust of air, that evil smirk on your face the whole time as people toppled over as they tried to run away, staring at Tony as he himself was knocked over by the air. The scent of burning flesh invaded your nostrils and you summoned a tornado, icing the entire ground before floating up, smirking at Tony one more time before flying off.
"See what happens when you dance with The Devil?"
xXx
Tony took off his helmet and threw it once he arrived back at S.H.I.E.L.D. He was useless to the people you'd set the attack on, being unable to do anything to stop the tornado, the burning of those poor people, the ice on the ground. He stomped directly to Fury's office, kicking it open and marching in.
"What the hell was that Fury? How the hell did you let her escape?!"
Fury clenched his jaw, "We didn't let her, she escaped, Stark. Keyword being escaped."
"Yeah, and she killed a lot of people in Paris! What happened to Coulson watching her?"
"Every agent needs a break, Stark. We sent in a replacement and she got out."
Tony growled, "What's her name?"
"She goes by Natalia."
Tony left without another word, heading all the way to Malibu. If he was going to find out anything about you, the only way to do it was directly from his lab, and the good lab in Cali. He'd work all night if he had to, there was no way he could rest knowing you were out there, killing and smiling as you did it.
"Dance with the devil..." He muttered, "You're the fucking devil alright."
As soon as he arrived at the mansion he took off the suit and went straight for the lab, Jarvis already starting the grand search. He was going to find your name, your birth date, your origin, everything. No one made Iron Man look that pathetic of a superhero and just got away with it, oh no. That's not how it worked with Tony Stark. He made a fool of people, not the other way around!
"Jarvis, motivational music."
Tony rolled his eyes, not bothering to tell Jarvis to change the song.
"Here I stand, helpless and left for dead..." After hours, long, grueling hours of searching for what was becoming a dead end hunt, Tony finally managed to find something about you, making him the only person alive to know anything about you, including yourself. Your name was (Name) (Middle Name) (Last Name) and you were kidnapped at a young age, being transformed into the deadly woman you were today. You were from North America, but you were trained and brought up in Russia, your trainers distantly related to the one's Natasha had.
That was all he could uncover, but his research wasn't for nothing. He didn't have much right now, but he'd get there, then find you again, tease the information, draw you out until you complied with his wishes. You wanted to know who you were, who wouldn't?
"Jarvis, what now?"
"I suggest a good night's rest sir, as your enemy is quite strong at her worst."
"Are you trying to say something?"
"Good night, sir."
xXx
You walked the busy streets of New York, not entirely sure why you came back. Something within you said come back, so you did. Maybe you'd find some fun to have. Ever since Paris you'd been laying low for a few weeks, not ready to get back on S.H.I.E.L.D.'s radar yet. The last thing you needed was a ton of agents surrounding you, especially the Avengers there to back them up. Were you really worth all the trouble?
Of course you were, you were worth a lot of trouble.
You fixed your hood and ducked your head, walking some more, not sure where you were going but ultimately not caring. You didn't really have anything to do, so what better to do than walk around New York City? It wasn't like you were going to get mugged, and if anyone dared mess with you, well... Their funeral.
Soon enough there was only one person walking beside you, and they took the opportunity to speak then.
"You know, you're not always very inconspicuous either. I mean, New York of all places to come to? Very sloppy Natalia."
"I don't recall giving you permission to use my name."
"I don't recall that being your real name."
"Assuming you know anything about me, right?"
"Well, I know you've got a bangin' body."
"I do, don't I? Not to mention my greatest attribute is my mouth."
"Care to show me?"
"Only if you pay me."
"Assassin, and prostitute? Didn't see that one coming."
"You won't be able to see yourself cumming either."
"Double entendre?"
"Triple if you find a willing partner."
"Male or female?"
"Surprise me."
"Okay. I know your real name."
You stopped walking, Tony taking a few steps and facing you. Your eyes turned green as you glared at him.
"What did you just say?"
"I know your name."
"Why are you lying?"
"I'm not. See this?" Tony took out a folded piece of paper, handing it to you. You took it cautiously, unfolding it to reveal it was none other than your birth certificate.
"(Name)..." You said softly.
"Not a bad name. I know more about you, but I'm afraid you're gonna have to come with me."
"And why the hell do you think I'd trust you?"
"I don't, but I know your desire for knowing who you are is just killing you."
"Shut up. You don't know a damn thing about me. I'm The Devil, there is no backstory, there is nothing for you to uncover."
"Strange, I wonder who all this information I've found in these recent weeks is about then. It'd be a shame for it to go to waste."
You glared some more, "If you betray me, I'll kill you."
Tony smiled, "Wouldn't expect any less when I'm dancing with The Devil, darlin'." |
Lux
The first thing I did when I woke up was to write everything I dreamt down. I was getting too invested in my dreams, especially after meeting Jinx. There had to be more to them, I refused to believe they were just dreams. According to some stuff I looked up, writing them down would help me remember, which was good because up until now the only things I remember were vague faces and Jinx. Up until now I had written down all of the things I knew about the Jinx of my dreams and the whole thing about how Star Guardians worked.
After writing it down, I looked up Star Guardians on the internet. Unfortunately there was nothing I could find, except for episodes for old magical girl tv shows. I wasn’t going to give up this easily, if I had to do my own research so be it, I was going to get to the bottom of this. A weird feeling nagged me on the back of my neck each time I wrote things down, it was like I was getting anxious over translating all of my thoughts onto the paper.
On Sunday I was going to the library to look up some books related to the stars and myths surrounding them. Perhaps I was dreaming about something I read a long time ago? However, that wouldn’t explain why I dreamt about Jinx and how scarily accurate my dreams about her were.
Upon finishing my search for the day I opened up Instagram, Jinx started following me after our conversation on Monday and I followed back because that looked like the polite thing to do. I was scrolling through it to get a more concrete idea of who she was, there were various pics of her, Orianna and Zeri there. Though most of the pics were of Jinx and Zeri together, were they best friends? They looked awfully close…
Not that I should be bothered by that,
I was not bothered
by that. We met a week ago, whatever I was feeling was all influenced by my dreams. Sure I wanted to start a friendship with Jinx, she looked fun and I was sure we could have the most interesting of conversations, but I didn’t have any right to feel weird about her preexisting relationships. In my dreams we were best friends, in reality she was a girl I barely knew and I was inserting myself into her life for an honestly very strange reason that might border on creepy.
From her various social media accounts I could decipher her likes and dislikes. Jinx had a thing for rock music, the whole punk aesthetic and she was really into art. Her friends commented on the most ridiculous stuff under her post and she did the same, most of those were bad pick-up lines, if I was naive I’d probably think there was something deeper there.
Some people might call this stalking, I called it strategic planning- ok, that sounded stupid. There wasn’t a good reason to stalk anyone over the internet. I just wanted to look at some more photos before stopping and never doing this again—
I accidentally liked one of her photos from three years ago.
She wasn't going to find that weird, right? Jinx probably wouldn’t even notice— oh my gods, what if she thought I was creepy? She was the first person who I thought was being genuinely nice to me, I was sure she wanted to be my friend too. Jinx was straightforward with me which was something I deeply appreciated, plus it didn’t look like she had any type of hidden intentions behind her words.
Jinx was nice, she would understand that liking one of her pics from three years ago was a mistake. It’s not like I could undo it, Jinx had told me that we don’t always have to solve all of our problems, if I ignored the nagging feeling on the back of my neck it would go away.
That’s right, Lux. Everything is going to be alright, there’s no need to panic.
“Luxanna, is everything alright?” I heard my aunt Tianna call me from outside my room.
Tianna’s voice almost gave me a heart attack, she was a very loud person and her tone I could only describe as being closest to a dictator’s. She was the one who took care of me while my parents were gone on business trips, which was all the time, she was the one who raised Garen and I. Her husband worked closely with my parents and the Lightshield family, together they had the best law firm in the country. Tianna used to work with them too but she left when I turned seven and she’s been taking care of me ever since. I never questioned why she left, I thought it would’ve been disrespectful.
“Everything is alright, auntie,” I replied. I didn’t want her to get angry, I already had enough from last week’s ‘disciplinary talk’. I opened the door slightly, Tianna’s imposing figure was standing tall in front of me. After all these years I still find her intimidating, not that it was always this way.
“I see you’re ready for school, may I take a few minutes off your time? I believe we need to have a brief discussion.”
My heart was going to jump out of my chest, every time we had discussions they ended in me having to go on dates with ‘decent and hardworking’ men. The shitty thing was that Tianna wasn’t the one who planned these dates, it was my parents who used her as their little messenger. I usually only saw them once or twice a month, yet they never had the courtesy to ask how I was doing.
“Of course auntie, come in.”
Tianna examined my room carefully, she would come often to make sure I kept my room clean. Having privacy in this house wasn’t a privilege I had, my family made sure that I knew that.
“You might be wondering what is important enough to make me interrupt your morning routine. As it turns out I will be having to travel out of the country to meet your parents.”
That was unusual, I assume that uncle Eldred would come to take care of me for a few days. “Did something happen?”
“They needed help with a case that’s proving particularly difficult to negotiate. At first they were hesitant to ask for my help, but I reassured them that you were responsible and old enough to take care of yourself for a few days. I will be leaving tomorrow, and will be coming back next Monday.”
My brain was rewiring because never in a million years I would’ve expected this situation to happen, I was too stunned to speak. I could take care of myself, it’s not like I was a child that needed to be constantly supervised.
“Luxanna?”
“Yes, auntie! I can take care of myself, I promise I’ll make you proud.” I spoke too quickly, I didn’t process half of the stuff that Tianna said, the only words on my mind were
home alone.
I awkwardly stared at her, I couldn’t believe any of this was happening.
“Luxanna, I believe you need to attend school.”
My body was on autopilot from the moment I left the house until I arrived at school. When I arrived at biology class, my mind was imagining all of these scenarios where for some reason or another I ended up burning the house down. If there was the slightest thing out of place when my aunt came back, I would probably be sent to become a priestess.
Was this what having freedom felt like? A constant feeling of dread breathing down your throat until you wanted to scream it out?
You don’t always have to solve your problems.
I repeated the words Jinx told me, over and over until I finally calmed down. Nothing was going to go wrong, there were no problems in sight.
When I sat down I noticed Ezreal and Ahri were right behind me, up until now I had been so closed off to everyone else I didn’t notice those two were always behind me during biology. Now that I noticed them it would’ve been rude not to say hi.
“Hi Ezreal, we haven’t talked since you helped me out with my car.”
Ezreal’s face lit up, his smile was the brightest I had ever seen on anyone at school. “Lux! How’s life treating you?”
“I’m doing well,” I replied. “I wanted to thank you again for helping me out that day, I really don’t know what I would’ve done without you.”
His face was all red by now. “Oh, it’s nothing Lux, I’m always happy to help.”
“Luxy, if you don’t stop elevating Ezreal’s ego to oblivion I'm going to send you my therapy bills,” Ahri said out of absolutely nowhere.
I had spoken to Ahri a few times, back in middle-school we used to get paired together a lot in gym class. I wouldn’t say we had a lot of trust in each other, not enough to consider her a friend, yet I could confidently say she was a good person with an albeit harsh exterior.
“Ahri! Your birthday is a few days isn’t it? I hope you have a great time.”
Ahri’s smile was mischievous. “Trust me, it’s going to be the best party this school has ever seen. I already posted the invitation online, there’s gonna be a lot of people so make sure to bring your own booze to the party, Lux.”
I was slightly confused, why would I bring alcohol to her party? Why was I invited? Wait, was everybody invited to the party?
Ahri had big parties every year to celebrate her birthday. I assumed she had a lot of friends because the pics Fortune posted could be mistaken for stills from old teenage movies. It made more sense if Ahri invited everyone at school, it would also explain the ridiculous amounts of people that showed up.
Normally I wouldn’t go to one of Ahri’s parties, but after meeting Jinx I was tempted. Parties were these big chaotic events where according to movies people got drunk, high, and hooked up with people they didn’t know. I hadn’t found that kind of event appealing, however, I knew that I shouldn’t rule them out since I had never gone to a party before.
Parties weren’t my scene but they were Jinx’s, I had to make an effort to get closer to her as naturally as I could.
“Ahri, I don’t think parties are Lux’s thing,” Ezreal said.
I think most people aside from Ahri knew that. “I think I’m going to go to this one, I can’t miss all of the parties in my senior year.”
“Great, I see that you’ve finally grown a sense of fun, Luxy.”
Ezreal gave me a sympathetic smile, he apologized for Ahri’s eager aggressiveness through text. I reassured him that I wasn’t offended or put off by her.
Ezreal kept texting me throughout the whole class, most of the stuff he sent were memes which I found funny, I replied back with my own set of memes. We didn’t talk a lot after he helped me out with my car, but he would always write to me in the mornings to say hello, I thought it was cute. Now that I was on this journey to make friends, it was clear to me that Ezreal was on my list.
For the first time in my career as a high school student I didn’t pay attention to class, I was having too much fun texting Ezreal. I was good at biology if my grades were any indication of it, so not paying attention to a single class wasn’t going to weigh heavy on me. That was a problem for future Lux.
Once class ended, Ezreal offered to walk me to my next class. On our way to the gym I spotted Jinx hanging out with her friends. I assumed that meant they all had free period, it was odd that they all had it at the same time. I excused myself and told Ezreal to go ahead, I didn’t want him to be there when I talked to Jinx, I had this weird feeling that she wouldn’t like it.
I carefully thought of what I wanted to tell Jinx, I was afraid of coming off as too intense, especially in front of her friends.
“Hi, Jinx,” I began with a simple greeting. “Have you heard about Ahri’s party? I remembered what you told me on Monday, and well I was wondering if you’d like to go with me.”
Totally smooth—
“Are you asking me out on a date, Flashlight?”
I was going to physically combust out of the sheer amount of anxiety those words made me feel. What had I been thinking wording things like that?! I needed to correct that mistake.
“I was thinking more along the lines of hanging out, with your friends too of course!”
The thing about her friends was something I spontaneously came out with on the spot, it made more sense than her hanging around with me the whole night.
‘I think that’s a great idea,” Zeri said, “You’re Lux, right?”
The way Zeri spoke to me bothered me more than it should reasonably have. Then I noticed she was sitting on Jinx’s lap, Zeri was playing with Jinx’s braids and pretending they were a mustache. Was Jinx touchy with all of her friends or only with Zeri?
Were they more than friends?
Not that I cared, Jinx’ relationships were her business not mine. I strictly wanted to be friends with her, friends had clear boundaries when it came to each other’s relationships so I wasn’t bothered at all.
I cleared my throat. “Yes, it’s Lux. I hope you guys take my offer into consideration.”
“We never miss a party,” Jinx said, her smile was going to blind me from how bright it was.
“I’ll see you at six?”
“Six?” Orianna repeated. “That’s too early, we should statistically arrive at seven or eight. Did you know that nobody actually shows up on time?”
Another thing learned today, parties evidently never started at the announced time, who would think that? It’s not as if showing up late is disrespectful or anything. Gods, all of this teenage business was hard to understand.
“Orianna, we shouldn’t judge her.” Finally somebody understood my point of view here, Janna likely empathized with me. “She clearly doesn’t have a lot of friends, this is probably the first time she’s ever gotten invited to a party.”
Did all of Jinx’s friends have it out for me or were they only super honest with people?
“Ehm, I need to get back to class. It was nice meeting you guys.”
As I began to walk away I heard Orianna say something. “It was nice meeting you, Luxanna Crownguard.”
I never told any of them my full name, it was slightly unnerving but I chalked it up to Orianna hearing it from someone else at school. I had the suspicion that none of Jinx’s friends liked me much, was their first impression of me that bad? I had already screwed up for an unknown reason.
That didn’t matter for now, Saturday was going to be a great day. I was going to be cool, Jinx’s friends were going to like me, and Jinx herself would see me as a proper friend. Everything was going to be fine.
I was going to have the time of my life.
*
“I found an old picture of us.”
Jinx didn’t pay attention to what I was saying, she was too busy playing video games on her phone.
I was cleaning up my room when I stumbled upon a little box filled with memories. I had to drag Jinx outside to the porch where we used to play back when we were little. I hoped to find old toys that we could play with. After Ezreal and I went on that date Jinx wouldn’t stop ignoring me, after I confronted her about it things got marginally better. I had to tell Vi about it, unfortunately she forcefully dropped Jinx off at my house once the text got to her.
To say things between us were awkward was a massive understatement.
The picture on my hands had been taken around five years ago, it was easy to tell from Jinx’s short hair and braces. It suddenly dawned on me that Jinx wouldn’t be fond of the picture, I had to remind myself that the person in the picture was called Powder, not Jinx.
When she turned twelve Jinx told her parents she didn’t want to be Powder anymore, they were concerned and confused at first. Silco was the first one to show his full support for her, then Vander and her brothers came to accept it.
Vi and Ekko had been the ones who took it the hardest. To this day Powder’s name would still slip up from Vi, she loved her sister that much was obvious, but she still had a hard time admitting she changed.
Ekko was young when it happened, sometimes he still called her Powder but he never did it to hurt her. Jinx got very pissed off when it happened.
I remember her being so scared when she told me, crying her eyes out and begging me not to hate her. How could she ever think I would hate her?
Showing Jinx the damn picture would be insensitive. I hated that for some reason I kept it, I would never keep something that could be used to hurt Jinx. I ripped the photo into pieces.
I sat next to her, she stopped playing video games and was now texting some girl I didn’t know.
Jinx was popular with the girls at school. Everybody knew why she skipped class, it wasn’t a secret that Jinx loved to hook up with random girls.
If I were a braver person I would tell her hooking up with random girls was irresponsible, however, I never knew the right words to tell her that without hurting her. I tried once, learned to never comment on the subject again.
We sat in silence, I couldn't believe she was still ignoring me.
I had to try to get her attention. “Jinx, are you sure everything’s fine? You’ve been ignoring me all day.” She doesn’t budge, it’s not hard to see she doesn’t want to be here, she doesn’t want to be with me. “Jinx, it’s rude to ignore people when they’re talking to you.”
Jinx pulled out a blunt out of her pocket, she then proceeded to hand it to me. I was absolutely flabbergasted, from the smile on her face I could tell she enjoyed seeing my reaction.
“I don’t smoke, Jinx.”
“I’m not asking you to smoke, I’m asking you to light it up for me.”
“I shouldn’t be using my Star Guardian powers to light up a blunt,” I replied drily.
“But you’re gonna do it cause you love me.”
It was time to put my foot down, I knew Jinx smoked weed from time to time, nonetheless if this turned into a habit it could be bad for her health. “No, Jinx. Absolutely not, I’m not going to enable any of this.”
Jinx pouted. “You’re no fun when you get like this.”
“We have duties as Star Guardians, being high could put you in more danger than you already are. Imagine what would happen if Zoe decides to attack while you’re as high as a kite?”
“I doubt that’s ever going to happen.”
This whole situation was truly starting to stress me out. “Have you ever wondered why the First Star chose us? It has to be for a reason, Jinx, if we don’t take this seriously the consequences could be atrocious.”
“I don’t care or want to know why the First Star chose us,” Jinx said. “And you clearly don’t know me that well anymore if you think I don’t take this shit seriously.”
I was speechless, that was a punch to the gut.
“Have you ever wondered why I even accepted to be a Star Guardian?”
My throat was dry. I realized we never had this conversation, every Star Guardian had a different reason to accept their role, yet we never told each other why. The other team acted more like business partners than friends, while they opened up to us, we still didn’t know much about their backgrounds or reasons as to why they chose to become Star Guardians.
“I just wanted to spend more time with you.”
*
I spent most of the day writing down more details I remembered about my dreams.
There were some gaps here and there, sadly I couldn’t exactly remember what Jinx and I were arguing about. The rest was clear, Star Guardians could choose to decline the call of the First Star and were secretive about the motives behind accepting the role. Jinx and I were childhood friends in my dreams, from other fragments of my dreams I remembered we were growing apart the further we went along our Star Guardian journey.
I recognized more familiar faces this time around, one of them being Janna, one of Jinx’s friends in real life. Had I subconsciously used Janna’s appearance in my dreams? What if I saw Jinx in the street’s one day and that’s the whole reason she appeared in my dreams? It would’ve made sense if I hadn’t known Jinx’s name prior to meeting her.
Speaking of the devil, Jinx texted me.
Jinx
Can you drive me to Ahri’s house?
I replied as soon as I saw the message, I hoped it didn’t make me look desperate.
Jinx
Great, I’ll see you later :3
I had an hour before heading out. Since this was my first party I decided to dress casually, a simple white skirt and a sleeveless black shirt would do the job. If my parents saw me now they would overreact over the way I was dressing, thankfully they were not here, I could dress as I pleased without passive-aggressive insults being thrown my way.
I went to the wine cellar to grab a couple of bottles, my parents wouldn’t notice anyways. Ahri told me to bring my own alcohol, under normal circumstances I wouldn’t endorse underage drinking, however, I was rude to show up empty handed to a party.
When the time finally came, I calmly drove to Jinx’s house, she was standing on the same spot I left her at the last time. She was wearing a black crop top with a white X on it and pink shorts. I noticed she had tattoos of blue clouds from her arm to her waist. My brain simply refused to understand how a person could be as confident as her.
Jinx was breathtaking.
I stopped gawking before it became creepy, this sort of behavior was becoming more frequent the more time I spent with Jinx, it made me feel like a pervert.
“I caught you staring,” Jinx said once she hopped into the car.
I felt the heat rising to my face, I was starting to suspect she enjoyed teasing me.
“Where’s the rest? I assumed they were coming with us.”
“They’re buying alcohol, Janna told me they’d meet us later at the party. It won’t take them long, we usually get it from Orianna’s cousin.”
“Do you drink often?” I felt the need to ask, in my dreams she smoked but never drank.
“Only at parties, I’m actually not that big on drinking. I had to learn the hard way to always eat something before drinking, my first time at a party wasn’t fun at all.”
Now I was curious. “Did you blackout?”
“I got too drunk, Zeri and Orianna had to drag me back home by themselves so that Vi wouldn’t know. Miraculously the next morning I was fine, no hungover. I dodged a big bullet that day, anyways the lesson here is not to test your limits, Flashlight.”
“I’m not going to test my limits,” I said, “I’ve never had a drop of alcohol in my life, I think anything more than a few sips at best.”
Ahri’s house was not too far away from Pilover, she lived in the district of Ionia, another wealthy part of the city. It was a wonder that nobody had called the cops yet, I could hear the music from a block away, hell there were mountains of people coming to the party from every side. I had to park on another block because of all of the cars filling up the streets.
There were people everywhere, I was sure half of the people there didn’t even go to our school.
I spotted Fortune on the entrance of the house, she was talking to Ezreal and Kai’sa. Ahri’s parties were always planned by the four of them or so I’ve heard, they were the closest to what I would consider popular kids.
Ezreal waved my way when he saw us approaching. “Hey, Lux! I’m glad to see you came.”
“Hi, guys, it’s nice to see all of you here.”
“I didn’t know you were into parties, Lux,” Fortune teased. “What could’ve possibly caused this new development?”
“I thought it might be fun, plus I’ve never gone to any of Ahri’s parties before this one, it’s her eighteen birthday so this one is special.”
Fortune subtly took a quick look at Jinx and then smiled. “I’m sure you’re gonna have fun, but first hand some of those bottles over here.”
I was quite perplexed at her request but gave her the bottles anyway.
“I call it the alcohol tax,” Fortune said, “Like any other tax this one is used to benefit the people, all of the alcohol goes to the free reign table so people that couldn’t afford to buy some can drink.”
“If I knew that then I wouldn’t have sent my friends to buy alcohol,” Jinx said.
“You’re Jinx, right?” Fortune asked with a smile. “Since this is your first time at one of our parties, I’ll make sure your friends keep their booze. If you guys want to have some fun Ezreal and Kai’sa are going to play beer pong and need some opponents.”
Ezreal laughed. “We are the undefeated duo of beer pong, I wouldn’t recommend newbies try to challenge us. Trust me, we never miss a cup.”
“It’s on pretty boy.”
Jinx apparently had a competitive streak, she stared at Ezreal like she was about to bury him six-feet underground. The pong table was next to the pool, Taliyah was there organizing the cups, she looked surprised to see me.
“Hi, Lux,” she greeted me, the confusion in her voice was amusing. “Are you here to watch the match? Nobody has tried to challenge Ez and Kai’sa yet.”
“Actually, Jinx and I are the ones who are going to challenge them.”
Taliyah’s eyes went as wide as plates. “I don’t know if that’s a good idea… look we usually do fifteen cups, but I think for you guys we should go with five.”
“Five? Nasaaj, you’re giving them too little credit,” Fortune said. “Let’s go with the good old ten.”
Taliyah and Fortune set up the table and drinks. Ezreal was grinning from ear to ear while Kai’sa had a small but smug smile on her face, over at my side Jinx was eyeing them with what I thought was suspicion.
“You all know the rules, each player shoots one time per round, if it hits you drink and if the other team hits twice in a row they have the right to shoot again. You lose if there’s no cups on your side of the table,” Taliyah explained.
Ezreal and Kai’sa gave us the courtesy to start the game. Jinx hit the cup in the center, Ezreal was the one to drink it, I was honestly impressed by how he drank it all in one go. After that Taliyah gave me a ball, I was quite nervous to shoot it, I didn’t want to embarrass myself in front of everyone.
Jinx placed her hand on mine, she smiled at me and helped me shoot, it landed on a cup. “You have to throw the ball softly,” she whispered to my ear. “If you throw it too hard it will land too far away from the cup or bounce off.”
Her voice sent shivers down my spine.
“Beginner’s luck,” Ezreal said as Kai’sa began to drink. “If you land this next shot then I’ll be impressed.”
Jinx winked at me, encouraging me to take the next shot. I relaxed my arm, shot it softly as she had told me, the ball went in smoothly. Ezreal looked genuinely impressed, he whispered something to Kai’sa and she chuckled.
Kai’sa took the next shot, it landed on the front cup.
As Jinx was about to drink it, I snatched it out of her hands. “I’ll take this one.”
She raised an eyebrow. “Are you sure about that?”
To prove the point, I mimicked the way Ezreal drank the beer in one go. It tasted awful, the sensation that hit my throat was akin to getting burned and the aftertaste wasn’t going to disappear any time soon.
This was going to be an interesting night.
Ezreal and Kai’sa proved both to be very good at the game, they truly never missed. Jinx and I missed quite a few shots, which resulted in them having three cups left on the table while we only had one. Jinx grabbed my arm and pulled me closer, her breath smelled like beer already.
“The only way to win this is to gamble, we need to get the death cup. Two balls in one cup, an instant win.”
I didn’t trust myself to make the shot, however, with the look Jinx was giving me I couldn’t refuse. I took a deep breath, it’s not like I was able to focus on the game completely after drinking five whole beer cups. My arm felt a little numb but I managed to aim at the cup nearest to us.
The world turned in slow motion as both ping-pong balls fell into one cup.
Screams erupted all around us, for the first time since the game began I noticed just how many people were around us. Ezreal was laughing his ass off after drinking the remaining cups of beer by myself, Kai’sa on the other hand grabbed some vodka which she gave to Fortune.
“Congratulations on the newly crowned winners of beer pong!” Fortune announced. “As the winners they get a Miss Fortune Shot of our premium vodka.”
“A Miss Fortune Shot?” I asked. "Is that sort of special shot you named after yourself?"
“I like to call it the Miss Fortune Shot because I came up with the idea,” Fortune said. “It’s not really a shot, more like a waterfall of alcohol falling into your mouth.”
Fortune signaled me to crouch, for some reason I obeyed and proceeded to open my mouth as she poured the vodka down. Unlike beer, I was drinking that vodka like it was water. It didn’t taste bad, in fact I couldn’t sense the flavor at all. When Fortune stopped, I could barely get back on my feet.
Jinx followed suit, she was handling the alcohol better than I was. She was practically unfazed by it, case and point she grabbed the remaining vodka from Fortune’s hand and dragged me inside the house. I could see Fortune’s face light up in amusement as Jinx guided me further into the house.
I don’t know how or when we ended up in a room, my mind was all fuzzy so when my body hit the softness of a bed, I stopped thinking at all. Jinx was lying next to me, we were both staring at the ceiling as if we expected something to burst through it. Jinx was holding my hand tight, she was warm and I liked it.
“Let’s play 21 questions.”
I bursted out laughing at how random Jinx’s words were to me. Why would we play 21 questions? Asking questions wasn’t even a game! Alcohol clearly made Jinx act all silly, if anything I’d rather sing or play-pretend, now those were good games.
“Asking questions isn’t a game, Jinx.”
“Come on, Flashlight, it’s quite fun. I’ll even let you start, ask me anything.”
Anything?
“Do you have a boyfriend?”
“No, do you?”
Did I have a boyfriend? Nah, the last guy I dated was Sylas. “I dated this guy once, he was the nicest person my family ever introduced me to. We never really kissed or anything, cause he was gay. Absolutely gayer than a rainbow at a pride parade.”
“Oh, does that mean you have bad taste in men?” She teased me.
“I have never liked a single man my family has introduced me to. Next question, do you and Zeri—”
An obnoxiously loud sound rudely interrupted me, it was Jinx’s phone. I was one second away from throwing that phone out of the window. That phone was lucky that I felt numb on the hands or else it wouldn’t have survived the night.
Jinx’s face fell. “It’s Zeri, she’s looking for me.”
Fuck her, if Zeri wanted Jinx she could take her away from my cold dead hands. I was ready to fight for my new friend, I just knew that Zeri was calling her for some stupid reason that could wait.
I was ready to charm Jinx with my words.
“Noooooo don’t go.”
Jinx patted me on the head. “Don't worry, Lux. You know I'll be back.”
Those words were making me feel fuzzy, I was sure I had heard them before somewhere. Watching Jinx leave was amongst the most traumatizing events in my life, I hated being left alone by myself. It always happened and I hated having to wait for people to come back.
I was lying upside down looking at a pack of gummy bears near the nightstand. If I was going to wait for Jinx then at least I could eat something before she came back.
Suddenly I was eating gummy bears that tasted like sewage water. I couldn’t stop eating them even if they tasted like rotten chicken nuggets, I had eaten four with a fifth one on the way and I couldn’t stop.
Thankfully a nice giant talking fox lady saw my distress and took the gummies away from me. “Did you eat those gummy bears?”
That fox had a familiar voice… Oh my gods, was she my spirit animal? I heard spirit animals were supposed to protect you from negative energy. Were those gummies made out of negative energy? I began to crackle at the thought of it.
“Lux, did you eat those gummy bears?!” The fox asked again, this time she was much more agitated.
I couldn’t stop giggling. “They tasted awful.”
“Listen to me, Lux. I am going to come back in a few minutes with help, do not— and I repeat do not go downstairs until I get back.”
I hummed. “Ok.”
My next actions were blurry in my mind. One second I was waiting for the nice fox to come back and the next I was sitting in the middle of various colorful lights as people danced around me. There were so many people, so many beautiful girls dancing with each other, and so many pretty girls kissing too.
I wanted to kiss someone too!
It was unfair, I was seventeen and had never kissed anyone. Everything was unfair, I was supposed to enjoy more parties, I should’ve been playing beer pong with beautiful blue-haired girls years ago! I wanted to see more animal people and eat sewage gummies with friends too.
I stared at the blue and purples lights on the ceiling before dozing off.
|
Penelope would like to associate her relationship with Josie, as her mother used to say, “not quite friendship but a friendship nonetheless.” Josie would always call Penelope on the hall with a combination of a smile and a good afternoon and good night, depending on the time. During lunch, when the rest of the dining hall was full, Josie would always have room for her.
Penelope’s life came into a time when Josie was the first and the last thing she talked to every day. It came into a time where being around the girl was more of a natural tendency rather than that of a mechanical urge that sprung from her loneliness in the school.
Hence, in one particular early morning, when Penelope found a bedraggled looking Josie on her way back to the dorms, Penelope found the courage to tell the girl that she was going to the Grill for a cup of coffee, and hey maybe she wanted to come with? Josie beamed at her and for a moment Penelope was glad that she woke up early in the morning.
“Hey,” Josie said slowly, pausing from chewing her breakfast and asked the very thing that was on Penelope’s mind. “We’re friends right?”
Taken aback, Penelope thought of how their relationship would count as one. She knew Josie was on good terms with her despite the fact that everyone around Josie was wishing she wasn’t. Penelope knew, despite not knowing the girl fully well, that Josie was the only person she could trust in the school. Then Penelope frowned at herself and considered what made her thought she wasn’t friends with Josie?
She came up with nothing so she said, “Yeah.”
Josie laughed at her; relief was shining on her face.
**
Friendship with Josie was associated with many things, both positive and negative. The positive one was that Penelope finally had someone she could talk to with confidence, devoid of scathing remarks about her parentage and insults about the rumors circulating her. This was something that sent Penelope to an edge at first, battling with an idea on how much she should divulge to the other girl without being too personal. There were things in Penelope’s life that she wished to remain a secret but herself.
“My grandparent’s used to take me football matches before,” Penelope said out of reverie when they passed by a group of lower years playing the sport in the field. Pre-Josie, Penelope would never associate herself with the rough sport, or any sport for that matter, but there was something about Josie that made her want to impress her.
Josie looked at her, with a big smile on her face. Then out of nowhere, Penelope found herself spouting facts on players that she liked, their stats, and what team she predicted would win the Champions League.
“You play?” Josie asked, curious.
“Does PlayStation counts?”
Josie shook her head, giggling.
“Then that would be a no, although I do enjoy watching football players running up and down the field.”
Josie scrunched her nose. “Can’t say I share the same sentiments. Sweaty men running around, kicking balls? Not my type of sport.”
“Yeah? What kind of sport does Ms. Welcoming Committee like?” Penelope, for some reason, had tease dripping in her tone. This was new; she thought yet didn’t stop herself from exhibiting a playful manner.
“Chess? Lacrosse? Polo?”
“Please.” Josie rolled her eyes, smiling. “I’m more of a college volleyball type of girl.”
“You play?” Penelope asked. The level of sport flew straight away from her head.
Josie shook her head. “I’m more of a spectator.” She twirled around, began skipping. “But I do, in fact, play our school’s equivalent to Quidditch.” Her tone was proud, tilting her head high, but her face immediately dropped—comically—when Penelope looked at her with confusion written on her eyes.
“You don’t know Quidditch?” Josie asked, tilting her head to the side.
“I want to say that all I know is that’s from Harry Potter but I don’t want to offend you.”
Josie laughed and began to construct an elaborate tapestry of rules and regulations of the game, of the precise actions someone needed to do to score, with pride written on her face. Penelope listened or at least tried to with rapt attention but failed. There was something about the quality of Josie’s voice, how she sprouted facts after facts that she found enthralling. The words flew above her head, instead she found drinking in the exultant tone of Josie, how her hands flew around her as she excitedly speak, of how her feet planted on the ground with such precision despite the fact that she was skipping, talking animatedly, and overall doing what Penelope couldn’t do all at once.
“Josie,” Penelope said slowly. “I think I’d understand it more if I have a guidebook.”
“Too much?” Josie stilled.
“Not at all,” Penelope whispered. “It’s me. I just have a hard time concentrating sometimes.”
“Yeah? I think it’s easier to understand with visual aide anyway.” Josie offered. “Hey! Maybe you should come to one of the games.”
“I’d do that.”
Josie grinned back and skipped ahead, oblivious to the glares that were sent to Penelope by the two lower years that were playing football. Penelope’s face burned as she followed her friend (friend!), her thoughts running on the idea that the contemptuous looks were the only negative part of being associated with Josie.
**
On her third week at the boarding school, Penelope had managed to find the exact time when the students were either on their way back to their dorms or at the library making room for extra study time before the weekday curfew at 8 o’clock. Generally, at seven, only five individuals were in the area, mostly staff, and Penelope was grateful for that since she can eat her meal in peace without being subjected by venomous glares.
Of course, most circumstances such as this had to end once in a while, hence on Monday night, Penelope was surprised to see that there were at least a dozen students gossiping and dining on the hall at the same time. Most of them had their attention on someone else, some student who was sitting on the top of a table, which made Penelope grunt in gratitude. She sat at her usual table situated at the corner of the room, isolated from the communal of the rest of the school.
Penelope peered once again at the group, and lo and behold, it was actually Josie, stealing bites of breadsticks from the group of students that Penelope suspected were members of the welcoming committee.
Everyone looked at Josie—amazed—following her mouth as she began to tell them some funny story involving a lost duck down the pond. The rapt attention from the student body made Josie looked as though she was a preacher surrounded by congregants drinking in her every word. It took Penelope almost a minute to snap out of stupor and focus her concentration on the food in front of her: a steaming bowl of garlic soup.
Penelope put her earphones on, thinking of drowning the loud conversation through the help of some obscure music (the louder the better). She slipped the spoon on her other hand, submerged it on her meal, was about to put it in her mouth until someone tapped her shoulders.
“Garlic soup on Monday night? You and I can do so much better.”
Apparently, Josie had a thing for sitting on objects not meant for sitting because she materialized in front of her, poised from head to toe as she sat at the edge of her table.
“What are you—oh,” Penelope took off her earphones at the humor glinting at the other girl’s eyes. “You want to go out and eat pancakes at 7 in the evening?”
Josie nodded. “I wish I could. The Grill doesn’t allow underage after 6, I think.”
“Do they?”
“So I have this.” Josie waved the half-chewed garlic bread she was holding in front of her. “Do you mind?”
“Not at all.”
When Josie took a bite out of the drenched bread, Penelope immediately wished she hadn’t since Josie—goodness—let out a moan of appreciation that Penelope was so sure it can be even heard outside of the hall. Everyone transfixed their eyes at them, making Penelope blush at the tips of her roots.
“Sorry,” Josie said, embarrassed. “It’s just it’s so good, you know?”
The rest of the welcoming committee nodded dumbly at her, breaking into a laugh. A higher year narrowed his eyes at Penelope and Penelope stared back with an impassive emotion written on her face, until the boy began to openly laugh at her. She followed where his eyes were fixated and let out an exhale at the state of her blouse.
“Ah, shit!” She exhaled.
The spoon she was holding was dripping with soup, dregs left a trail on her front, its green color enough to be mistaken for puke. She grabbed the tissues from her bag and started to wipe the mess she made due to her stupidity, only to result to flicking its soggy dried parts across her phone and the annotations on her notebook she wrote painstakingly for more than an hour.
“You’re making it worse,” Josie said thoughtfully.
Her hand twitched as though she was overthinking what she should do until finally she grasped Penelope’s hand away from the table in a delicate manner, and dabbed Penelope’ notes with her handkerchief.
“Much better?”
“I can’t see past the stylistic analysis.”
“I can see that,” Josie replied. “Hey, I have a copy in my locker. If you want I can give you one.”
“Josie, you’re a lifesaver.” Penelope exhaled as she arranged her knapsack to face her front, covering the stained parts of her shirt.
“Shall we?” Josie grabbed her hand and led her through the doors.
Penelope’s flushed and strode out of the room as fast as possible.
***
Josie’s personal locker was at the other end of the school, adjacent to the teacher lounge and the storeroom for the theatre troupe. Josie told her as they walked that it was one of the perks of being the daughter of the headmaster, along with her own jeep provided by the school. She was made to promise to only use it during emergencies. But that didn’t Josie from suggesting to use the vehicle simply to satiate her affinity for the Grill’s pancakes.
“There has to be some kind of secret formula.”
“Hmm.”
“You’re so lucky that you’re not addicted to those pancakes, Penelope.” Her voice sounded muffled as she crammed her head down one of the boxes stacked at her locker. It was a rather big one, akin to one of those closets that had enough space for every vanity. “Which is surprising since you grew up in that place.”
“I’m clean since I moved to the city.”
“So you’re saying that I have to move out to stop myself from breaking a lot of school regulations?” Josie’s chortle died as she grunted and after a second she let out a triumph “Aha!”, raising her old notes above her head.
“Here you go.” Before Penelope’s fingers touched the decrepit notebook, Josie raised it above her head, her eyes twinkling in delight. “But you owe me a pancake, yeah? Tomorrow.”
“Tomorrow?!” Penelope yelped.
“Please.” There was a playful batting of eyelashes and Penelope couldn't help but drew her breath.
“Fine, but after the classes okay?”
Josie grinned in response.
**
History and Mathematics are the two classes Penelope had with Josie. At History, Josie sat right next to Penelope and chattered how the early schedule of the class conflicted with her meeting with the staffs. Penelope listened hesitantly, conscious at the glances and worried frown being thrown to the other girl.
At the end of the class, Penelope had already forgotten about the fleeting looks. Penelope gave Josie a smile and a thumbs-up when she managed to answer a particularly complex question about the Great Stand on the Ugra River.
At one point during Mathematics, Josie whispered “Four hours to go,” with excitement written on her face. Penelope repressed the need to smile; her feet tapped the ground irritably as though willing the time to go faster.
“Four hours to go,” Penelope repeated under her breath.
**
“See you after last period,” Josie said once they were out of the room and Penelope couldn’t help but grin on the way to the gym.
**
Michael Yao was the son of the werewolf chief compelled by Kai’s fanatics. Penelope remembered his face since he was the one who laughed at her at the dining hall last night. Penelope remembered his face clearly now that he had been yelling at her for at least a minute when Penelope accidentally stepped on his foot on the way to the tracks.
Penelope took it silently, knowing that if she even defended herself, the boy would still be painted as a victim of an unprovoked attack from Penelope. Penelope let him shout at her face until he got the whiff of the teacher’s incoming present to the room.
“I’m not done with you,” he whispered at her and nudged her hard in the back.
***
Physical Education turned out to be her most awful day. She had been called many names, each more poisonous than the last, and it seemed as though all of the combinations of curses and insults anyone could use had been hurled to her. Her knees and her body were aching at all of the shoves she received from Michael and his cohorts.
“I don’t see what she sees in you,” Michael started once again, his tone turned colder once he saw Penelope looking at the clock situated above their teacher. Penelope jogged faster.
“For some reason, Josie’s just so smitten with you.” His feet tried to intercept hers and Penelope backtracked to avoid sprawling in the ground.
“Apparently you’re some innocent kid who got tangled up in the mess of your family. I don’t believe that. Nobody believes that.” he hissed at her ear. “You’re only here because your grandparents have a deal with the headmaster.”
“I earned my place here,” Penelope replied with gritted teeth. “I get that you’re angry at my family but there’s no need to take it on me. I hate them too.”
The teacher finally caught her eyes and began walking towards their direction. He was too slow and it gave Michael the necessary time to hurl his most vicious insult yet.
“You’re just as sick as they are, Penelope. The whole uncomfortable thing you have when Josie’s around you, I know what it means. Once she figures it out, Josie’s going leave you alone.” Penelope felt her throat seize. It wasn’t like that, she thought.
“You’re a degenerate Penelope, just like your family.”
Penelope could feel her whole body shaking. Her hands clenched into a fist, nails digging on her skin that they began to crack. She took a deep breath and willed herself to walk away, and yet she felt stuck on the spot, her body ramrod straight incapable of choosing to fly rather than response.
“What? Did I hurt your feelings?” Michael whispered, his face almost pressing to hers.
Penelope could almost see it: Michael barking in pain, down on the ground with his hands plastered on his nose. She wanted to feel her hands pained, she wanted to see magic hurling out of them.
Penelope wanted to say words with pure venom she could muster but she chose not to. She took a huge shaky breath— her body felt hot and heavy in ways that told her to she was about to commit a monumental disaster—and Penelope decided to take a step back and turned towards the direction of the lavatory.
***
Penelope sat under the huge wisteria tree at the far side of the school grounds. Her eyes glazed as she tucked her feet closer to her chest, the feeling of being smaller seemed to be the most rational decision she had ever made in the entire day. It made her feel benign, harmless from what the other students probably thought during her confrontation with Yao.
That was where Josie found Penelope that evening.
“That doesn’t look good,” Josie frowned at her reddened palms. She sat awkwardly on the ground next to her, shifted her knees similar to Penelope’s position. After a while, she whispered, “Are you alright?”
“What do you think?” Penelope doesn’t know where the anger came from. She was too tired to think at the moment.
Josie’s breath hitched. “Will you feel better if I told you that Michael got suspended?”
“Just leave me alone, Josie.”
Josie nudged her shoulders and exhaled, “You’re a good person. You know that, right?”
“Huh?”
“You didn’t hurt him even though he probably deserved it.”
“No one deserves—“
“I know what he said, Penelope.”
You’re just as sick as they are, Penelope. The whole uncomfortable thing you have when Josie’s around you, I know what it means. Once she figures it out, Josie’s gonna leave you alone.
You’re a degenerate Penelope, just like your family.”
“I almost hexed him,” Penelope whispered. “I wanted to hex him.”
Josie’s voice was soft. “But you didn’t and that makes you a bigger person than him.”
Penelope wouldn’t meet her eyes. She wrapped her hands on Penelope’s wrists.
“You should go back inside and suck it up—“ Penelope felt herself froze. “And I’ll be next to you, handing detentions to anyone who crosses your path, yeah? Then you’ll spend your night doing your homework or watching a movie and the next day we’ll have pancakes, like always. Sounds good?”
Penelope managed a stiff nod. She hoped that her eyes didn’t show any cloud of dark promise, nothing of glimpse of wanting to hurt anyone or any other negative intent, anything but that. She didn’t want Josie to see that.
“Okay, c’mon. Let’s get you inside.”
***
Penelope spent the night on the library, unable to face the students—individuals who probably care for and know Michael—that was gallivanting at the dorms. She slept on the couch on the corner, the same one where Josie found her when they first spoke to each other.
In the morning, Penelope found her lower body covered with a tartan blanket, almost sat ramrod straight when Ms. Tig peered at the direction of her sleeping form. The old woman merely nodded like she knew what happened.
**
Penelope came back on her dorm room hours before the start of class. She figured Josie would understand if she didn’t show up during her first period. Or the next period after that.
Her room looked as though it was the aftermath of a vortex. All of her things were either on the floor, broken, or torn apart; some of them were a combination of two. Her favorite books, what she could barely discern as Vonnegut’s and Orwell’s all laid on her bed, were all torn out. Her closet was ransacked, shirts and jeans scattered everywhere, covered with the dirt from the fallen hibiscus plant on the corner. It was exhausting to look at.
She started at her daily dose of old news clippings tucked on her door and sighed at the photocopy of Michael Yao’s suspension notice, down to the note that indicated that the incident could affect his scholarship.
The sun was up and shining but Penelope felt incredibly tired.
**
“Oh no. No, no, no,” she said and as she collected the pieces of the many of the photos taken away from her corkboard—her brother’s wide grin, standing behind various jam-packed football stadiums. All of the pictures that depicted her memories that weren’t associated with the background of her family were all torn out.
Penelope fought the heat that was creeping on her eyes as she arranged them one by one.
***
Josie showed up on the afternoon, her hands laden with notes that Penelope suspected was for her, but it immediately joined her possessions on the floor once Josie’s eyes landed on the state of her room.
“I’ll find out who did this. I promise.” Josie said softly but with enough conviction that Penelope knew she was telling the truth.
“They want me gone, Josie.”
“You earned your place here.”
“Maybe,” Penelope shrugged. Her eyes felt heavy and so was her mouth, a tell-tale sign that she wasn’t in the mood to argue back. “But you can you blame them?”
“That’s bullshit, you know that. You didn’t do anything wrong, Penelope. They’re the one at fault here.”
There was a pregnant pause, and then Josie straightened her back as though she was on a mission. She gathered the notes on the ground and set them on the study table.
“Pass me your books, Park.”
“What?”
“Pass me your books and those pens on the floor too. We’re going to make this room safe for you, you hear me? This is going to be our safe place.” Josie said with such confidence, her face beaming with assurance and passion, and yeah Penelope couldn’t help but let out a laugh.
Penelope grabbed her copy of 1984 and said, “Yeah sure, why not?”
***
Her room looked pristine. It wasn’t the same with the arrangements she did when she got to the school; Josie made it seemed bright and practically vibrating with a positive light. Against the far right was her bed, neatly tucked with a fresh linen bed sheet and colored pillow sets of coral green shade.
“We’ll fill this one,” Josie pointed at her bookcase for what felt like the nth time.
“I’m holding onto that,” Penelope said.
Josie beamed at her.
***
On their third time at the diner, Penelope slipped a copy of the menu in her pockets when Josie wasn’t looking. She tucked them right next to her collection of photos and it stood awkwardly next to the beaming faces. After a few seconds of contemplating, Penelope knew that the menu truly belonged in the corkboard.
Penelope put the corkboard next to her alarm clock and slept soundly that night. |
The demon arrived in the traditional way, a plume of acrid smoke, a circle of blood and stone, the wide eyes of those who summoned him only half believing they had the ability to make him manifest. Then again, nobody truly believed they could make him manifest.
He felt the prickle of their attempts on occasion, the distant buzz of their chants, and ignored them. If they were too weak to sink a hook into him, he was not interested. If they were strong enough to pull him through realms, intent on forcing him to do their bidding, he killed them. Over the centuries he had allowed seven summonings to drag him to the human realm, for that purpose.
This time was different. Instead of the cracked dirt or jeweled tile floor of a dungeon or palace, he stood within the summoning ring – the blood and stone border was customary enough – on a bed of lacey frost and crackling, brown leaves. Cold wind raked through his black hair, not strong enough to dissipate the darker aura surrounding him. The aura bound him to the darkness of the night. His summoners tonight were unlikely, not sorcerers or witches, not even adults, but he saw the reason they had succeeded in catching his attention.
A dark-haired girl stood on thin, pale legs, her hands shaking at her sides, splatters of blood weighing down the thick material of her nightgown. At her feet, partially hidden behind her, lay the body of another child. Smaller, slighter, nearly dead.
“Smart,” he said, “using the end of her life to summon me.”
“I-I wasn’t trying to summon you.”
Curious. His name was not one a summoner would mistake, not even one so inexperienced.
The girl’s eyes were bloodshot, nearly black beneath the dark slashes of her brows. Were she to grow up, she would be striking. As it were…
“Well, I am who you got. Praytell, little girl, what deed do you seek a demon to perform for you?”
She hesitated, but not out of fear. Her eyes, exhausted though they were, were calculating.
“Are you as strong as Mammon?” she demanded.
So she knew of his younger brother. Not unusual. Several of his siblings dealt regularly with humans. And Mammon had a soft spot for children.
He ignored the insult inherent to the question. “At least.”
“And…”
The pile of child at her feet moaned weakly. The girl flinched. His own body tensed in response to that wordless sound. It was the blood of that child which had called him, which bound him now to the Earthly plane. The connection between demon and summoner was not as strong as a pact, but he still felt it. For all the ferocity the older sibling had – for what could they be but siblings – she hadn’t been strong enough to hook him. The smaller one had, which meant she would have to die. By the looks of her, it would not even need be by his hand. Time would take her, soon.
“And what, child? Be quick. I was forced to respond. I do not take well to being forced to wait.”
“And you don’t have his problem with hurting people?”
Mammon had told the human he had a problem with hurting humans? Such a fool.
Lucifer grinned, all sharp angles and hard, white teeth.
“No. I do not share that weakness.”
Her shoulders dropped then, relief nearly making her collapse. Raising her arm, she pointed past him.
“There. In the house. There are five of them. Mages.”
Lucifer turned. Through the skeletal trees he could make out the silhouette of a rambling house, surrounded by bonfires. The prickle of human spellcraft reached him, volatile, hostile, hungry.
“Turning the tables, are you?” he asked. “They sought to sacrifice you. Instead you are sacrificing them? For what, in return?”
“I don’t want power in return for their deaths. I just want them dead.”
“Bloodthirsty.”
“Practical.” Drawing on whatever iron will had brought her this far, the girl stood straighter.
“I call on you…” She faltered. Lucifer’s grin broadened at her confusion. “What’s your name?”
However had they managed to hook him without his name? This would bear looking into, later. For now, he would make the best of it and at least take a soul or two. It would cut down on his work load later. He could hear the humans now, rough male voices, harsh with desperation, could hear the baying of the hounds they were about to release.
“You may call me Master.”
She jerked. “No.”
“Then you cannot command me. It is a simple thing. One word, in exchange for your life.”
“My soul, you mean. I know how your kind works.”
“I very much doubt you do.”
“I call on you to kill those men!”
Lucifer did not move. The order drove at him on the force of her will, then evaporated before it made contact. The baying of the hounds increased.
“Please!” Her voice twisted with fear and anger. “Have you no heart?”
“None at all. Child, you are in far over your head. I may not even be the worst threat to you in these woods tonight. Look at what they did to your sister. She was bound, cut, bled out. Am I right?” A standard sacrifice. Humans were so messy. He pressed a hand to his chest and inclined his head. “Make a deal with me. I will be mercifully quick.”
She stared past him, trembling, her face falling, all the fight leaving her like a light extinguished.
“’sokay.”
It took him a moment to locate the origin of the new voice. The lump on the ground.
“’sokay.”
The dark-haired girl shook her head. Tears formed in her bloodshot eyes. “Mel, no.”
A bloody hand wrapped around her sister’s calf. Bruises marred the small wrist. Her face was nearly hidden beneath the tangled mess of her dark hair. If he’d had a heart, it might have been moved by this.
“You need to live.”
“We’ll both live.” The older girl’s fists clenched. “I’m taking care of it.”
“That’s what you said when you cut me to make this circle. We’re both still in trouble, and now there’s an angry demon to deal with.”
“It doesn’t-”
“You always demand, never let me offer. Hypocrite.” She croaked the last word out as she levered herself into a less collapsed position on trembling arms. She raised her head and fixed Lucifer with her gaze. Her eyes were light inside of a darker band, her smile was sweet despite the cracked lower lip. Her face was round, still the face of a babe. If he had a heart…
She cleared her throat with a wince, then raised her voice, small but clear and impossibly compelling. It reached him instantly, penetrated the shroud of his aura.
“I call on you, Lucifer, Prince of Darkness, Lord of Corruption. I call on you Lucifer, the First of the Fallen, the Morningstar. I call on you, Lucifer, to kill those five men and their hounds, here in this place, tonight under this moon. I call on you, Lucifer, to do this deed and only this deed, then to return from whence you came. My name is Melody Vale. Hear me and obey.”
The order struck deep, a stinging blow to the center of his chest, sweetened by the innocence of her soul and the depth of her desire. Blue fire wreathed his hands. The circle blew away on a blast of icy wind. The dark-haired girl crouched, covering her head. Melody Vale collapsed.
Lucifer killed the men. He killed the hounds. He was swift with the dogs, not with the others. He might not be capable of much in the way of sympathy, but he understood when punishment was due. The order tugged at him, trying to send him back to the demon realm. He burned it away, and wondered why he did not hear a cry of pain from his small, temporary master. Likely she had not survived the order she had given. A small mercy, to avoid the backlash of her spell broken.
He surveyed the house, burning tomes and grimoires as he went, surprised and a little disturbed at how well-prepared, how well-educated these men had been. The prison in the basement where the girls had been caged was sparse but not fetid. They had not been kept long, but he did not deceive himself that they had only been delivered this night or that their captivity had been easy. The stone alter in the center of the house was covered in dried potions and blood. Rusty motes fell from the rune-imbued shackles when he touched them. A spell that used one girl up before moving on to a second. What power had these mages been attempting to capture?
The house caught fire as he exited, small explosions lighting the sky as the appliances and fuels caught. He returned to the circle of stones in the woods. The older girl was gone. The other one, the interesting one, remained. Her skin was chill, her body light in his hands as he raised her from the ground. She was too far gone to even shiver. Her head fell back, her eyes slitting open, pale green meeting his now burning red.
“Lucifer,” she whispered. The power of his name still surrounded her, limning her with pale blue light.
“Yes.”
The corner of her mouth tilted up crookedly, an attempt at a smile. “Thank you for coming for us.”
He had never before been thanked by a human.
“I merely obeyed a summons.”
“Oh no. I know better.” The smile slid away. “Lucifer never has to obey. He chooses to.”
His eyes narrowed. “Where did you hear that?”
“Lucifer only responds to those strong enough to call him.” Her eyes closed.
“Who told you this?” He shook her. Her head rolled against the crook of his elbow.
“Only call on him if you have no choice.”
“Melody Vale” he commanded, “wake and answer me.”
Her eyes shot open, pale and wide and sightless. The blue fire burned more brightly around her. Slowly, like a mechanical doll on gears, her head turned toward him.
“Lilith.” Her small heart stopped as his began to ache.
“He’s out,” Mammon declared, crossing his arms and standing exactly seven inches inside the doorway of Lucifer’s study.
Asmodeus slid around him, aided by his slender form and his slick, satiny pink blouse.
“When do you think he’ll be back?”
“Probably right when you’re trying to pry open his desk drawer or force a cursed book to show you its pages. I’m telling you, Asmo, you do not want to go poking around in that demon’s personal spaces.”
“Learned that from experience, did you?” Asmodeus flashed a grin as he examined the top of Lucifer’s desk. A bone-handled letter opener, a stamp for the family crest, and a paperweight which Mammon was fairly certain held the trapped soul of a courier who hadn’t measured up to Lucifer’s standards during an important delivery.
“Hmph. That’s just common courtesy.”
“Yes, because you respect private property so much, big brother.”
“Of course I respect property. And privacy.”
“Secrets, you mean. And your things. Not other people’s.”
“That’s not true,” Mammon huffed, hands on his hips. “Some things become more valuable the longer someone important owns them. I pay loads of attention to that.”
“That’s hardly respect.” Asmo tried all the drawers. None opened. He turned to the bookcase next, picking up and setting down small sculptures and framed artwork. “That’s like…valuation or something.”
“Whatever. He’s not here. Let’s go. I want to get to the portal before the shift change. The late night warden takes their job way too seriously.”
“What part of the job? The part where you’re currently on the no-fly list to the human realm?” Asmo stroked the long neck of a bottle of wine.
“Don’t touch his things like that. And never mind about me. What about you? You’ve got an early curfew, doncha? You’re not even supposed to be out of the house let alone outside of the realm after nine p.m.”
“Ugh, don’t remind me. It’s simply a misunderstanding though. Which I will prove as soon as I can find my work.”
“It’s probably not even in here. He wouldn’t hide it somewhere the likes of you could find it.”
Asmo spun, beaming and clapping his hands. A warm thread of greed trickled steadily from him. “That’s why I brought you, Mammon! You’ve got a nose for valuable objects. Help me find my designs!”
Mammon peered into the hallway, his heart rate rising. Lucifer could – and frequently did – appear at any moment. That, he knew from experience. They needed to put a damn bell on him.
“I can find things the owner thinks are valuable. I doubt Lucifer cares about your designs.”
“He cared enough to take them from me. Such gorgeous work, too. So maybe they were a little risqué, and maybe the one fabric used the royal colors which we’re forbidden from using without express permission. But can you blame me? They’re so rich!” Asmo stamped his foot. “Can’t you search for what I find valuable? I’ll think really hard about it, about my passion for it, about the blood, sweat and tears I put into it.”
“Not in here.” Mammon waved his hand like he was clearing gnats. “The entire study is saturated with Lucifer’s power. If you’re not careful you’re going to set off a trap and find yourself stuck in here or burned alive, or turned into a toad-”
“Ooh, what’s this? There’s a sculpture inside.” Asmo held a glass box the length of his hand up toward the light, peering into it. Thick gray smoke coiled and writhed inside of it. Asmo let out a little noise. “Oh, it’s simply divine. It looks like a young human woman. It’s so lifelike, honestly.”
“Whatever, put it down. Let’s go.” Mammon was getting jumpy. It was an instinct, honed by centuries of getting caught. By Lucifer, specifically. And then punished, by Lucifer, very specifically.
“It’s…it’s breathing.” Asmo made a noise so far from customary that Mammon stopped edging out of the room and faced him. “Mammon, I think this is a living person. Come and look.”
If it would get them out of here faster, fine. Mammon crossed the room and looked at it. There was no dust on the glass case which was notable, not that Lucifer was a slob, but all bookcases accumulated dust. He didn’t feel a curse or spell on it, but admittedly that was not his strong suit.
“I don’t see nothing.”
Asmo tilted his hand. The smoke rolled, revealing a bare leg and some wadded up blue fabric. Like a blanket. It was realistic. It was also a little creepy.
“It’s probably a doll. Put it back. Let’s go.”
“Lucifer isn’t keeping a doll in his study, Mammon. Honestly. Wait, you have to see the end with the head. She’s pretty.”
Asmo tilted it again. The wave of smoke rolled to the other end of the box. A bare shoulder came into view, then a face turned to the side. Pale skin, dark lashes brushing the cheek, pink lips parted in rest. It was eerily lifelike.
“Why do you think he’s keeping her?” Asmo whispered. “Is she…is she like his slave?”
Mammon’s stomach tightened. Lucifer could be cruel, and he definitely had a sadistic streak. But he wasn’t a bad person. Mostly.
The smoke covered the figure again. It was probably just a doll. Some kind of relic or artifact. Totally not a tiny living person. Asmo was seeing things. He’d prove it to him. Mammon tilted the box in Asmo’s hand. The power of Lucifer’s aura bolted through the study. He yelped, jumping for the door. Asmo staggered, bumping into the desk.
The box fell.
And shattered.
Smoke boiled out, thick and suffused with Lucifer’s power. Mammon scrambled back. Asmo shrieked. But there was no angry Lucifer standing in the doorway. They hadn’t triggered a trap or fire or other punishing spell. The smoke dissipated, revealing shards of glass, a royal blue blanket, a crisp white pillow, and a human woman. Full-size. A full-size human woman that would no longer fit in Asmo’s hand even if he wanted her to. She wore a pale blue tank top and darker shorts. Soft fabrics, human clothes for sleeping in.
“Should I pick her up?” Asmo asked.
“No, put her back,” Mammon hissed.
“But the box is broken and, even if it wasn’t, it’s too small for her now.”
Asmo flailed. This was bad. Being the older brother, and probably the best problem solver among the family, Mammon needed to take control of the situation before they both ended up flayed alive. He stood, brushing glass from his pantlegs.
“It’s fine. I’ll get a replacement box. You clean up the glass and air the room out to get rid of the smoke. We can 3D print a smaller version of it and-”
“You want to forge a small copy of this human?”
“It’s not a real human, obviously. Why would Lucifer have a woman shrunken in a box?” Mammon laughed to hide his nerves. He was going to get blamed for this even though he hadn’t done it. He hadn’t even wanted to be in the study. “It’s a doll, of course. Don’t worry about those details. Just get a broom or something.”
The woman sat up. She looked at Asmo – who gasped – then turned and squinted at Mammon. A soft, inquiring sound came out of her. Was she human? Coherent? Actually alive?
“A-are you okay, ma’am?” Mammon asked, wavering between helping her up and making a run for it.
“Here, let me help you with that.” Asmo crouched beside her, sliding the blanket up to cover her legs and – almost accidentally – brushing against her bare skin at the same time. His eyes glowed, his hypnotic power in effect.
“You never saw us, we were never here. We’re just a dream. Why don’t you try to get back to sleep, dear?” Asmo giggled prettily. “That’s it. Lay down. Close your eyes.”
She blinked blearily, and Asmo began to flush. The intensity of his power ratcheted up. The woman turned to Mammon again.
“Where’s Lucifer?” she asked in a small voice, rough with disuse. Like an actual living human woman might.
Oh, this was so bad.
She couldn’t stop shivering, despite the three blankets the demons had layered over her – one soft and fuzzy, one thick and heavy, and one that felt like velvet and smelled faintly, pleasantly of roses. And because she couldn’t stop shivering, she couldn’t quite fall back asleep. Every time she started to nod off, either her teeth would chatter loudly enough to wake her up or violently enough that she nearly bit her tongue off.
“You should have something to eat,” the big one said.
And he was big, tall with impossibly broad shoulders, imposing with his stern frown despite his colorful clothes and bright orange hair. Beel, she remembered. Beelzebub. He was one of youngest ones and Lucifer worried about him, though what he had to worry about she had no idea. He looked like he could totally handle himself physically, just like he was currently handling the two massive trays of food he’d set on the coffee table after discovering her with Asmodeus and Mammon in the music room. He’d suggested she eat no fewer than eight times and she had tried, despite the protests of her stomach. She had barely woken up, and her stomach definitely hadn’t woken up. But he hadn’t gotten mad. He just kept eating, methodically and relentlessly. And, thankfully, at the rate he was going all the food would be gone in a matter of minutes.
The sofa they’d settled her on was powder blue, all fancy embroidered material and dainty legs, but it had no trouble holding her and Asmodeus, who was all but wrapped around her right side, and Mammon when he stopped pacing and tugging at his hair and dropped beside her. That was the other thing that kept her from falling asleep. Asmo kept petting her hair and the one arm she had outside of the blankets, and it felt so, so nice.
Inside the stasis spell in the box she slept, but at a level beyond unconsciousness. Not sound could reach her, nor any sensation. The pillow never got too warm, the blankets were never too cold. It was like she didn’t exist, except every once in a while – a long while, if she had to guess – she would rouse enough to know that she wasn’t feeling anything, and that she couldn’t wake herself up. Maybe it was when Lucifer checked that the spell was still working. Maybe it was a part of the spell, cycling her close to consciousness so that she wasn’t lost forever in the nothingness of statis. But they hurt, those moments of remembering that she existed but knowing that she was about to plunge back into that nothingness. Even before her mind floated close to consciousness, her body would ache, longing for touch. If she had better control over her muscles, she would have leaned into Asmodeus. As it was, all her effort was going into not sliding off the couch or getting dizzy from watching Mammon.
The white-haired demon was all frantic, barely-contained energy, and nothing she’d said was calming him down. Not that her mind was in top form. It had been a shock to awaken on the floor, and the spell she’d been under was loath to release her fully.
“But how long were you in there?” he demanded again.
“Weeks?” She shrugged even though it couldn’t be visible through the blankets. Like that story, The Princess and the Pea. Wait, did that make her the pea? “A month, maybe. I’m sorry, it’s quite hazy.”
“Well the good news is you didn’t sell your soul, sweetheart. I can still see it inside of you, all aglow.” Asmo tucked the blankets under her thigh again. She closed her eyes for a moment, savoring the sensation.
“Oy!” Mammon kicked his brother in passing. “Keep ‘em where I can see ‘em.”
Clicking his tongue in annoyance, Asmodeus parked both his perfectly manicured hands on his knees. Then he smiled slyly at her.
“So, tell us how you and Lucifer first met.”
This is where things were going to get tricky. And she barely had the mental capacity to blink, breathe and not drool on herself all at the same time. Demons. She had to remember they were demons and that demons were full of tricks and appetites that were dangerous to one dull-witted human. Not that she’d seen the tricks yet. They’d seemed honestly concerned when she’d woken up, and they didn’t seem to be trying to seduce her so much as kind of take care of her? Or were blankets and snacks part of the seduction? How pathetic would that be, giving in to the temptation of cozy blankets and a few head pats?
“I don’t think we were introduced.”
“Okay, but where were you when you met?”
“Walking in the woods.” She needed to keep this vague.
“What woods?” Mammon demanded, his impatience and nerves adding force to his words.
“Near my house.” The air had smelled of smoke and copper. She’d been so cold.
“And did you have something valuable with you? Or were you with someone powerful? Maybe a head of state, or royalty or something?”
She shook her head.
“You should have some of these croquettes,” Beel suggested.
“Oh, no thank you.”
“Suit yourself.” Two croquettes disappeared in a single bite.
“With someone very beautiful?” Asmo asked, brushing a lock of hair behind her ear. She shivered. “Or maybe you were the very beautiful someone.”
“I swear, Asmo. Touch her one more time and I will tear that hand off.”
“Rude!” Asmo giggled as though Mammon’s threat was cute. “I’m sure it’s hard to remember much after you’ve woken up from such a long beauty sleep, not that you need it. Let’s focus on more impactful memories. Those might be easier to recall. How long have you and Lucifer been lovers?”
“What?” She whispered and Mammon screeched at the same time.
“You expected to see him beside you when you woke up. Surely that implies intimacy. If not lovers then how would you describe your relationship? Or is it that you aren’t lovers yet?”
“Asmo, not everything has to be lewd.” Mammon sat on the edge of the table, facing her. Glaring, Beel pulled his plates closer. “What do you do for him? What’s your value to him?”
“My value?”
“Sure. You’re human. Humans are weak. So why does he keep you around? Do you owe him money or does someone else owe him and you’re their collateral? Is he using you as leverage?”
“I’m not really sure I’m valuable to him.”
“Are you his secret love child?” Beel asked.
The other demons turned to stare at him. He shrugged. “Levi and I were watching an anime where this kid has a power like a super hero’s power, and someone asked him if the kid was his secret love child. She has dark hair and Lucifer has dark hair, so…”
“Lucifer has black hair,” Mammon snapped. “She’s a brunette. Their eyes aren’t even close. His are black and full of aggravating arrogance and hers are that creepy light color. Also he is a demon and she is a human he kept in a box!”
“So what do you two do together?” Asmo asked, a thread of something in his voice that made her want to turn to him, to confide in him, to whisper secrets only he could hear in the dark. With what little energy she had, she stopped herself from leaning on him.
“He tells me to do things and I do them.”
Asmo’s expression faltered for a moment, his amber eyes rounding with concern. Beel’s frown deepened, even around his full mouth. Mammon stood up again.
“What?” he all but yelled. “He orders you around? What kind of orders? What does he make you do?”
“I don’t…I don’t always remember.”
“But you do these things?” Asmo asked warmly.
“Yes.”
“Why that no good, lying, rotten, power-tripping-”
Mammon stopped. His eyes, the blue and gold of an ocean sunrise, went wide. Sitting cross-legged at the table, Beel stopped chewing and turned. At her side, Asmo sighed and straightened.
Lucifer loomed in the doorway. He wore a long, black coat trimmed in silvery fur. His dark brows arrowed down. He didn’t look surprised, but he did look put out. Unfolding his arms, he beckoned with a gloved hand. A jolt of energy lit within her, hot and spiked. Her vision cleared, the last of the stasis fog vanishing. Her limbs felt like they belonged to her again. She even almost felt hungry.
“With me,” Lucifer ordered, “now.”
“Yes, Master.” She wriggled out from under the warmth and weight of the blankets. She shivered as she stood. Her small sleeping clothes did little to protect her from the cool of the room.
A cloud of aura manifested around Lucifer, dark with fury.
“Whoa!” Mammon grabbed her arm and maneuvered her behind him, the shock of the touch almost as surprising as his words. “I don’t know what the hell you’ve been up to, but you’re not going to punish her.”
Surprise flashed though Lucifer’s eyes for a moment before he leaned forward, smiling without humor. “Not her, but you if you don’t step out of the way.”
She patted his shoulder blade, then stared at her own hand resting against his back. She had to stop herself from closing her eyes and leaning against him. Now that she was more awake the ache was stronger. She wanted to touch someone, to reassure herself she was alive, and there was someone who cared enough about that fact to let her lean on them. Which was selfish. She was lucky to be alive, grateful. It was enough. Closing her hand into a fist, she forced it to her side.
“It’s okay, Mammon. He’ll only make me sleep again. It’s nothing to worry about.”
It took him a moment to release his light hold on her arm. Skirting the malicious aura, she went into the hallway while Lucifer ordered the three brothers not to move an inch. He would deal with them when he returned. Their protest was the sound of hope dying.
Her bare feet sounded loud against the tile, overtaken by the strike of Lucifer’s heels as he fell into step beside her. He shortened his stride so she didn’t have to jog, and the malicious aura drifted away into nothing.
“’Master’?” he asked dryly.
“I was going along with the scenario they suggested. I was under the impression they aren’t supposed to know about me.”
“And yet, here you are.”
She raised both hands. “Not it. You’ll see when we get to your study. I was minding my own business, in a magical coma of your inducing so obviously I couldn’t get out on my own. There must have been an earthquake or something.”
“There was no earthquake, not that one would have been enough to break it.”
“Then I don’t know what happened. I woke up in a sea of glass.”
“Are you hurt?”
“I’m fine.”
“Did they do anything to you?”
“They gave me blankets and tried to feed me, then played twenty questions.”
“Who was in my study, Melody?” The edge to his voice was borderline sinister.
She managed not to cringe. “It’s hard to say. I was very groggy when I came to.”
He gave her a cynical glare which softened when she asked, “How long has it been this time?”
“Five months.”
She swallowed. That was a long time. No wonder she felt so dull. “And…did you find anything?”
“If I had,” he said softly, “I would have woken you.”
She bowed her head and preceded him into the study, until he stopped her with a touch to her elbow. He wore gloves. He never would have touched her without. “Stay on the steps. There’s glass.”
“Are those coffins special order?”
“It’s a magical vessel, not a coffin.”
“Can I stay awake for a month while you have a new one made?”
With a few brusque movements, Lucifer sent the shards of glass flying off the wood and out of the carpet into the air, where they fused into a diamond. It landed lightly on his desk, balanced on the pointed tip.
“I have a spare.”
“Oh.” Mel faced the window, watching the outline of branches swaying in the darkness outside of it, bracing herself for disappointment. “Can I stay out for the night? I just…I’ll sit. Read a book or something.”
He hesitated for the shortest moment, like he’d had to engage the manual override on his natural tendency to say no.
“How about some music?” he asked. “I’ll make tea.”
She followed his movements as he hung his heavy coat in the wardrobe and went to the electric kettle on the sideboard. He stood tall, his red waistcoat over his black shirt improbably unwrinkled at what was probably the end of a long day, his broad shoulders straight. Lucifer was inscrutable, as a rule. She could tell when he was mad, feel it or – when he was really mad –see it in an aura around him. Often he was irritated, rarely amused. Beyond that…
She didn’t think he didn’t feel other emotions. He just didn’t allow himself to show them, or “indulge” in them he would probably say. Not that he experienced things like a human did. He had existed for a long time and had established a rigid set of codes for himself. But sometimes, like now, his actions betrayed him even if his face and body did not.
Lucifer was the Avatar of Pride. And he had been a powerful, commanding being for eons before that. But he could also be tired and lonely, the same as any other person. Of course, she would never accuse him of being like a regular person. And, even when he was tired and lonely, he didn’t seem to share her need for contact.
Making her way to the couch, treading carefully even though he would not have allowed her to walk if even a sliver of glass remained, she sat, tucking her legs beneath her. A plush gray throw – probably the hide of some outrageous demonic beast – floated over the back of the couch and into her lap.
“Thank you.” She tucked it around herself and picked up the book on the end table.
“It’s in Latin,” Lucifer said without turning around.
“And not for grade school Romans, I take it?” While a diligent student, she wasn’t great at languages and Lucifer had finally given up and released her from Latin lessons.
“You think I spend my spare time reading children’s books?”
She didn’t respond. Her mind moved slowly after coming out of stasis, even if it had only been a few months this time. He’d left her under for two years once, while dealing with some chaos or other. She hadn’t been able to speak properly for a week. He hadn’t left here there for that long since, thankfully.
Lucifer put a record on. Classical music of course. Strings, some woodwinds. It would have been pretty if it wasn’t hauntingly sad. He sat beside her on the couch, handing her a cup and saucer. She took it carefully. It was impossible not to feel clumsy around him.
“Thank you.”
“Of course. How are you feeling?”
“Fuzzy. How was your day? Or night? I never know what time it is here.”
“It’s evening now. My day was fine, thank you.”
They sipped their tea, an earthy roasted green tea – her preference – for a moment. Lucifer set his saucer and cup on his knee, somehow keeping it balanced even as he tipped his head back and closed his eyes.
He looked younger when you couldn’t see his eyes, nearly black but for the red embers gleaming in their depths. His brothers were similarly young in appearance, maybe the same age that she looked now. One of the perks of demonhood, she supposed. Or maybe it was their angelic origins.
“I liked your brothers. They were nice.”
“Hmm.”
“Am I allergic to Borruka bats?”
“Why?”
“Beel fed them to me. Are they real bats?”
“They are real bats. Small, two foot wing-span, venomous talons. Satan stuffs the bodies with rice and eels when he’s on dinner duty. They must have had it tonight.”
She’d thought it had looked like a weird guinea hen. Her stomach turned at how not like a guinea hen it was.
“You’re not allergic.”
She turned to see his eyes open a fraction, watching her as she struggled against nausea.
“Mentally, I’m allergic to bats.”
His lip curled up in a ghost of a smile as his eyes closed again. “Don’t throw up that tea, Melody. It would be a waste.”
And it would be the last she got for another five months, or seven, or a year. It had been years since he had arrived in a burst of breathtaking power and inky smoke while she bled to death on the dead leaves of the forest floor, since he had brought her to the Devildom. She hadn’t expected to survive the night, but she had wanted to save her sister. Because of him, a demon of the highest rank, she had done both. And he had pledged to deliver a solution that would allow her to return to her world. She had believed him then and she believed him now. She just hadn’t expected it would take the rest of her life to find that solution.
Asmo loved the feel of a human soul. All that warm, shiny, unthreatening energy, all that effervescent optimism and rich, aimless yearning. He loved tracing the outlines of them with his energy, dipping in to sample their deprivations and depravities. He loved how they lit up when he gave them a taste of what they wanted, and how they pulsed and writhed as that craving grew. Some souls were so sweet that he just wanted to drown himself in them, over and over. Until something sweeter came along, that was.
Humans gave out easily. Once he hooked them they carved themselves up, trading pieces of their souls away until they had nothing left of interest or value. Until they used themselves up. And then, really, what could he do but step aside while the reapers took them, parting flesh from soul, steering one into ash or the earth and the other into Hell? It was a shame. He grew quite fond of his kittens. Some of them even inspired in him echoes of the cravings he cultivated inside of them, and he did so enjoy skating that perilous edge. It added spice to his work, the flavor of danger. They corrupted so quickly he was never in actual danger of course. Still, it was fun to pretend from time to time. Role playing was one of his specialties.
He had recovered from his surprise at Lucifer keeping that human. Lucifer always had reasons for his actions, and no doubt Mammon was close in guessing that she was a pawn in a big conquest. Because Lucifer only ever targeted the mightiest when he could be bothered to fell human souls. They each had to bring in a certain volume, but a few powerful conquests a year were enough, unlike the scummy dregs that Mammon brought in. They were so weak, such easy marks, that he was constantly behind in satisfying his assigned measure even though he had probably consigned more souls to Hell than the rest of them put together. The woman might not even know what was happening to her. She had been almost… What was the word? Oh yes, innocent. She had been almost innocent.
He was more interested in the vessel in which she’d been kept. The cursed glass had turned brittle over time, or something about him and Mammon handling it simultaneously – though he would swear he was not using power in any way – had been enough to break it. But, before it had shattered, he had not been able to sense the human soul inside. Which meant that, if he had access to such a vessel and one of his prized kittens was on the verge of losing his soul, he might be able to sustain them for a period of time. Preserve them in stasis and take them out to enjoy at his choosing. It was ideal, really. And he had the perfect test subject right now, an athlete, blond, built, as close to insatiable as a human could get. Asmo had been enjoying him for months, but his soul was degrading quickly and there wasn’t much time left to enjoy him, unless Asmo could pause the process for a while.
He licked his lips in anticipation. His tongue came away sweet. After their accidental discovery, Lucifer had removed the box from his study. It had been a stroke of good luck that Asmo had woken late and had to work later at the student council. Civilizing and educating demons took all seven of them working constantly, in addition to Diavolo and his various appointed emissaries. Lucifer had been in a meeting. His office was unlocked. Asmo had only stopped in to borrow a pen, or was it a cup of sugar? After an hour, he’d found the box tucked behind files and rosters. He was all but flying now as he made his way through the city, to his absolute favorite cursed artisan. Surely Tobias could reverse engineer the design and make Asmo a box or three, to preserve his favorite playthings. He would return the box immediately of course. Lucifer would never even know it had been missing and Asmodeus would have what he wanted.
Skidding to a halt, Asmo pressed a hand to his mouth. Was this how Mammon thought, all the time, during his skeevy little thefts? As if he were justified in what he had done? No. Shuddering, he began to run again. Perish the thought. He was nothing like his lowlife brother. This was important, a service to his charges, and it wasn’t like anyone was going to get hurt. It was just a favor from Lucifer, only Asmo hadn’t bothered him – with his busy schedule – and asked. That was all. Surely Lucifer would have allowed it. A favor, that was all.
He reached the shop, a peaked, gabled thing with delightfully ornate murder holes. Pausing to fix his hair, he gripped the box lightly and entered with a swish of his hips and a burst of pheromones.
Tobias nearly dropped the engraver he held. Shoving his spectacles onto his forehead, he swayed toward the door.
“Good evening, Tobi.”
“Lord A-a-asmodeus.” The artisan bowed – bowed! – in the most endearing and, of course, appropriate fashion. Asmodeus was, after all, one of the Seven Lords of Hell. The most beautiful one, at that. “Wh-what brings you here on this f-fine night?”
Asmodeus locked the door behind him and made his way through the cramped and meandering walkway of the shop. Sculpture, relics, clockwork equipment, and various bits and pieces of each, were stacked tall and precarious on every available surface. The ceiling was low, made of the same dark wood as the walls. The blue ghost fire in the small forge flickered and grew as he neared. Another tribute, in its fashion. Asmodeus winked at it, and it glowed orange for a moment.
The artisan sat on a worn stool at a long obsidian table. His small engraving tools, a white stone bowl of water, and a pair of silvery rings were laid out neatly in front of him.
“I’m here to see you of course, Tobi.”
Asmo circled the table and came up behind him. Tobi was a rarity among mid-level demons. He had imagination. He wasn’t a dog full of power and anger, waiting to be directed by a stronger demon. He shaped his designs into corporeal form. It was like all the brute force of his kindred had been sieved down into this one rare talent. So long as he created – continuously – he remained stable. And very, very useful.
“It’s an honor, Lord Asmodeus.”
Asmo stopped just behind him, so the demon could feel the brush of Asmo’s mauve silk blouse against his back. He waited a moment, then leaned forward, stretching over Tobias’s shoulder to set the glass box on the black table. The blue flame brightened the blue outline of the smoke inside it. Turning his head so his mouth was just inches from the artisan’s ear, he wove charm into his words.
“I want you to make this for me, Tobi. I want you to look at this, and see what makes it special, and make one for me. Can you do that, for Lord Asmodeus?”
“O-of course.” His shoulders trembled but his hands were stable as he picked up a small, flat-ended tool.
“Ah, ah, ah. You can’t open it up. That’s the one thing you can’t do.”
Tobi shifted, discomfort and a little excitement churning through him. Asmo increased the charm.
“You cannot look inside. Don’t even peek, you naughty thing. I want you to make this for me tonight and, if you can, I’ll give you a reward. Would you like that?”
“Yes,” the demon all but gasped.
“Oh me too, Tobias. I want to give you this reward. But first, make one for me.”
Lust trickled out of the artisan as he frantically pushed his work in progress asisde and assembled tools and scraps, glass and paper. Asmo drank down the thread of lust and checked his phone. It was getting late. Lucifer worked too much, but he made his way home eventually. And, before he left, he locked and warded his office.
Tilting, he allowed his lips to brush the shell of the demon’s ear. Waiting until the moaning died down, he grinned and murmured, “Faster, Tobi. Do it faster.”
*
Tobi did not earn his reward, which was a shame. He was a precious little thing, even almost pretty when he begged. But he hadn’t been quick enough, and now all that frustrated lust that Asmo had gotten to soak up was useless as he ran toward the school.
Not only useless, he was a little frustrated himself. Usually he took the time to enjoy himself, whether his playthings earned their own pleasure or not. He wasn’t used to being left unsatisfied. Around him, beneath the city streets, the clubs were moving toward into their more interesting hours. A friend called out to him. Asmo waved back, not stopping.
A line had turned into a crowd outside of an exclusive new place – branding burlesque was finally swinging back into style – and Asmo slowed to slide between the bodies. Some pressed against him. Some beckoned him to press back. One of his kittens squealed at the sight of him and bounced up for a kiss. He turned, to find another mouth seeking his. Danica, one of his favorite succubi.
“Don’t rush, Lord Asmodeus. Join us.”
“Another time, my darling.”
“Aww.” Delicately clawed hands slid around his back, along his ribs, lower.
It had been a long night. The tantalizing thrill of wrongdoing, hours of frustration, and this sudden surge of adoration clashed, and his demon form erupted in a plume of power and pheromones. Danica’s red lips parted and her eyes went glassy. Cheers rose around him. Doors opened, spilling music out, as patrons rushed to see him instead of the entertainment they’d already paid for.
And the glass box, the troublesome box that was keeping him from fun, rocketed away.
For a split second he thought he’d dropped it. Careless, so careless! But it hadn’t fallen. It was rising and, as he chased it, it began moving faster. It was not headed toward the school, where he needed it to go, unfortunately. It was headed toward the House.
On the fringe of the entertainment district, where lesser demons waited for those who had imbibed too much or worked too hard for their pleasure, something noticed his pursuit. Or rather, noticed what he was pursuing. There was a gruff shout and an answering grunt. Two rough demons and some kind of misshapen demonkin peeled out of the shadows.
The box rose. Definitely aimed toward the House of Lamentation. It must have responded to Asmo’s burst of power. Lucifer was always so smart with his curses, and this one be designed to protect his sweet little human possession from those that might be able to do it harm. Not that Asmo would ever break something that belonged to Lucifer. The very idea made him shudder.
The box rose higher. Asmo took flight. He was more a glider than a flier, but he could rise in small bursts and the mid-level demons could do neither. Giggling, Asmo reaching for the box.
A paving stone flew past, scraping the outside of his hand before it crashed into the box, which splintered and helicoptered away, moonlight glinting off its glass edges.
“No!”
More stones launched upward, targeting the box and him in equal measure. How dare they! Snarling, Asmo turned and snapped sizzling bolts at his antagonizers. One of them roared. The other shrieked. And a salvo of stones was the final response. A stone clipped his shoulder, nearly spinning him upside down. Another hit the box, which exploded. Shards of glass bit into him. The ribbon of blue-tinged smoke half-blinded him before he passed through it, reaching out for the small box and instead catching a slender wrist.
Oh, blast and damnation!
The human, her dark hair scrambling around her face, her tiny pastel sleeping clothes barely covering her body, fell. And, in falling, woke. She screamed. He caught her mere feet from the ground, rendering her unconscious with a hasty spell. Her chest continued to heave, her body twisting in his arms though his spell hold. He manifested an obfuscating veil with a thought and ran for the House of Lamentation.
It was a crude use of his power, hardly beautiful, but by the pounding steps behind him, he was now being chased by more than just a few mid-level demons. Or, not him exactly. For once, he was not the target of all the attention. The sensation of the unclaimed soul, warm and radiating a sweetness he could almost taste, left a wake that any creature in the Devildom could sense.
Why had this happened tonight of all nights? And why did they live so far from the city? Why hadn’t Lucifer built the box more sturdily, or cursed it more powerfully so that Asmo couldn’t have taken it? Was it a test, a temptation? Was that what Lucifer used the human for? Asmo had half a mind to snuff her soul and rid himself of the evidence, except he wasn’t sure what Lucifer was testing. He’d probably meant to catch Mammon so he could teach him a lesson. Asmo only wanted the container. It was hardly his fault at all that this had happened. He’d just gotten caught up in their power games.
He made it through the spiked iron gates surrounding their property. They crashed closed behind him and his dread lessened to an almost bearable level though he was still pounding and his heart beat fitfully. The grounds were warded and protected, not that anyone would be stupid enough to follow him inside, even with the temptation of an unclaimed soul within reach. It was illegal to possess them in the Devildom except by royal writ. Which…
Asmo’s steps faltered, then stopped. Surely Lucifer had a royal writ.
The doors to the House opened and the Avatar of Pride himself stepped out, wreathed in rage.
Asmo turned away. But at the gate, between it and the small mob that had followed him, stood two of Diavolo’s guards. He turned back, his back hunched, his veil dissipating.
Asmo’s pants deepened into sobs as Lucifer neared him. His face was terrible, the black diamond of his demon form emerging on his forehead.
Lucifer tore his coat off, then pulled the human off of Asmo’s shoulder and wrapped her in it, covering her small body and hiding her face. His power expanded as well, and the tantalizing pull of her soul vanished within it.
“Go inside,” he growled.
Asmo tried, but he couldn’t make himself move.
“Lucifer,” one of the guards said nervously. “We’re sorry to intrude, but we had a report of a…of a, uh, unauthorized soul?”
Lucifer went very still, power rending the air around him. The gates squealed in discomfort as the metal began to warp. The mob disappeared like steam evaporating. The guards rocked back, but they served the Prince of the Devildom for a reason. They did not flee.
“L-Lord Diavolo will need this intrusion substantiated. We’ll need to…we’ll need to take…we’ll need to take that to him.”
“I will bring it to Lord Diavolo. Thank you.”
“I’ve never sensed anything quite like it,” Diavolo said, his body angled toward Barbatos as the butler poured tea. “It’s quite extraordinary,” Barbatos murmured in return. “If I had not seen her, I would have assumed she was Lucifer.” They had not asked a question so he did not answer. Lucifer was not accustomed to being unsure. He was not accustomed to feeling…ashamed. Guilt, guilt he was used to, though not in his interactions with Diavolo. For centuries his primary focus had been on serving Diavolo, and he had done it well. It afforded him discretion in dealing with his family, not requiring him to involve Diavolo or the sneering commentary of the other higher-ranking demon factions. The Echelon despised the Fallen, in part because the mantles of the Avatars of Gluttony, Lust and Greed had been stripped from their members in early encounters with his brothers, in part because – despite their far greater numbers – they were no match for the House of Lamentation. The Vanguard were traditionalists, and would never get over the brothers’ Celestial origins, despite their centuries of achievements in the Devildom. They saw angels as the enemies of old and humans as food and income only. So long as Lucifer was indispensable and utterly loyal to Diavolo, Diavolo allowed him to deal with his family. Only this – he did not allow himself a glance at Melody Vale’s prone form on the Diavolo-sized leather couch – was not even about family. This was a personal lapse. A personal failure. “It is a marvel,” Diavolo said following a sip of tea. He sat back in his tall chair, opposite Lucifer, dwarfing the round table between them. “Thank you, Barbatos. I will call if I need anything else.” “Of course, My Lord. Lucifer.” Barbatos bowed to each in turn, then hefted his silver tray and departed silently through the side door. Diavolo sighed, not in an exaggerated manner but the sound was loud in the hush of the room. Lucifer did not allow himself the luxury of following suit, though the tension inside of him wanted an outlet. “So, what happened?” “A mistake. I will correct it immediately. Any fallout that comes from it will be mine alone. I apologize. It will not-” “Lucifer.” Diavolo didn’t sigh this time, though his tone firmed. It was the sound of patience tried. Lucifer used it, often. He had heard Diavolo speak this way…to others. “Just…walk me through this.” He hesitated. “It may help to start at the beginning.” “I was summoned.” The urge to deceive was strong, but his pledge to the demon lord was stronger. “But that is not really the beginning. It started before that. Lilith didn’t die. At least, not within a regular human lifespan.” She must have realized she wasn’t aging like other humans at some point. She must have recognized the scraps of power she had somehow retained when she reincarnated in the human realm. She must have remembered…something. She had remembered him well enough to tell her descendants they could rely on him. Had she remembered how he had fallen to ruin, taking her down with him even if she had not suffered the indignity of losing her Celestial state? “At first she kept her name and moved from place to place so that nobody would suspect. As record-keeping improved, she changed her name. So she could stay near her family. Not her children or grandchildren, but their offspring.” He could see her doing it, mischievous in her small deceit, showering adoration on each new generation. Remaining with them, faithful and caring, despite her diminished state. “Melody Vale is a descendant of Lilith?” Diavolo’s voice was tinged with awe, like it was when he talked about Lucifer before he fell. They rarely spoke of the moment when Lucifer had asked – begged – him to save Lilith. He wondered if Diavolo thought about it anywhere near as often as he did. “It is why she had the power to summon me. It is why she knew to summon me, specifically.” “Why did she? Was it that old human curiosity? The thrill of experimenting with forbidden knowledge?” “She was dying.” He said it plainly, matter-of-factly. Inside of him, something churned as he spoke the words aloud. “Mages had captured her, tortured her. They were using her as a sacrifice in a spell.” Diavolo’s brow furrowed. “What sort of spell?” “Some sort of creation, I think. A spell of their own devising combining the principles of multiple sources and theories. It was ambitious, but imperfect.” “Strange. Creation spells usually require infants. Nasty pieces of work.” “She was a child. Not an infant but…small.” “Small?” Diavolo stilled. “How long ago did this occur?” How long ago had he brought this soul to the Devildom, and kept the fact of it from Diavolo? That was what he was asking. “Four decades ago.” Diavolo surveyed the human. “She seems younger. I was under the impression that humans aged more visibly.” Lucifer quashed the urge to squirm. “I have kept her in statis for much of the intervening time. It brings the aging process nearly to a halt.” A chilly silence. Lucifer kept his gaze on the far wall. The china clinked as Diavolo raised his cup, returned it to its saucer. His equivalent of collecting himself. “You were explaining the summoning. Go on.” “Another girl was there, an older sibling. Somehow she got them out but was not strong enough to carry her away.” He gestured toward Melody without looking. “She was already dying. The sister used her blood for the circle. I believe they spoke the incantation together.” “A summoning strong enough to hook you.” He had been tired that night, tired of another uprising growing on the fringe of the Devildom, tired of his brothers shirking their duties, tired of drawing the souls out of angry, desperate humans with generic words and promised lies. It took so little to corrupt. The call had been dim, but he had wanted for distraction. “Strong enough to hook me.” “And then?” “I questioned her, to determine how she commanded enough power to make herself heard to me. And discovered…Lilith.” “I imagine it was a shock.” Without meaning to, Lucifer turned his head to look at Melody. Her face was pale. Wrapped in his coat, her chest rose and fell slowly. “She said my sister’s name and she died, in my arms. Just like…” He took a deep breath and let it out. “…just like Lilith nearly did all those years ago. I needed to know how a child could know my sister’s name, could know of me. I pulled her back from death, and I brought her here to question her. Then it got complicated.” “How did you pull her back from death?” “I don’t know.” “How long has she been in statis?” “Almost twenty years, on and off.” Diavolo made a frustrated sound. “Why not return her to the Earthly plane? Hex her memory and return her to her family?” “I tried.” There was a polite knock on the door. Barbatos entered. “Pardon me, Lord Diavolo, Lucifer. I brought refreshments.” He set the table between then, laying out high tea and exchanging their pot for a fresh one. Finished, he stepped back, folding his hands in front of him. “And, if I may, I have conducted some research into Ms. Vale’s unusual state.” Lucifer raised his head, his focus sharpening. Of course Barbatos hadn’t carried the woman in here then gone off to arrange pastries. He’d been looking for information. How many times had Lucifer almost asked him, asked Diavolo, for help with this human? How many times had his pride stopped him? She was merely human. While puzzling, she was ot significant enough to warrant their time. “Go on.” Diavolo served himself a sandwich and pastry. At his expectant look, Lucifer added the same to his own plate though he had no appetite. “I found it most enigmatic that I could not detect Ms. Vale,” Barbatos said. “Even directly in front of me, obviously human with an intact soul, I had trouble differentiating her from Lucifer.” “She is under two of my hexes and a curse,” he ground out. “Yes, I understand. But it is not your power around her that caused the confusion. It is your power inside of her. You say you do not know how you pulled her back from death. But it was not a medical intervention, was it? You did not stop her from dying. It would appear that you tore a portion of your power loose and inserted it into her. As it is your power, it is yours to command. That would explain how you could keep her from the reapers’ clutches.” “This happened shortly after her death?” Diavolo asked. “Immediately.” “Does Barbatos’ theory sound…plausible?” Lucifer’s mind had been a whirlwind. His heart had collapsed under the weight of his sister’s name. He had needed that girl to live, to think, to remember, to tell him… He would have done anything. “It is plausible.” Lucifer frowned. He had hexed Melody to hide the warm radiance of her soul, and it had been easy enough. Too easy? “But I’m sure it would have been noticed.” “Your power is not as easily discernable as natural-born demons,” Diavolo said. It was not the first time Lucifer had heard this, or suspected it. The casual attacks on his family when they first fell, how greatly they were underestimated, spoke to their power being more opaque than most demonkind. Even now, on the occasions they were challenged to fight, their opponents struggled to comprehend the power the Fallen harbored. Of course, with many of his brothers, their behavior probably confused would-be opponents more. They did not appear formidable. “May I see it?” Diavolo asked. Between them, Barbatos – normally imperturbable – startled. Lucifer looked Diavolo in the eye for the first time since they had entered the room. Diavolo was his liege, and he trusted him, even if the future demon king no longer had cause to trust Lucifer. It would be a show of loyalty to lower his veiling shields. He had done it for no one since he had fallen, had done it only a handful of times in the Celestial realm, and each instance had left him feeling like he had been torn open. “I can leave you alone,” Barbatos murmured, gloved hands twisting. “There is no need.” His pride threw that out before he could decide. No. Lucifer shook his head. He was among friends. And he owed Diavolo this at the least. It was still horrendously difficult to expose himself so, to be vulnerable even if it was for the purpose of revealing the immensity of his power. He lowered the strongest of his shields, dismantled the layers meant to confuse and buy him time, and tore lose many of his finer tricks and camouflages. Only the essential containment remained. The walls of the room shuddered, pages flapping within the books in the bookcases. The fire in the fireplace went flat. The smoke fled. Outside the castle, demidragons screamed. Diavolo frowned, his golden eyes losing focus as he evaluated. “Huh.” He smiled briefly and Lucifer snapped his shields back into place, automatically rebuilding the parts he’d had to break. “Whatever damage you did at the time has healed over. I imagine it did so quickly, or I would have noticed.” “It is likely it did not require much of your essence,” Barbatos offered. He was breathing hard, and paler than usual. “For a human child who was only just on the other side of death.” “So we reverse the transfer, extract your power, hex her memory and send her back to the human world.” Diavolo, energized by the simplicity of the plan, bit into his sandwich. “This is delicious, Barbatos.” “Thank you, My Lord.” The butler’s tone was pleased, but his eyes remained on Lucifer. Diavolo stopped chewing. His mind moved quickly. “You’ve tried this already.” Lucifer nodded, half of his attention on the rebuilding of his shields. He was able to spare enough to realize that he felt more relief than violation. “It didn’t work?” “If I take my power back, she dies.” “I supposed she could return to the human world with it. We would have to watch her closely, make sure she doesn’t make use of it. And nobody tried to make use of her.” Lucifer worked to keep his tone even. “If she returns to the Earthly plane without me, she dies. It would take a little longer, but it would still occur. I have tried many things, many times, to separate from her.” Diavolo stiffened. Barbatos asked the question he couldn’t, or wouldn’t. “Where is her soul bound when she dies, Lucifer?” “When she summoned me, she bid me kill her captors. Five men.” He did not have to say that he had done it, fulfilling an order he had sufficient power to ignore, and – by completing her request – dooming the human eternally. Murder was a grave sin. “Her soul is bound for Hell,” Barbatos said mournfully. “The poor child.” Lucifer’s gaze wandered to the sleeping woman again. Objectively, she was without value, a burden on him and a wrinkle in the order of his world that should be smoothed over. It was his job to make things easier on Diavolo. “It is the natural course of things. Her fate was sealed as soon as she spoke the words to summon me. I can let her go.” He said it for his own benefit as much as theirs. He could let her go this time. The three times her soul had released as he attempted to free her, red claws had dug into it to drag it to Hell, and he had leapt to return it to her body. It had not been a decision as much as an instinct. The attempts had left her writhing in agony and him shaken. The last had been the worst. She had been gone, for several minutes, before he had recovered her. He had not attempted it since. “It is not natural for grown men to put a child in a position to wish for their deaths, not even among humans.” Diavolo pushed his plate away and steepled his hands. “Now that she is our responsibility, I am loath to simply let her die.” The demon lord stood, pacing. “It is illicit to have a foreign soul in the Devildom without a writ, not to mention dangerous, especially for a human. It is questionable, if not an outright crime, to hold a human in stasis. There are no laws against imbuing a human with your power, I suppose.” “I await your punishment, Lord Diavolo.” “’Lord’. I thought we got past that a long time ago.” “The souls in Hell are terrible gossips.” Barbatos smoothed his uniform and adjusted the cuffs of his gloves. “Any soul with information of value would trade it in a human heartbeat for leniency from their sentence.” “With the exchanges we have been seeing in recent years – temporary use of souls for personal gain, metered corruptions – it would be problematic for this situation to become known. If she was glimpsed in the Devildom prior to her soul journeying to Hell, only for her story to surface, it would be worse. It would look as though there was some conspiracy to hide her, or that we sentenced her to Hell out of spite.” “Whatever you require to make this right, I will do it.” Lucifer had to work to enunciate crisply rather than grind his teeth. “I can alter my brothers’ memories, track down any who might have seen her, and-” “Your brothers,” Diavolo said consideringly. A chill went through Lucifer. He worked to keep Diavolo and his brothers separate as much as possible. Despite their Avatar status and positions on the demon lord’s councils they were not ideal demons. The Vanguard had repeatedly petitioned for their expulsion on the basis of their behaviors, and a grim rumor had circulated a century ago that Satan had assassinated two of their elders. No proof was produced, as there were no bodies or visible methods of murder, which Lucifer half-thought proved it was Satan. They all – even Levi – skirmished with the Echelon though neither side admitted it unless they caused significant damage. If Diavolo ever witnessed them being themselves he would expel them all from the Devildom, with or without a petition. The demon lord stopped beside the couch, hands clasped loosely behind his back, and surveyed the unconscious human. “If she cannot leave, and death is not an option, there are other alternatives. Ways to explain her presence and unusual arrival. Your brothers are known for bending the rules on occasion. Their position as Avatars gives them some leeway.” He did not like Diavolo’s thoughts mirroring his own. “One of them could plausibly have become infatuated with a human and brought her to the Devildom prior to applying for permission. It was the Avatar of Lust who was discovered with her, do I have that right?” “Diavolo?” “Oh, My Lord, I see where you are going.” Barbatos cracked a small smile as he bent to pour more tea. “Barbatos?” The power that Lucifer had revealed only moments before pulsed inside of him now. Melody turned restlessly in her sleep. “How is her cognitive state?” Barbatos asked. “She is able to speak and ambulate?” “She is in regular physical shape for a human. She is intelligent if not very well mannered.” “Who would have taught her manners?” “I tried, as did the tutors I hired to work with her over the years. I think it is a modern human trait.” At that, Diavolo tilted his head. “Others know of her?” “They were hexed, humans and witches who’ve done trade with demons. They met in the human realm when I had occasion to work there, or in a pocket domain that was, technically, outside of the Devildom. None of them knew who she was, where they were, or remember any of it.” “What did they teach her?” “Human schooling, plus demonic fundamentals and the classics, some art and music. She is better at art than music. Her grasp of languages is passable but slow.” “Demonic studies?” the butler asked. “Minor spellcraft. To gauge her aptitude. She was born to a witch. All of Lilith’s female descendants have talent. Melody was wary of magic. Her mother had been hurt by it.” “As she very nearly was.” It was not a near thing, Lucifer did not say. Melody did not speak of that night, though she was curious and chatty about nearly everything else. “She is a decent looking woman, if small.” Diavolo nodded to himself. “A solution then.” Lucifer bowed his head. He was tired. It had been a long day before Asmo came screaming onto their lands, unruly mob and royal guards in pursuit. “I accept any punishment.” “You may deem it such, but I would say this avoids the need for punishment if it goes well. Apply for her to reside at the House of Lamentation, under the care and keeping of the residents. Keep her there for eleven days. Introduce her to your brothers. If one of the residents of the House of Lamentation is willing to marry her within that time, we can engineer her introduction into the Devildom.” Startled, Lucifer pressed a hand to his chest. “Marriage is a human concept.” “Of course marriage would not withstand the tests a demon’s lifespan would throw at it.” Barbatos hid his mirth behind his gloved hand. “But it is not inconceivable that a human would fall for a demon. It happens every day, does it not?” “As a result of calculated seduction.” Barbatos ignored him. “And it is not inconceivable that a demon might become infatuated with a human and choose, foolishly, in the heat of young passion, to tell himself that he could commit to such an institution. It would not be the first time, and each time it has occurred it has created a minor scandal. It would be enough of a scandal to distract the public in this instance.” “Your brothers are considered attractive,” Barbatos mused. “And they run the gamut from soldier to scholar to seducer. Surely a human woman is inclined toward one if not more of their various personalities and proclivities.” Mammon. It would have to be Mammon. No, what was he thinking? Lucifer opened his mouth to say no, absolutely not, under no circumstances. But that would sound like defiance and he would not, could not, do that to Diavolo. “They will not agree to marry a mortal,” he muttered. “It would inconvenience them.” “Beelzebub could probably be bribed by the promise of food.” Barbatos laughed. “I would be willing to donate hellfire mushroom rolled cigar cookies regularly if that would help. Mammon, as I understand it, could probably be bribed by something more simple?” Diavolo waved Lucifer’s opposition away. “The inconvenience would last a mere human lifetime. Then all can return to normal.” A human lifetime. Melody’s entire life. “Diavolo, this isn’t-” “We can weather an inconvenience and minor scandal better than the revelation that my foremost advisor and friend has deceived me and broken the kingdom’s laws for four decades. Under my very nose, in fact. Jeopardizing my drive to civilize this kingdom. Can we not?” We. Not the royal “we” like the humans used. It was not the first time Diavolo had said it tonight. He was trying to help Lucifer, not simply save face. He could publicly renounce, banish or punish Lucifer. Half his noble followers would welcome it and fight to take Lucifer’s place. Diavolo did not want that. He probably did not want to hurt a human woman he did not even know either. He was, after all, a good man. Lucifer bowed. “Of course. It is a wise solution.” “Excellent! Now, eat. These pastries are a marvel!” Lucifer stared miserably at his plate. He had to make one of his brothers – irresponsible, barely controllable, highly distractable, insatiable, possibly psychotic – fall in love with this fragile charge he had been equal parts protecting and trying to rid himself of for decades. A public flaying would have been more welcome.
*
Lord Diavolo, Prince of Demons, the Future Demon King, listened to the sound of his friend’s footsteps on the marble floor of the hallway until they were no longer audible. Barbatos blew across the signed decree approving one human soul into the care and keeping of the House of Lamentation, then slid it into its place in the book which held similar approvals. “This is…” Diavolo thought for a moment. “Out of character.” “Very, my lord. I must confess I was surprised.” Barbatos returned the book to the shelf. It was much thinner than the books holding approvals for official challenges or the volumes containing records of punishments and repudiations. He straightened the pillow the human woman had lain upon. “Barbatos, I want you to research that woman.” “To find out if she is truly a descendant of Lilith?” “That as well. But I want to know everything. About her. About the night Lucifer was summoned, about the mages, the spell. Where those people came from, what resources they had, what they were attempting. This Melody’s family. All of it.” “I’ll speak with Lucifer tomorrow, to get details-” “No.” Diavolo’s tone was firm. “Investigate without him.” “A secretive event forty years ago somewhere in the human world? It would be easier done with more information.” “I’m interested in a fresh perspective.” Barbatos thought for a moment. “You think Lucifer was compelled, or tricked?” “He brought the woman – the girl, at the time – here. He did not request permission despite knowing the rules. He believes he cannot be detached from her except through a means he considers unacceptable, yet asked for no assistance in exploring a solution.” “You do not believe he will let her die, despite saying he would?” “He arranged, meticulously, attentively and with no small exertion of power and resources for her to be brought up. He constructed pocket dimensions. He…he designed an educational curriculum for her.” Diavolo paced the room, his hands locked behind his back. “His family is Lucifer’s greatest strength, but it is also his greatest weakness. If someone wanted to take him down, they could use the memory of his sister against him.” “I saw no curses or hexes on him when he lowered his shields.” “He would recognize an overt attack in an instant. He has thwarted enough of them in his time here. Something unusual and slow-acting, however, is more difficult to identify. Especially if delivered during a moment of shock.” “You think the girl might have been bait?” “Hmm.” Diavolo picked up the pen Lucifer had used to script the request for approval. “You’ve heard of the human poet Virgil? He wrote a tale of war, of crafty deceits used to end the long-running siege of the human city of Troy. A Trojan Horse, named for the battle, is an innocuous item brought within the walls of the enemy’s city, through which their downfall is engineered. It requires patience, and cunning.” “And the House of Lamentation has many such enemies.”
“Why do we all have to wait around?” Mammon complained. He was slumped in a reading chair, one long leg thrown over the arm of it. “Asmo did it. If anything, the rest of us should clear out to give him and Lucifer the alone time they’re about to need.”
From the center of the sofa, surrounded by wadded up tissues, Asmo’s sobbing intensified.
“You have got to stop that.” Levi threw a book at him. Without breaking his wail, Asmo leaned to the side so it flew past him.
“Oy!” Satan plucked the book out of the air and smoothed a hand over the cover. “Do not throw books unless you want to be the next thing thrown.”
“Ugh.” Levi slid out of his chair onto the floor. He wrapped his arms around his knees like he was cold even though he was right next to the fireplace. “This is so boring. I don’t want to be here. And SHUT UP ASMO.”
Asmo hit a new high note with his next wail. “H-h-he’s going to h-h-hate me.”
“He can join the club,” Belphagor muttered, tipping over to rest his head on Beel’s leg and pulling his pillow over his head. Beel patted the pillow with one hand while raising his post-dinner sandwich toward his mouth with the other.
“What’s going on, anyway?” he asked.
“We covered this during dinner,” Satan said. “And don’t speak with your mouth full.”
“I wasn’t listening. I was eating.”
“How can you eat at a time like this?” Asmo cried.
Beel thought about it, then shrugged. “I eat a lot of the time.”
“Gah!” Levi flailed. “Asmodeus stole some magical box of Lucifer’s and took it into the city, then broke it and some kind of human fell out. Which, incidentally, is similar to the plot of this anime-”
“A new human?”
Levi paused, then tilted his head. “What do you mean ‘new’?”
“Asmo and Mammon broke a box in Lucifer’s study during the winter and a human woman fell out. Lucifer was really mad.”
In the silence that followed, Mammon laughed.
Satan rounded the couch to stare down Beel. “What kind of box? Where did he get this human? What’s he doing with it?”
Beel chewed a few more times before swallowing. “I think it was glass. He put her back in. And then…put her away?”
“Obviously he’s pulling some kind of scam,” Mammon offered. He shuffled a deck of cards he’d pulled from his jacket pocket in one hand. “Must be a long con if he’s still got her. Or maybe his mark is having financial difficulties. He should just set up a payment plan, at this rate.”
“All of you shut up. This isn’t about you. This is about me.” Asmo’s voice rose in pitch until he paused to draw a deep breath. And froze at the sound of the doors to the common room opening.
Lucifer strode into the room. The doors slammed behind him.
His red waistcoat was rumpled, his bloodred tie undone. His black hair was shoved viciously back from his face, and the pitch black aura around him was punctuated by snapping bursts of his power manifesting as lightning the color of a bruise.
Mammon sat up. Levi sat down, drawing his knees in. Beel stopped chewing. Belphie stopped snoring. Asmo hiccupped once, desperately.
“On the contrary,” Lucifer growled. “This is about all of you. Because of Asmo’s actions tonight, the House of Lamentation is now under an eleven-day interdiction. We are all implicated in what has been done. You will not be leaving the realm. You will not be leaving the city.”
“Oh, what the hells!” Mammon yelled. Lightning struck the chair in which he’d been sitting, but he was already on his feet behind it. He spread his arms. “Asmo screwed up, not to mention someone here was keeping a secret human in a lockbox. That’s got nothing to do with the rest of us.”
“Like you should talk,” Levi said. “You get in trouble more than the rest of us put together.”
“Yeah, and I never see you taking any punishments for me. Also, I don’t go around warping reality because of my stupid video games.”
“That’s because you don’t play the good ones.”
The fire roared out of the fireplace, sending Levi scrambling.
Beel stomped on a coal, grinding it out beneath his bootheel. “Okay, so we don’t leave the house for eleven days. That’s fine.”
“But that’s not all, is it?” Satan’s green eyes gleamed then narrowed. “What deal have you struck, oh Mighty Lucifer?”
“Since this event unfolded in front of others a rumor has begun to spread of Asmodeus smuggling a human soul into the Devildom.” Red glowed in the depths of Lucifer’s eyes when they fixed on Asmodeus for a moment before moving to scour the others. “Because it is too late to quash this rumor, we have no choice but to top it so that it becomes irrelevant.”
“A distraction?” Satan tapped his lip with one finger. “We could blow something up. Build a moat and fill it with dramatic sea monsters? Maybe capture a few of the trespassers always testing our walls and put their heads on pikes-”
“The human will remain here, in this house, under our official care and protection. This means she will be protected and taken care of. Within that eleven days, you will each make an earnest and respectful effort to court her and win her hand in marriage.”
“Uh…” Levi raised his hand. “Can we do the moat thing instead?”
“No.”
“What’s in it for us?” Mammon asked. “Are you supplying her dowry? If so, you need to include an AmEx Black card and-”
“There will be a reward,” Lucifer said. “You can write down five material items that exist in either the Devildom or human realm and which can be attained with money, common valuables or through moderate use of force. At the end of the marriage, you may choose one item from that list.”
“That’s what I’m talking about!” Mammon laughed. “I’m in. I’ll do it. Sign me up. One groom, at your service.”
“How long does the marriage need to last?” Belphie asked, his voice muffled by his pillow.
“The traditional duration. Until death do you part. A natural death.”
“How old is this woman? Humans live, what? Eighty years or something?”
“Life expectancy between sixty-two and ninety-three depending on socioeconomic conditions and country,” Satan answered before lapsing into a sarcastic tone. “Is this young love to blossom in the human realm or the Devildom?”
“Everyone will remain in the Devildom.”
“Pffft. Forget it.” Mammon threw his hands up. “You need to provide incentives. You gotta roll out a reward program if you want your customer’s long-term loyalty. None of this delayed gratification nonsense.”
“I’ll do it,” Asmo said despairingly around his sniffles. He pressed his fingers beneath his eyes to blot the tears, which weren’t flowing all that freely and which hadn’t smeared his makeup in the least. His smile was only a little watery. “She’s a lovely girl. I’ll charm her and make her love me. No one else need suffer because of me.”
“No tricks. No curses. No spellcraft. She has to genuinely like and choose you.”
Asmo’s mouth fell open. “Why wouldn’t she like me?”
“I’m out,” Levi said, hunching and pulling a gaming console out of his pocket. “Let me know when whoever wins gets your registry up on Akuzon. I’ll buy you a present.”
“Being shackled to a pathetic human is hardly considered winning, Levi. Oy!” Satan rocked back as lightning struck beside his elbow.
“Allow me to restate.” Lucifer’s demon form erupted in a burst of menacing power. Black wings, black horns, sharp teeth and talons. “Every single one of you will make a genuine effort. Every single one of you will be respectful. Every single one of you will protect her.”
“And what if she says ‘no’?” Mammon crossed his arms. “What if you ordering everyone around – romantic as that sounds – doesn’t make this lady swoon and say yes to the dress?”
“Then you will have abdicated your chance to choose. I will assign someone the task, and the recipient will spend every day as the perfect husband or they will answer to me.” Lucifer’s eyes glowed red. “There will be no complaining. And there will be no reward. There will only be punishment for failure, an entire human lifetime of it. And then another for good measure. The eleven days begins tomorrow morning. Prepare accordingly.”
The doors sprang open as he turned on his heel. The cloud of menacing black aura remained, spitting lightning for several minutes after he left.
Levi slunk off to his room. Belphie began to snore. Satan took up his book and sat in a tall chair away from the fire. Asmo pulled his shawl closed at the neck, raised his head and left.
Beel set down his plate, carefully slid Belphegor off his knee, and stood. He brushed crumbs off his legs and went to stand in front of Satan.
“You’re blocking my light, Beel.”
“How do I do it?”
“Do what?”
“How do I be a good husband?”
“What?” Satan looked up over the top of his book.
“Lucifer needs our help. He’s so stressed. Asmo shouldn’t have done that.”
“Lucifer shouldn’t have kept an illicit soul laying around where anyone – even Asmodeus – could have found it. It’s his own fault. Let him deal with it.”
“Lucifer takes care of everything that he can take care of, which means that he can’t take care of this. And the woman is important to him. So we need to help him this one time.”
“What do you mean important?” Satan’s green eyes narrowed.
“I mean he was worried about her last time. If I can be a perfect husband she’ll be happy and he’ll have one less thing to worry about.”
“You’re unbelievable. Day in and day out, all you’ve ever cared about is food. And now suddenly you’re going to become ‘the perfect husband’ to a stranger? And a human at that?”
Beel thought for a moment, then nodded. “Yeah. So, do we have a book on that or something?”
“What, Courtship for Dummies? How to Win a Wife in 10 Days?”
“Either of those is good.”
“No, Beel,” Satan scoffed, “we don’t have either of those books.”
“Oh.” Beel wrapped his hands together and frowned in concentration. “I’ll ask Levi. Sometimes he gets electronic books. They show up immediately.”
“Yeah, you go do that.” Satan shook his head as Beel walked out of the room. “Can you believe this?”
But, when he turned to look, Mammon was nowhere to be seen.
*
“Hey.” Mammon didn’t bother knocking on Lucifer’s door before opening it. The tumultuous energy he felt on the other side of it demonstrated that the eldest brother wasn’t even close to going to sleep.
He braced for some kind of reflexive attack. Lucifer was still angry enough that he was in demon form. But he didn’t do anything more than glare.
Between them, lying on his bed, her dark hair fanned over his pillow, her small body covered by Lucifer’s fur-lined coat, was the human.
“A marriage scheme, huh? That’s crazier than anything I’ve pulled. You’ve legit got Levi freaked out by the entire concept. He may never come out of his room again.”
Stony silence.
Mammon chewed on the inside of his lip. “So what’s her story?”
The glare intensified. Mammon raised both hands placatingly. Lucifer was still beyond pissed, but he wasn’t lashing out. Because she was there. This human that they were all supposed to woo and protect or whatever. Since when did Lucifer care about humans, and about one human in particular?
“Why don’t you do it?” he asked. Lucifer’s gloves creaked around his clenching fists, and it occurred to Mammon that might be a line that shouldn’t be crossed.
“Fine, fine. Keep your secrets. What’s her name at least? She probably won’t want to marry someone who calls her ‘Human’.”
“Her name is Melody.” Lucifer’s voice was a barely-contained growl. “Melody Vale.”
“Got it. We’ll make with the courtship first thing.” Mammon started for the door, then turned back, almost flinching when Lucifer’s burning gaze bored into him. He gestured toward the bed. “So, like, is she going to sleep with you every night? ‘Cause things might get awkward. You know, for the prospective grooms.”
“Her rooms are being prepared as we speak. She will be across from Levi, beside you. Keep your music down.”
“Unless she’s into that, which she will be if she’s got any taste. Alright, see ya.” He saluted only a little mockingly, and closed the door softly behind him.
A pair of little D’s, the lower demons, rushed about in the space that used to be a classroom when Satan was small, then turned into a kind of sparring-crafting area while Beel and Belphie were going through their homemade weaponry phase. They’d already put up a bed and were assembling a table and chairs for the human. For Melody.
Mammon frowned. Why did that sound familiar? Melody Vale? He could almost, almost put a memory to the name.
Melody’s entire body jerked, every muscle tensing as she fell. She sucked in a breath to scream, panic streaming through her head. Oh god, oh god, oh god, she wasn’t supposed to die, not after all this.
“I’m here.” Lucifer’s voice was a deep rumble in the dark, his arm a solid anchor around her waist as he dragged her flailing body down.
No, not down. Sideways. She wasn’t falling.
She’d been falling.
She’d clawed her way out of stasis to feel air rushing against her face, see distant lights spinning around her, feel the absence of anything solid to grab hold of even as something began shaking inside of her, behind her fast-beating heart.
A light came on in an adjoining room.
In a room. On a bed. In a bedroom. Lucifer’s bedroom. She wasn’t falling.
She was under the covers though they were askew from her flailing. Her right wrist was bandaged and, beneath the pristine white wrap, it stung.
“Breathe,” Lucifer ordered. “Breathe.”
She was trying, her pulse frantically high, the air too thin. Black spots danced in her vision. Lucifer covered her cold, shaking hand with his. Warm, large, calloused. His nails were red. He usually wore gloves.
She focused on that as she tried to slow her breathing, get enough air, not pass right out. Garnet red. She wasn’t falling.
The sheets and duvet were gray, and soft. The air was cool. She felt cold even though she was perspiring. At her back, pressed against her from shoulder to ankle, Lucifer’s body was hot. She wasn’t falling.
Her shoulder slid against his chest as she sobbed in full breaths. Her bare shoulder, because she wore only shorts and a camisole. He wore only a thin shirt, not the thick, rigid layers he normally wore like armor.
“That’s better.” His thumb stroked over the back of her hand. “Just like that.”
“I f-fell.”
“You were caught. You’re not in danger.”
Panic receding, she shifted to look at her arm.
“A laceration only,” he said. “It will not scar.”
Feeling was returning to her now, the urgency of adrenaline making other bruises apparent. Sitting up, despite the arm he left around her waist, she pushed the covers down. The outside of her left knee was darkly bruised and slightly swollen. There were small cuts, barely more than scratches, on her right shin. Pulling her camisole away, she probed at a tender spot in the center of her chest.
“Minor injuries. You’re in no danger.”
Lucifer lay on his side atop the covers, in soft charcoal pants and a black t-shirt. Her eyebrows snapped up. She didn’t remember him ever being so…casual. She’d thought he wasn’t capable of it. Like, fundamentally. On a molecular level. His deep-set eyes, usually so intense and penetrating, were closed. The skin around them was shadowed with fatigue.
“Was I caught up in danger before?”
“You were caught up in a streak of stupidity.”
“And the stupidity has passed?”
He cracked one eye. Red gleamed beneath his black lashes. Garnet red, like his nails. For all that he appeared tired, he was very angry.
“Unfortunately, no. Stupidity is apparently eternal.”
Still shaky, she slid down until she was facing him. His arm adjusted over her waist. She held her hands together in front of her chest, not quite touching him. Had she caused trouble for him? Not that she could cause anything from an unconscious state, but while she considered her existence fine at worst and pretty sweet at best, she knew it was problematic for him.
“There’s nothing to worry about,” he murmured as though hearing her thoughts.
“There’s nothing to worry about so I’ll just have to go back to sleep?”
She really didn’t want to. The panic that had flooded her minutes before started to return. To be in that box, with no senses, no control. It wasn’t true sleep. There was a kind of awareness to it, but an awareness of the absence of thought, motion, and sensation. She slid her feet against each other. One hand gripped the other tightly.
The red flared again in Lucifer’s eye before he pulled her tightly against him. She nearly gasped, the physical contact was so unexpected. The lamp in the other room extinguished, leaving her blinking against the blackness. His heat seeped through her. The dark menace of his aura nipped at her skin. She relaxed into it. It was not a comfortable sensation per se but to her it meant certainty, safety.
“You were really worried?” she asked, half-teasing.
“You were never in danger.” He sighed against her hair. “You’ll be staying here for a few days. In the House.”
“With you?”
“And…my brothers.”
“I get to hang out with your brothers? All of them?”
His teeth ground audibly. “All of them.”
“This is so exciting! What’s the occasion?”
“It’s a temporary arrangement.”
“That’s fine. I’ll take it.” Laughter bubbled out of her. “Is there anything I need to do? Anything I can help with?”
“Just enjoy yourself. Spend time getting to know them. If you like.” He sounded like he was describing a disease.
“I’m sure I’ll like them all!”
“You say that now. They are demons. Try to remember that, please.”
“Yeah, yeah, yeah. Demons, got it.”
Lucifer sighed. “Go to sleep, Melody.”
But instead of cursing her into a sleep that crept over her like the waters of a cold, deep lake, Lucifer merely pulled the duvet up over her shoulders before rolling away, his hand sliding free of her waist. And instead of losing her senses one by one, and swallowing the fear that this might be the one time she didn’t wake up, Melody grinned into the darkness.
Freedom. Company. Conversation. Shared meals. Maybe touches or…or hugs even! She couldn’t wait to meet them all.
Levi was late to breakfast because he didn’t want to be there. Lucifer’s reminder that everyone had to show up first thing to meet this pet human that was stirring everybody up had been so threatening that his phone had nearly melted upon receiving it. He wasn’t really sure what it said because he was half-afraid his eyeballs would fall out of his head if he tried to read it. He didn’t want anybody new in the house, especially not a human. And a woman? What, was this actual Hell? (Actual Hell was close by, but the veil separating it from the Devildom was strong and the screams and misery hardly ever leaked out unless there was an insurrection, or during the weeks of punishment that followed attempted insurrections, or if a big fish soul landed there, like a genocidal dictator or a celebrity lifestyle influencer.)
The human wasn’t even interesting. She was just sitting there between Lucifer and Beel, while Asmo glowed at her from across the table and Mammon non-stop chattered (to nobody because nobody cared, Mammon!) about some kind of three-way bet he had going with a witch and a squad of ghouls. Ghouls barely even had higher brain function. So lame. Like Levi, Belphie had apparently also been threatened into attendance but he was asleep on a bench, his feet in Beel’s lap beneath his napkin. Satan looked like he was trying to start a fire on the human’s forehead with the intensity of his gaze, he was staring at her so hard. Also he could totally do that so somebody should probably do something about that?
The human had dark, wavy hair that was kind of…what was the word? He looked at Mammon’s hair. Shitty? No, it wasn’t sticking out that much. Tousled, that was it. She had dark, wavy hair that was kind of tousled, and her complexion was dark compared to Lucifer and Beel even though she hadn’t been in the sun for a long time since she lived in a box. Maybe he should move into a box, one that only he could open from the inside. He kept the door to his room locked and had instituted a complex question-and-answer code system to limit access, but someone was always barging or breaking in anyway.
Yeah, a box sounded good. He’d get on ordering one as soon as he ate something and got some sleep. He hadn’t gone to bed yet. His game had taken forever to update last night, then his streaming connection had blinked out a few times – it got unstable when Lucifer was mad or Satan threw a fit – so he hadn’t been able to start his speed runs until like three a.m. And now he had to deal with this. He probably needed to say something to the human, to pacify Lucifer. There was no way he was going to try to get her to marry him (he was half-convinced he’d dreamed that particular command up, in some kind of complex-yet-mundane nightmare). That wasn’t happening, not in any version of the world. Not that she would let him. He glanced at her from beneath his bangs again.
“Do you like brownies or cupcakes better?” Beel asked.
“Brownies or cupcakes?” She pressed her hands against her cheeks like that was a profound question. “Oh man. Both?”
Beel laughed. “Me, too.”
Such a normie. She was even sitting between the handsome, popular, powerful demon and the jock demon. Why did he even have to be here? It wasn’t like she’d even notice him if he did talk to her, not with them in the room. And she kept smiling at Asmo in this really encouraging way, because of course Asmo – who had been crying for hours but somehow didn’t even have puffy eyes – was all cheekbones, long eyelashes and soft lips. Turning away bitterly, Levi went to the sideboard to scavenge breakfast out of whatever Beel had left behind. He ran a finger across his own lower lip. He’d been chewing on it because the house was stressful right now, and it was rough and chapped.
“Oy, get me a coffee while you’re up,” Mammon called over.
Levi turned to tell him where he could stick that request, and almost bumped into the human. Because she’d gotten up and was now standing beside him, facing back toward the table. She just came up to his shoulder. He could see the smooth skin between her hair and the neck of her t-shirt. She’d paused in reaching for a coffee cup. Her wrist was slender, her fingers shapely. She had no scales or feathers or visible demon birthmarks. She smelled like fruit and flowers, something pink.
“How do you take it?” she asked.
“A little milk, a lot of sugar, and a couple a Hell chels.”
The human turned to the sideboard. Another whiff of pink. Maybe if Levi held really still she wouldn’t notice he was there. She hadn’t noticed when he’d entered the dining room, and didn’t seem to know she was standing six inches from him now.
“Milk,” she said under her breath as she located the silver pitcher and poured a little into the coffee mug. “Sugar.” She dug a spoon into the bowl, tilted her head back and forth as though considering, then dumped the entire heap into the mug. “Hell chels. Hell chels? Are you Leviathan?”
He was looking at the container with the tightly-closed lid and didn’t register at first that her last question was aimed at him. Until she looked up at him, her eyes inquisitive. Her eyes. Oh hells. Heat crept across his face.
“Do you prefer to be called Levi?” She blinked, dark lashes fanning down and shuttering her eyes for a moment before they opened again. She had anime eyes. Not the bad ones that looked like a kid had barely colored within the lines with a generic marker. No, these were the quality ones, all big and expressive, surrounded by dark, realistic eyelashes. And they were so light, so clear, somewhere between peridot and azure.
She frowned, then went back to looking around at the various bowls, pitchers and platters.
“Which are Hell chels?”
He pointed, then all but sprang on her when she went to open the lid.
“No!”
She didn’t pull back from his hand gripping hers, just turned toward him with that inquisitive expression again. The heat crawled down his neck and up toward his hairline. He snatched his hand back.
“Y-you have to open the lid really quickly and grab them with tongs. O-otherwise they’ll poison you. Th-they’re dangerous, like scorpions. But scorpions from Hell.”
“Oh.” She blinked, another fan of dark lashes. Levi backed away, every instinct yelling at him to run for his room, but nobody was paying attention to her and Lucifer had said to protect her for eleven days. If she got stung and died at breakfast on day one, and he was the one nearest her he would never live it down. Lucifer might not let him live at all. He’d been really angry last night.
She pursed her lips. Oh, double hells. Her lips were cute, too, all pink and plush. She smelled pink. Her lips were pink. Maybe she was pink other places too. Gah! Not that it mattered. Obviously she wasn’t interested in him! He hadn’t even confirmed what his name was. She wasn’t going to let him see her other places.
“So, really fast?” she asked, taking a pair of tongs from a platter and adjusting them to suit her grip.
“I’m-Leviathan-but-Levi-is-fine.” His voice was about three octaves too high. She startled, and the tongs snapped together. Then she smiled.
Or cast a spell on him.
Or activated the sun that lived inside her face.
“Levi. It’s really nice to meet you.” Her eyes nearly closed, her smile was so big. “I’m Melody but Mel is fine.”
That smile couldn’t be real, could it? Nobody smiled at him like that, especially not women. He felt really big all of a sudden, really tall, so tall that he even stood up straight for a second before he slumped again. Oh yeah, no way it was real. She was looking for a husband, like some kind of normie gold digger. He looked her up and down while she pulled the container toward her. Such a gold digger, dolled up all sexy in her…faded blue t-shirt and fleece pajama pants with kittens wearing sleep masks on them. And her penguin slippers.
Cuuuuuute. Something clenched in his chest and he had to grit his teeth together to keep the noises he wanted to make in. If he’d been an anime character, wavy lines would have been emitting from him.
“Okay.” She nodded to herself and raised the tongs. “Fast.”
“Only open it a crack,” he threw out. “And close it immediately.”
She sucked in a breath, held it, and cracked the lid open. Levi raised his hands, ready to cast a containment curse if they overwhelmed her. Smoke and hisses boiled of the container. Melody squeaked, stabbed the tongs into the cloud of smoke, pincers, and spear-like tails, pulled two chels out and dropped them into the mug. Levi grabbed the coffee pot and splashed the hot liquid on top of them. She smashed the lid closed. The flailing pincers clacked a few times before sinking into the coffee, stirring up the milk and lightening the mixture.
Melody took a step back and looked at Levi, who still clutched the coffee pot.
“We did it,” she whispered. Her eyes were very wide. His were as well, he was pretty sure.
“We did.”
She shuddered. “Why the hell would anybody want those in their coffee?”
Realization hit Levi, followed closely by irritation. “Nobody would. Mammon was messing with you. He doesn’t even drink coffee.”
Melody blinked. Then her dark eyebrows arched up. She looked amused, and also like she was about to mess someone up herself. It was an expression Lucifer wore sometimes.
“Oh indeed?” Her voice was icy.
Levi swallowed. A very Lucifer expression.
Huffing, she popped the top off the container and yanked out three more chels, cramming them into the mug. The liquid splashed onto the cloth. She poured another mug of coffee with a splash of cream, and carried both back to the table.
“Here you go!” she said brightly, shoving the mug full of venomous devil scorpions at Mammon, who was startled into taking it.
Levi followed her to the table, sliding into the seat next to Lucifer, who continued eating – cutting his food neatly with knife and fork – while Mammon stared aghast into the mug brimming with tails and pincers. A couple of the chels must have broken when she’d grabbed the last of them because spots of dark, greasy venom were forming on the surface.
She sat down, took a sip of her coffee and hummed appreciatively. She peered at Mammon over the brim of her mug.
“How’s yours,” she chirped. “Just the way you like it?”
Mammon laughed nervously, took a big gulp, nearly choked, then carefully set his mug down while struggling to swallow. Beside him, Asmo was the poster child for disgust.
“When did you start drinking coffee?” Beel asked.
Lucifer chuckled darkly.
“It’s good,” Mammon rasped out. “Real good.”
“I’m so glad.” Melody glanced past Lucifer at Levi and winked.
Nnng. Cute.
Beel moved in a steady, balanced sort of way, which Melody was glad for, because she felt like she was flailing to keep up and the last thing they needed was to run into each other. She’d probably bounce off of his muscles and go flying into the flame on the open range or something. The kitchen was huge, which made sense because the House of Lamentation was huge, and Lucifer and his brothers were big – especially Beel. He was also ambitious. Over breakfast they had talked about cupcakes and he had invited her to help him make some. Of course she wanted to. Cupcakes were great! And, while she didn’t really know how to bake, they were just little cakes, right? How hard could that be? She only had to do the frosting, anyway. He was doing the hard part. Except…
The tins each held forty-eight cupcakes. And he had four of them. To go into the two stacked ovens that she had to believe were commercial ovens. They matched, in size, the enormous stainless steel mixing bowls Beel was scooping batter out of. Which meant – she surveyed the veritable field of cooling cupcakes stretched out across the massive stone island – she needed a metric fuckton of frosting.
“Is there more food coloring?” she asked as she squeezed the last of the red dye into the gallon of frosting she was trying to move from a suggestion of pink to rosy.
“Mmm. Yeah, I think so.” Beel set down his scoop and opened a cabinet behind her. “There is green and blue.” She heard jars clinking for a moment before he reached over her shoulder and set down two jars, one green, the other…swirling, metallic blue. The color was fascinating, and she would have been more interested in examining it if Beel hadn’t touched her when he’d reached past her.
The flame on the open range burned continuously. Both the ovens were blasting away. The rows of cupcakes were emitting heat. And she had nearly worked up a sweat mixing the gallons of thick, sticky frosting. Beel had removed the colorful sweatshirt he’d worn at breakfast and was down to a soft, gray t-shirt with a wide neck. She was warm. He was hot. She could feel his body heat all along her back, and his arm all but seared her as it brushed hers when he set the jars down.
She swallowed. A timer went off and Beel returned to the ovens to remove the trays. Like he hadn’t noticed the touch. Oh yeah. Most people didn’t emotionally launch into orbit when they were touched. He lived with a big family and seemed especially close to his twin. Belphegor had been sleeping on Beel at breakfast and, other than catching one of his ankles when his twin had kicked in his sleep, Beel had barely noticed the physical contact. For him, it was normal. They were all so lucky.
Climbing onto a tall stool, Melody bent to her task of adding green and blue coloring to the last two bowls of frosting. She’d been so excited at breakfast. Everyone was so lively and interesting. Mammon was a little aggravating (she honestly could not believe he’d drank that disgusting coffee), and Satan had been sort of intimidating. But Asmo was kind – he’d offered to bring clothes for her to try on later – and Levi was helpful, and of course Lucifer had been there so everything was alright, and Beel had invited her to do this activity with him. It was all so great that she wanted to giggle and cry at the same time.
So long as she didn’t die from cupcake overload, this would be the best day she’d had in a long time. She dipped the spoon into the blue frosting and came back with a big glob of it – on the spoon and smearing her knuckles. She set to work on the cooled cupcakes. She swirled a flower petal design around the top of the first one. Miraculously, it looked good.
“That’s a nice pattern,” Beel said. “Good job.”
“Thank you.” Smiling, she set it aside and reached for the next one.
Just four million more to go.
*
“Do you often bake for the entire Devildom?” she asked Beel, brushing a stray strand of hair away from her face. Half of the cupcakes were frosted, with flowers, stripes, and a polka-dot pattern that had gotten a little out of hand. But they just kept coming.
“What do you mean?”
“All these cupcakes. Are you having a bake sale? Do you sell them on the side? Are you celebrating something with an army tonight?”
“These are only for us.”
“For your family?”
“For you and me.” He jabbed a thumb toward his chest. “I’m the Avatar of Gluttony. It’s not only an honorific. I have a big appetite.”
“Are you always hungry?”
“Usually, but don’t worry. I ate a lot before this.”
Eight cupcakes were missing from the cooling rack nearest him. He was eating during it as well. She looked him over again. Despite the loose shirt he had a strong neck and broad shoulders, and all kinds of muscles rippled when he moved his arms. He’d shoved his bright hair, darkened from perspiration, back from his forehead, accentuating his sharp jaw and chin. A short purple apron, smeared with batter, was tied around a trim waist.
“Where does it all go?”
“Nobody knows.”
At his somber tone, Melody grinned. “I think I’m already full just from sampling frosting.”
“The frosting is really good.” Beel pointed toward her. “You have some on your cheek.”
She swiped at the left side of her face.
“The other side.”
She swiped at the right side of her face, too late remembering she was holding a spoonful of frosting. A thin line of it slid against her jaw.
Beel smiled. “Now you have more frosting on your face.”
“What do you mean? Didn’t I get it?” Intentionally, she let her frosted knuckles deposit more on her cheek.
Beel laughed, his deep voice joyous. It was infectious, but she fought to keep a straight face, playing at obliviousness.
“Do you need help?” he asked.
“No. I’m certain I got it this time.” She picked up the paper towel she’d been wiping her trowel on and dotted her nose and chin pink. “All clean, right?”
His entire face lit up. It did things for him. That rumbling voice was really something. His body was spectacular in any realm. But, when he lit up like that, his amethyst eyes nearly sparkling…wow. She had to wrap her feet around the legs of the stool to keep herself from jumping up and hugging him.
“Even Mammon doesn’t make messes like this.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” She gestured toward her no-doubt clown-style face. “I’m sure I got it all.”
“Here, I will help you.” He rounded the counter, and suddenly that big body and good-humored glow were right there. His hard thighs brushed her knees. He raised her chin with his finger, looking her over in that methodical way of his. Like he had all the time in the world, but his focus was on her. His eyes were really beautiful, rich amethyst and cooler pink toward the bottom of the iris. He was powerful as well. At breakfast, she’d felt the pressure and pull of their distinct powers, but somehow having all of them together had negated any single effect. She could feel the force of him, a kind of humming draw that made it a little hard to think. Her stomach fluttered.
“I’m fairly certain I don’t need help,” she said, working to keep her voice light. “Clearly I’m in pristine condition.”
“I am sorry to tell you this, but you are not in pristine condition. Don’t worry, though.” He smiled kindly. That didn’t help the flutters.
Then he leaned down and licked her.
And now she had an actual problem. Because he was licking the frosting off her cheek, with the wet heat of his tongue.
Her hands flew into the air beside his shoulders before she stopped herself. Because this wasn’t affection. This was…this was a gluttonous action. That was all. She had delicious food on her skin. He couldn’t help it. Hunger was a part of him.
He tipped her head further back and nibbled along her jaw, and she closed her eyes to savor the sensation. It was almost like a kiss. He coaxed the frosting off her chin, and that…that felt a lot like a kiss, the messy kind. Then the frosting on the tip of her nose, which was like an innocent peck. Innocent, innocent. It wasn’t about her. This was just the kind of demon he was.
He pulled back an inch. Her eyes opened, to meet his bright, amethyst gaze.
“Melody,” he said, his voice low, his fingers still on her chin.
“Yeah?”
“You’re hungry.”
“No, I had breakfast,” she said stupidly.
“You are. I can feel it. You wish to be sated.”
Sated: satisfied; to appease by indulging one’s thirst; filled.
Oh, shit. What sadist had invented that word? Emotionally, she went into orbit. Physically…the ground crew ran around preparing for launch.
“I-I do?”
“But not with food.” Beel’s gaze changed, sharpening, darkening. And Melody had to press her knees together around…to use his word choice, around her wish to be sated.
“Sorry.”
“It’s nothing to be sorry about.”
He blinked, then his gaze slowly, methodically, lowered to her lips. Which parted around her sudden need for oxygen. It had been warm, but now the air between them felt molten. When had that happened? Oh right, when this big, beautiful demon had come close, and touched her, and licked her.
Beel straightened at the same moment the timer began going off. She almost fell off the stool into the space he’d just been standing. She blinked, and tried to remember how to breathe.
“This is the last batch,” he said, removing the tins from the oven, fully back to the business of baking. Because they were only baking. He was a guy who lived in this house she was a guest in, and this was hospitality. Nothing more.
She scrambled to clear space on the racks, her face hot and everything else a hot mess. Damn, damn, damn. This always happened to her. She thought any little crumb of attention – pun not intended, thank you very much – was affection. People were simply nice sometimes. It wasn’t their problem that she was half-ready to love anyone who so much as looked at her after she got out of statis.
“I’m decorating these ones like presents,” she said, hurrying back to the icing station and leaning down to hide the way her face burned. “They’ll be so cute.”
“They sound so cute.”
“They sound so cute?” A wry voice asked from the doorway.
Melody looked up to see a smaller form leaned against the doorframe. Belphegor. Beel’s brother. He was staring at her, and did not seem friendly. It was easy to tell this one wasn’t into her. He blinked languidly, then shifted his gaze to his brother.
“Can I talk to you for a sec, Beel?”
“Of course.” Beel turned the ovens off, then followed his brother who’d already receded into the shadow of the hallway. He paused and turned back, holding one hand with the other. “I’ll be back in a few minutes, Melody.”
“Sure, take your time!” If she sounded any more chipper, she’d be tweeting.
She kept working, focusing very hard on frosting and not on the memory of his hands – and his tongue – on her skin. Was his tongue particularly large and muscular, or was she projecting because of his body? Did all tongues feel like that? She hadn’t been licked very often, and never there. Also she really needed to not think about that.
She rotated the frosted cupcakes onto platters, leaving them uncovered because the frosting was still soft. Then started on the next batch. And the one after it. Then on cleaning off the workspace, scrubbing the bits of hardened frosting and batter, brushing up the crumbs, and putting the giant racks into the sink. Beel didn’t return.
According to the big clock on the wall, fifty minutes had passed.
Melody threw away the last of the paper towels, closed the containers on the leftover frosting and put them in the refrigerator. Oddly, inside, all sorts of food containers were labeled with the brother’s names. Did they have special containers? Maybe sharing a refrigerator with the Avatar of Gluttony was a risk.
She sat on the stool, chewing on her lip. Then she stopped. Maybe revealing her state of hunger had been offensive, like some kind of demon faux pas? And Belphie was on call to come and bail his brother out, like a friend calling to get you away from a date gone wrong (she’d never had the opportunity to date but she’d seen it on TV). And here she was, the jerk Beel wanted to escape from, sitting around like an idiot, thinking he’d return. But he wouldn’t. He’d gone, obviously. People always left.
She removed her apron and folded it neatly. It had been a nice experience. That was all she could ask for. She patted the apron and left the room, retracing her steps through the massive, quiet house, past all the formal portraits and closed doors, to her bedroom.
“You’re welcome,” Belphie said, flopping onto Beel’s bed. Beel sat on the edge beside him, shifting as Belphie pulled and pawed at the covers, making himself comfortable.
“For what?” He slid his phone off his nightstand and swiped through it, returning to the bookmarks he’d made in the e-book Levi had found for him.
“Saving you from that interminable obligation.”
“The cupcakes aren’t done yet. I need to get back to finish them.”
“Frosting can wait, can’t it?”
“Melody is frosting them, but I should cover them so they don’t get stale. And clean up.”
“As if any dessert has ever gone stale in this house while you’re home.”
“Barbatos lectured me on proper food storage. He said, if I don’t do it right, we’ll get a rat infestation.”
Belphie grimaced. “Can’t be any worse than a human infestation. I cannot believe Lucifer is letting a human stay in this house.”
“She’s nice.”
Belphie’s eyes glinted from beneath his fall of bangs. “What did you say?”
“She’s nice. Melody.” He liked her name. He hadn’t known that humans were named after parts of music.
“What do you mean she’s nice?”
“We’ve been together for hours. We haven’t argued. Nobody has cried. Or been stabbed. Or cursed. She doesn’t seem afraid of me.”
“Then she doesn’t understand what you are. If she’s not afraid, that’s just another symptom of how stupid humans are.”
Beel concentrated on his phone.
Belphie poked him with his foot. “Are you listening?”
“Yeah.”
“Humans are stupid. And corruptible. She’ll sell you out – sell us out – in a heartbeat if you let her. You can’t trust her.”
“Trust must be built. It takes time.” Beel went to a specific highlight in the book. According to the author, lots of things had to be built, and constructed, and maintained in human relationships. It was like an endless construction project. Trust was a major part of the foundation. “Demons aren’t usually trustworthy either, you know. Maybe she doesn’t trust me yet, she’s still nice to me. She talks to me. Even my teammates don’t want to talk to me off the field and we’ve played together for years.”
“That’s because they know you’re better than them so they’re intimidated,” Belphie scoffed. “Anyway, it’s preferable to when we first ended up here and they were after our throats all the time. Killing them off was so much effort. It’s easier when they’re scared.”
“I guess. It would be nice to have more friends though. And friendship can evolve into other things.”
Beel thought he liked the idea of sex with someone who wasn’t doing it as a dare or because they liked it rough. With his physique and the scowl he wore when he was hungry – which was a lot – that was the type he tended to attract. Sex with them ranged from a semi-pleasurable workout to something close to a battle. He’d had to listen to Asmo deliriously describing his escapades enough to know it didn’t have to be that way. Although he didn’t think he wanted what Asmo had going on either. That seemed really complicated.
Sitting up, Belphie snatched Beel’s phone and scanned the screen. “You’re reading a human book on how to ‘make love happen’? Beel…what the fuck? You’re not actually considering that marriage scheme are you? I thought you knew better than that.”
“Yeah, I mean, I just want to help.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “There’s only eleven days.”
“Until what?” Belphie slapped the phone on the bed and flopped onto his side. “Until Lucifer gets in a little trouble? He should, the arrogant dumbass. For once he should get what’s coming to him instead of passing it off to us to deal with.”
Beel had served under Lucifer in the Celestial realm. Belphie, with his quick mind, had been on a scholarly track before they fell. While they lived together, Belphie had never been trained by Lucifer or seen him build a strategy that maximized their strengths and protected their weaknesses. He’d never fought alongside him, or had the assurance of Lucifer watching his back, not until the rebellion. And what happened then…
Beel didn’t know why the human was here, or why Lucifer would risk anything to protect her. But he trusted his eldest brother. Whatever was going on, Lucifer had considered his family’s security first. Beel believed that. And Melody was nice. She’d been so funny, pretending she didn’t know she was getting frosting all over her face. He’d started salivating at the sight, and then – when he’d gotten closer and felt her – he’d felt a different kind of hunger.
“Do you ever think about it?” Beel asked.
“What?”
“Being in love, with someone who loves you back?”
“No,” Belphie said after a moment. “And, if I did think about it, it wouldn’t be with a human. They’re weak. They’ll just end up dying on you. It’s like they were built to disappoint. There’s no point in loving something that’s going to let you down.”
Belphie’s shoulders were tight, his eyes open and staring at the wall. The atmosphere around him tasted slightly acidic. If anyone needed more love, it was Belphie. He shifted restlessly, the corner of his mouth pulling down before he glanced at Beel.
“Beel, you’ve got us. You’ve got me. There’s nobody like us, not anywhere. We will never fit in, not in any realm. All we need is each other.” He pulled the blanket over his shoulder and huffed out a breath. “Stay with me ‘til I fall asleep, okay?”
“Of course.”
Belphie maneuvered until he was curled around Beel, his pillow squished between them. Beel put a hand on his shoulder, rubbing gentle circles, then woke his phone again. He navigated to the section on dating. He thought baking was a pretty good first date. The book said that, to build intimacy, people needed to communicate their wants and boundaries to their partners. Beel was pretty sure the author had gotten that wrong. Humans were terrible at communicating what they wanted, not because they didn’t have the words for it, but because they rarely admitted those things even to themselves. If they were better at it most of the avatars – greed, envy, gluttony – wouldn’t exist. He would have to keep that in mind. He knew what humans wanted, or at least whether they wanted the things they said they wanted. He could figure out how to make one human happy.
After Belphie fell asleep, Beel unraveled himself from the blankets and went back to the kitchen. He snacked on a few cupcakes while making himself a sandwich. He turned to offer one to Melody and realized she wasn’t there. Thinking back, he realized she hadn’t been there when he’d returned, but he’d been hungry and food had been the only thing in his field of vision.
The counters were clean and all the bowls and tins were soaking in the sink. He frowned at the cupcakes. Judging by the texture, they’d been sitting for a couple of hours. And, judging by the number of them, she hadn’t even eaten even one. He was supposed to be attentive during a date. He didn’t need to check his bookmarks to know he couldn’t do that if he didn’t even stay in the same room.
***
Melody carefully hung the three…gowns? She didn’t know if they were gowns or just really nice dresses. Asmodeus had left clothes piled and hung all around her room, which had nearly made her scream when she’d opened the door. It turned out pale, floor-length dresses looked a lot like ghosts, and also now she knew she was afraid of ghosts. There were other clothes, more casual. All accessorized though. She almost stepped on another pair of earrings that had slid off a sweater she’d picked up and tiptoed across the room to add it to the growing pile atop her dresser.
The clothes mostly fit, though she wasn’t actually sure how to wear the ones with straps and loops and multiple belts and things. There was a shirt that seemed to have no hole for the head, and another with three arms. In his five page, hand-written, very opinionated description of the outfits, Asmo said he’d help her when he got back. He’d also peppered the pages with little hearts, and she was fairly certain he’d imbued it with pheromones. She hoped they’d come from a bottle, not that he’d been rubbing the paper all over his body while writing the notes.
The stretchy black skirt and off-the-shoulder blue sweater she wore now were her favorite so far. They made her feel like she was in a contemporary remake of the movie Flashdance. She fluffed her hair in the mirror, then mimicked some ‘80s avante garde dance moves. Were there legwarmers in the Devildom? She totally needed some legwarmers.
A knock on the door startled her from a seated leg kick and she jumped up from her chair, smoothing down her skirt. Nobody was ever to see her dance like that. At least now she could ask Asmodeus about the three-armed shirt. She opened the door and nearly ended up with a faceful of frosting. Again.
“Oh!”
“Hi, Melody.” Beel, nearly filling the door frame, held a tray of cupcakes toward her. “You left without trying any.”
The cupcakes, which had been so fun in the warm, sweet kitchen with Beel working alongside her, were less appealing now. Also, wow, she was so bad at forming symmetrical polka dots.
“That’s okay. Enjoy them with your brothers.”
Beel looked tempted to eat them all on the spot, then he frowned. “But I made them with you.”
“Yeah, but…” Okay, now the scent was reaching her. They did smell good. Also, something else smelled good, kind of tart and spicy. It made her mouth water. Was that him? “I don’t really want any, so don’t worry. You can go back to whatever you were doing.”
He lowered the tray, still frowning. “Was our date so bad?”
Her eyebrows rose. The rest of her stopped working. “Our…what?”
“Our date. I thought since we both like sweets we would like baking them together.” He thought for a moment. “Was it too many? Was it boring?”
“It wasn’t boring,” she said in a rush. That had been a date? Beel offhandedly asking her if she wanted to bake over breakfast had been him asking her out? “I mean, it wasn’t boring for me. But you left?”
The corner of his mouth turned down and he lowered his eyes.
“I didn’t mean to be gone for a long time. I don’t pay much attention to time. Sorry about that.” He looked up again, his eyes brightening. “Do you want to continue now?”
She staggered back a step, looking around for an objective opinion, but there was nobody else there. Taking her movement as an invitation, Beel ducked through the doorframe and followed her in. A thermos and two mugs dangled from the hand not carrying the tray. Mmm, tea. That had been the other scent she’d smelled. As if responding to her recognition of the items, he raised them.
“Would you like some tea?”
Melody pressed her lips together, then nodded. She did want tea. And, okay, she wanted cupcakes, too. And also…if that had been a date then the smiling and the helping had been because he had wanted to? And the touching and licking maybe had not been only a gluttonous thing? Oh god, the touching and the licking!!! She flushed and a shocked little flutter went through her.
Beel set the mugs on her nightstand and the tray on her bed. He knelt by the nightstand, dwarfing it.
“Are these all your clothes?”
“No. Or yes, I guess.” She pulled a few hangers off the light fixtures and hung them in the closet. “Asmodeus brought them.”
He nodded. “Then you’ll look nice in them. He’s good about fashion and all that.” He glanced at her over his shoulder before applying himself to pouring tea. “You look nice in that outfit.”
Her fingers wrapped around each other as her belly joined in the fluttering.
Beel stood, offering her a mug of tea. Trying to return his smile without looking weird – was she behaving datefully? – she took it. And found herself literally standing in his shadow. The kitchen had higher ceilings than the room she’d been given for a bedroom. And it was a larger space, full of giant appliances and the sprawling stone island. It was Beel-sized. In this smaller, lower space, he seemed massive. Realizing they were just standing there staring at each other in silence, she gestured, nearly sloshing hot tea over her hand.
“Would you like to sit?” The bed, she’d gestured at the bed. He was going to think she had no class.
Beel sat carefully, setting the tray on his thigh and gesturing toward it. “Which would you like?”
“Which one tasted best?”
“They were all good.”
Melody examined the platter and selected a chocolate one with pale green icing. She bit into it. Oh, it was good. The chocolate was rich but not bitter, the frosting minty without tasting like toothpaste.
“You like that, huh?”
“S’good,” she said around her mouthful.
“I’m glad.”
But she couldn’t continue stuffing her face with cupcakes until she made sure she understood. She licked the frosting from the corners of her mouth, took a sip of tea, and turned a little to face the big demon.
“Hey, uhm… I didn’t know that was a date.” It was almost a question.
“You didn’t want to go on a date?”
“No, no that’s not it. I just didn’t know it was a date.”
“You thought it was a…joint baking session?”
Melody huffed out a laugh and shook her head. Her face felt hot. Her feet kept sliding against each other. She looked down, but then she was seeing his big hands – skillful hands, she’d definitely noticed that in the kitchen – and the outline of the hard muscles of his legs. Wow, he was really firm. All over.
“I thought you were just being nice,” she said, trying not to let herself be distracted by his body. He had touched her on their first date. Which meant, if this was a continuation of it, then maybe he wanted to touch her again? Tension and need wound through her.
“I was trying to be nice, but it wasn’t like that was hard. It’s easy to be nice to you. We work well together. You’re talkative. You make me laugh. And you’re nice to look at. All of that, and you weren’t even trying.”
That was like a whole row of compliments, delivered as though they were simple facts. Her mind whirled. She had no idea how to respond.
“And I like the way you taste,” Beel added in a low voice.
Melody swallowed.
Calloused fingers slid beneath her chin and urged her head up. She blinked a few times against the beauty of Beel’s amethyst gaze. It was different, finding him attractive and knowing he maybe welcomed it. Her pulse picked up, a tiny relentless drum.
“I’d like to kiss you, Melody,” Beel murmured. “Would you like that?”
“Yeah,” she said with what little air was left in her lungs. Breathing didn’t seem very important at the moment. The cupcake fell out of her hand onto the plate. He took her mug and set it to the side with the desserts.
His fingers returned to her chin. His lips touched hers and she jolted, grabbing onto his shirt.
“Are you okay?” His breath ghosted across her lips. She’d squeezed her eyes closed – it was too much to see and feel him at the same time.
“I’m fine!”
“Here.” Warm hands covered hers, prying her fingers loose from his shirt. She made a sound in protest, even opening her eyes, but he simply lifted her hands higher and placed them around the back of his neck. His gaze was steady, encouraging. “You can hold onto me if you need to.”
Her fingers brushed the shorter hairs at the back of his neck and Beel made a pleased sound. Warmth blossomed inside of her. Her nerves didn’t dissipate – her heart was still beating a million times a minute – but it was easier to lean toward him, to let her eyes drift closed as their lips met again.
The kiss was soft, almost chaste, but the feel of warm lips against hers, the sensation of skin beneath her hands, made her want to get closer, get more, feel more. Beel’s hand touched her shoulder blade. It was a light brush and she managed to keep her gasp small. Barely noticeable. The way she arched against his hand, like a cat seeking to be petted, was definitely noticeable
“Melody,” he murmured. He sounded concerned, and she didn’t want that. She didn’t want him thinking about how weirdly she responded to touch. This was only a kiss. Only a kiss, Melody. Pull yourself together.
It was all she could do to keep from wrapping herself around him, from rubbing herself all over him. What had Beel said in the kitchen? That she wanted to be sated. Oh, she did. She craved touch so deeply it was almost painful.
But Beel didn’t pull away. He groaned, his strong arms wrapping around her and pulling her closer. She gasped again and his tongue slid between her lips. She pressed forward, pulling at him, but his hand caught in her hair, stilling her. She opened her eyes, worried she’d done something wrong again. And then his tongue was inside of her, long and thick, filling her mouth as he held her in place. Her fingernails dug into the back of his neck. She could barely catch sips of air as he plunged inside her mouth. He was a demon, she had to remember. They weren’t built exactly like humans. And if his tongue was this big, how big was the rest of him? Wanting to know, she tried to climb into his lap, dizzy with lack of air, dizzy with excitement. The tug on her hair was sharp, and she winced and stilled.
Beel released her almost immediately, pulling away, rubbing a soothing hand over the back of her scalp.
“Your hunger is delicious.”
His face was flushed, his lips wet. His aura shimmered around his body, a bloodred outline that sharpened his features and darkened his eyes.
“You’ve made me want,” she heard herself say. Closer, she wanted closer. She pushed up, trying to slide into his lap again.
His mouth on her bare neck stopped her. Hot and wet, he sucked gently and her body clenched at the sensation. One of his hands slid from her back to her hip, then he lifted them both, laying her on her back while he nipped and sucked his way across her throat. His teeth slid against her collarbone and she twisted beneath him, freeing her legs so they could wrap around his hips.
And this, oh this was so good, his body big and heavy against her, friction from his hard chest against her breasts. The craving intensified and he exhaled sharply. He ground down against her pelvis and she cried out, arching into him.
Beel pushed himself away almost immediately and she stuttered mentally. No! She still wanted!
“Melody,” he growled, his aura beginning to smoke.
Part of her alerted. Demon, he was a demon. He didn’t only have a demonically-enhanced tongue. He had dangerous strength and power. She needed to be careful. But he also had soft lips. And a sharp jawline. Tendons stood out in his neck. She touched all of them.
“Melody?”
She wrapped a leg around his back and tried to pull him down, but he didn’t budge and she found herself lifting toward him instead.
Whip-quick, he turned his head and bit her fingers. He didn’t break skin, but it was enough to make her yelp. It cleared her head, a little.
“Melody? Are you here with me?”
“Yeah, I’m here.” She drew a deep breath and let it out, then focused on him. “I’m here with you, Beel.”
Somehow saying it made everything even more intense. His eyes were dark, his expression tightly focused on her. She thrilled again, her core tightening around nothing. More, she wanted more. His face softened a little, then he was kissing her again. Not as deeply, a little more messily.
“Don’t worry,” he said. “I’ll take care of you.”
He wouldn’t leave her wanting. Melody cradled his face, kissing him slowly, thoroughly. He tasted sweet and a little smoky.
His hand found her hip, easing her skirt over her thighs nearly to her waist. She trembled, with need, with excitement. He slid toward the center of her, fingers smoothing the inside of her thigh before lifting away. She opened her mouth to demand more when he pressed against her core, rubbing at her through her panties. She was wet, they both discovered, her with a gasp and him with an almost pained exhale.
And then his mouth was gone from hers. She blinked, then shrieked when he bit through her panties and pushed the scraps away. She had an instant to lean up before his mouth descended on her, his tongue licking a long, hot path over her core. Her head fell back, her fists clenching beside it. Her legs must have moved because Beel caught an ankle in one hand, the other hand pressing her thigh to open her up to him.
Sensation took over. Pleasure rolled with each lick and suckle, the startling sensation of his tongue pressing inside of her. Her inner muscles tightened around him and Beel’s aura spiked, red smoke rising around him, a heatless flame. She bucked, met the resistance of his hands, and reached out to slide her fingers into his hair, fighting the urge to pull him closer.
Words fell out of her, his name, and pleas, and a few more curse words that were probably appropriate, but damn.
Beel released her legs, one hand lifting her tight against his mouth, the other sliding hard and fast against her clit. His tongue plunged inside her again, deeper, and she came on a rolling shudder, her hand over her mouth to hold back screams.
He lowered her after a moment, thumbs stroking soothingly over her thighs while she blinked through the stars in her vision.
“Beel,” she whispered.
“That felt good,” he said.
“Yes.”
“But you still want more.”
If he hadn’t said it so matter-of-factly, she might have objected, pretended she didn’t. She felt selfish and now a little embarrassed, laid out like this in front of him, the air cool against the exposed parts of her body.
She could barely summon the presence of mind to form words, could barely raise her voice enough to be heard. “I’m not sure if this is supposed to happen on a first date.”
He grinned at her, his lips full and slick, and the ache returned almost stronger than before.
“You’ve never been on a date with a demon before.” He lowered his head again, catching her legs before they snapped closed around his head.
***
“Is that all you need?” Beel asked. It was a polite inquiry, almost like a waiter asking if she was done with her plate. Hours had passed, or days, or lifetimes. She’d stopped counting orgasms. She was numb and hypersensitive at the same time, shivers working through her at irregular intervals.
“I-I think that’s all I can handle.”
Chuckling he picked her boneless body up and positioned her on the bed away from the wetness they’d made. He smiled down at her, brushing a sweaty lock of hair off her forehead.
“You look good when you’re satisfied, Melody. You feel good.”
Her body considered coming again, on principle.
She traced his collarbone with her fingers, the touch pleasurable but no longer a driving need. She touched him because she liked it, not because she needed to. And he liked it too, she thought.
“Is…” Even after all that, her face warmed. “Is there something I can do for you?”
“No.”
“No?”
“I told you, I like the way you taste.”
“And that’s…satisfying?”
There was no way that could be more satisfying than an orgasm…or ten. But Beel grinned, the smile lighting up his eyes. He leaned down and pressed a kiss to her forehead.
“It’s the best kind of satisfaction.”
Satan had dreamed up thousands of ways to stab at Lucifer, to chip away at that icy perfection, to bring him down even if it was just by a fraction at a time. The methods used to be brutal (most included actual stabbing) but had grown in complexity and subtlety as the years had passed. Now, seeing high and mighty Lucifer frustrated was nearly as satisfying as causing him actual physical harm. It was also easier. He had been the most prominent of the angels before his fall and was the most prominent target of those who despised the brothers’ celestial origins. He had honed his physical and magical defenses to the point that he was indominable, and his retribution was swift and thorough. Satan couldn’t yet take him on directly and wasn’t too proud to admit it. It simply meant he had to be patient, and cunning. This human was an opportunity the likes of which he, with his relentless visualizations of hurting Lucifer, hadn’t even considered dreaming up.
Melody Vale was a trap Lucifer had built for himself. Satan only needed to spring it to hurt the Avatar of Pride. If he didn’t know better, he’d say he was giddy.
He caught her as she rounded the corner at the junction of two hallways, heading for breakfast but looking back toward a stylized obsidian statue depicting a mid-level demon’s struggle to ascend. Lucifer had littered the house with art pieces depicting trials and triumph. They were all hideous. He touched her arm to get her attention before she ran into him. In response, she made a small sound of surprise but didn’t run away. So blessedly naïve.
Satan smiled. It was his friendly smile. Alone, it served to lower a human’s guard 72% of the time. She blinked large, disconcertingly light eyes, then smiled back at him.
“Good morning, Satan!”
Ugh, so chipper.
“Good morning, Melody. Did you sleep well?”
She nodded enthusiastically. “Yes, like a rock. I didn’t… I was… I didn’t even do much yesterday. Or… The bed was comfortable? I was really tired last night.”
“I’m going to the human realm,” he said breezily, ignoring her useless rambling. “Beel had an early practice, leaving only scraps for the rest of us, and I’m craving a proper breakfast. I prefer to drink my first coffee of the day while sitting in sunlight.” He inclined his head, lowering his voice conspiratorially. “Say, would you like to join me?”
This was a calculated risk. He’d intended to have the conversation near a window so she could look out at the early day murk and long for the human realm’s daylight. He knew she was the kind of person who savored her coffee rather than funneling it into her bloodstream like an addict. It was always easier when humans walked themselves into his traps, though it would be little enough effort to transport her if she did not come willingly.
“I checked with Lucifer.” Satan made an offhand gesture, indicating this did not require much thought on her part. Humans liked it when they weren’t responsible for their own actions. “It’s fine so long as you promise to stay right alongside me for your protection. He even threatened me with grievous bodily harm should you encounter the least discomfort.”
There, that sounded convincing.
“Alright, then. I’ll go, and I’ll stay right alongside you,” she promised, grinning. “I wouldn’t want you to come to grievous bodily harm.”
He transported them using a portal ring he’d spent a stack of grimm on. He put a hand on Melody’s shoulder, securing the contact needed to transport her alongside him, but she still jumped at the first crackle of ley energy and grabbed his jacket. It would be worth it to see Lucifer’s face when he realized she was gone and he was going to have to explain this additional failure to Diavolo. Now all he had to do was deposit Melody Vale in the loving arms of a living relative.
It had taken less than twelve hours to track down a next of kin. Even with his extensive network of contacts, it had seemed too easy. Again, he wondered whether Lucifer was testing them, but his rage after Diavolo had discovered the human had been real. Satan trusted his ability to sense the truth of anger. Melody Vale’s father, mother and grand-relatives were dead. Melody herself was recorded as having died in a house fire alongside her stepfather. The false death was probably Lucifer’s work. And maybe the house fire as well. Her return would be sensational enough – requiring notification of authorities and reopening of old investigations – that Lucifer wouldn’t be able to cover it up without a dispensation to meddle in the human realm from Lord Diavolo, which the demon prince might grant if Lucifer groveled enough. Lucifer would not, out of pride. He would be forced to let his strange little prize go, and have nobody but himself to blame. Satan was definitely giddy.
“Oh, what a great library!” Melody said, bumping into his elbow for the third time as she all but skipped beside him.
Satan turned his head to follow her gaze. A narrow two-story building sat across the busy street, the walls glaringly white under a blue roof. The sign was cheerful and bright. Through the windows, he saw rows of bookshelves and computers.
“I wouldn’t have expected one in this neighborhood,” he mused, compelled enough by the sight to veer off his script of delivering polite questions then following up with sounds to indicate her answers were interesting. He hadn’t been listening to her, other than to discover that she was quieter than he’d expected. She was back in her realm after months or years and wasn’t running around exclaiming at and touching things, or crying with nostalgia, or scared like she wasn’t sure what to do with all the sounds and sights reflecting the hot, bright sunlight. The human’s relative lived in a neighborhood that straddled the line between rundown and outright dangerous. On any other day, it would have been a typical hunting ground for Satan.
“No? They’re perfect for a neighborhood like this. Essential, even. They provide access and connection. Look how inviting is it! So light and open!”
“Do you like to read?” he asked, against his better judgment.
“Of course! I’ve always read a lot. Although, at one point in college – it was during finals and I was on my second double major – I decided to never to pick up another book.” She gave him a wry look. “That vow lasted like one afternoon.”
Even though the conversation was now marginally interesting, Satan’s attention caught on something else. Lucifer’s cloying power – the menacing “keep off” sign that had shrouded the human at the House of Lamentation – had lessened outside of the Devildom, and he was able to see around and through it to the spells managing her. Two hexes and a curse, as well as the lingering effects of the statis spell. One of them had just activated, a rivulet of power that lasted only a split second. If Satan hadn’t studied Lucifer’s abilities for centuries, he wouldn’t have caught it. But what had triggered the spell?
“What did you study?” he asked.
“History and fine art the first time, then sociology and biology the second time. I thought I’d be a…” Another shimmer of power. Melody waved her hand idly. “Anyway, it didn’t turn out. It could be a little boring, taking so many classes online.” Another shimmer of power, definitely a hex. If he could set her down for a few hours and interrogate her, he could figure it out. He weighed learning against disposing of her and chose his original mission. Though he would take the remaining few blocks they needed to walk to study the spell. Lucifer’s work was nothing short of masterful.
“What do you like to read, Melody?”
“Oh man. Anything? Fiction, mysteries, thrillers – but not the gross serial violence kinds – romances and science fiction. Non-fiction, history, philosophy, sociology, biographies of artists.” She looked up as she thought, then smiled. He saw this time when the hex triggered. “Lots of biographies. It’s so fascinating to read about what people have chosen to do with their lives, regardless of how they started out in life. Do you read a lot?”
“I do.”
The flow of magic was strong but subtle, responding to her memories rather than specific words or phrases. An internal trigger to keep something in.
“Sometimes I’m just blow away by what people are able to do, able to drive themselves to do, with a single opportunity. A solitary choice carrying them through the rest of their life, and that resolve affecting so many others. You know what I mean?”
His focus shifted from the magic wrapped around her to her physical form and those unexpected words. Her brow was furrowed, her lips pursed. Early on…early in his existence, he had devoured the stories of individuals. He wanted to know everything. How someone made a decision rather than following an instinctive response. How someone become admirable, powerful. How people managed not to destroy everyone and everything they came across. It had helped Satan – infested with Lucifer’s memories but without context for the feelings surrounding them – understand what it meant to be a person. What he might be able to make of himself.
The hex bit hard and Melody blinked. She smiled uncertainly before going on. “It’s the best, right? Reading?”
“What do you like to read?” he asked, repeating his earlier inquiry by instinct.
“Oh geez. Lots of stuff. Mostly fiction. Hey, this neighborhood is a little sketchy. Is the restaurant much farther?”
It was as if the last thirty seconds hadn’t happened, and as if she now wasn’t allowed to proceed down the conversational thread that had really triggered the hex. What was hiding in her memories that Lucifer did not want released? Was he using the human as a repository for information, something she had learned or seen during her studies?
“No, not much. Just left at that corner and we’re there.” He gentled his voice. “Why did you stop going to college, Melody?”
The hex surged this time. Her next step was halting before her pace resumed.
“Hey,” she said, “let’s list our favorite breakfast places. I’ll go first.”
Satan halted as she continued walking, describing a chocolate scone. Satan had been born out of rage and was forced to make himself up as he went along, but at least he’d had the choice in how he evolved. This human’s memories were being suppressed, her thought process redirected when she got too close to a certain memory, and clearly her choices had been limited by Lucifer. This was low, even for Lucifer. Maybe turning her over to family and leaving her in the human realm wasn’t the worst punishment he could deliver Lucifer. Maybe bringing her back and showing his brothers what Lucifer was willing to do to a person – what he was willing to take from them – would be worse. He could knock Lucifer down just by showing the others this wretched side of his nature.
“Catch,” his brother called.
Damn, he’d really thought he would have time to complete his plan.
Satan turned toward the sensation of an incoming projectile. Rather than deflecting it, he caught it. It was a book after all. He wasn’t going to let a book fall on this disgusting sidewalk.
Lucifer strode toward him, ley power wavering around his form. He’d ‘ported himself to the human realm mid-stride, and managed to pinpoint Satan and Melody’s location to within a few meters. The amount of strength and focus that required was astounding. He was such a bastard.
Satan steeled himself for the confrontation. Then his vision wavered. His skin prickled. Oh no, he knew this sensation. His body twisted as it transformed and shrank.
He blinked, blinked all three of his eyelids. Lucifer smirked down at him before crouching. He grabbed Satan, still reeling from the transformation, by the scruff of his neck and held him up.
“She is not to leave the House. I made myself very clear. And here I thought you were the smart one, Satan.”
Satan tried to swear, heard himself hiss instead, then growled when Lucifer laughed. The eldest picked up the cursed book with gloved hands and stowed it in his messenger bag.
“It’s a clever spell, this transformation curse. Hiding it within a book is almost genius. I took the liberty of strengthening the curse. It won’t be wearing off in four hours. Enjoy the human realm. I do hope you’ll be able to catch some vermin to feed yourself.” He dropped Satan, who considered attacking Lucifer’s leg even though the fight would be even more lopsided in this form, and followed his human around the corner. When Satan habitually shook, he heard a jingle. A collar? With a bell??
Absolute bastard. Lowest of the low. Satan would get back at him as soon as he was himself again instead of – he looked down at his fluffy, orange, adorable paws – a fucking cat. Cursed by his own book. Unbelievable.
***
“Are you sure it’s this way?” Melody asked. The sidewalk ahead was more cracks and weeds than concrete and, by the smell, she was fairly certain something was dead in those weeds. Maybe it had been killed by all the broken glass. Or that single red sneaker that looked like it had been gnawed off its owner’s leg. “I’m getting a little worried about that grievous bodily harm.”
“You have nothing to fear,” a low voice said behind her, “unless you take another step down that path. It is rather frightening.”
Mel turned, a smile lighting her up inside before it even reached her face.
“Lucifer! Are you joining us?” Then she glanced past him, at the absence of a polite, blond demon. “What…where’s Satan?”
“There’s an important task which requires his specific expertise, so unfortunately he has been called away.” Lucifer tugged at his fur-lined cuffs and the suit he habitually wore in the Devildom morphed into a black button-down shirt and charcoal slacks, immaculately tailored of course. A pair of glasses, tinted smoky gray, formed on his face, to hide the constant embers of his eyes and – Mel knew from watching him squint irritably over the years – because he was sensitive to daylight. “You’ll have to settle for me.”
She laughed. “’Settle’? Right. You know you’re my favorite everything.”
“There is no need for superlatives. Would you prefer a decent breakfast or a paper plate full of slop?”
“Those were breakfast tacos and they were delicious.”
“You put so much hot sauce on them you could have been mistaken for a demon.”
“That was so you would try them! I even got you a knife and fork so you could eat them proper-style.”
“A plastic knife and fork.”
“Well, you know, they were from a food truck.”
Lucifer’s lip curled at the mere memory of eating from something as unsophisticated as a truck. He also hadn’t liked the blaring music. Or the fact that the truck had been parked in a scrubby dirt lot. He had, she never brought up, finished the food she’d insisted he tried. Because it had been delicious, if sloppy.
“Come, let’s go elsewhere.”
“Satan said there was a great breakfast place here. A hidden gem.”
“Tetanus is not a gem.”
Mel snorted, then silenced abruptly as she realized they were being watched. A fluffy, orange Persian cat sat atop a stone step. “Look, there’s a cat.” Its peering turned into a glare, which was disturbing on its big, squished face. She rocked back. Animals usually liked her. “Whoa, it looks intense.”
“It probably has rabies. If it tries to attack, I’ll call animal control. It would be a shame to leave a hostile animal out where it could do harm.” Lucifer moved up behind her, his aura shepherding her back in the direction from which she’d come. “Let’s go.”
“I doubt it has rabies.” She gave the cat a wide berth. It still hissed at them. “It’s probably just mad that we’re in its territory.”
Lucifer’s hand pressed against the small of her back. “This is not his territory. Should he try anything, I’m happy to remind him of that.”
Melody laughed. “It’s just a cat, Lucifer, not your archenemy.”
“One never knows. There’s a café in Singapore I’ve been meaning to try.”
They were definitely not in Singapore, but his taste was always good. It was also expensive. No dirt lots for the Avatar of Pride. She wore a cream sweater with a cowlneck and dark pants she was pretty sure were suede. They fit like a dream and were so soft she’d been having trouble not petting herself.
“Am I underdressed for it?”
“Your appearance is acceptable.”
“Alright.”
“Then you’re going back to the House of Lamentation. You’re not to leave unless I’m with you. Understood?”
He was asking, but it was very definitely an order. There were a million questions she could ask. What was going on that she was awake? How long would she be out? Should she, like, get a job or something? Did he know what she had done with his brother? Did she even understand what she had done with his brother? But she couldn’t decide which question was likely to yield results and, while she was puzzling over it, he asked the first question.
“How have you enjoyed your stay so far?”
Kitchen. Beel. Beel’s mouth.
Melody swallowed, hoping her voice didn’t come out squeaky. “Everybody has been really nice.”
“Did you enjoy your date?”
Her heart thudded. There was no particular tone to Lucifer’s question, but Melody still felt guilty. She had gotten together with one of her tutors once, and Lucifer had been mad. Granted she had been a little younger. Okay, so maybe she had been young, technically, due to all her time in stasis. But she’d been lonely, so lonely, in that small, lovely world Lucifer had painstakingly made for her. And she hadn’t thought she’d been too young for what they’d done. Still…she didn’t like when Lucifer was mad.
“Okay, so…I didn’t actually know it was a date at first?”
He glanced at her and she stared neutrally into the distance, afraid something in her face would give her away.
“When did you find out?”
“Beel, uh, had to tell me.”
“But you enjoyed your time with him? He treated you well?”
Her face felt hot. My, what a fascinating water-stained adobe wall beside her. She should stare at it until he looked away.
“Yes, he treated me well.”
He hummed in acknowledgement but didn’t say anything else and she didn’t feel an aggressive spike in his aura. So maybe he thought she was old enough now. Or maybe he didn’t think Beel would be attracted to her. Or maybe that was just how demon dates went. A hot surge went through her. Lucifer was a demon, so he probably dated other demons. And if two demons were dating, things probably got more intense than what she had done. A lot more intense.
“We’ll ‘port from here,” Lucifer announced.
She turned toward him while he cast an obfuscation spell and wrapped an arm around her but couldn’t quite bring herself to look at him. She’d felt dizzy earlier, and thought it had to do with the way Satan had teleported them. She wasn’t dizzy anymore but she felt unsettled. Unbalanced, like her body was a word on the tip of a tongue.
“Are you feeling okay?” he asked.
“Yeah.” She smiled toward the buttons of his shirt, then frowned when he didn’t trigger the ‘port right away. “Lucifer?”
“Remember to hold your breath.” She did, then closed her eyes against the chill rush. In the three seconds it took him to whisk them halfway around the planet, she wondered why she hadn’t felt Satan’s portal magic when he’d gone off to complete his task. And, in the last instant before she opened her eyes to the humid night air of Singapore, she wondered if Lucifer was holding her closer than usual, or if that was only her imagination.
Melody was yawning as they arrived back at the house, not because she’d overexerted or they had stayed out too long. Excursions with Lucifer over her last few waking periods had been brief. She could feel the tension of unfulfilled duties hanging over him, all the things he should have been doing other than escorting her on sightseeing or shopping trips. His behavior was always the same, solicitous, helpful, protective, with varying amounts of patience. Breakfast (somehow they’d been able to order breakfast even though it was night time in Singapore) had been a delicious affair punctuated by prompt, attentive service which he’d wrapped up quickly since he had a meeting or fifty to get to. His tension, which was somehow even more pronounced today, like a physical pressure for all that he savored his tea and asked twice if she wanted to try any more dishes, kept her on edge. And she’d only slept for a few hours the night before.
It had taken her a long time to fall asleep. A long time. Her hands kept drifting to her lips and body, touching the places where Beel had touched her as she mentally replayed everything that had happened, trying to commit it to memory. She couldn’t replicate the shiver-inducing sound of his low voice, the toe-curling feel of his mouth on her skin, or the sensation of his aura – all that power like a tremendous storm threatening but not quite breaking – around them.
It was a lot. And still…less than she wanted.
Melody had spent so long reading and watching stories about love and relationships, love at first sight, passions that destroyed empires, desires that endured wars or lifetimes of separation. She’d read about the feelings that allowed such things to occur, imagined them, dreamed about them maybe through the years where she barely existed. At least, she woke thinking about such things. Maybe it was because she’d spent so much of her existence gathering dust. Maybe it was because of the strange series of circumstances that had set this arrangement in motion, the things that had happened to her, the things she had made happen. She wasn’t ever going to be normal or anything like it. Even if Lucifer found a solution to her problem she wouldn’t be able to slide in and assume a place in the regular human world. She had missed too much, wanted too much. She needed every moment she was allowed to be memorable. She wanted passion that reduced all the realms to a pale background. Love that grew, comforted, delighted. She wanted to adore someone and make them stronger. She didn’t want to be a burden. She didn’t want to be a problem that needed to be solved.
Across the foyer, Lucifer had his broad back to her. His arms were crossed as he spoke with Leviathan, who had been waiting for them at the bottom of the stairs. Leviathan was shaking a piece of paper at his brother, gesticulating emphatically. Lucifer’s responses were a low murmur. Mel meandered toward them, not sure if the conversation was meant to be private.
“The first two are limited edition and vintage,” Levi explained, “so they’re really expensive, and you’ll have to stand in line for like three days before the tickets go on sale for the third one-”
“I am not queuing, Levi.” Lucifer couldn’t have sounded any more disgusted if he’d tried.
“Well, but…” Levi’s gaze darted to Melody, who tried to look nonthreatening. As if she would be the threat in this trio. His voice trailed off until it was barely audible. “It meets the parameters of the deal.”
“Fine,” Lucifer snapped, folding the note and sliding it into his breast pocket. “I’m returning to my work. Melody, if you-”
“You can come with me and play games in my room,” Levi shouted.
Startled, Mel rocked back before stopping herself. “Uh…what kind of games?”
“Board games, PC games, video games. I have all the game consoles. ALL of them. Probably some you haven’t even heard of. Vintage rigs, custom. Everything.”
He was almost feverish in his intensity, though his ochre eyes were on everything but her. She’d thought he was shy when she met him, but he’d been a surprisingly good partner in crime when Mammon had tried to punk her at breakfast. And he was really excited about his games.
Still, she kept her tone even and refrained from moving too quickly, concerned about what an overstimulated Levi might be like. She didn’t want to cause him to implode or anything.
“Okay. That sounds nice.”
“What?” He jerked upright, suddenly considerably taller. “Really?”
“Sure. It sounds like fun. I have to warn you though, it’s been a long time since I played video games.”
Levi laughed. “I can totally teach you. First-person shooter, adventure quests, horror, virtual simulations-”
“Levi,” Lucifer said, his voice low with warning. “None of your augmented reality games.”
“Right.” Levi looked away, shoving his hands in his pockets. “Man, mess up one law of thermodynamics and everybody’s a critic.”
Mel glanced at Lucifer. “What’s wrong with those games?”
The tense lines at the corners of Lucifer’s eyes indicated a headache was building. “They augment the reality of the Devildom itself.”
“They’re so clever,” Levi enthused as though the warning had been encouraging. “Really cutting edge coding. You can even die in them, that’s how good they are. Amazing, right?”
“LEVI.” Lucifer’s aura swirled. Levi closed his mouth with a click. “You will not allow any harm to come to Melody while she is with you, and you certainly will not create a perilous situation. Do I make myself clear?”
“Clear,” Levi whispered, somehow even paler than before, which was saying something.
Lucifer returned to work and Melody followed Levi to his room. He stopped at the door, waving his hands and fingers over it in a complex pattern. She moved to stand beside him, astounded at the little bloom of magic he was conjuring.
“What are you doing?”
“I have to ward the doors whenever I’m out to keep Mammon from stealing my collectibles.”
“Does he like the same stuff you do?”
“No, he’s a scumbag who will sell the stuff I love best for cash.”
“Oh.” The unbridled hostility in Levi’s tone took her aback. Mammon had seemed more mischievous than malicious, but she supposed being the Avatar of Greed intensified certain inclinations. “Does that happen a lot?”
“Less since I warded it. He’s incompetent when it comes with spells. But he’s annoyingly persistent.” Levi looked up and down the hall to make sure nobody else was there before finishing his work. The magic dispelled in a little puff, and the door clicked open. He glanced at her sidelong before hunching a little more. “You can come in.”
His room was dark. Or dim, rather. Once her eyes adjusted, they went wide. A massive aquarium spanned the entire back wall and it – coupled with a marbled, blue ceiling light fixture – cast the whole room in a kind of watery glow. It was nothing like the rest of the house, with its formal antiquities and imposing art. Of course, Lucifer’s bedroom was more contemporary – other than the frankly scary sculptures he had. So maybe it wasn’t the entire house, just the common areas that made you want to stand up straighter and speak in a haughty accent.
“Wow.” She picked her way between piles of pillows and stacks of manga, under the watchful eyes of figurines both boxed and unboxed. “This is so beautiful!”
“Uh… It’s meant to be like if you were underwater. T-tropical shallows.”
“Tropical shallows?” Melody laughed delightedly, turning in place to watch the light ripple off his many bookcases and screens. “It’s amazing. I’ve never been to the tropics. Is the ocean your happy place?”
“B-basically.”
She perched on the edge of a bathtub full of cushions that, for whatever reason, sat in the center of the room. Levi scuttled past her to his desk chair. She thought his face was a little red, but colors were distorted in the rippling aquatic lighting. Maybe she looked a little red too.
“So, uh, what kind of games do you like?” he mumbled, waking his monitor. On it a giant, hairless monster was frozen in the midst of having its head split open by an axe.
She turned away. “Nothing too violent. I like strategy games where you can build bases and armies. And adventure games, so long as you can have a secure cache location. I think I like sprucing up my home base as much as I like defeating enemies. Maybe even more.”
“lol. You’re a squatter! I’ve got Soul Redeemer Six. And Underground Lair Seven just came out, but it’s basically the same as Three with a different color palette. There’s Archer Knight and Night Center Killspot – that’s a really bad translation by the way. It’s actually a very chill game. Urban epic adventure by the creators of Panda Hijinks Trouble Squad so it’s pretty funny. There’s Breath of the Wild, of course.”
“Oh, that game is so gorgeous.”
“I got the Master Edition.” Levi proudly pointed toward a shelf beside his desk. “Sheikah Eye Coin and carrying case, both mint!”
Melody looked over the pale gold coin and smiled at the icon on the carrying case. She didn’t recognize most of the figurines or collectibles on Levi’s shelves, but one group – of an ornate bow, a long, wicked-looking sword, and a vial that must have represented an in-game potion – looked familiar.
“I used to play a game,” she said, piecing the words together slowly, “that was open world. Way more limited than Breath of the Wild. There were quests, and bosses like every ten minutes. I wasn’t very good at it, to be honest. After I couldn’t beat a boss in level three or something, I settled down and became a merchant at the edge of a town called Paradise Valley. The NPCs in the town were really sassy, with lots of different responses. It was kind of on the edge of the map. I think the road out of town led to a side quest rather than the main story, but the side quest rewards included super rare items, so players ventured out regularly when they needed help clearing levels elsewhere. I was able to trade enough – some players even brought me specific items I needed – that I was finally able to level up. It was…it was kind of my happy place.”
“Dark Path to Starlight,” Levi said.
“That’s it! Do you play?”
“I used to. Years ago. It’s pretty old.” Levi fiddled with a bright blue joy con. “It…there was a small town on the way to a dragon’s lair.”
“Yes!” Memories came back like a picture rendering in Melody’s mind. The green of the hills, the low log cabin she’d expanded over the course of two months whenever she had enough gold pieces. The floor was pale, the shelves were blue, and she’d placed a trellis of flowers over the doorway. “The White Dragon. It had 110% healing potions, and it dropped tons of emeralds.”
“I-I used to go there.”
“Did you? Maybe we saw each other.” Mel laughed. “Players sold stuff before they left so they’d have room in their inventories to collect all the rewards when they beat the dragon, so I had great merchandise. But one player used to come by – they were super advanced, didn’t even need the potions for boss battles – and brought the best goods. Seriously crazy rare items. They brought pieces of armor until I had a full epic-level suit so I could go out and fight the dragon myself.”
“The Blue Sol set.”
“Yes!” Melody tilted her head, confused. “How in the world did you know that?”
“It took me forty-one hours of playing time to gather all the pieces.”
Melody blinked. Levi wouldn’t look at her. Forty-one hours of playing time. So, he had the suit too? No.
She knelt in front of him, steadying herself with one hand on the arm of his chair.
“NegativeGhostrider666?” she whispered.
Levi jolted upright, finally looking directly at her with wide eyes. “BrokenAero17???”
“Oh my god.” She couldn’t believe she’d found him again! But…he didn’t look happy. “Levi?”
“We talked every day. I brought you the Blue Sol. Every day, Aero! I waited up for you because you were in class all the time. Then you went away one day and never came back! That was so not cool! I thought we were friends!”
Melody blinked, her eyes suddenly prickling and hot. “You were my best friend.”
If anything, Levi went even stiffer. His mouth opened and closed for a moment before he shouted, “Whoaaaa! I’m supposed to say that first. You were my best friend! Where did you go?”
She remembered the game. She remembered rushing through homework to get to it. She remembered searching for his name on the chat list and smiling every time it was green. She remembered chatting with him – he could talk for hours about anime, games, idols, music – the chat box was always full. His character visited her shop every few days, and they’d move their little squared-off people around each other, bumping and chasing. She’d wanted to tell him how excited she was, that they might be able to meet soon. But then…
…
…
“A-aero? Melody? Are you okay?”
What had they been talking about?
She shook her head, sitting back on her heels as a wave of vertigo passed. Right, games.
“Hey, why don’t we play something now? You pick!”
“Anything?” he asked suspiciously.
“Anything that’s not gross.”
“I don’t play gross games, Aero!”
***
Mammon was bored. And poor. Well, not poor. He had lots of money coming, lots of earnings in the works. It just hadn’t arrived yet. So he needed interim money. That was it. He wasn’t poor. He was just interim low on cash.
Belphie would rather kick him in the face than give him money, and Beel almost never had money because he spent it on food as soon as he got it. Trying to get money from Satan was dangerous on a good day and suicidal the rest of the time. Asmo could be generous with the right sort of flattery and if he was in the right mood, but he’d been hiding from Lucifer since the human arrived. Probably hiding in a warm, energetic bed far, far away. That left Levi, who was Mammon’s target of choice anyway since he was almost always available, was usually saving up for something expensive, and was easy to evade if he got impatient about being paid back.
Mammon banged on his door. “Oi, Game Boy, you in there?”
Laughter sounded on the other side of the door, Levi and someone of the feminine variety. That didn’t sound right. Unless he was playing a pervy dating sim game. In which case…how badly did Mammon need the money?
Pretty badly.
He pushed the door opened, surprised first of all to discover it was unlocked and also that Levi had rearranged his room. Other than when he received a big order of manga and goods, or dug everything out of his closets and shelves looking for a random action figure’s dagger or something, Levi’s room never changed. It was centered around his gaming comfort and weird bathtub bed and nothing else. Oh, and his fish maybe.
Only, now he’d moved a big monitor to a coffee table and pulled it up in front of his best gaming chair and his second-best gaming chair. And he was in the second-best one. The little human was in his best chair, leaning to the side as they played Mario Kart, judging from the sounds.
“Hey, Mammon, remember when I told you I was afraid one of my gaming buddies had been kidnapped or died?”
“No.” He came to stand behind Levi’s chair, jabbing it with his knee to try to throw Levi off, because otherwise the human stood no chance of winning. Playing against Levi was the worst.
“Stop that. Yeah, we played every day for almost a year and her items helped me beat the game.” Levi crossed the finish line to a small, colorful fanfare.
“As if I listen to you talk about…oh, wait. You mean years ago when you thought your gaming buddy got tired of you, and you moped around sighing at the window and crying randomly at lunch for like two months? Yeah, that was hilarious.”
“I didn’t cry at lunch,” Levi muttered.
“At dinner then.”
“Shut up! I didn’t cry at any meals. And that wasn’t my point!”
“There was a point?” Mammon scoped the room. With Levi over here, he would need a reason to go near his desk if he was going to borrow the money without interrupting Levi’s game.
“Aww,” the human said, leaning over to bump her elbow against Levi’s arm.
And he let her! Let a female touch him! Levi!
“What is going on here?” Mammon demanded, crossing his arms.
“This is Aero!” Levi declared. Which explained nothing.
The human twisted and beamed up at Mammon. “It turns out we’re old gaming friends.”
“Not just gaming friends,” Levi said, sounding even more pedantic than usual. “My best friend.”
They turned toward each other and smiled and Mammon felt…disgust? No. Horror? No, something else. Something like jealousy. He wasn’t even the Avatar of Envy, but the way they were looking at each other, so comfortable, so fond, he might as well have been. He didn’t know what was going on between them, but he kind of, sort of wanted it.
“Gross.” He wedged himself onto the floor between their two chairs to separate them. “Stop making googly eyes at each other and give me a controller. I want in on this.”
Levi huffed, but handed him a controller.
“No Rainbow Road,” Melody and Mammon said at the same time.
“Oh, come on. What about Rainbow Road two?”
“What about literally any other course, Levi?” The controller clanked against Mammon’s rings as he waved it around.
“A true gamer takes any course. Live by the sword, die by the sword.”
“These are go-carts, and you’ve already basically pre-cheated. You sit around playing the same courses five hundred times in your underwear. If that’s what it takes to become a true gamer, I don’t want to be one.”
“True gamers must always be ready to play. Right, Aero?”
“I don’t play video games in my underwear. Sorry, Levi.”
Melody selected Shy Guy and a fast motorcycle. Levi selected a character with a mohawk who probably had an advantage on the course. Mammon selected a random character and a sportscar with slick tires.
They started the race and Levi immediately pulled ahead. Mammon got hit with a green shell and Melody zoomed past him. She dropped a mushroom and Mammon glanced at her. Her expression was intent but apparently she wasn’t very good at Mario Kart if she didn’t know to use the item instead of dropping it. How long ago had that been that Levi was sad about his lost friend? Years. A lot of years. He picked up the mushroom and passed her. She hit a banana peel right before a jump, fell off the cliff and gave a little growl of irritation as she waited to be put back on the track. He tried not to sound too mean when he laughed at her. Levi won, of course.
Mammon pulled his jacket off and tossed it toward the bookcase. If he couldn’t get to Levi’s wallet, he’d grab something off the shelves. It was disturbing how much money Mammon’s little brother put into collectibles. He should really know better.
They started another race. Melody leaned forward, quick on her controller. Levi kept getting red shells and shooting them back. They both got knocked off the track and she grumbled an endearing and creative string of four-letter words as she got up and running again. She got a mushroom and dropped it right at the entrance to a bridge, so Mammon would hit it no matter what. He boosted, went off a jump, then glanced at her. She arched an eyebrow.
“One of us has to beat him,” she whispered. “I don’t stand a chance. He’s been beating me for an hour.”
She passed Mammon, fired a blue shell then took two of Levi’s red shells as direct hits and went off the track again. Sacrificing her motorcycle so they had a chance. Mammon raced past. He shot his car into a shortcut.
“Hey, Levi, want to make this interesting? 100 grimm says I beat you.”
“No betting on Mario Kart, Mammon.”
“Hey, Levi,” Melody said, “are you going to be gaming in your underwear around me? Will I be expected to take my pants off too?”
Levi drove into a wall. Mammon sailed past him and crossed the finish line first.
“No fair! You’re my gaming buddy, not his!”
“Live by the sword, die by the sword my friend.”
***
“I was afraid I’d never see her again,” Levi said. He was back at his desk chair, swinging idly back and forth and smiling down at his feet. Melody had finally gone to her room after falling asleep and dropping her controller. “Or, see her at all. I definitely never thought I’d meet her. But I was so upset that I’d never get to play or chat with her again. We got along so well. You don’t understand, Mammon. There are so many trolls on the internet.”
“Aren’t you one of the biggest trolls?”
“Sometimes I share my opinions, and sometimes my opinions contain constructive criticism, but no, I’m definitely not a troll.”
“Sounds like something a troll would say.” Mammon yawned and stood up from the gaming chair he’d taken over. “That’s enough fun for me. I’m off to bed.”
“You don’t understand. We got along so well. Every moment was a good moment.”
“I’ll glad for you. You and your long lost friend. You gonna marry her?”
Levi frowned, thinking so loudly that Mammon could almost hear him. He scooped up his jacket and, with it, two boxed figurines.
“I don’t like this scheme. What if Asmo goes after her? Or Satan? He’s scary when he sets his sights on something. Or Belphie? The very idea makes me shudder. I-I don’t think Lucifer told her what’s going on.”
“No?” That stopped Mammon with his foot halfway out the door. “Seems like the kind of thing you should tell the victim. Sorry…the intended.”
“Yeah.” Levi nodded to himself. Then he laughed, happier than Mammon had seen him in a long time. “It’s so funny that her name is Melody. We get along so well. It should be Harmony.”
“Pffft. Lame.” Mammon let the door close behind him. He shifted the figurines and headed for the back door. For all he knew, Levi took inventory of his crap every night before he went to bed. Better to get it sold so he could show empty hands if Levi confronted him.
Melody.
Harmony.
Harmony Vale.
Mammon stopped. The boxes slid out of his grasp and landed on the floor. Harmony Vale. Young, tall for her age, black hair, a constant sneer. She’d had rarities that could have sold for millions, and had asked something of him that had made him back away. No kid should have had items that valuable, and no kid should have tried to buy an act like that. She should have known better. Hell, she even had a little sister to look after…
Oh.
Oh shit. Oh shit, he knew Lucifer’s human.
“What do you call the demon lord?” Melody asked, following Beel through the big, heavy door surrounded by pulsing wards that led to a sprawling stone patio behind the house.
“Is this a riddle?”
“No, not a riddle. Levi said to call him Lord Diavolo, but Lucifer calls him Diavolo.”
“Oh. Yeah. Lord Diavolo.” Beel led her down stairs so wide she had to take two steps to cross each of them. “The witches call him Princeling, but not to his face. The Eschelon call him Princeps Daemonium or Verus Rex. Those are old honorifics, but I heard he doesn’t like them.”
“Hmm. What’s he like?”
The steps ended at the lawn, which was surprisingly springy and lush despite the grass being a silvery blue hue, like something you’d find in a desert. It was hard to tell, the afternoon was so dark. Mel peered upwards. Cloudy with a chance of gloom.
“Big,” Beel said.
Mel gaped at the bright-haired demon’s broad back, his immense shoulders which were – she knew from experience – very, very firm. And he was calling someone else “big”?
“Bigger than you? Is the demon lord ten feet tall and built like a mountain? That seems ponderous.” He probably had trouble getting in and out of cars. And bathtubs. And one-story buildings.
“A few inches taller than me.”
Melody tilted her head. “He’s wide?”
Beel shrugged. “A little wider than me maybe.”
“So he’s only a little bigger?”
“Oh.” Beel shook his head. He held the picnic basket he’d packed away from his other side as he leaned toward her. “Not physically big. He is pretty big, even when he’s not in his demon form. But he’s big in…his presence. He’s the most powerful demon. He’s really old, and his bloodline is strong. That’s why his family has been able to rule the Devildom for so long, I guess. They’re simply stronger than all other demons.”
She thought of Lucifer, his power like an invisible pressure when you were in too small a space with him or he wasn’t restraining it, and he was always restraining it at least in part. She’d learned to exist around it, if not tolerate it exactly, over the years. But it was almost incomprehensible to think of someone significantly stronger than that.
“He’s stronger than you guys? You’re all avatars.”
“We’re different. Celestial origins aren’t demonic origins.” Beel began unfolding a blanket. They were having their second date. She even knew about it and everything. “Even though avatars are demonic stations, we aren’t like natural-born demons. But Lucifer respects Lord Diavolo’s power, so he must be stronger.”
“Hmm.” Melody tapped her shoe against the edge of the blanket.
“Why are you interested in the demon lord?”
“I have to meet him.” Maybe he’d be polite and lock his power down so she wouldn’t feel crushed. Maybe Lucifer would have to swaddle her in his aura to protect her, and she’d end up feeling like a baby with too much cognition navigating a room full of giants. She turned and almost squeaked when she bounced off of Beel, he was standing so close. “What?”
“Why do you have to meet him?”
“Because he invited me and apparently his invitations are not declinable?” She blinked. Beel had been frowning since he’d fetched her for the picnic they’d arranged that morning but now he was full-on glowering.
“Are you going alone?” His voice was a low rumble, and not of the sexy variety.
Okay, it was a little sexy.
“No, Lucifer’s taking me.”
“Oh.” Beel straightened away from her and turned his glare away. “That’s fine then. I’m going to have a snack before we eat. Practice ran too long and I got hungry. You should look at the flowers or something.”
Mel’s eyebrows rose. He was too hungry to eat with her on their picnic? Okay. Sure. This date was not going well if being sent off to fawn at the hedges was any indication. She needed a guidebook on how to date. Was Dating Demons for Shut-In Dummies a thing? Maybe she was boring him with her questions. Maybe he was a one-and-done kind of guy? Though, he hadn’t seemed that way. He’d been so sweet before. Although, he had been eating the entire time they were baking so maybe hangry Beel needed alone time before he was fit for company.
Maybe…oh wow.
The hedges surrounding the yard towered, dark and spiky, the tips so high that they blended with the dark sky overhead. But within them were shy blossoms and delicate plants hidden like secrets. A bunch of golden flowers shivered then snapped closed like anemones when she approached, startling a gasp and a smile out of her. Miniature ferns growing from the juncture of the trunk and branches waved languidly on the barely-there breeze, tiny opalescent hairs swaying limply from the tips. She continued along the row, so uniform and imposing at first glance, but housing such beautiful little wonders. She hadn’t spent much time outdoors in the Devildom. When she was younger, Lucifer used to bring her out of her bubble world to show her things, teach her things, test her abilities.
But she’d never lived here, never experienced a full day in this realm. Like she hadn’t really lived in the pocket dimensions he’d created, or in the human realm when she’d been able to return. She’d been too aware that one was temporary and artificial and that she didn’t belong in the other.
Velvety, purple blossoms began to appear between the branches as the hedges became wilder away from the house. The centers of the flowers were white and glowed faintly. Like tiny stars were buried deep within them. She reached for one, wondering if they were as soft as they looked. The flower blinked.
How strange.
Melody’s smile drained away. Something buzzed in the back of her head. Four more flowers pivoted toward her. Two blinked, out of synch.
Those were…not flowers.
She backed up. A sound, like the creak of leather and oily slithering all at once, came from the hedges. A long, sleek limb shot between the branches and wrapped thick, blunt talons around her wrist.
She’d opened her mouth to ask Beel what these were but ended up gasping, then punching the arm, which popped the talons loose. It reached again, followed by others. Two. Three. They moved jointlessly, like worms blindly feeling their way along the ground, reaching toward her with those harsh, hard claws and even though she was backing away as fast as her feet could trip over themselves, the arms just kept coming. It was supposed to be safe around the house.
“Hey, Beel!”
The arms retreated in a rush. Silence followed. A few felled leaves drifted to the ground. Melody covered her wrist with her other hand and glanced at the bright-haired demon. He sat on the blanket, eating away, unconcerned. With one more glance at the hedges, she swallowed and hurried back toward him. Maybe it was part of the defense for the grounds and she’d strayed too close.
The sound came again, creaking, a slithering susurration. Gritting her teeth, she kept moving. She didn’t care what it was, she didn’t like it at all.
The hedges burst apart and creatures flooded through, four smaller bipedal things with purple eyes, glowing white centers, and one massive…massive… Her head tilted back as she looked up and up, her mind trying to cope with the size of the creature and the number of limbs, all tipped with those stony talons while the center of it seemed to be one giant mouth full of rows of gnarled, spiked teeth.
The alarm in her head shrieked. As if she didn’t recognize the danger. Melody screamed. Beel roared. The four smaller things hissed back, then swarmed him. And all the massive, eely limbs of the giant creature aimed toward her, curving as they fell. In slow motion, she raised her hands in defense. Pressure built in her chest.
Her head snapped forward as an arm encircled her and jerked her backwards. The talons clacked against each other, empty, and the creature rumbled in disappointment.
“Wow, human. Outside for five minutes and you’re already makin’ trouble,” Mammon huffed as he swept her aside again, avoiding the second grasping attempt to trap her.
“I d-didn’t-”
“You took your soul with you when you left the house, yeah? It’s like dangling a big, fat jewel in front of these lower demons.” Another sweeping move. Mammon was fast, his sinewy frame strong and nimble, almost graceful as he pulled her closer and shifted them both out of reach. “Oy, Beel, don’t kill ‘em. They’re just kids.”
“Th-those are kids?” “Well, teenagers. Probably. I can’t really tell. No demon that had the sense to survived to adulthood would’ve breached our lands.”
The giant creature was using its limbs to propel and roll itself after them, but that well of teeth was always pointed toward them. Beel roared again and, over Mammon’s shoulder she saw him sink his teeth into one of the teenage demons and…
The crunch was very loud. The demon was, afterwards, much smaller.
“Oh God.”
Beel’s demon form bigger, with black, ridged horns, black clothes, and black marks on his skin. Small, dark wings buzzed, shielding him from the demon trying to stab him in the back. He was busy tearing pieces off the other three with his hands and teeth.
“Huh? Oh, don’t look at that.” Mammon pressed her face against his collarbone as he dodged the creature again and continued their progress toward the house.
“Sh-shouldn’t we help him?”
Mammon laughed and looked down at her. His eyes were bright behind his yellow-tinted lenses, but otherwise he looked the same. Not in demon form. Not bigger or bulging with muscle. His small fangs were still only visible when he smiled. “What’re you gonna do that Beel can’t?”
“He’s outnumbered.”
Mammon snorted. “They’re still outmatched, human.”
He pivoted, then stopped with a jolt that nearly knocked her out of his arms. He shifted them sideways, a little more jarring than graceful this time. His lips pressed into a tight line and his eyes brightened further. They were nearly emitting light now, blue like the edge of lightning. His aura crackled around him, making her hands tingle. That pressure in her chest fluttered again, an energy beyond adrenaline and her pounding heart.
“Did it get you?” She could barely draw breath to ask the question.
“Just a scratch. Look, I’m gonna get you inside. The house is properly warded, not like whatever half-assed job Belphie did out here. They can’t get you if you stay inside.”
“But-”
“Stay inside.” They were on the stone now, the creature holding its body away from the patio and slashing halfheartedly. “Promise you will. I’ll go back for Beel.”
“I promise,” Melody vowed, and Mammon paused for a second, looking her over, before opening the door and gently pushing her through.
He was gone in an instant, a glowing white afterimage the only sign of his passing. Oh, that and the creature suddenly squealing as its limbs were sliced off one after the other.
Melody shuddered. Her breathing was too shallow and too quick and she should really do something about that, but she was also shaking everywhere and her legs abruptly stopped wanting to support her. She leaned against the wall and focused on oxygen rather than the gory battle going on outside. More of the smaller demons had surged in at some point, as well as something that looked like a rhinoceros-sized centipede and a bare-breasted harpy with orange-tipped wings. The harpy went for Mammon, catching him atop what was left of the giant creature. The centipede went for Beel, and suddenly there was a lot more blood flowing. Or ichor, whatever came out of various demons.
Melody turned away. She felt sick. And useless. Her wrist hurt fiercely all of a sudden, and she pulled her sleeve up to find dark red bruising. Stinging on her face and neck told her she hadn’t avoided the shrapnel from the exploding hedge.
The light of the hall dimmed and she shrank back from the figure approaching.
“It’s me,” Lucifer said, lifting an arm so that she could collapse against his chest. “You did well, getting out of their way.”
He was angry but not furious. Of course someone encroaching on his lands would prick his pride. But if they were truly a threat, he would have been madder.
“Those things broke in because of my soul?”
Lucifer’s face was impassive, maybe a little analytical, as he looked over her head at the battle beyond.
“They broke in because they lack common sense and discipline. Your soul was merely an excuse. Was it Mammon who took you outside?”
“No.” She closed her mouth before saying anything else. Lucifer’s inquiry was not idle.
“Beel then? Indeed.”
“We were going to have a picnic but he needed a snack first so I was looking at the flowers, but then some of the flowers weren’t. Flowers, that is.”
“Camouflaged watchers. You did not draw them, then. Or, your presence did not. The House is apparently under surveillance. I hope they leave sufficient remains to identify the responsible parties.” He sighed, finally looking at her. The hall light was behind him and his face was almost entirely in darkness, except for the red embers of his eyes. “You were scared, and you were hurt.”
“It wasn’t too bad. Beel and Mammon were quick.”
“It never should have happened in the first place.” A gloved finger stroked her cheek. “You did well.”
“I screamed and let Mammon carry me inside.” She shrugged.
“And that is all you did,” Lucifer said. His hand cupped her jaw firmly and tilted her head up. His gaze was so intense it was like he was looking inside of her, examining her down to her veins and cells. “You remained composed.”
“Like I could have done…” She didn’t like being scared. She didn’t have to be scared when Lucifer was with her. His hand slid down to her neck. His thumb rested against her throat. Fatigue swamped her. “I’m really tired.”
“A normal human reaction to peril. That’s good.”
Feeling as murky inside as the sky looked outside, she shook her head, shrugged away from his hand, which turned into a fist and dropped slowly to his side. “If you say so.”
Beel stomped into the house, his horns dripping with ichor and his mouth and chin stained dark with it. He carried a club he’d taken from one of the interlopers, a wicked, barbed tool. Beel stopped in front of him, expression dark but eyes expectant. Like he was still a soldier and Lucifer still his commander. Old habits rose in times of violence.
“Belphie will meet you in the kitchen,” Lucifer told him. “Go on.”
Beel’s answer was more growl than coherent speech, but he went. His younger brother would patch or clean him up as needed, feed him to get the taste of battle out of his mouth, and coax him into sleep. Later, Beel would want to talk. But right now the sixth eldest wasn’t the problem. The second was.
Mammon – despite Diavolo and Barbatos conjecturing that his greed would propel him toward the offered prize – had kept his distance from Melody. His white hair was stark against the darkness as he paced through the pile of corpses, hands on his hips, occasionally picking something up only to toss it away. Crows lined the stone railing of the patio, keeping him company as much as waiting for their turn at the carnage.
Sixteen demons lay dead on the grounds of the House of Lamentation, and more than half were mid-level. The hedges and the protective wards woven through them had been broken so violently that the magic had extinguished along the entire property perimeter and the heartwood of the centuries-old plants had shattered. Slivers were strewn, pale and jagged, across the lawn and patio. Two large pieces had spiked into the stone wall of the house at eye level beside the door. The hole in the border wall was nearly ten meters in diameter. No traffic traversed the small road beyond, held at bay by the roiling aftermath of the violence. It was a temporary reprieve. Low level demons would soon begin creeping in, more opportunistic and less sensible than the crows.
For now, Lucifer needed to gauge the damage that was not visible.
“To whom did they belong?” he asked as he strode down the steps and onto the stained and trampled grass.
“Echelon,” Mammon ground out. He cursed, kicked something that squelched when it landed. “I’ve seen the harpy at their parties, might’ve danced with her once. The big damn bastard is for sure one of their designs.”
A creation. The Echelon weren’t the most powerful demon sect but they made up for it with numbers and innovation. Curses, poisons, constructs that were part demon, part magicked machine. The massive maw of the creature, which looked deflated after all the chunks Mammon sliced out of it, was meant to grind through enemies, to damage and disturb. They sent that to his house, after his Melody.
Mammon’s thoughts must have turned to something similar. Power jolted around him, his hands limned in pale blue light which warmed gold around his rings.
Lucifer took a breath and slowly exhaled, holding his aura tight though it chafed against the underside of his skin. His skull ached from the need to free his horns. He would not permit his demon form to rise.
Mammon’s clothes were torn in a dozen places. A jagged cut on his neck continued to bleed. The weapon must have been cursed or poisoned.
“They’ve been watching, to know when to strike when she was exposed. This was planned. This specific group was not nearby by happenstance.” Lucifer dissected the attack, speculating on how it was done. Trying to get Mammon to focus, to engage in a discussion of their defenses. “How long do you think they’ve been watching us?”
“She was hurt,” he said instead. “I heard her scream. Is it bad? Is she going to…”
“Scratches only, bruises. She’s in her room.”
Mammon finally stopped his pacing. He stared away, his entire body tense. “Did she see?”
“She has seen demon forms before.”
“But…did she see me? Doing that?”
Lucifer stifled his sigh.
Mammon hated his demonic form. He hated being a demon. He oozed through the lowest aspects of his station not because he wasn’t strong enough to rise but because he felt like he belonged among the seedy, the losers, the scum of the earth and the Devildom. In the Celestial Realm Lucifer had been the strongest but, in many ways, Mammon was the most angelic out of all of them. He loved watching over his charges, helping in small ways and not-so-small ways – Michael’s longest-running complaint was that Mammon was too free with miracles. He loved helping, seeing people light up when they realized salvation had come, that he was the answer to their prayers. His glee and energy continued when he fought at Lucifer’s wing. Mammon was powerful and, more than that, he was tricky and almost impossibly resilient.
He had been the last to fall, too quick for their brethren’s attacks to strike him true. It was only when he realized the others weren’t coming back – that Lucifer who had led him to rebel had been felled – that he had joined them. He had chosen to follow them down. Mammon’s wings were still white, feathered, when he first touched down in the Devildom.
Lucifer thought it would get him killed. Not the loss of his angelic status, but his refusal to adapt. He was the last to gain an avatar station but he barely used the demonic forces that came with it. He declined to study spellcraft. He refused to take any but the most depraved souls. Demons who resented the fallen or challenged all they encountered as a matter of course saw him as easy prey. Even the witches began to look down on him. And still, he only used a fraction of his power to fight back, accepting every attack as his due. For Mammon the Devildom was not a new opportunity, but a stain from which he could never be clean. Lucifer needed him to accept it, for his own good.
“You needn’t worry that she will judge you. She has seen worse.”
“That she’ll judge me?” Mammon finally looked at him, his blue eyes wide. “I don’t care if she judges me. She should! What she shouldn’t be is here. Take her the hell home, back to the human realm, where she won’t have to worry about being torn to pieces, or eaten by her damn date.”
“Beel went after her?”
“Beel was going after everything that moved. I don’t get it, Lucifer. I really don’t get it, this thing you’re doing to her. She’s defenseless. You don’t tolerate weakness. Get rid of her. Scrub her memory and send her back to where she belongs.”
“No.”
Mammon threw his hands up, his voice rising. “What do you mean ‘no’? She’s not a pet or a toy! You can’t just mess with humans lives then leave them to fend for themselves.”
“I do not regard her as a pet,” he bit out, “but she is not going back.”
“Then finish whatever it is you need to do. Take her soul and let her rest in peace.”
The jolt that went through him nearly had his demon form spilling out, and it was only pride that kept it in this time. If Mammon could maintain his human form through a battle, Lucifer could hold his own now. “No.”
“Then fucking marry her, treat her like a princess and protect her in an armored ivory tower! I don’t care. But don’t puppet her around and pretend you’re doing her a favor.”
“She can study whatever she wants, buy whatever she wants, talk to whomever she wants. She is healthy and she is alive, and being here is the only way she can remain that way.”
“And why is that?” Mammon leaned forward from the hips, somehow looking down at Lucifer despite their height difference. “You took her when she was a kid, right? Kids don’t know any better. She probably thought you were all impressive and powerful, handsome if you were playing that angle. You lured her in, and then you kept her. Why?”
It was so far from the truth Lucifer almost laughed even though it wasn’t the least bit funny. He hadn’t lured her. She had summoned him, even fragile and damaged down to her last hour of breath, she’d had the courage and will to summon him. And he had not helped her at all. He had damned her, let her die, then brought her back in such a way that she could never be free. Mammon would understand. He wouldn’t even ridicule Lucifer for what he’d done. It was, after all, the sort of thing that Mammon with his soft heart would have done. Lucifer wanted to tell him so badly that a growl slipped between his teeth. He couldn’t, of course. His younger brother would try to fix it, like Lucifer had once believed he could do, and everything would be worse. He could not tell him, but he could not let him keep pushing.
“You talk of using others? I will not justify my actions to someone who steals from his own brothers to feed his debts. Clean this mess up. Get Belphegor out here to re-work the wards. Do not ask me about Melody again.”
“This is bullshit,” Mammon spat.
“Mammon.”
“You’re bullshit, you know that?” One of the demons groaned weakly. Mammon manifested the sword from his enchanted rings and stabbed the creature through the eye before striding through the torn hole in the border. “This is all bullshit!”
Lucifer pressed his fingers to his eyes until he saw stars. He let his hand drop and tilted his head back to glare at the sky. No breeze stirred the air. No insects buzzed or chirped. The crows were motionless, even the glitter of their black eyes arrested as his aura exploded outward in a wave, unreeling from him until it saturated the grounds of the House of Lamentation. Smoke rose as his demon form burned through his skin, branding him with the black diamond, the pain refreshing. The ridges of his horns creaked as they wound together. The feathers of his black wings slid harshly against each other.
The crows lit off from the railing in a cawing mass. Lucifer clenched a red-gloved hand and raised jagged, hissing wards around his home. Nobody was allowed to harm what was his.
***
The casino was lively, loud with the cacophony of slot machines, dice, cards being shuffled, the clink of bottles and glasses, the scrape and clash of horns. Someone screamed. It dissolved into laughter, for once. Mammon crammed chips into his pockets and shoved through the casino doors. Drinking and gambling all night in the human world was better. The cheerful sunlight that glared down on you, causing even a demon to groan and squint, was a distinct end point to the night. Here in the Devildom the air was starting to warm even though the sky wouldn’t really lighten despite the approach of morning. Inside, outside. Night, day. Bad, less bad. Everything was always the same in the demon realm.
His power must have leaked out because he’d had a good night at the many, many tables he’d played. The story must have spread as well, of the fight, because demons were looking at him with a kind of fearful respect for once. Or maybe that was because of the blood and ichor still staining his hands. That was kinda thing demons respected.
He entered the House of Lamentation through the front door for once, letting it slam behind him. Nobody called out a greeting. It was both too late and too early for his brothers to be up. So he was probably lucky that nobody yelled at him either. Mammon climbed the stairs slowly, pulling off his jacket, nearly pulling himself backwards as he did so. He ricocheted off the banister as he climbed, pausing in the bathroom to wash his hands, scrubbing until they were nearly raw, and splash water on his face. It took him three tries to grasp the doorknob and make his way out. He might have had a little too much to drink but he only had to make it around the corner and he’d be in his room. Had the hallway gotten longer while he was out? Was someone messing with him?
At least there was a helpful patten along the center of the carpet which he was more or less able to follow. On his left Levi’s room was silent, his younger brother for once having fallen asleep before breakfast.
A strip of light on his right caused him to stop. Who the hell was awake? Oh yeah, this was where the human was staying, Beel and Belphie’s old rec room. Why wasn’t she sleeping? Humans needed more sleep than demons. They got sick if they didn’t sleep. He slumped against the wall and tapped on the door.
No answer. What the hell, didn’t she known that he – the Great Mammon – was here to look in on her? What, was she too scared to open the door? Ridiculous. Concentrating, he located the doorknob, turned it.
The door swung open, revealing the warm light of a small lamp, the slender shoulders and back of one small human sitting in the center of her bed. Chunky headphones covered her ears, probably a pair of Levi’s. The sound of a page turning was loud, like a tear through the relative quiet of the house. A book sat in her lap, the images on the pages moving slightly, and he was pretty sure that wasn’t just his wavering vision. A waft of pheromones from it made Mammon’s nose wrinkle and the tension in his shoulders lessen. One of Asmo’s photobooks, doused in a calming scent.
He could hear bass thumping, and realized it was coming through the wall from his room. He’d left his stereo on when he’d felt the attack against the house. Mammon shook his head. He wasn’t thinking about that right now. Another sound came to him, small, high, barely audible. A breathy tune, whispers rather than words. The human was singing along to whatever she was listening to, and he almost laughed. The sound was…so bad. How cute was it that a girl named Melody couldn’t carry a tune?
She probably couldn’t sleep because of his music, then couldn’t sleep because Levi’s headphones were enormous on her and it would have been like trying to sleep in a helmet. He stepped forward to get her attention, but stubbed his foot into the bedframe and, while he was trying to figure out how to deal with that, gravity did its thing and dropped him onto the bed. He scrambled to keep from falling off the side and ending up with his back mostly to the human. She shrieked, one hand clamping onto his wrist before she settled.
“Mammon!” The headphones clanked as she pulled them off.
“Sorry about the music.” He slurred it into a single, long word.
“The? Oh, it's fine. Are you okay?”
“Yeah, I won big at the casino.” He scooped some chips out of his pocket. She frowned at them. Did she not appreciate them? These weren’t little five-grimm chips!
“That's not what I meant.” She swiveled around, setting the book aside.
The bass continued to thump. The room continued to spin around him. Melody’s shorts were rucked up around her thighs. Her arms were bare. Her little shirt thing draped over her chest. Like the clothes they’d found her in when she’d first woken up. The fabric looked soft. Her skin looked softer. She totally did not belong among demons. Still, it was nice, kinda, having her here.
He leaned his head on her shoulder, letting his eyes close. Even her scent was soft, some mild, pleasant flower-citrus deal.
“I went to find you,” she murmured, so close, “but Asmodeus said you’d gone out.”
“Yeah, I went out.”
“And…you’re okay?”
“Oi, it wasn’t a big deal, human. I mean, those demons weren’t even strong. It’s not like they could’ve hurt me or anything. Just can’t stand when they break our stuff.”
“Well, thank you. I didn’t say that earlier. I…thanks. I wish I could pay you back for it.” She shifted, and he was about to complain about losing her shoulder for a pillow – if she was truly grateful, it was the least she could do – but she just raised her other arm and stroked his hair. He wanted to turn and nuzzle into her neck. He wanted to lay them both back on the soft bed.
Mammon’s eyes snapped open. He stood abruptly, staggering a step before he turned.
“Hey, hey…” What was he doing? He hadn’t come in to ask her to cuddle or any such nonsense. What was the thing he wanted from her again? Oh yeah. “Lucifer said you can buy anything you want.”
“What?”
“You make a list or something for him each day? ‘Cause I got a few things to add to that list. That’s how you can make it up to me.”
“How I can make it up to you?”
“Yeah, The Great Mammon came to your rescue.” He stabbed a thumb toward his chest in case she’d forgotten who she was dealing with. “I deserve a reward, don’t I? So I’ll give you a few requests – don’t worry, Lucifer can afford anything – and you get them for me. Make sure he thinks you want them of course, but-”
“I don’t give him a list. He just gave me a credit card.”
“He what?” How in the everloving hells had she gotten a credit card when he wasn’t even allowed to keep his own? Greed sparked in him. “A black card?”
“It’s kind of silver and blue? I think there was a black one in the safe.” Melody frowned, confused. Dark circles ringed her pale eyes. Lucifer really should return her to the human realm. Maybe Mammon could do it, if he had the means, set her up in some sleepy village where nobody ever got attacked and soft girls could sleep at night.
“The safe in his room?”
“In his study.”
“Yeah, that’s what I meant. That’s also his room. Okay, you don’t have to give a list to Lucifer, just show me where the safe is.”
Lucifer had Goldie again, too. Because he was a jerk with no regard for her or Mammon’s feelings. So he could rescue Goldie and take her out on the town after he dropped the human off somewhere safe in her world.
Melody’s fingers wound together. “I don’t know if I should do that.”
“What? I saved your life today, at great personal cost.”
“I thought you said it was no big deal.”
“Yeah, but think of the time I spent dealing with them.” He slapped the back of one hand into the other. “Time is money. Also I got bitten and stabbed a few times. I gotta buy a new shirt. That also costs money.”
She looked guilty, which sent his gaze skittering around her room, but didn’t answer.
“Fine, I’ll sweeten the pot then. Ask me for anything,” he offered magnanimously, spreading his arms wide. “I mean, you already owe me but since you’re stingy in your bargains I guess I gotta offer you even more. Your walls are pretty bare. I can get you art, anything you want. Name the museum and I’ll get it. You want a car, or a racehorse, or a-”
“I want a pact.”
“Huh?”
She crossed her arms and raised her chin. “A pact.”
“No. Hell no. Absolutely not.”
“Okay, I guess we don’t have a deal then since that’s all I will accept.” She slid off the bed and, even standing, barely came up to his shoulder. “I need to go to sleep now, so you can go to your room and-”
A pact meant she’d have the power to summon him whenever and wherever she wanted. They were the worst! Humans thought every little inconvenience was an emergency, that each one of their whims needed to be indulged, like a demon was some sort of rub-the-lamp genie. And he’d have to go around knowing what she was feeling when she got worked up, which was ten kinds of irritating. Humans were so mopey! He hated carrying that feeling around. He’d be forced to drop all his plans for her whenever she wanted, even having to protect her if she was in danger.
Still, once she and Levi got married his younger brother would make her end the pact, so it would only be a few days. Also…Goldie. Visions of his credit card, and everything they could do together, danced in his head.
“Fine.”
She paused in reaching for the door, her eyes going wide. Ha!
“Yeah, yeah. You’re overwhelmed at the prospect of making a pact with one of the strongest demons in the Devildom. I get it. You’re lucky. I don’t do this for just anyone.” Mammon smirked, summoned a smidge of power, and willed the pact into being.
“No, I didn’t-”
The air flashed hot. A red miasma rose between them, then crackled and burst, shooting twin sparks into them. Melody flinched back against the wall. He winced. The damned thing had backlashed something fierce. Probably he shouldn’t have done it after drinking for twelve hours.
“There,” he declared.
“M-mammon,” she whispered, her voice full of awe.
“You’re welcome. You’ll take me to the safe in the morning.” After Lucifer left. Trying to get it open while he was here was a surefire way to get caught and strung up.
Mammon yanked the door open and strode down the hallway, Melody’s shock reverberating through him. Weirdly, he didn’t feel any greed from her. Humans formed pacts because they craved power. Probably she was still overwhelmed by the glory of gaining this bond with someone as illustrious as him.
He dropped his stereo remote twice when he tried to turn his music down, and frowned down at his hands. They weren’t shaking because he was drunk. He was, in fact, now stone cold sober. And still the power from the pact continued to course through him. He pulled his clothes off and fell facedown on his bed, curling his arms around his pillow. Stupid demonic magic, it was always so damn uncomfortable.
Mammon didn’t return the next morning, and Melody’s stomach was tied up in so many knots that she couldn’t even eat breakfast. Or lunch really since she had slept late even though she hadn’t slept long. Lucifer’s study and bedroom were quiet and dark, not that she needed to look inside to see that he wasn’t there because she’d have felt the simmering pressure of his power from the other side of the door. Beel was at practice again. She’d almost tripped over Belphie, who was sleeping in the music room, but since he didn’t seem to like her she hadn’t tried very hard to wake him.
With the wild energy of the brothers, the house felt full almost to bursting. But, without them, it was cavernous and empty. Like four judgmental walls housing loneliness. She just wanted to ask some questions. Needed to. That was one of the problems she’d forgotten after being in stasis for so long. Once she was out for long enough to fully wake up, her mind craved information, interaction. Asmo wasn’t around, but he away so much she thought he might live somewhere else. After the clothing delivery, he’d dropped several presents off for her –a moving photo album of him and his brothers (mostly him, lots of selfies), a basket of perfumes – but never stuck around after he gushed about how beautiful or wonderful the items were. Satan was easy to talk to, but she hadn’t seen him since they’d gone to the human realm. Home, she meant. Since he’d taken her home to the human world the other day.
She heard footsteps in the foyer, then the slam of a door followed by a kind of muffled hooting. Perking up she crossed the hall and knocked on Levi’s door.
“Who is it?”
“Melody.”
“What?”
Melody sighed. “It’s Aero.”
Something thumped inside the room, then the door flew open. Levi stared down at her, his amber eyes slightly manic.
“What’s up? Wanna play something? Catman Wolf Escape drops tomorrow and the countdown is driving me crazy!!! I just drank a twenty-ounce coffee. I might have added too much sugar. Wanna play something else? Did you remember your login for Dark Path to Starlight yet?”
“Can I come in?”
“Oh.” He shuffled backwards out of the doorway. “Sure.”
She skulked past him. Now that she’d found someone, she felt embarrassed about her immediate situation. It was probably better just to get it out. She spun to face him, which Levi apparently found aggressive because he flinched back. He used to freak out over the weirdest stuff when they gamed together. Calm, she needed to be calm and steady with him. She wasn’t sure she could deal with one of his epic rants right now.
Taking a breath, she asked, “Do I seem different to you?”
“Uh…” Levi stared, not looking at her so much as examining something in the vicinity of her left ear. “No?”
Thank goodness. Maybe it wasn’t as bad as she feared. She was overreacting. Some of the tension eased out of her.
“I mean, other than the fact that it looks like you made a pact with Mammon which hahahahaha, he’s such an idiot! What did he ask for in return? Something stupid, I bet!”
“The location of Lucifer’s safe with his credit card,” Melody mumbled, her shoulders tightening again.
Levi laughed harder. “Good job getting him to give up a pact over something he’s never going to be able to break into anyway. That’s the best. What a loser!”
“I didn’t…” She swallowed, watching the waves of light drift across the floor. “I didn’t want a pact.”
“Wh…” Levi’s laughter trickled into silence. “What? What do you mean?”
“He wouldn’t stop going on about the safe and trying to bargain for it so I told him I wanted a pact. Because I thought he’d say no way and that would be the end of it!”
“He should have said no. Any rational demon would have said no. Pacts are awful. They basically turn a demon into a slave. No control. No bargaining power, no matter how strong the demon is. Painful punishment if you don’t act on those orders. It’s like being a slave to one weak little person.”
A cold chill scoured her, leaving her dizzy.
“Heh. Mammon’s impulsive. He probably wasn’t even listening to what you asked for. When he wants something, that’s all he can see.”
She closed her eyes. “So I definitely shouldn’t have suggested it.”
“I mean, none of the rest of us would have agreed to it because we actually listen to the terms of deals before striking them. And he was probably drinking all night after that attack, so that wouldn’t have helped with the thinking.”
“He didn’t even know what he was agreeing to?” She pressed her fingertips against her temples. “I don’t want this. I don’t want to do things to people that they don’t want. That’s not…that can’t be me.”
“Melody,” Levi murmured, catching on to her distress, “Mammon is older than you by orders of magnitude. He’s made thousands of bad deals. That’s basically his trademark move. You didn’t awaken the dumbass in him.”
“But I took advantage of him. I just thought, because it’s so powerful and intimate, that there was no way he’d do it. I didn’t think he might not be capable of saying no.”
“So tell him to break it. I’m sure once he sobers up that’s what he’ll want anyway.”
She looked up. “The pact can be broken?”
“Yeah, if the human and demon both want to break the pact, you just have to get near each other then…” Levi’s voice trailed off. When he spoke again it was a little high-pitched. “Wait…what do you mean it’s intimate?”
“You know, with the…with feeling what he’s feeling.” Her face heated.
“Uh…”
“And the mark it left on me is in… It’s in a place I would not be comfortable showing in public. So that’s all, you know, intimate.”
“Whoa, whoa, whoa.” Levi waved his hands around like he was trying to waft away smoke. “You can feel what he’s feeling?”
“I know they aren’t my feelings but I am still aware of them.”
It had taken her hours to calm down after Mammon had forged the pact. His music had turned off, then she’d heard the rhythm of his soft snoring through the wall between them. And she was still awake two hours later, at which time Mammon had apparently had some kind of scary dream. Because she knew she wasn’t scared, and yet alarm had jolted her out of bed. And somehow the feeling had drawn her mind straight to him. It had been like thinking about a specific dish and almost being able to taste it.
“That doesn’t make sense. The demon is the one who has to deal with the empathic connection. It’s part of how the pact enforces that they follow the intent of the human master’s demands. But the human doesn’t feel anything from the demon, unless you demand power from them. But that would just be power, not emotions. And what do you mean about a mark in a…a…a p-private sector?”
She reached a hand toward the waistband of her pants and Levi threw both hands over his eyes. Somehow the red of his face shone around his fingers.
“Don’t show me!”
“I’m not taking my pants off, Levi. It’s just…” She pressed her palm over the left side of her lower abdomen and stared at the watery ceiling. “Here.”
“What’s there?”
“The pact mark, the symbol. Like, the star with the sun around it.”
“YOU HAVE A STAR WITH A SUN AROUND IT ON YOUR BODY?”
“Why are you yelling?”
“I DON’T KNOW.” Levi dropped into his desk chair and drained half an energy drink.
“Is that going to help you calm down?”
“Probably not!” He slammed the can down on his desk and exhaled gustily. “Pacts don’t leave marks. And a star with a sun around it… That’s the symbol for greed, Mammon’s avatar station.”
Melody gaped. She felt like the mark was burning her skin, like it had in the instant the pact had been forged.
“I’m stamped with greed?”
“It probably doesn’t mean anything.”
“Probably?”
“I mean, I’ve never heard of such a thing. Like, ever. Mammon and Asmo have forged pacts before, and Satan that one time, which I still shudder to think about, but they didn’t say anything about marks on the humans.” He glanced at her, and his face softened. “But some good things come from associating with avatars. Like, if Beel likes you everything you eat will taste better and be satisfying, like really satisfying.”
The flush that painted her cheeks at that word was instant. Levi didn’t seem to notice, swiveling back and forth in his chair, expression thoughtful.
“And if Mammon likes someone, their luck improves. It’s one of the reasons people pretend to make friends with him.”
“People pretend to make friends with Mammon? What people?”
“Witches mostly. They praise him and give him things to soften him up, then make demands and he ends up buried in debt and punishments.”
She felt bad all over again. Debts, punishments, freaking enslavement. She was going to break the pact as soon as she tracked him down. He was probably hiding from her so she couldn’t demand anything from him.
“What happens if you favor someone?”
Levi whined. “You’ll think it’s stupid.”
“Oh please. What is it?”
He smiled fondly at the fish tank. “They can commune with sea creatures.”
“Like, hear fish talk?” She glanced at Henry, swimming vacuously in circles. He didn’t look like he’d make the most engaging conversationalist.
“Yeah.” He shrugged. “Or crabs flock to them when they go to the beach.”
That sounded ten kinds of terrifying. Melody shook her head and dropped into a gaming chair. She was tired. She wanted the mark gone. She wanted the guilt of having made the pact gone.
“You look sad,” Levi murmured, stealing glances at her while playing with his phone.
“I’m not happy.”
“Then I’m sure Mammon will be here momentarily to beg you to break the pact, because he hates feeling down.”
“That just makes me feel worse.”
Levi threw his hands up. “Well, I don’t know!” They sat in silence for another minute, then Levi began to fidget. “Do you want to play something?”
She shrugged.
“Oh! I’ve been studying spells to help me enhance my cosplay outfits. You could help me refine it!”
That sounded like a good distraction at least. “What kind of enhancement spells?”
***
Levi’s spells were, frankly, amazing. He’d sewn physical costumes, his craftsmanship and attention to detail exquisitely intricate. Illusion spells added features, like glee bubbles around the head of a cheerful donut girl from one of his favorite animes, or the pattern of swirling bone armor around the powerful necromancer from one of his favorite games. She was currently wearing both the costume and spell that a friend of his had commissioned, some kind of warrior cat with an emerald-bejeweled tiara and armor that looked more like an ornate, chrome skirted bathing suit than effective protection. Levi was tweaking the cat features. Her eyes appeared larger, her pupils sharp ovals rather than circles, and she could feel air flow against her whiskers and the pointed tips of her ears. Levi had locked Henry’s bowl in his closet because apparently she was scaring the fish which wasn’t fair because she only wanted to play with the delicious-looking little fishy!
And now they were fixing the tail. It was long, fluffy white with black spots like a snow leopard, and it had bowled Levi over twice when he’d asked her to twitch it.
“Try again,” he said.
She concentrated on the magic tingling at the base of her spine, tried to think about making a gentle wave, and promptly knocked him on his ass.
“Gah!”
Melody wrinkled her muzzle
“What am I doing wrong meow?” she asked, jumping up to kneel backwards on his desk chair. The soft leather felt nice under her paw-hands.
“Remember this isn’t an illusion like the others. The spell temporarily imbues you with cat traits and the magic gives these enhancements texture, mass and movement. You’re probably just not used to magic so you’re concentrating too hard, making it too forceful. Please stop doing that.”
Puzzled, Melody looked down, then gingerly retracted her claws out of the leather chair, smoothing down the pinprick holes she’d made.
“Sorry, Levi.”
“It’s okay. I think if we just-”
She reached out and batted an empty can off his desk. Her eyes darted to a figurine that was tantalizingly close to the edge.
“Don’t even think about it.”
“I would never, I purr-omise.” The figurine was tall and spindly. It looked like it would shatter on impact. She needed to know if it would shatter on impact.
“Sure you wouldn’t.” Reaching up, Levi rolled the chair into the middle of the room so she couldn’t reach it. “This spell might be too effective. I can power it down, but then the features won’t be as effective which sucks because they look great if I do say so myself. Especially with your eyes.”
Melody’s ears – her hearing was distractingly sensitive – perked up, and she sat up on hands and knees as someone stomped down the hallway toward Levi’s room.
“It’s possible I can adjust the commands to keep the features but reduce the mass and force of movements. But then it will basically be an illusion and anyone can do illusion. Cosplay makeup is so good as it is that wouldn’t even stand out. So I’ll need to-”
Levi’s door slammed open and he shouted in surprise. A curious sensation like pins and needles rippled along the back of Melody’s neck and down her spine, and her fur half-raised.
Satan stood in the doorway, wearing a faded red LA Angels t-shirt and baggy brown pants. His bare feet were dirty, his blond hair tangled. Poisonous green light burned in his eyes. He didn’t look injured but he did look about a mile beyond his last nerve.
“Did you forget how to knock, Satan? Geez.”
Satan’s lip curled. The poor thing. His special mission must have been rough. He needed comfort. Melody settled her fur and blinked slowly at Satan. His eyes widened.
“What is going on here?” he asked, his low, breathy voice at odds with his thrumming energy and frantic appearance.
She tilted her head. “Meow?”
Color lit high on Satan’s cheekbones. The luminous green flickered and extinguished, softening his gaze. Even all dirty like that, it made him look nice. All he needed was a good, thorough grooming, and he’d look even nicer. If he’d come closer, she could help him out with that. She blinked slowly again. All at once Satan went rigid, then stomped out, slamming the door behind him.
Melody turned to Levi. “What was that a-meow-t?”
“Who ever knows what’s going on in his wrath-y brain. He’s probably mad about books or something. Okay, I’ve adjusted the spell. Try the tail again. Gently.”
“Gently,” she agreed.
Melody flicked her beautiful, powerful tail, gently. Levi raised both arms to block the force of it. He still ended up tumbling the length of the room.
“Are you okay?”
“Nnnng.”
“I think we’re both doing a really great job. Let’s try some more!”
The little store tucked into the street-level corner of a six-story apartment building had all the charm of a bald tire filled with fetid rainwater and moldering porn mags, which Mammon had passed while walking to it. For the fifteenth time he questioned why he had tracked down this particular human. And, for the first time, he wondered if it was possible a demon could get sick in the human realm. If so, this is where it was going to happen.
The windows were marred by water marks, the lace curtains inside faded, and the embossed metal sign over the door showed most unlucky souls who found themselves in this neighborhood a raven and a rose. If you had enough magic to see past the illusion, or if you were a demon, the sign showed a smudge bowl with ominously thick smoke rising out of it. There was enough magic in that little spell that the back of his neck tingled when he walked beneath it.
Humans liked setting up occult shops. Few of them seemed to know what they were doing, but the shops had similar vibes. Herbs, dried and live, gave off a slightly earthy scent, all but suffocated by cloying incense. There were crystals and polished rocks. Rusted iron spikes and irregular wooden bowls. Rough cloth bags – small and large – stuffed with little bits of bone, horn or antler. One corner had a rack of clothes, all black or red. Mammon amused himself with the thought that it was similar to Lucifer’s wardrobe, only cheaper. None of the wares held more than a spark of power. The only thing that set this place apart from a hundred similar shops was the proprietress.
She was tall for a human, with long black hair that hung around a thin face lined by time and strain. She wore blue-framed reading glasses as she painstakingly recorded invoices in a paper ledger on the high counter beside the cash register. A cigarette burned in the ashtray at her elbow. Her outfit – a black top with a high, fussy neck coupled with a tangle of silver necklaces and black cords peppered with semi-precious stones – looked like it had been plucked straight off the rack in the corner. She wore a black sleeve on her left forearm, like restaurant servers who handled hot plates. And she was seething with magic.
“Nice place you got here,” he said breezily, running his finger along the bald head of a fertility figurine. Not a damn thing in the place was calling for his attention. Worthless junk, all of it. It sucked to be surrounded by pocketable items when nothing was worth taking.
“Something I can help you find?” She didn’t even raise her head. Another line of figures was added to the ledger.
“I’m looking for a book.”
Long fingers tipped with garnet red polish toward a haphazard bookshelf by the front door. “Feel free to have a look.”
“I need something a little more rarified, if you get my drift.” Why wasn’t she looking at him? With that much magic, she should’ve at least noticed that he was powerful even if she hadn’t realized he was a demon yet. It was almost insulting!
“What you see is what you get. A nice little wiccan runs a store out on Alder and 171st. She gets good stuff in sometimes, from estate sales and such. Maybe you want to try there.” The faintest hint of suggestion infused her words. She wasn’t casting magic. He doubted she was even consciously trying to send him away. Her magic was just that ingrained, something few witches achieved even after a lifetime of practice.
He’d never been accused of being subtle, but maybe it was time to just come out with it and be direct.
“I seem to remember that you could get good stuff, rare stuff, when it suited you. Or has that changed, Harmony Vale?”
Finally looking up, she took a long drag off the cigarette, watching him approach over the rim of her half-glasses. He stopped in front of the counter. She blew her entire lungful of smoke in his face. Which, okay, rude.
“I’ll go back to my original question, demon.” One black brow arched. “Is there something I can help you with? Or are you just slumming?”
This was not going the way Mammon had planned. He thought she’d be happy to see him, or would at least acknowledge him. After a couple of hours of hunting, he’d found his own ledger from when she’d summoned him to trade years and years ago. It had taken him awhile. He listed transactions by items, not by people, and didn’t have a separate journal for young humans with merchandise they shouldn’t have been handling. Harmony was older now, which he’d expected since she hadn’t been in statis like Melody, but she hadn’t only been affected by the passage of time. She was thin but corded with muscle, scarred, especially on her hands and forearms, and he suspected something more disturbing was hidden beneath that sleeve. Harmony Vale’s last few decades had been busy and, from the looks of it, violent.
He leaned on the counter. “I can’t catch up with an old friend?”
“We were never friends, Lord Mammon.”
“Ooh, I like that. ‘Lord’. Nice.” When he grinned, she only removed her glasses, folding them carefully before leaning back on a high stool. She didn’t look relaxed so much as coiled, like a whip in human form. “Old contact then.”
Her chin lowered and he wasn’t tell if she was frowning or if her face had just tightened more. Actually it was little like Lucifer got when he was mad and getting madder. A kind of amplified irritation.
“I heard about your shop and thought I’d stop in and catch up, that’s all.” He gestured around at all the junk. Or, uh, merchandise.
“Uh-huh.” She sounded suspicious which was pretty insulting. He wasn’t telling the truth but it wasn’t like he was hiding nefarious deeds. He was here to do a good deed, in fact!
“So, whatcha been up to?” He tapped an obsidian keychain hanging from a little rack and watched it swing back and forth.
“I’m just a humble witch selling humble wares.” Her mouth turned down, then she rubbed at her forehead. “Who sent you?”
“Why do you think someone sent me? Nobody sent me. I came on my own. I just want some information, to fill in the gaps of history.” Mammon shut his mouth abruptly. Why had he said that, the truth?
He peered down at the floor. A little dust bunny lolled at the base of the counter, but there was no devil’s trap or spell painted there. He was kind of tired, and a little hungover, and a lot thrown by the fact that he’d tossed himself into a pact last night. He was aware of the pact anchor inside of him, still raw as a nerve even if the feel of Melody was muted by his being in another realm. But mostly he wanted his…the human – Lucifer’s human – somewhere safe, and the human realm was the safest place for humans.
“Which gaps of history?” Harmony asked. Her voice was low, a little rough, but compelling.
“Just, like, what’s happened since I saw you last? Man, you were only a kid back then. Never could figure out how you got your mitts on goods like that. How’s your family? Why are you so strong with the craft right now? Is it safe here? Is it safe for you? Would someone else be safe here? Are you the nurturing type?”
The expression on her face was more disturbed than angry now.
“You’re not looking to breed with a human are you?” she asked in a low rush.
Mammon shuddered. “No. No! What? I can’t take care of a kid! Why won’t you just answer me? Why’re you asking all the questions? I’ve got places to be, and I’m going to be missed soon. This can’t take long.”
“Are you working with someone – another demon – who’s tall and blond, with green eyes and magic like poison?”
“That sounds like Satan. The last job I did with Satan was a long time ago, and it was so damn boring I almost swallowed my own tongue. He just plans and plans and plans, and researches, then plans some more. Then he has the gall to complain. Can you believe that? I mean, I’d lost a few bets which is why we had to do the job anyway, but come on. How does complaining help? So no, we do not work together. What was the question?”
Harmony shifted her weight a little, and her dark eyes sharpened. “Why are you asking about what happened since I was a kid?”
“Because you seem kinda scary and dangerous, and even though you were cranky and brave as a kid you weren’t dangerous then.” Why wouldn’t he stop talking? “I want to know what happened.”
“My dad died. I had to go live with an aunt. I didn’t like it, so I ran away, decided to learn the craft and joined a coven. Now I live this luxurious life.”
“Lie,” Mammon said, unable to stop himself. He jerked, finally recognizing the compulsion that had him babbling out way too many details, and looked up at the ceiling. The outline of a hex glowed faintly against the water-stained wood.
“You got a truth spell on me, Harmony? Where’s the trust?”
“Trust is earned.” She lit another cigarette, blew more smoke at him. “I wasn’t lying.”
“Right, sure. But, like, that wasn’t the whole truth.”
Mammon wasn’t good at spellcraft. In fact, he was not too proud to admit he was bad at it. Actually, sometimes he took pride in being bad at it because it demons and humans used craft and he didn’t need either of those to get by. And at the end of the day, even though it didn’t feel like it used to feel when he used it, he had power. Loads of it. He fed it into the spell now, being careful because spells tended to go boom around him. Harmony felt his attempt to bend the spell to his will.
Without even having to chant, with barely more than a shrug, she strengthened the hex. “Why do you care if I’m lying?”
He pushed back, pushed further into her magic, and fought against the compulsion to blab away all his answers. Self-control might not be his forte, but he had no problem doubling down on stubbornness.
“I want to know if you’re a good person, if you’re the kind of person who takes care of others. Do you visit elderly relatives? Take soup to sick neighbors? Do you feed the neighborhood cat?”
“Cats are always more trouble than their worth.” She snorted, then stubbed her cigarette out. The power went out of the hex so quickly that Mammon almost lurched into the counter.
“I could have saved you the trip, demon. I’m not reliable. I’m not nurturing. I won’t take care of anyone. You don’t need to pry and be sneaky to pull that admission out of me. Hope that answered all your questions.” She rounded the counter and herded him toward the door.
He remembered answering her summons, decades ago. She’d been standing on the sidewalk beside a playground, in a t-shirt and shorts with a messenger bag that was too big for her wrapped around her slim body. One of her canvas sneakers had been untied. He’d been fretting over it when she’d carefully opened the bag, reached in and pulled out a grimoire covered in dyed human skin. The malicious miasma around it had made him wince. She’d looked green around the gills.
She’d wanted cash for it, and it had been valuable. But he’d been short on cash and whoever she’d nicked it from was going to notice it missing and hunt her down, probably sooner than later. Nice people didn’t collect dangerous objects like that.
“Take it back,” he said. “You’re messing with something you don’t understand. Wherever you got it from, take it back. Or dump it somewhere. Get away from it before it remembers you. And for the love of…don’t bring it to a playground around kids!”
She was a kid too of course, but it was easy to forget that at times, with those deep, dark eyes and the types of goods she dealt in. This was an escalation. The nastiness of the grimoire contrasted with the sunny day, the sound of healthy children laughing and squealing nearby.
“Leave me to worry about that. I know this is worth a lot. It’s old, and it’s powerful.”
“Yeah, it’s powerful. That’s a book meant to hurt people. It’s powerful because the spells inside of it have hurt people. It’s not a toy. It’s not a piece of a game. It’s evil, and whoever owns it is evil. You wouldn’t even understand, but trust me, they aren’t the kind of people who would think twice about hurting a kid. Get rid of it.”
“Why do you care? You’re a demon, and you’re supposed to only care about money.”
“Hey now. That’s libel or slander or whatever. I don’t only care about money. I care about value. And some things aren’t worth it. They aren’t worth any amount of money, kid. It doesn’t matter what you want to buy. Don’t use that to finance it. I’m outta here. Return that thing. Don’t mess with the people you got it from again, alright?”
She slid the book back into her bag, and squeezed her hands into fists with an effort before shaking them out.
“Fine,” she said to her untied shoe. From the playground, a small, bright voice started calling her name.
“Consider this valuable lesson a freebie, a present from the Great Mammon. Alright? Repeat after me: some things aren’t worth it.”
“Some things aren’t worth it,” she mumbled, numbly.
“Good. Now, go play or something. Be a kid.” He turned away, waving over his shoulder. What was happening to the youth of today?
“Harmony!” the small voice called out. “I can hear an ice cream truck. Harm, come on! Ice cream, ice cream.”
“In a minute.”
“What were you doing with that man? Is he one of-”
“Forget about him. You never saw him. Let’s find that ice cream truck.”
Adult Harmony opened the door of her shop and tilted her head, gesturing at him to go. The beads rattled against the glass. Mammon stopped beside her, peering down at the lines etched between her eyebrows, around the perpetual frown of her mouth. He’d come here looking for a safe place to deposit Melody, but it looked like Harmony hadn’t been in a safe place for a long time.
“There must be someone you love though,” he said. “Your parents?”
Her glare was icy animosity, her bared teeth scary enough to rock him back on his heels. “No.”
“But…you had a sister, didn’t ya?”
“My father married a woman who had a daughter. He used her as a human sacrifice and, because he was a piss-poor excuse for a mage and a worse kind of human being, ended up killing both her and himself on a cold night in the middle of nowhere.” She leaned toward him. “She was a stranger who lived in my house for minute before she died. It was really fucking sad, but she wasn’t my sister.”
“What happened to you, Harmony?”
She blinked, and something passed through her eyes like a creature rolling underwater. He bent toward her, watching more closely.
“What happened to you,” he asked again, “that one cold night, in the middle of nowhere?”
Another roll, not like the quick, silver belly of a fish. Like a hex. And damn it all if he didn’t recognize the magic behind it.
“I look out for exactly one person,” she snarled. “Me. Nobody else is worth giving a damn about. There’s no value in other people, got it? One of the many free lessons I’ve learned in life. Now get the fuck out of my shop.”
She didn’t know. Something bad had happened, that had ended with Melody frozen in time, hidden away from her world, and Harmony angry and scarred. Why didn’t Lucifer saved both sisters? Family was meant to stay together, even through bad times. Especially through bad times. Mammon raised a hand toward her shoulder. She slapped his hand away, hard enough that he hissed.
“Go. And tell all your cocky demon buddies to stop prowling around. The next one that shows up isn’t getting a little trap or hex, got it? I’m not someone your kind should be playing with.”
***
Harmony Vale stood in her small kitchen, the tea kettle bouncing on the uneven burner coil as it wandered toward a boil. She stared absently at the marks scoring the faded yellow linoleum. Two days ago she’d caught a demon shaped like a cat as he’d prowled around the apartment she kept behind her store. Its transformation spell had been intricate enough to catch her attention and powerful enough to maintain the transfiguration for an entire day. The demon had been stubborn enough to keep up the pretense of behaving like a cat for the first few hours, until she’d opened the second can of cheap “ocean” flavored cat food and he’d tried to leave only to find himself caught in her hidden devil’s trap. After that it had just stared at her with hateful green eyes while she traced and tugged at the strands of the spell, trying to figure out how it worked. It had finally snapped, leaving her with an angry, naked blond demon. Despite his condition – nude, trapped, with cat food breath – he’d immediately stood up and begun grilling her about her lifestyle and criticizing her choice of living arrangements, of all things. He’d been so arrogant and outspoken toward her that she had to believe he was talking to her out of a case of mistaken identity. He was a higher-level demon, and she did not mess with anything over nuisance demons. She’d gone away for an hour and he’d burned his way through the trap. She’d gotten the sense that the destruction he’d left behind had been a polite exit, for him.
And now Mammon, the Avatar of Greed, had popped up out of the blue, asking similarly-flavored questions though his were more personal. It was like demonic déjà vu. Worse, something about him had felt familiar. It wasn’t his overly casual warmth, so unusual in a demon or any powerful human. But something else had been there, too. For all that he was oblivious to human magics, his innate power overflowed his physical form, and something about his aura – something within his aura – had whispered to her.
She didn’t…
The last time she’d tried to make a deal with him, she’d stolen a horrendous old spell book. It was worth a lot. Enough that a girl could run away and disappear on the sums the wrong sort of people would pay for it.
She didn’t like…
But he’d turned her down. And she’d been too afraid to summon another demon to sell it to, even if she’d been able to muster up the power. So she’d dug a hole, covered it in salt, burned it, and gone home. She’d continued going to school, practicing her magic, following her father’s instructions, looking after…
She didn’t like thinking about…
The kettle began its wheezy whistle. She shoved it off the burner and stared down at the red coil. Her arm ached dully beneath the sleeve she wore over it, nerves remembering the pain of the burn she kept covered. Tossing the tea bag out of her mug, she poured it half-full with bourbon, then immediately tossed that back. That burn was clarifying. Two demons in two days, high level, asking questions about her. About whether she was safe. About whether she could take care of someone else. She poured another drink and sank down against the wall between the refrigerator and the small, chipped Formica dining table. She kept her legs bent, her knees up, so that her toes only touched the edge of the burnt-out devil’s trap.
No. Harmony Vale could not take care of anyone else. She’d never been able to.
She already hated the girl, in her stupid floral dress that looked like something out of a yuppie Easter photo shoot. It had a freaking pink bow tied around the empire waist. And there was another bow in her dark brown hair, holding the curls back from her face. She was wearing fucking black patent leather Mary Janes.
“Why the hell do you let your mother dress you like that?” Harmony demanded. “You look like a fucking toddler.”
The girl frowned, plucking at the sides of her skirt. “I picked this out,” she said.
“Why?”
“I wanted to look nice. I didn’t want to be intimidating, and I wanted to show you that I mean no harm.”
Harmony snorted. “Spoiler alert, shorty. You’re not intimidating. I’m like a head taller than you and I’m pretty sure I can kick your ass.”
The girl chewed on her lower lip for a minute, working that out. Great, she was slow as well. This was intolerable. Harmony snuck a glance at her dad, who’d taken his fiancée onto the balcony to show her the penthouse condo’s million-dollar view. Harmony had only heard about her yesterday. She hadn’t even known her dad was dating. He wore a button-down shirt under a crisp vest and khakis. His sandy hair rippled in the small breeze. He looked well put together, but he always dressed like that. The woman – his fiancée – wore a pencil skirt and a black sweater that was kind of nice, Harmony had to admit. She was average height, slim. The circles beneath her eyes were dark and made her look older even though he’d said she was a few years younger than him. Daniel Vale liked a well put-together woman. She’d seen him checking out the trophy wives in the elevators, with their coordinated work-out clothes, tans, and full faces of makeup. This woman was middle-aged, slim but not fit, and something about her looked a little bit used up. But the magic inside of her was steady. Harmony had felt it when she’d politely shaken her hand in the foyer, steady as a heartbeat. Most witches’ power was erratic, or they had to concentrate to maintain it. This flowed. If there was one thing Daniel Vale valued, more than looks or even money, it was magic. Magic equaled power.
“I don’t mean I’m stronger than you,” the girl said. “But my mom said you were sensitive to magic, so I didn’t want to overwhelm you.”
“The hell are you talking about?” Harmony sneered down at the pipsqueak and the total absence of magic in and around her. “You’ve got, like, zero power.”
“I have so.”
“Do not.”
“Do too!” The girl’s weirdly light eyes widened. “I’m just supposed to keep it locked up.”
“You’re like six. It’s not that you’re controlling your magic. You don’t have any, runt.”
The girl glared. Something shifted in her stance, a kind of opening of her shoulders, an upward tilt of her chin. Magic burst from her, sunshine streaming from behind clouds. Harmony raised a hand to block the nonexistent glare.
“Stop it,” she choked out, digging her fingers into the kid’s shoulder. “Put it away.”
It shut off immediately, but over the girl’s head, Harmony saw her father’s head swivel toward them. He was outside, on the other side of a wall, and probably concentrating on the woman’s magic.
“Come on, I’ll show you my room.” She grabbed the girl’s hand and yanked her down the hallway.”
“Ooh, exciting. When you visit us I’ll show you my room, too. I have my own bathroom, and closet. I don’t wear dresses like this all the time, don’t worry.”
“Hey.” Harmony closed her door carefully behind her. Her dad didn’t let her close doors when it was just the two of them, but hopefully he was distracted. She leaned down, putting herself at eye level with the shorter girl, and whispered, “Don’t let that out in front of anyone else. Not ever, not even if our parents actually get married. Not even if…if someone asks you to. Okay?”
“I know,” the girl said somberly. “It’s dangerous.” Then she grinned. “But I want us to be friends, and you don’t keep secrets from friends. Or sisters!”
Oh God, she was so naïve. How had she grown up so sheltered? And how the hell was she containing that much magic? It was turned off again, nonexistent. Locked up, she’d said.
“You keep secrets from everyone if it means that will keep you safe. From everyone, even family. Even your mom. Even…” They’d been together for like seven minutes, the kid’s openness made no sense. “Even me. Got it?”
The girl blinked. She was going to give herself away, Harmony just knew it. She was going to throw a fit and it would come out again, or Harmony’s dad would be charming and the kid wouldn’t be able to resist showing off.
“Do you wanna play with something?” She gestured around her room, trying to find a distraction. There wasn’t much, her tidy desk stacked with books, the shelves of orderly drawing figures and Euclidian cubes. “I don’t have a lot of toys.”
“You’re probably too old for toys. I’m too old for a lot of toys, even the ones that I used to like best. So I know how that goes.” The girl sat on the edge of the bed, so slight she barely dented the covers. “Do you want to talk? We could tell each other about our favorite things. I’ve always wanted a sister, and I think we were destined to be sisters.”
“Oh yeah?” Harmony dropped into her desk chair, listening for her father’s approach. He probably wouldn’t bust the door down with these two around, not that it even had a lock. “How’s that?”
“Well, I mean…” The girl laughed, gesturing between them. “Harmony and Melody. That can’t be a coincidence.”
“It’s exactly a coincidence. The names aren’t that rare.”
“I think it’s nice. It’s like…fate. We’re meant to be together!”
Harmony didn’t respond. Her mouth went dry at the sound of her father’s footsteps coming down the hall, the lighter click of his fiancee’s heels behind him. Her door opened and he filled the frame. Melody looked up.
“What are you girls talking about?” he asked, looking back and forth between them.
“Toys,” Melody chirped.
“That’s great.” He laughed then turned to his fiancée to ask her to fetch them drinks. She clicked off down the hallway and Daniel turned back.
“That’s a pretty dress,” he said.
“Thank you, Mr. Vale.” Melody stood and dropped into a surprisingly graceful curtsy.
“Such wonderful manners. I expected nothing less of Karissa’s daughter. And you’re just as lovely as her as well.”
Dread filtered into its usual place in Harmony’s stomach and chest. She wanted to reach for Melody and pull her behind her, but she did not interrupt her father, or argue with him, or go against his wishes. She held very still.
“Melody.” Daniel inclined his head, suggestion lacing his words and making the atmosphere heavy and expectant. “I’d love to see your magic. I’m sure it’s just as lovely as you. Don’t you want to show it to me?”
Melody’s lips parted. Her eyes widened. Harmony ground her teeth together. There was one thing Daniel Vale loved more than anything else – more than beauty, or money, or her mother who had left them after they’d fought one time too many – and it was magical power. He would do anything to get it, hurt anyone who withheld it from him.
“Melody.” Suggestion turned to command. “Show me.”
“I want to.” The little girl twitched, then blinked. Tears beaded in her bright, jeweled eyes. “I want to show you, Mr. Vale. I want to show you the most beautiful magic in the whole world. But I can’t. I don’t have any.”
Nothing stirred inside of Melody, that rising sun somehow contained within her, inside that childish, floral dress. Harmony’s pulse pounded. She stared at the floor but all her attention was on that small girl standing within the invisible frenzy of her father’s irritated aura. That kind of innocence had to be protected. That kind of innocence had to be protected, no matter what.
She didn’t like thinking about her sister.
There were a lot of things she didn’t like thinking about. The way her mother had left and her father had raged afterwards. The long nightmare of that night at the country house. When she’d been sent to an aunt who seemed disgusted that she hadn’t died along with her father. When she’d run away to join the only coven that would have her and which treated her barely better than a slave, but it wasn’t like she wasn’t used to doing other people’s bidding, and at least they’d taught her the craft. There had been battles that left her injured, failed spells that left her sickened, jobs that went sideways and which she’d barely walked away from. She didn’t like thinking about those either but none of them made her head buzz and her stomach lurch like thinking about her sister.
It was something beyond guilt, beyond grief, like a compulsion that kept her from memories of that night. All that blood, the cold of the night nothing like the terrible cold of Melody’s skin and the vacancy of those beautiful, light eyes when Harmony had returned for her.
Mammon had asked if there was anyone she had ever loved. She’d loved her mother with the dependent devotion of a small child. She’d loved her father as he taught her to. She’d loved Melody for being Melody.
And that goddamn white-haired demon hadn’t just come parading in asking questions and dredging up memories she could barely bring herself to face. He’d brought the feel of her presence back, somehow. Harmony had felt Melody around him, like her scent or the sound of her voice.
Two demons in as many days. Inquiring about Harmony, asking whether she was safe, secure, caring. Asking, while carrying some kind of imprint of Melody. Her soul had gone to Hell. She’d been a child, manipulated, used and broken, and her soul had been damned to Hell for trying to protect Harmony. Had her soul somehow found its way out of Hell into the Devildom proper, plucked out randomly or through some act? Had her brilliant magic somehow survived her death and been recognized and retrieved?
It had been forty years since that night. Harmony had spent many of them tracking down the people responsible for their pain, all that useless suffering. She’d inflicted plenty of pain and suffering of her own. And now she was on her floor, trying to hide from the horror of her memories, and trembling from the effort of trying to remember them clearly.
Breathing deeply, she flowed magic down her arm, into her hand, across a gap into her other hand, and back up her other arm. Cycling it, calming it until it ran like water. Calming herself with the assurance of her power. She was no longer defenseless. The mages who had hurt them – including her father – were dead, either killed that night by the monster the sisters had summoned or afterwards by her hand. There was nothing left for her to fear. But there might just be someone out there she could protect, as she couldn’t that night.
Opening her eyes, she searched for a contact on her phone and dialed it. The noise on the other end was familiar, the sounds the same as every coven common room she’d been in. Loud, raucous, a little mean, fun. She missed it and she didn’t.
“It’s Harmony Vale,” she said. “Get Esther.”
There was a responding shriek, then the sound of the phone falling, hushed whispering, footsteps, and the intentional, centering sound of a breath being drawn.
“Harm,” the older woman said evenly. Esther had always been diplomatic, calm for a witch. It was one of the reasons Harmony had worked with her so often over the years.
“Esther. I’m calling in my favors.”
“Which ones?”
“You still have a coven branch in the Devildom?”
Another intake of breath, this time one of surprise.
“How did you know about that?”
“How many witches do you have there – competent ones?”
“It is not easy to get permission to study in the Devildom. This permit, the house we have there, it cost a lot.”
“What I did for you was not easy. You would not have your place in the Devildom if it were not for me. How many?”
“This will repay all of your favors, Harmony.”
Harmony didn’t even take the time to weight what she was giving up. “Fine.”
“We have eleven sisters there, four more apprentices.”
More than she had expected. Good. It would take work and resources to achieve what she wanted. “Get me in touch with them. Today.”
“Are you well?” Lucifer asked.
Beel looked up, blinking at his eldest brother. Lucifer sat across the table from him, a cup of coffee suspended in the motion of rising toward his mouth.
Beel considered himself. He felt well, wide awake, aware, strong. “I’m fine.”
One dark eyebrow arched and Lucifer pointedly looked down. At the plate Beel had pushed away. Still half full of food. Frowning, Beel pulled it back and picked up his discarded fork. He took a bite and forced himself to chew and swallow. He set the fork back down. Lucifer’s coffee cup followed, landing on the wooden tabletop forcefully.
“Beel, what’s the matter?”
“I’ve been thinking.” His hands joined together in front of his stomach, a defensive habit that had begun soon after he had donned the mantle of the Avatar of Gluttony, like he might be able to hold back the hunger that so often drove him. Belphie chided him for it, but his twin wasn’t awake. Nobody else was normally awake this early in the morning either, save for Lucifer.
“About what?”
“Humans. The human. Melody. She’s so…” He thought for a moment, his stomach churning, but not from hunger. “Fragile.”
Lucifer blinked slowly. “All humans are.”
“Those guys that attacked her in the back yard, they weren’t strong or anything, just annoying. But the whole thing…having to look after her and be careful and all that…”
“Beel?”
“I said I would do this, this marriage thing.” Beel was easily distracted. His hunger often overwhelmed his brain, crushing good sense, shoving creativity or tact aside. If he wasn’t very careful, he could be destructive. His brothers overlooked or forgave those things, helped him and cleaned up after him sometimes. He hated disappointing them. “But I don’t think I can.”
“It’s fine. I only asked that you try.” Lucifer waved a gloved hand dismissively. “It’s okay if you do not like her.”
“That’s not it,” he said in a rush. “I…I like her too much.”
“That is typically considered a good thing in a relationship.”
“Those guys could have hurt her, in a second. I could have hurt her. I might have, if Mammon hadn’t gotten her out of the way. All I could see was what needed to be destroyed. He had the sense to protect her. I wouldn’t be a good husband.” Beel shook his head, frown intensifying. “I would want to keep her locked up. All the time. To keep her safe, I mean. I’m sorry.”
“Beel, I appreciate your intentions, and your effort. You were willing. You tried. There is nothing disappointing about that. Thank you for your honesty.” Lucifer rose, gathering his papers. “I have work to attend to. Please wake Levi before you leave. He’s teaching a course this morning.”
“Okay.” Beel’s hands twisted around each other. “Lucifer?”
“Hmm?”
“Is that why you did it?”
“Did what?” He turned back. Beel searched his face. Lucifer was never weak. Tired, sometimes. Irritated, often. Sometimes sly or cruel. Beel wasn’t entirely sure what he was looking for in the Avatar of Pride’s expression.
“Why you locked her up for all those years, kept her hidden. To protect her. Because you like her too much, too?”
Lucifer’s face narrowed. Embers flared in his eyes, then he smiled coldly.
“No.”
***
The library was something else. It was two stories, for one thing, and Melody couldn’t quite tell where it was in the House of Lamentation. The corner closest to the weeping song tree? Above the kitchen? The bedrooms on the second story must not run the length of the house, allowing this giant room full of books in the languages of three realms – or more? She thought that once there were more realms – to expand upwards like a magnificent tree of knowledge.
She had always loved books, always loved to read. She used to sleep with a book, not the ones her father read to her at night full of cute animals who got lost and the others who helped them find their homes again, or the cute animal who wanted to bake a cake but had to learn how the hard way. She had a sleeping book, a hardcover that had gone soft and shiny with age, the gilding along the edges of the pages flaked off. Sometimes when she woke on sunny mornings, bits of gold sparkled on her fingertips, and she thought that books were magical. She’d been like four at the time so she didn’t know any better.
But through some of her longer, lonelier years, books had been the only thing that could transport her to places she couldn’t reach on her own, which was also a kind of magic. The one she was reading was not magical. It was written in Daemonish, and even with the minor charm Levi had rigged to allow her to read it without actual harm coming to her delicate human eyes and brain, she was pretty sure it was actively trying to bruise her. In addition, the bone dry but somehow also ponderously lengthy descriptions of the governance and power balance of the Devildom, were trying to make her swallow her tongue out of boredom.
Melody slid out of an oversized chair onto a wooden bench, sitting up straighter on the hard surface in an attempt to maintain consciousness. She flipped back to a sketch of a tree with many, sometimes overlapping, branches displaying the demon hierarchy. It was the least comprehensible part of the book, but more interesting than a thousand-year evolution of councils, clans, petitions, treatises and stations. (Demons seemed to regulate their destructive potential almost entirely through paperwork and threats of paperwork which explained, she thought, some of Lucifer’s more boring ways of teaching her lessons.) There were higher, middle and lower tier demons. She knew that, though the book had better details. Lower-tier demons were either demonic creations with limited capabilities (like…a kind of small, sentient appliance maybe?) or human souls which had crept out of Hell to serve demons in exchange for advancement. Advancement was like an amalgamation of leveling up in a game and reincarnation plus indentured servitude, except it could take centuries. Not awesome unless the alternative was literal Hell.
Middle tier demons ranged all over the place, from – again – barely sentient to advanced with specialized abilities, like incubi. Some were even permitted to journey to the human realm to sow discord or make trades. (The book celebrated that. She had mixed feelings.) All of them served or were wards of stronger demons. And all higher-tier demons seemed to be surrounded by them. Five straight pages were dedicated to listing the various positions lower level demons were meant to serve in demonic clans.
There were no servants in the House of Lamentation.
The brothers cooked their own meals, cleaned up their own messes, and answered their own door. The Avatars were supposed to be surrounded by entourages and servants. Demons with specific skill sets which complimented or amplified their own abilities were called Temptations…or something close to that. The charm had some trouble landing the translation. Drawings depicted prior Avatars surrounded by their wicked demon peeps and the humans they’d drawn to them or were in the process of, uh, using? The Greed and Envy pictures were disturbing. She’d barely been able to look at the pages showing Lust and Gluttony. They’d made Hieronymus Bosch look like Dr. Suess.
There was another type of demon she couldn’t understand. The term for it slipped around the edges of the charm, a word whispered in a foreign language at a distance. There were no pictures of that one, and she hadn’t seen the word repeated elsewhere in the book.
“Why are you reading up on demonic governance?” Satan asked from over her shoulder, making her startle.
She turned to glare. He arched a golden eyebrow. “Are you attempting to intimidate me, Melody?”
“I know I’m not intimidating. But I’m still not going to keep my wimpy human displeasure to myself.”
The corner of his lip twitched. He had nice lips. She turned to face the book again but he didn’t leave, his body a solid presence behind her.
“I’m researching it because I’m thinking of starting a revolution, obviously.”
Satan made an affronted sound. Melody snickered.
“I’m kidding, Satan. I can’t even leave the house, and apparently most demons would rather eat me than follow me.”
“Don’t take it personally. No demon wants to follow any human.”
“What about the eating part?”
“There’s no accounting for taste.” He reached around her, brushing her elbow as he flicked the page with one green-nailed finger. “This is outdated. You should find something current if you want accurate information. Some of these clans no longer exist.”
“What happened to them?” There had been a hypnotically boring page about petitioning for the merger of a clan.
“Taken over or wiped out.” His finger slid alongside a list of ancient, venerable clans, then paused. “Lucifer and Beel eliminated these two. I believe the Vanguard annexed this one. Asmo eradicated the last one.”
“Wait, what? Why? What?”
“The two attacked Belphie. The Vanguard objected to the treatment the fifth one gave to its lower tier demons.”
“Were they too harsh?”
“Too lenient.” At her indignant squawk, Satan shrugged. “The last one…they insulted Asmo, or he thought they were going to insult him? I can’t quite recall. He’d gotten a bad haircut. That, I heard about constantly. They must have crossed his path before it grew out.”
“The entire clan?” Melody turned to stare at him, unable to discern a hint of humor despite him being so close. “Are you joking?”
“What would be funny about that?”
“I don’t know…” Shaking her head, she flipped to another page to hide the evidence of the brothers’ crimes. “Hey…what’s this word?”
Satan sat beside her and leaned over the book. “It’s a title, an honorific. A Sin.”
The charm wobbled on the chain around her neck. That didn’t quite sound right. “Are you sure?”
He gave her a baleful look. “It’s not an exact translation. If I said it in Daemonish, you’d probably pass out or have an aneurism.”
Ooh, interesting. “Okay, forget that then. What’s special about the title…this Sin?”
“A person who received this title would exemplify many demonic traits. They would be able to catalyze various sins in other demons. It is difficult to explain.”
“I’ve got time.” She smiled up at him in a way that used to get her almost everything she wanted, from teachers, her grandparents, people handing out one-per-customer swag. She’d tried it on Lucifer exactly once, and they had never spoken about it again. Satan’s reaction wasn’t as intense but he did look suspicious.
“What are you doing?”
He was flustered. Serious, polite, formal, and flustered. It was all kinds of cute. She blinked a few times, refreshing the brightness of her eyes, fluttering her eyelashes
“Stop that.”
“But don’t you want to-”
Satan straightened, turning toward the wall of books that stretched from the floor to the ceiling. Melody’s words continued to flow across her tongue and out of her mouth even as her awareness expanded. The air condensed with a sudden throb of pressure. Her ears popped. Her vision darkened at the edges. A piercing shriek rose, shrill and deafening, and the wall exploded inward.
It was going to hurt. First came destruction, then came pain. Always, always the pain. She curled in on herself. No.
“No,” Satan said, his body and power wrapping around her.
The explosion flung them through the railing and onto the floor below. She couldn’t even draw a breath to scream, so stunned at the feel of him surrounding her, the lack of pain. Splintered wood shot through the air, burning books fell alongside them.
She landed with a grunt, her head snapping back, the breath knocked out of her, the bruising hardness of the floor and Satan’s arms around her back dulled by a cushion of his power but the impact still left her stunned. His landing was more controlled, one leg gliding between hers, the other against the outside of her left thigh. His green eyes were wide but focused inward as he leaned over her and debris crashed and rained against a shimmering shield spanning his back. Protecting them both.
Dizzy, struggling to draw breath, it took her a moment to realize Satan had transformed.
He had horns but no wings. His soft sweater was now a black and green shirt that ruffled, like a cobra snake expanding its hood in warning. A thin, scaled tail tipped with a sharp point held her arms together between them.
Melody managed, finally, to draw a shaky breath. Satan’s lip drew back in a snarl, revealing fangs. She stiffened, then he tensed as the rest of the mezzanine collapsed on them. This time she comprehended enough to scream, ducking her head and drawing her knees and arms inward to protect herself.
They were not crushed to death.
In fact, nothing touched her.
Satan grunted. “Oi.”
She cracked an eyelid, then blinked against the murky darkness. The entire upper floor – including the bookcases and wrought iron railing – was on them. Satan hadn’t even bowed under the weight. The air was thick with smoke, and angry red embers cast sinister light through the swirling haze. He tugged an arm out from under her. His hand skimmed her side, her abdomen, the inside of her thigh – she twitched and bit her lip – and pushed her knee down from where she had jerked it against him.
“D-did…did I knee you in the balls?” she asked, breathless, still dizzy.
“No, but not for lack of trying.”
“What happened?”
“I moved.”
“No.” She looked around, as much as she could within the umbrella of the upper floor. His tail loosened around her forearms. “What happened?”
“The house was attacked by explosive projectiles. Munitions or simply fire rather than magic, so the wards didn’t bother with them.”
Her eyes went wide. “Someone shot at us?”
“From the lake, if the sound of Levi and Lotan are anything to go by. The Echelon have a branch that fancies themselves pirates. Occasionally they drink too much and cause trouble along the coastline.”
Holding her breath, Melody listened. Distantly, through the creak of abused wood and crackle of burning things, she heard Levi bellowing and something else growling and…splashing?
“Why aren’t you terrified?” Satan asked.
Melody faced him. “I am. This is terrifying.”
“It should be, for a human. But you aren’t scared.”
“I mean.” She shrugged, awkward against the floor, within the confines of his arm and the tons of wooden planks and broken bookcases atop them. Was he wrapped around her because she just happened to be there or, like, did he not mind it? “I’m safe now, so I guess there’s no need?”
Satan leaned down, his face mere inches from hers. “That doesn’t make sense.”
Confused, she smiled and shook her head. “You protected me and kept me safe, so-”
The sudden, violent green of his eyes was nearly blinding. His tail tightened around her wrists, no longer keeping her limbs from splaying outside the protection of his body and shields, but holding her in place.
She had to try twice to swallow. “Satan?”
His smile was a sharp slice of menace and fang. His voice dropped half an octave. “You believe you’re safe with me? Do you have any idea of the position you’re in?”
The jolt that went through her shouldn’t have been so intense. But her body was already full adrenaline, and her pulse was high, and this was a demon she didn’t really know, big and powerful, holding up a giant, burning chunk of house with so little effort he didn’t even seem aware of it. And he was angry. The Avatar of Wrath was angry, and that anger was directed at her. He was restraining her and that wasn’t…that wasn’t…
He leaned closer, those eyes cold and poisonous, his body all heat and coiled power. The point of his tail slithered against the inside of her wrist, following the veins in her forearm.
Lucifer wouldn’t have left her with someone dangerous. She knew that. If nothing else, she knew that. She jerked her hands, and the hold tightened. Satan’s eyes glinted. He dropped his weight onto her, thick legs and firm torso solid and so, so heavy.
“Do you honestly think you can get away from me?” he asked mockingly, less tease than threat. But he was asking in that rough, low voice, and the way he had her pinned…
Melody closed her eyes as she shuddered.
“Open your eyes. Keep looking at me.”
He grasped her face, thumb bruising hard against her lower lip, nails digging in to her skin from temple to jaw, and her eyes flew open.
“Why aren’t you scared?” he snarled.
She shook her head, frantic. She couldn’t make herself scared. “Why are you so mad?”
“Tell me why you aren’t scared, Melody.”
“You’re starting to scare me, if that’s what you’re going for.” Her voice was going high. This was so confusing! “Why do you care so much about how I feel?”
“I don’t. I don’t care how you feel.”
“Well you are not caring really hard!”
He cursed in Daemonish, and the translation charm heated and jumped against the skin of her neck. His poisonous gaze left her face to fixate on it, and she dragged in an actual full breath, which pushed some of the dizziness away. Then she shoved at his chest and tried to push herself out from under him.
She managed to scoot maybe three inches before he lunged up and pinned her bodily again. Only this time the crushing angle of his body was different. Better.
Better?
Because his not-caring wasn’t the only thing that seemed to be going hard.
“You don’t even know what’s wrong with you, do you?” Satan demanded, again with that grip on her face, his thumb pressing into the pillow of her lower lip as he shook her. But he wasn’t holding her quite as tightly. The end of his tail was stroking, almost soothingly. And all she could feel was that and the insistent friction of his body against hers. “Do you know why you should be scared? Do you understand anything of self-preservation?”
She licked him.
Satan’s entire body jerked. The light flickered and ebbed from his eyes. “What in the Hells are you doing?”
“Sorry, sorry.” She tapped at his chest with her fingertips, barely able to move between his body and his tail binding her. “I was just trying to lick your lips. I mean. M-my…My lips. Trying to lick my lips. It’s a n-nervous habit.”
Her voice trailed off because he was now staring at her lips. And touching, dragging his thumb across them roughly.
“That was a Bad Idea,” he growled, snatching his hand off her face.
So that was a big old nope on the self-preservation score, because if he’d been mad before now he was incandescent. Power roiled. The pile of shattered wood at his back began to shake. If he was quick to anger, hopefully he was also quick to defuse. She just had to keep her wits about her. And not focus on all this heat building between their bodies, or really acknowledge anything about his body, which felt improbably amazing.
“Don’t blow a fuse or you’ll damage more of the books,” she said, slowly and clearly with a hint of scolding, which was amazing because she was not feeling clear and was in no position to scold him.
Satan twisted to glare at the burning room around them, and the move shifted their position, specifically his position, where his pelvis was lodged against the cleft between her legs.
A moan slipped out. Satan’s head snapped back to pin her with a glare. She smashed her eyes closed, trying to pull her hands up to cover her face (she couldn’t, they just rubbed a little against his chest), then squirming to try to roll away, which only served to…
Satan groaned.
Melody’s eyes opened. Her mouth fell open. Satan’s golden brows drew down in angry confusion. Maybe he was begroaning the loss of his library. Or maybe…explosions made him horny? His tail tightened until she whimpered involuntarily.
“Satan, please, that’s too-”
“Don’t,” he ordered. Then his lips crashed against hers.
Was this what she was supposed to be afraid of? Was this what happened to girls who made him mad? A punishing, almost brutal kiss full of tension and demand? A hand tightening in her hair to tilt her head back? Another hand sliding under her shirt and up around her ribs? A tongue slicking against her swollen bottom lip.
The languid roll of his hips against hers, like he wasn’t even aware he was doing it. The heat of his breath when he slid his tongue between her lips, the taste of him smoky and sharp. The curl and uncurl of his tail around her arm. The hard ridges of his horns and silken strands between her fingers when she slid a hand free and sank it into his hair. His breath caught. His hand slid beneath her ass and angled her toward him as he ground down, and she turned her head away, her own inhale stuttering at the almost painful friction.
His mouth moved to her exposed neck, fangs dragging agonizingly slowly over her skin, sparking every nerve. If this was his way of administering punishment, she would just have to endure it. She deserved it, even. She probably deserved more punishment, in fact.
“Ooooh,” a warm voice cooed, “what do we have here?”
Melody turned her head. Bright candy-colored eyes stared at her through the smoke.
She screeched, flailing. Satan pinned her hands again, and he shifted minutely so that her rising knee jarred into his thigh instead of more tender and – currently – prominent parts.
“Go away, Asmo,” he growled.
“How can you say such mean things to your heroic rescuer?” The eyes disappeared. Then the massive pile of debris disappeared off of Satan’s back, the movement clearing some of the smoke.
Melody sat up, coughing, her various bruises making themselves known to her. Satan sat back on his heels, glaring around at the damage. Like the gaping hole in the wall, the flutter of loose pages, some still smoldering. Stone and splintered wood lay all around. Asmodeus stood in the middle of the wreckage, in heeled boots, leggings and a pale sweater that slumped off his shoulder. While her body was still on high alert, craving the solidity of Satan’s body against her, this was a pretty effective mood-killer.
“Wow, Satan, when you decide to show a lady a good time, you really show her a good time!”
“Shut up, Asmo. I didn’t do this.”
“It was pirates,” Melody said, nodding sagely.
“Of course it was, darling.” Asmo pulled her up, hands fluttering around her hair as he flicked away all kinds of detritus. He reached around her, which put his face very close to hers. She remembered the glimpse she’d seen in the book, of the types of acts the Avatar of Lust could inspire. She flushed. Asmo halted in his ministrations. His eyes brightened as they met hers. His lips parted as he sipped the air between them. “Oh, little human. Don’t you smell divine.”
“Nope,” Satan said, grabbing her wrist and pulling her away from Asmo. She nearly tripped, only Satan’s hands and tail around her waist kept her upright. The smoke drew back in, obscuring the treacherously debris-riddled floor.
“You need to clean up,” Asmo sing-songed, skipping along behind them. “I’ll let you use my bathroom. You’re welcome.”
“No,” Satan said absolutely.
“I’ve got the most divine tub.”
“Really?” Melody asked, as Satan growled, his hand sliding from her wrist to her hand to pull her along, “Don’t listen to him.”
She twisted her hand to entwine their fingers together, not wanting to trip and skin her knee while accidentally setting herself on fire but also not wanting to be manhandled. Not while they were vertical, with someone else in the room anyway. Satan stumbled.
“Is his tub not nice?” she whispered.
“It’s fine,” he ground out.
“It’s massive,” Asmo purred, somehow right in her ear. “So big. You’ve never seen anything like it.”
“Don’t make it sound so lewd!”
“Sorry, brother dear. If you’re afraid to start with the tub, Melody, I would also be willing to sponge you off.”
“Oi!”
“Don’t fret, Satan. I won’t leave you out. I’d be happy to sponge you off, too.”
Melody felt weird. Well, she felt gross, all smoke-smeared with grit everywhere except her hands, which she was using to accept small pieces of bread, cheese and something that she’d firmly decided to call chicken that Beel kept tearing off and handing to her. He glared at her until she put each morsel into her mouth, chewed and swallowed. Even then sometimes he kept up his intense vigilance, as if she might be fake-eating in front of him.
He sat on a stool beside her at the big, stone kitchen island. Satan stood on her other side, also dusty, with little burn marks on his sweater even though he’d been in demon form while flaming things had rained down on him. She had no idea how demonic transformation worked and was too tired to ask. She also apparently had no idea how demonic personal space worked because their arms brushed when one of them took a deep enough breath, and sometimes while she chewed which she thought had more to do with him leaning toward her than overly-energetic chewing techniques on her part.
Not that Satan hadn’t been as into her personal space as a person could get while clothes were involved less than an hour ago. And Beel, whose knees she bumped if she leaned away from Satan, had been closer. With fewer clothes. Which she would not, could not think about, not while Asmo leaned over the far side of the island, sharp chin poised on his raised fists, elbows against the hard stone, glowing at her.
“Go away if you’re not going to be useful,” Satan told him.
“Says the dirty brute glowering at our poor guest while she is trying to eat,” Asmo said through a big, fake smile. “You go away.”
“I’m dirty, too,” Melody muttered.
“A smudge here and there doesn’t detract from your considerable beauty, my dear.” Asmo winked at her.
She pulled the hem of her shirt away from her waist. A cloud of grit puffed out when she released it.
“Even though you’re dirty you look nice, Melody,” Beel said, holding a demonic chicken wing in front of her face.
“Thanks.” Sighing, she took a small bite.
“Stop feeding her,” Satan snapped. “She doesn’t want to eat any more.”
“Eating will make her feel better.” Beel ate the rest of the wing. Like, the entire rest of it, bones and all. Melody blinked, wavering on her feet.
“Just because someone can, physically, consume more, doesn’t mean they should.” Asmo pouted. “Not all of us have your enviable metabolism, Beel. Pull your shirt up so I can see your abs.”
“Not in front of my snack, Asmo.”
He raised another wing and Melody stepped back, raising a hand to block it. Several things happened at once. Beel’s eyebrows shot up in dismayed shock. Satan’s hand brushed the small of her back, sending a lazy jolt through her, then Asmodeus nearly crawled over the island toward her.
‘”Oi, get down!” Satan lunged forward to shove at his brother.
“Asmo, your stilettos are in my cheese plate,” Beel complained.
“They’re kitten heels,” Asmo said, voice tight as he struggled with Satan. “Let go, you brute!”
Pivoting, Melody retreated from the kitchen. Slogged from it, more like. Her body felt sore and bruised. Her stomach was too full and upset. Her head felt muddled and achy, her eyes were gritty, and all she wanted was to curl up in a ball. With someone.
Which was a problem.
Even being trapped underneath debris while Satan made aggressive inquiries into her emotional state had felt nice, which was sad. Her heart pitter-patting at the feel of his mouth on hers in some kind of adrenaline- and proximity- fueled hiccup in the time-space continuum had been cringey. The loss she’d felt when he extracted his hand from hers and guided her into the kitchen for a cup of tea filled with so much sugar it had been nearly solid, “for her nerves”, had made her want to cling to him.
Beel hadn’t even hugged her, not that she blamed him, after he heard about the explosion in the library. He hadn’t looked at her in that way that made all her nerves stand at attention. Clearly whatever interest he’d had in her had been satisfied. Not that any of them were considering getting attached to her. As Asmo had said, she was a temporary guest. And a human. It wasn’t their fault that she craved their attention and any touch she could get.
She considered going to Lucifer’s room, even though he wasn’t home yet, having been called from work to the Demon Lord’s castle to deal with a captive exchange since Levi had caught and incarcerated several of the drunken demon pirates. On a regular day she’d have paid cash money to see that. Today, she wished it hadn’t happened so that Lucifer could be there. For all his mild scoffing and chastisement, he always let her cry on his shoulder. Of course, if wanting to hold Satan’s hand was sad, what she wanted from Lucifer was nothing short of pathetic.
She could be alone. She had a lot of practice. She was pretty good at it. These small sips of connection she was getting – moments like the guys squabbling in the kitchen and letting her ride along like they didn’t mind she was there, kisses and touches, the old bond with Levi bouncing back to life like they’d never separated – they made her want more. A lot more. Like, companionship all the time. Affection that was real and returned.
It wasn’t just pathetic. It was greedy.
This was temporary, she had to remember that. She could absolutely enjoy it while it lasted, but there was no point in hoping for more. She didn’t get to have more. This was only a visit, with vibrant, gorgeous demons that protected her and sometimes kissed her. She ran her fingers across her lips, then dropped them abruptly when she heard Levi’s door open.
“Hey.” He stuck his head out, looking up and down the hallway and seeming relieved that she was the only one there. Melody leaned against the frame of her own door, drinking in his bright eyes, his mussed hair almost covering them. She used to wonder what he looked like, the skilled, passionate boy on the other end of their game.
“Hey, Leviathan.”
“Are you okay?”
She gestured toward her body. “I think I’m two parts drywall, but otherwise yeah.”
“That’s good. I took out like twenty guys, and Lotan got their ship. Splintered it right down the center. Pow! It was epic!”
She smiled, but it took a lot of effort. Being attacked was tiring. “Nice.”
“You sure you’re okay? You’re not going to ride off into the sunset only to die of a bullet wound or anything, are you?”
“No, no bullet wounds or sunsets for me.” Her smile warmed, but it felt shaky around the edges.
“I’m downloading a new game that just dropped. It’s a medieval monster hunter game, only you’re poor so you have to fight with twigs and found objects until you level up enough to get the good armor and weapons. But the twist – oh, you’ll love this twist – this twist is that you’re actually an alien and the monsters are villagers that adopted you when your spacecraft crash-landed when you were an infant and they are just humoring you by pretending to attack and fight and die. But you can’t communicate so you don’t know this or anything. And you live in your crashed spaceship and kind of learn stuff from it because the civilization you come from is way more advanced. Then one day actual bad guys attack, and even though the original monsters are big they’re no match for this more advanced species, but you have genetic technology memory as well as all this fight-training, so you take them down and save the village! It sounds so amazing! You want to play?”
Melody laughed at his enthusiasm, then rubbed her eyes. “It does sound so amazing, but I’m exhausted, and I need a shower like nobody’s business.”
Levi opened his mouth to reply, then startled when a sound chimed inside his room. “Oh, it’s on now! Uh, I mean...”
He physically vacillated in his doorway and Melody couldn’t help but wave him away. “Go. Go save your monster village. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
“Okay! I’ll tell you how it is! Bye!”
“Goodnight, Levi.” She ended up saying it to the slamming door as he rushed away. She pushed through her own door, managed to stay upright in the shower, then climbed into bed. She should have fallen asleep instantly. Instead she lay on her back in the dark, staring up at the barely visible ceiling, her legs and arms stiff, her chest heavy, the rest of her body tingling.
Why aren’t you scared, Satan demanded.
Dim images slipped through her mind. Moments of empty darkness, flashes of light and streaks of color. Terrible heat and aching cold. Voices, low and menacing. Others, soft and insistent. Her heart began to beat faster. Forcing herself to move – to prove to herself that she could– she drew her arms together, each hand clasping the opposite wrist. Her own pulse was frantic beneath her trembling fingertips. Thin shivers rattled her though her skin was still warm from the shower. Sucking in a breath, she pushed a pillow onto the floor between the bed and the wall, then pulled the comforter off after herself as she curled around the softness of the pillow, worried at a feather poking through with her fingertips. Back and forth, back and forth, like a loose tooth.
Voices, low and menacing as they chanted. One soft and warm. The other thin and urgent. A final voice like ice laced with smoke.
***
He heard crying and ignored it. It wasn’t entirely uncommon in the House of Lamentation. Asmo crying over one of his lost playthings. Levi wailing over an embarrassing moment. Mammon crying over money and witches and Lucifer’s wrath. Satan, making the others cry. Belphie yawned and rolled over, dragging the blanket over his ears. He’d already been rudely awakened from a deep nap – it was a nap if it lasted less than six hours – by part of the stupid house collapsing. So annoying. The sound would stop eventually, or he would sleep through it like everything else. It wasn’t like he cared.
“Come on now.”
Belphie stiffened, drowsy muscles tensing at the distant voice.
“Come on now, love.”
He sat up, turning slowly, mechanically, to see Beel’s bed made up across the room. Beel had gone to bed with him. They’d talked about the makeshift repairs in the library, Satan and Asmo scrapping and disrupting Beel’s snack. He hadn’t talked about this stupid dating book or the stupid human. He was over her already. All was as it should be.
Beel wasn’t in his bed. The cover was smooth, the pillows plumped up against the wall. Alarm pierced Belphie’s customary waking apathy.
He turned toward the doorway. It seemed impossibly far away, the light around the frame too bright, too blue.
Oh. Beel wasn’t missing. Belphie was in a dream.
“Come on now, love. Stay with me.”
The voice cajoled, warmed, comforted. A dreamers emotions permeated their dreams, but this voice was strong for a dream presence.
He stood, his pillow under his arm, a blanket wrapped around his shoulders and trailing after him as he walked barefoot through the too-long room and into the too-bright hallway. The floor was made of stone, not wood planks and carpet. His bare feet curled against the chill of it. The floor tilted steeply downward. He slipped, twice, nearly tripped over his blanket as he turned a corner that didn’t exist in his home. His breath plumed, visible in the chill air, as he padded through a low, arched stone doorway, past cells with close iron bars. A girl knelt in a cell, her hands gripping the bars, knuckles white. Crying, whispering nonsensical words. She was faded, not the dreamer. He passed other faded placeholders: larger, sharp and sickening threats in the shape of men. Dread whispered through him. Dreams were rarely logical and were not always pretty, but whose was this?
While they could be terrible, Beel’s nightmares weren’t so sinister. They were direct, full of hunger and scarcity, regret. Asmo’s were loud, frenetic. Plagues of pox that ate his skin, or curses that rendered him invisible or ugly to all who glimpsed him. There was always a crowd around. Mammon’s could be anything. Minor humiliations replayed on an infinite loop. A misstep or loss of power at a critical moment. That hyper-realistic one staged in the foyer of the House, where Lucifer turned away from him and Belphie felt so gutted after witnessing it that he’d crept into Lucifer’s bed to assure himself he hadn’t been forsaken even though it hadn’t even been his dream, then slept beside Mammon for a week, just to let the dumbass know he wasn’t alone.
Mammon shouldn’t have been worried. None of them would ever be alone, not with this family.
A girl lay curled on the stone floor in the last cell. Manacles gripped and dwarfed her wrists, the curses within them powerful and oozing despair. The cuff on her ankle was attached by a short chain to a surprisingly bright steel ring in the floor. She was breathing shallowly, oddly, painfully. The thin, curved bones of her ribs were damaged. Humans were so fragile. Cold air whistled through cracks in the ceiling. This part of the dream was incredibly detailed, but this wasn’t what had woken him.
Belphie looked up and around. He could still hear that almost cheerful murmuring, but it felt just as far away as when he’d woken in the dream. He could manipulate dreams, shift their elements, alter the setting, step out of one dream and into another if it was worth the effort. But he couldn’t tell where this sound was coming from. He looked back down at the body, laboring near his feet. He could see the shivers wracking her, the way it shook individual strands of her lank hair. He forced himself to breath evenly rather than taking pained, shallow sips of air like she was doing. The body was so details, but it lacked the presence of the dreamer, that core around which all the emotion spun.
“That’s better. Isn’t that better?”
There. He stepped to the side and another pathway presented itself. A hidden route, like one of Levi’s video games. He had to reach his hand out from beneath the blanket, feel his way, pause and really look before he could figure out the direction of the next twist or turn. It was difficult to navigate but not impossible, merely the result of someone else distorting this dream. The path opened up finally into a small room. A fireplace cast heat he can feel. There were bookcases but the spines of the books grew hazy when he tried to read them. Rectangular smudges of color on the walls indicated artwork. It smelled comforting even though he wouldn’t have been able to describe what it smelled like. It was a complicated construct, a kind of node attached to the dream, but the person manipulating it needn’t have put so much work into it. The dreamer was only half present and didn’t appear attentive.
Two females sat in front of the fireplace, bundled in blankets. One was young, with dark, tousled hair and eerily light eyes. Melody. Lucifer’s human. The girl chained on the floor was also Melody, he realized.
She was the dreamer, both the body lying on the floor and the spirit in this room wearing a shell of the girl. He’d seen dreamers morph rapidly from one form to another within a dream, but he had never seen a split like this, as if the body and the soul were detached. Then again, it made sense that she would try to escape, to find an oasis in a dream of pain.
He didn’t recognize the other woman but he knew her. Would know her anywhere, like he would know Beel anywhere, any time, in any form. She was old, with lines around her eyes and mouth from smiling and laughing. There was gray in her hair. She was human. It shook him to see her like that, to see her alive but also see all that she no longer was. In this body she appeared older than she was when she died. Lilith.
“What am I going to do with you,” dream-Lilith asked fondly. Dream-Melody nuzzled into her side.
*
“What am I going to do with you?” Lilith asks, exasperated as she pulls Belphie and Beel along after catching them fighting with a pair of Raphael’s sentinels.
“Those guys are assholes,” Belphie retorts, his lip smarting where it was split.
“They are also experienced soldiers. That’s why we avoid them.”
“Lucifer says we shouldn’t turn from things we fear,” Beel says.
“I’m not afraid of them.” Belphie blinks back tears. From the impact, not because he’s crying.
“You also don’t have to run face-first into their fists.” Lilith smacks both of them on their shoulders, then wraps her arms around them. Beel has to bow, pulled down by her strength, which you’d never guess, and her short stature, which is obvious as daylight. “Now, how are we going to get back at them without any more busted lips or Michael finding out and punishing us?”
“It’s not your fight, Lil,” Beel objects.
“You’re not even supposed to fight any more, right?” Belphie asks. “Not in our realm?” Beel gives him a warning look. Lilith doesn’t like to talk about it, what Father had demanded of her. Even Belphie usually has the tact not to mention it. He tastes bitterness and his own blood.
“Oh, babe, they messed with my family.” She bares her teeth. The shine of her eyes is blinding. Her wings rustle at her back. “When it’s family, it’s always my fight.”
*
In the little room on the far side of the dream, Lilith turned and smiled at him over her shoulder. She mouthed his name, Belphegor, and smiled. His sister’s warmth in a human stranger’s face. He felt like crying. She petted Melody’s hair, and the dream-girl blinked languidly. This was Lilith’s doing, this room. When her human body had expired her soul – celestial, not fallen, but altered by her long humanity – had remained in the human realm, roaming. It was her spirit that protected the girl, shielding her from the pain she was in. He should have realized. This was too realistic to be a dream. It was a memory. The things happening on the other side of the twisted corridor – the caged girls, Melody in pain, the looming threats – these things were real, or they had been when the human was younger. That unsettled Belphie. He didn’t care about her, but no child should be in pain. And if Lilith was here, that meant…
In this human guise Lilith’s hair was dark, but not as dark as Melody’s. Her eyes were light, but not as light as Melody’s.
“Is she yours?” Belphie asked.
Ours, Lilith said soundlessly, and he felt the depth of the word, what it meant to his sister. Melody was her descendant, and probably one of the last from what they knew of Lilith’s human lifetime. Precious, but Lilith wasn’t as strong as she’d once been and, as a spirit, couldn’t protect her. The last of Lilith was inside of Melody, and someone was hurting her. And, of course, Lucifer knew. Anger built inside of him.
Belphie woke outside of his and Beel’s old rec room. The stone floor was gone, the cold, all that pain. This is Melody’s bedroom now. She was a woman now, not a helpless child. Lilith’s Melody. Lucifer’s Melody. Lucifer, who hoarded information like Mammon wishes he could hoard gold.
Sighing, Belphie let the anger roll around inside of him for a moment before he opened the door. She was in there though the bed was empty. He could still feel the pressure of the dream around her. Dragging his blanket, he circled the bed to find her on the floor, curled impossibly small, breathing so harshly she was almost panting. He fitted himself behind her, arranged his pillow beneath his head and his blanket over them both. He put his arms around her, breathing slow and deep as she trembled. He willed himself into sleep, running this time when he touched down in her pain dream, her memory haunting her even though she was safe, until he reached the last cell. Then he began dismantling it.
The cold became warmth. The floor became a soft meadow. The ceiling opened up to open, unlimited sky. Birds sang in the distant trees. The sky was twilight, soft blue and hazy violet. The air smelled sweet. He slid out of the dream, cozy in the small, warm space between the wall and bed, wrapped around the small, warm human. Melody’s tremors subsided. The noises catching in her throat became a soft sigh. She rolled toward him, limbs unclenching, and fell into a restful slumber.
Belphie petted her soft hair, like his sister had done, soothing her. He stared in the darkness and seethed.
Melody was already about a foot off the ground, heart frozen between beats, both hands clutched to her chest before she realized the startling noise was her door slamming against the wall.
Mammon stood in the doorway, grinning, hands on his hips.
“Not to worry, the Great Mammon has returned. Come on already. It’s time!”
Melody swallowed her heart back down and squeaked, “Time for what?”
“Payback!” He lifted his chin, as if challenging her to disagree. “Or are you tryin’ ta weasel out of our agreement?” “A-agreement?”
“Yep. It’s time for me to be reunited with my Goldie.” He sauntered into the room, blue eyes roaming.
Oh right. Their deal. The location of Lucifer’s safe in exchange for a pact. She could feel Mammon again, a little, this close. That casual glance over the surfaces of the room wasn’t curious, it was acquisitive. He was scanning for items of value, and wanting to find some.
“Did you just wake up? It’s afternoon, lazy bones. I got stuff to do, so let’s get going.”
Melody straightened her pajamas, making sure her camisole and shorts met to cover the pact mark – the Avatar of Greed’s mark, which was a whole thing she was ignoring – on her abdomen. She’d slept deeply and woken late, only having had time to put her blankets back on the bed, brush her teeth and wash her face. Mammon half led, half pushed her out the door.
Either she was hyper aware of him or the pact centered him in her awareness, because she felt his presence beside her, beyond his height and the thump of his boots against the floor. Power crackled brightly within him. His attention darted all around, back and forth. For the sheer volume of energy within and around him, his aura wasn’t overwhelming. It was almost like he was holding it in. It was considerate in a way.
“There’s no need to be nervous,” he said, glancing down at her. Because maybe she was trying to make herself smaller and all but tip-toeing down the hallway.
“I’m not used to sneaking around.”
“It’s my credit card. If anything, we shouldn’t be nervous about returning it to its rightful owner. Lucifer should feel ashamed that he took it from me!”
His words didn’t quite match the energy now spiking off of him. He was nervous, too. She wanted to bite her nails, or babble, or find a stiff drink, or run away, or-
This had to stop. She could deal with her own emotions. She couldn’t deal with both of theirs.
“Hey, Mammon…”
“Yeah.” He opened the door to the library, then whistled, his surprise making her freeze in place. “What the hell happened here?”
She peeked around him. The debris was cleaned up, and the wall and mezzanine had even been repaired. But half the bookshelves along that wall, on both floors, were missing. It still smelled of smoke and, now, a kind of bright and acrid construction smell.
“Someone attacked from the lake yesterday. Pirates, I guess? They blew a hole in the wall. Then the upper floor collapsed.” She gestured broadly. “Everything was on fire.”
“What a freaking mess this is! Some of those old tomes are valuable, too.” He paused. “What, how do you know all that? You weren’t in here were you?”
“I was reading.” She pointed upwards. The mezzanine looked bare without the iron railing.
Mammon turned on her. His focus sharpened, and she had the surreal sensation of seeing his attentive expression and feeling the arrow of his focus on her at the same time. “Were you hurt?”
“No. Satan protected me.”
“Satan? Satan protected you? My brother Satan? No, that’s no good. Why didn’t you call me?”
“I didn’t think you were home.”
“No, I mean call me. Summon me, for protection.” His eyes brightened, the blue flaring, the gold lighting up. He poked her shoulder, emphasizing his words. “You formed a pact for a reason, dummy.”
“Yeah, hey, about that…”
“I mean, you have to be careful, especially here. Or in the human realm. You have to be careful everywhere, actually, because you’re so damn fragile. But be careful who you trust, too. Never rely on Satan unless you’ve got a contract in triplicate from him. And even then make sure you’ve thought through the wording. He’s got his own agenda, and it’s got nothing to do with keeping you safe, believe me. Come on.”
But she’d felt safe, though. Safe…and other things.
Mammon yanked open the door to Lucifer’s study and Melody cringed.
“Shouldn’t we knock?”
“Don’t worry, he’s not here right now. But hurry up. I’m busy, remember.”
Melody stepped lightly across the hardwood and carpet, not because she wasn’t allowed in the study but because Lucifer hated bad manners more than almost anything. And she was about to help his little brother be a delinquent and steal from him. Swallowing the suggestion that they just forget about it, she stopped in front of the sideboard.
“Don’t go back on your word now, human,” Mammon warned but there was no bite to his tone.
“I’m not.” Going up on her toes she leaned over the sideboard, stretching past the fancy crystal decanters full of expensive liquor – it would be just her luck to break one while being an accessory to theft – to swipe the illusion away. It was a small spell but not simple. It rippled beneath her fingertips, like a heatwave given form until she was able focus enough to grasp it.
“Huh,” Mammon said, anticipation writhing in him like a living thing. “That’s what he used to hide it?”
“Yeah, the spell isn’t trying to hide it. It’s trying to make you think there’s nothing important here.” She pushed off the sideboard with her fingertips, stretching the last inch to pull the magical layer firmly aside.
“Huh,” Mammon said again, but his aura was muddled, heavier.
Melody dropped back onto her heels and blinked in disbelief. A neat hole was carved into the wall where, previously there had been a sleek, black safe. Rather than housing valuables, it held only a short stack of shiny grimm coins. They seemed to wink at her. It was a very malicious wink. Melody huffed.
“I guess it’s not here anymore.” She turned to Mammon sheepishly. “It was, I promise. The safe, with the credit cards.”
“Yeah.” His laugh sounded like a cough. His face was a little red as his gaze darted to the hole in the wall, then her face, then off to the side. “Lucifer’s sneaky like that.”
“So…” A pact was a big deal for a demon, and an intimate thing. Levi had said Mammon would come running to have it removed, but he hadn’t. He hadn’t even been home for almost two days. Maybe he needed a push. How could she approach this without making him angry or offending him? “I didn’t fulfill my side of the deal. So, do you want to maybe break the pact?”
Mammon went rigid. The muddle of feelings he was projecting darkened. “What?”
“I mean, that was the deal and I didn’t come through on my side. You shouldn’t feel obligated to keep-”
“I’m keeping it,” he said in a rush.
“You…what?”
“I’m keeping it. The deal was that you showed me where the safe was. I wasn’t expectin’ ya to hand over the cards, or for Lucifer to wait around for you to show it to me. You did your part.”
“Okay, but…I mean. If you want to break it-”
“Nope. Don’t.”
“It’s not bothering you?” she asked, not understanding his stubbornness. Demons hated pacts with humans. “Feeling what I’m feeling?”
“Unless you’re feelin’ impatient and a little hungry, I’m not getting much from you so it’s no bother.”
“Okay, well.” She stared at her hands, feeling again the echo of the mark burning into her skin. “I have to say that I find it a little uncomfortable.”
“You…you…” His sputtering died off for a second, and his emotional muddle became frantic. It made Melody squirm as Mammon’s hands began waving agitatedly. “You’re sayin’ you don’t feel honored, blessed even, that you got the Avatar of Greed to agree to lend you his power? Just ‘cause you didn’t think to call on me doesn’t mean the pact is worthless. Any human would kill for this. Lots have offered to!”
“No, no.” She grabbed his hand to stop his rant. “I appreciate it. I do. I know that a connection to you is valuable, Mammon. But I didn’t think you even wanted it and it’s…well, it’s weird to feel what you’re feeling. Okay? I don’t know if it’s demon emotions or you, but it’s a lot.”
His hand clamped tight around hers, but his words came out quiet and a little high. “Y-you’re feeling what I’m feeling?”
She chanced a glance at him, and felt herself start to blush when he flushed redder. His eyes widened when he saw the color in her cheeks, then he smashed them shut. His jaw tightened around a growling mutter.
His aura twisted, contracted. Then the feel of him disappeared.
“Oh!” Melody startled, stepping back. His hand slid out of hers.
He cracked one eye and squinted at her. “Is that better?”
“Yeah.” She smiled, feeling clearer than she had all day. “What did you do?”
“Turned it off, I guess? I’m not big on magic workings.” He shrugged. “So, you’ll keep it? Now that I’m not bothering you?”
“You weren’t bothering me. It was just a lot.”
“Yeah, well I got a lot on my mind. Lots of responsibilities, and deals going. Real complicated ones. All kinds of angles and characters I gotta be aware of. And lots of other…of other people that I’m thinking about and stuff. So it’s not like this one pact is on my mind all the time or anything. And, you know, you’re just one little human.”
“Yeah.” She smiled at his bluster. “I get it.”
“But, uh…” He rubbed a hand against the back of his neck. “Will you show it to me again?”
Melody raised her eyebrows, confused. “Show you what?”
“My mark.”
Oh. Both of their gazes dropped to her hand, now pressed protectively over her pelvic bone. He must have seen it when she was stretching to reach. His mark, not the pact mark. Melody swallowed, the heat in her face solely due to her own feelings.
Watching him closely – somehow, in five seconds, it had become inconvenient not to know what he was feeling – she pushed her camisole up and, with her thumb, slid her shorts down an inch.
He did nothing but look, for a long moment, at the gilded markings. Then he took a breath and flapped a hand at her as though wanting her to cover up. As though the mark was unsightly, or embarrassing. Fighting the urge to hunch or run away, she slid her clothes back into place.
“Alright, human. Now that that’s all settled, you should buy me lunch.”
Melody blinked at the change in topic, his breezy tone. Maybe her wearing his insignia was only weird, not meaningful. “I can’t even leave the house.”
“You can make me something then.” “Oh.” Her mouth twisted down.
“Can’t you cook?”
“I can. I totally can! Or…I can learn?”
“Oi, I don’t want to be experimented upon.” He started for the door. Melody hastily shoved the illusion back into place and followed. “You can at least serve me lunch. It was Levi’s turn to cook today so the food should be pretty good.”
“Okay.”
They peeked into the library, as if Lucifer would be standing there, glowering, his disappointment worse than his anger (but the anger would be bad, too).
“But put on some clothes first,” Mammon demanded. “You can’t go traipsin’ around the house barely dressed.”
Melody plucked at the hem of her shirt. “You literally pulled me out of my room like this.”
“Yeah, well, that was before.”
“Before what?”
He glanced back at her, and she swore the felt the pact mark heat up.
“Just hurry up before Beel eats all the good stuff.”
The repairs on the house could be completed by nightfall. Lucifer scowled at the message that preceded the extensive cost estimate, then typed out a short response. Repairs would need to be delayed for several days while he erected stronger wards, broader shields against not only demonic magic but weapons, human weapons, and natural catastrophes. If Melody lived in this house – outside of the protections of a stasis box – it needed to better protected.
When she lived there. Married. To one of his brothers. It had been six days since the secret of her had gotten out and Diavolo had given his ultimatum. Time was running short.
Lucifer rose from his desk, sealing his work beneath an obfuscation spell and nasty trap as he started for the House of Lamentation. He would determine the scope of the warding to be done, catch a few hours of sleep, then attend to the chore he’d been assigned for the evening. It was undesirable but not entirely unwelcome. Being home the last few days had been…unproductive. When she was awake, Melody required a small measure of his focus at all times. It was easier to passively guard her while she slept. Easier, and less frustrating. His brothers talked about her, asked about her, made plans around her then asked his thoughts on those plans. Satan had made trouble. Beel had withdrawn from the deal. Asmodeus had only this morning declared her was just getting started.
From outside the house, Lucifer could make out the dark scars left in the walls from the attack, the stone rubble piled some distance away. Ambient frissons in the atmosphere around the walls told of secret eyes. Their many enemies waiting, always watching for a weakness. Lucifer raised his chin, marching up the drive past the gnarled weeping trees and crumbling gravestones. The prior owners had left the grave markers, and since there were no ghosts or revenants haunting them, he’d allowed them to remain. But clearly they were more decorative than deterrent. Perhaps he should put a few heads on pikes. It was an older tactic, brutal, but it tended to make an impression.
Entering the house he heard shouts, felt flares of power signaling a skirmish. As if the house wasn’t damaged enough. Pinching the bridge of his nose, Lucifer sighed. Perhaps those heads should belong to some of the residents of this house. They were strong enough to survive a short-term decapitation, probably.
He could knock out a quick solution, establish peace, and rest. The idea almost caused him to laugh at himself. Apparently even centuries of living alongside literal Hell hadn’t cured him of a final, fitful sliver of optimism.
“Why,” he asked, entering the dining room to pour himself a cup of coffee, “can’t you keep the arguments away from the dining table?”
Levi leaned over the table. Satan faced him from the other side, arms folded. Asmo sat beside him, spooning red berries out of a martini glass into his mouth.
“I tried to tell them, Lucifer,” he said, sounding terribly weary. Theatrically weary. “They simply wouldn’t listen to me.”
“Shut up, Asmo,” Levi snarled. “And you shut up too, Satan. This crap you’re saying is boring! And stupid! And boring!”
“I don’t know. I found it fairly interesting,” Asmo said, fiddling with his silverware. “Why don’t you share with Lucifer what you’ve just told us?”
Lucifer halted at the head of the table. Satan turned. His hands dropped to his sides, immediately clenching into fists. Flashes of green sparked in his eyes. Lucifer sipped his coffee. He raised an eyebrow.
Asmodeus poked his elbow into Satan’s side but his gaze didn’t rise from the table. He didn’t usually instigate unless a situation involved his station, but Satan didn’t look anywhere close to lustful at the moment. Asmo also didn’t side against Lucifer unless he had a very good reason. A livid Satan throwing information around and angering Levi, and Asmo prodding him to share the information that had them so riled up? Well, they had spent days with Melody now, and Satan had always been good at figuring out spellwork. It was only a matter of time. Lucifer set his cup and saucer on the table.
“Is there something you’d like to say?”
“There is,” a voice answered, but it came from the hallway.
Lucifer moved his gaze to Belphie and Beel, but kept his attention on Satan.
“And what is that?”
Beel picked up a plate and began scooping food onto it.
“C’mon, Belphie,” he chided. “Have something to eat. You’ll feel better.”
Belphie looked tired. Not slow and sleepy like normal. He marched past his brother. Dark half moons bruised his eyes which blazed, fuchsia lighting beneath his messy hair. Anger sat unpleasantly on his youngest brother’s face.
“Why didn’t you tell us, Lucifer? Do you love secrets more than you love your family?”
Alas, even anger could not remove his passive-aggressive tendencies.
“You look sleep-deprived, little brother, and sound it as well. You’ll have to explain your meaning.”
“Melody.”
“The little human?” Mammon asked, shouldering through the door. He grabbed an apple from a bowl and tossed it from hand to hand. “What about her?”
“She’s one of us.” Belphie stopped beside Lucifer, glaring up at him. “A descendant of Lilith.”
If a pin had dropped it would have sounded like an explosion, the room went so silent.
“Ah.” Well. He hadn’t expected that to come out on its own. Lucifer unbuttoned his jacket and sat. “Yes, she is. There, you’re aware. What’s happening now is hardly related.”
“That’s all you have to say?” Belphie demanded. “You let her be tortured by humans. You didn’t do anything to help her, and you didn’t tell us so we could.”
“Tortured?” Beel rumbled. The dishware rattled on the table.
“We don’t interfere with Lilith’s human line,” Lucifer said. “For their safety. That has always been the arrangement.”
“And yet you had her in a box, frozen for years,” Belphie spat. “How is that not interference? There are always rules for the rest of us, never for you. I walked her memories from childhood. She wasn’t safe. Lilith was there, her spirit, trying to shield Melody from her pain. Why did you let that happen?”
“Maybe he didn’t let it happen,” Satan said, malice in every syllable. “Maybe he was part of it.”
Lucifer stood, his chair scraping against the hardwood from the force of the movement. He just managed to keep his aura from flaring. Yes, he kept secrets, to protect. Yes, he knew at some point they would figure some things out, and that he would need to face them. This rank conjecture was a step too far.
“Whoa.” Mammon raised his hands placatingly. “Let’s not go flinging accusations around. Why don’t we each just say what we know. Facts, not suppositions. Lucifer, why don’t you-”
“I know,” Satan snapped, “that big brother Lucifer hexed her to forget, to hide and confuse her memories. That he hexed her so that she doesn’t feel fear when she should. She doesn’t even know when she should protect herself.”
“Is that true?” Beel demanded, his body expanding as he melded into his demon form.
“I saw her after the attack yesterday,” Asmo murmured, talking to his hands. “She was trapped with Satan under half a house of debris, and she was behaving like she didn’t have a care in the world. That’s not normal for a human.”
“It makes me wonder what he does to her that he needs to take her memories and render her docile.” Satan turned on Lucifer, his poisonous green aura snapping around him. “Care to tell us?”
“I will take your questions in order but I will not respond to reprehensible accusations.”
“Wait, wait, wait. I don’t… So Melody can’t control her own thoughts and can’t access her own memories?” Levi asked plaintively. “And you did that to her?”
“Levi, stop,” Lucifer said, something constricting painfully in his chest as he spied the small form hovering in the doorway.
“Can she make a real decision in a state like that? Can she?” Levi’s voice went high and loud. “We can’t let this deal continue. How is she supposed to choose someone to marry if she doesn’t even know what she wants, or if she's afraid of us?”
The small gasp had them all turning.
Melody’s eyes were huge.
“M-married?” she squeaked. “Who’s g-getting married?”
“You are,” Belphie drawled. “Lucifer needs to marry you off in a few days to buy himself a pass out of trouble, but he’s fogged your mind so you can’t think straight. Probably haven’t been able to for years. Also you can’t control your own emotions. Oh, and you’re our dead sister’s descendant. Care to join us for lunch?”
“Leave her alone, Belphie.” Mammon turned toward her. “Don’t listen to him, Melody. There’s…there’s something weird going on but we’ll get it sorted out.”
“No, don’t listen to anyone.” Satan raised his hands. “Listen to your own feelings, for once.”
He muttered a handful of words, a cursebreaker spell.
“No!” Lucifer reached with his power, trying to get to her first, working to restrain himself so he didn’t push her too far.
He didn’t make it.
Satan clenched his fist, tearing Lucifer’s careful spells right out of her.
Melody hunched as though she’d been punched. She choked out a painful sound. Her head rose, chin trembling, panicked gaze fixing on Lucifer.
“No,” she whispered.
“It’s all right.” He inched toward her, barely aware of his own body as he summoned power, shaped it. “Let it out, Melody.”
“C-can’t. I can’t.”
“Don’t hold it in.” When she shook her head, he snapped, “Don’t even think about trying to contain it. Let it out. I’ll do the rest.”
“What the fuck?” Mammon stiffened, his aura expanding. Lightning ran down his chest and torso, leaving white lines behind as his demon wings snapped outward from his body.
The second had made a pact with her. Lucifer hoped it would help.
Melody’s hands spread wide. Her head tilted back, tendons in her neck tight as she gritted her teeth, still fighting to keep everything inside. Lucifer kept advancing, putting himself between her and his brothers. White fire flared in the center of her chest, ran from her hands, sprayed from beneath her closed eyelids.
In demonic form, Lucifer snapped shields up. One around his brothers. Another around Melody. A third formed, rising from deep within the ground, forming a dome around the house, but so slowly. He pushed, needing it to seal more quickly. Needing to keep this one last, largest secret from the devils all around them.
Protect, protect, protect.
Power erupted out of her, a human body never meant to contain a force such as this. It slammed into the shields, the impact smashing against his mind, a great, devouring beast. He would not let it through. It clawed and burned, snapped and screamed. Mammon joined him, his shields jagged but tenacious, reinforcing the shields around Melody and the others. Belphie and Beel’s rose together, thin but interwoven in a way that had always made them stronger together. Satan, Levi and Asmo joined together.
The power raged, an almost sentient maelstrom of destruction. The table caught fire. The planks of the floor curled and snapped. Melody writhed within a column of white fire.
Lucifer siphoned the force away as quickly as he dared. He could sense that Mammon was doing something as well, and it was helping. A measure of the force drew away toward him.
And finally – despite being built for destruction it knew better than to completely destroy its own vessel – the fire darkened, sputtered, and went out.
Lucifer staggered, his vision dark around the edges.
Mammon shouted, leapt and flew around the room before skidding into a landing and running to Melody. Levi arrived just after him, unsteady on his feet. They lifted her gently, touched her gently.
“She’s breathing,” Levi cried out.
Mammon raised his head from her chest. “Her heart’s beating.”
Lucifer took a breath of his own. Melody was alive. His brothers were all standing. The shield around the house was paper thin but the power hadn’t leaked out. He closed his eyes, exhaling through a raw throat. If he gave a shit about gods, he would have offered his thanks. Since this was the fault of a god, he didn’t deserve anything.
“What was that?” Belphie demanded, pushing up from the floor. “We know that power.”
Lucifer had wanted a weapon. He had wanted a weapon because he was tired of leading his soldiers into battle and carrying them back out. He would enforce any of his Father’s decrees, but he didn’t want to do it at the expense of his soldiers, of his family.
But you had to be careful what you wished for, with Father. For he gave, but in ways you might wish he had not.
Lucifer had asked for a weapon, and Lilith had missed her first patrol in over a century. Then she had missed the next, and the next, thirty-three patrols in all before she had been returned to them. Lilith had previously been caught sneaking off to the human world. She’d been reprimanded and reminded of the protocols. Don’t interfere. Don’t interact. She had humbly apologized, readily agreed, then gone straight back to the human realm. She had fallen in love with humans, and was in the process of falling in love with one human in particular.
Lucifer had wanted a weapon so that his soldiers didn’t have to hurt so badly.
Raphael, never a fan of Father’s “lesser” creations, had wanted wayward angels permanently segregated from humans, punished and made to heel.
They both got their wishes and, in doing so, had stolen Lilith’s. The force Father had infused her with was so powerful it could level empires. It was so precious she couldn’t be allowed to leave the Celestial Realm unless an archangel chose to take her. There would be no more patrols. No more battles unless Lucifer, Michael or Raphael took her to end them. No more human realm. No more freedom, no more love. And while Lucifer had not anticipated this result, he had been a part of what was done to her.
“You knew she was a descendant of Lilith,” Lucifer said, answering Belphie’s question, but he was talking to Satan who had the sense, for once, to keep quiet. “And you knew what Lilith’s power was.”
“Lilith was the first Devastation,” Beel said. He stared at the floor, glassy-eyed, one hand on Belphie’s back.
“She held the power to cleanse planets of kings and realms of kingdoms, to destroy entire worlds if Father ordered it.”
“It was the cruelest power to give to someone like her,” Belphie said. His voice, usually soft, was shaky. “A punishment they called a gift.”
“It was why he would not let her leave. Why she could not be permitted to love anyone else, lest she take the weapon with her. This power was never meant to leave his control.”
“But her descendants are not Devastations,” Beel murmured, brow furrowing as he recovered from his stupor. “Any power that remained after her reincarnation as a human was…what’s the word?”
“Residual.” Levi directed a dense cloud of mist he’d conjured to extinguish the fires. “Otherwise the angels could have sensed it in the human realm and they would have gone after her. That was how she was able to hide, to live a life.”
Asmo helped Mammon arrange Melody on a cushioned bench that had somehow survived. Beel had found it somewhere, dragged it in to give Belphie a place to sleep while they ate. The wooden floor was shattered and warped. The wallpaper had melted away from the walls and hung limply. The table continued to smoke. Mammon fluffed the thin cushion, straightened the hem of Melody’s sweater, and pressed his palm to her forehead.
“How warm are humans supposed to be?” he demanded. “How many times do they breathe in a minute? Gimme your watch, Asmo.”
“Nice try, scumbag.” His voice was thin and high with nerves. “I’m not giving you my watch. She’s not too hot. This breathing looks normal.”
Melody’s chest rose and fell shallowly. She had survived yet another thing she should not have to endure. Lucifer closed his eyes. His head ached fiercely. The effort it had taken to contain and disguise the power, then pull the brunt of its force to him and strip it of its destructive power, had drained him as much as a days-long battle.
None of them was dead. The house had not collapsed. And her power had not escaped his shields and alerted the demons that a catastrophic Celestial power hid in the center of their realm, a threat to them all. It had not alerted Diavolo to the ongoing insubordination of the advisor he trusted, the failed angel he still proclaimed a friend. As ever, things could be worse.
“Lilith was only one side of her family,” he said, speaking calmly, evenly. He did not want them suspecting the toll this had taken on him. “Humans have two parents.”
“She was fathered by a Nephilim?” Satan wasn’t loud but his voice grated. Mammon and Levi stared daggers. Asmo scoffed and marched straight out of the room.
Satan was not impulsive. His efforts to undermine Lucifer were practically one-man conspiracies. He had intended for the broken hex to damage Lucifer’s standing in his brothers’ eyes. Injuring them or damaging Melody was acceptable collateral damage if he achieved that goal. Almost distantly, Lucifer felt flames kindle in his eyes. The blond demon shifted uneasily. Satan was the Avatar of Wrath, but he was still only a byproduct of Lucifer’s anger.
“Nephilim were half-angel, half-human. Most retained a fraction of their Celestial powers, but they diluted quickly, reducing with each subsequent generation. No Nephilim in a millennium has held this much power. Only those weak enough to hide from the angels and demons hunting them have survived.”
“Others fell.” Belphie mused then he startled, making Beel jerk beside him. It was unusual for his smaller brother to move so quickly.
“Other angels fell,” Belphie said, gaining certainty. “Not all landed here. Some escaped to the human realm, finding ways to obscure their powers. Her other parent would have had to be an angel for this to happen. Right?”
“What line?” Satan’s natural curiosity was fast overwhelming any good sense he might have left. “The Devastation power is all or nothing. The ability to destroy on a massive scale is the power. There is no gradient. The seed of Devastation could have lain dormant in Lilith’s line until additional power catalyzed it. Angelic power, not a Nephilim. But what line? Michael’s?”
“I do not know.”
“How could a runaway angel remain hidden in the human realm?” Asmo asked, returning with a pale pink blanket. “I see nearly as many angels as I see demons there when I go up, they send so many to monitor humankind and each other. Did it fall recently?”
“I do not know.”
“How could you not know?” Satan demanded. “That is a significant detail when harboring a weapon of mass destruction.”
Lucifer’s aura flared.
“She’s not a weapon, you ass!” Levi’s mist cloud erupted into a downpour.
“Stop behaving like infants,” Asmo screeched, “we’ve had enough destruction for one day!”
“Yeah, shut yer trap, Satan.” Mammon was jerky, pacing and gesturing broadly, still in his demonic form despite rarely assuming it and never at home. The hit he’d taken from Melody’s power didn’t seem to have tired or bruised him. In fact, he appeared energized, vivified. “You’re the last person who should be makin’ demands right about now.”
“If he knew, he would have to tell Diavolo,” Belphie said, amethyst eyes dark as they locked onto Lucifer. “You didn’t investigate, did you? Because if you had, if you’d confirmed, you would have to report her lineage to Diavolo.”
“But how could you keep that hidden, Lucifer?” Beel pushed slowly to his feet as if every centimeter of his body was sore. He pulled Belphie up, wrapped an arm around him when he swayed. “After Father changed her, you could sense Lilith’s approach at a distance. People used to run before she arrived, her aura was so terrifying to them. Melody just feels nice.”
“With a powerful curse to hide the signs of her power.” Lucifer’s jaw ached from tension. He jealously guarded his secrets, even from his brothers. In this case, especially from his brothers. “One hex to dull her sense of fear, though not enough to endanger her. Just enough to give me time to intervene. Another that kept frightening and disturbing memories at bay. The power manifests when she’s scared, and she has endured things that humans should never experience. The memories alone are enough to set her off. They arise often when she sleeps, worse than nightmares. Attempting to frighten her could have dire consequences.” Satan averted his eyes. “Lastly, I kept her in stasis in a cursed box that protected her and slowed the growth of her power.” Asmo whined.
“You did all of that to protect her?” Belphie’s tone was so flat it was barely a question. He slid his fingers along the seam of his pillowcase, a self-soothing motion. “For all this time?”
“Yes.”
“Out of what? Respect for our sister’s memory?”
“Because Lilith told Melody to call on me if she was in danger, that I would protect her. I would not break her word.”
“She told her descendants to call you.” Belphie gazed down at the small human under her pale blanket, apparently absorbing the news that his triplet hadn’t given his name to those she cared for. Absorbing, but not reacting with the old bitterness that often came of talking about Lilith. “She told me Melody was ours. Ours to protect.”
“What?” Beel asked. “When?”
“Last night, in Melody’s memory. Her spirit didn’t pass on. She was an angel first. Then an angel stripped of power and memory, placed in a human body. But she never fell. Part of her remains in the human realm, and maybe as a spirit she remembers more of what she was, or her powers returned to her to some extent once she was free from that human body. She made a dream for Melody, to protect her. I saw her, in the dream, but she spoke to me in the now.”
“But how could Melody never have been discovered in the human realm,” Levi asked. “With all this power?”
She may have been. It was a thread that had dangled in front of Lucifer for years but, tempting as it was to track down those who had hurt her, if he followed it he would put them all in a worse situation. But it may have been why Melody had been selected as a sacrifice, because some human mage sensed the force within her even if he had no concept of what it was. Lucifer was never going to watch the light dwindle in one of his own again, not after seeing what the power and limitations had done to Lilith. If someone came after Melody, seeking to use her or force her to use that power again…he would kill them, repeatedly.
“The power adapted to her humanity. A human vessel isn’t meant to hold it, but the power is inextinguishable. It was carried through Lilith’s line, an ember they were unaware of, until new power joined it and blew it back into a flame. She was strong for a human with magic, but she was not a Devastation when she called to me. She was too young, too weak, for the power to fully manifest. I believe it grew with her over time.”
“Why didn’t you just tell us why she couldn’t go back to the human world?” Asmo asked. “Why she needed to be kept in that stupid box?”
“Plausible deniability,” Mammon chimed in. “If he was found to be harboring one of the Celestial Realm’s most-feared weapons, but we didn’t know about it, we might have been spared a share of his punishment.”
“Of course you’d be aware of the ramifications of the crime,” Asmo said, without heat. “Such a scumbag.”
“And of course Lucifer was protecting us all this time for ‘our own good’ or whatever.” Belphie clutched his pillow tightly as he wandered along the least treacherous path along the ruined floor toward the door. “This is all very tiring. I’m taking a nap.”
Beel poked the table, then looked mournful when half of it collapsed. “Anyone want take out burgers for dinner?”
“Sounds good to me.” Mammon rolled his shoulders then shuddered. His horns and wings retreated. Street clothes morphed and flowed over him, including that ridiculous colorblock leather jacket he loved. He took his glasses off and polished them on the hem of his t-shirt. “I can probably get us a deal on a new table before morning. The chairs might not match.”
Relief registered in Lucifer’s aching brain, in the bruised center of his chest. They knew. They knew the secrets he had kept and the crimes he had committed for decades. And it changed nothing between them.
“Is she…is she going to sleep for a long time?” Levi asked, watching Melody.
Asmodeus’s eyes widened and turned on Lucifer who stifled a sigh. He had not been looking forward to tonight, but not because of this near-catastrophe. No, of course there was another trial yet to nagivate.
“I contained the burst, but it will have been felt,” Lucifer said in a commanding tone. “I’m sure the royal guards will be arriving imminently to determine what happened. Levi assess the front door and foyer. Repair them superficially at least. Beel, check the perimeter and make sure the front walk is intact. Call Belphie to any broken wards so that he can repair them.”
“I can do that,” Satan said.
“Why don’t you take up a good book and sit this one out,” Lucifer said. It was not a suggestion. “I think you’ve done enough.”
Satan leaned forward, his expression a warning. He looked around, seeking support. Levi stared at the ground, shaking his head. Mammon crossed his arms and studied the peeling walls. Asmo covered his eyes with his fingertips. Beel cracked his knuckles. The Avatar of Wrath bared his teeth, but he wasn’t stupid.
“Fine. I…I’ll clean up in here.”
“Asmodeus.” Lucifer inclined his head toward the still figure on the bench. “If you would, please prepare her.”
“You mean, wake her up and get her dressed?”
“She will be disoriented, and raw after her protections were removed.” Beel actually began growling. Satan had the good graces to look sheepish if not ashamed. “Do whatever you need to help her endure this evening.”
“I’ll take care of her,” Asmo purred, sliding his arms beneath Melody, still wrapped in his blanket. Lucifer had to check the impulse to snatch her from his arms. Accepting this invitation had been a bad idea before all of this occurred.
“Wait,” Mammon asked as Levi looked startled, “what’s happening this evening?”
“Didn’t you hear? Lord Diavolo invited our Melody to a party at his castle.” Asmo grinned with delight. “And I’m her date!”
Melody sat on a plush stool in front of a bright, illuminated mirror, surrounded by roses. The Avatar of Lust’s hands were gentle in her hair, on her face and throat.
The power inside of her burned hot but, when it activated – exploding through the layers of control she’d built around it over the years – it always left her feeling cold.
“Nobody got hurt?” she asked.
“No, still nobody got hurt,” Asmo said, and by his tone she figured she’d already asked. Repeatedly. “Let’s move on, shall we? There’s nothing to be worried about. Nobody got hurt. Nobody outside of this house even knows what happened. There, all good. Let’s move on to more pressing matters.”
She hadn’t hurt anyone because Lucifer had contained it. He had, once again, swept up and bottled all that gleeful destruction with his own power, his own body. He was so strong, but that power was also strong.
Her next breath hitched on its way out, close to a sob, and Asmo turned up the intensity of the calming effect he was laying over her, as intangible as the makeup he’d painted her with was tangible.
“Let’s focus on something more pleasing! You look like a princess,” he crooned. “A beautiful, beautiful princess.”
Her eyes met his in the mirror. He smiled, sweet and reassuring, a tease in the tilt of his lips. Her eyebrows arched enticingly. Her cheeks flushed daintily. Her lips were invitingly plump. Her eyelashes were thick and black and a mile long around bright, light eyes that held nothing but confusion.
“I don’t understand this,” Melody said.
The sleek fabric of her dress slid beneath her fingertips. Her hair was artfully coiled around her face, leaving her neck bare. Her shoulders and arms were nearly bare as well, her skin all but glowing, and she wasn’t sure if that was from the delicious-smelling products Asmo had slathered and sprayed her with, or if it had something to do with him. She wanted to be curled up in a dark room, layered in blankets, not playing dress up while her thoughts continued to scatter each time she tried to pull them together.
“When the demon prince invites you to a dinner party, it’s not actually an invitation.” Asmo swiped gloss over her lips, highlighter across her brow bones. “It’s more like an order.”
She shook her head. “Why me?”
“Because he’s polite, even to unexpected guests. This is a high honor, believe me. It’s also the best public place for you in the Devildom if you have to be exposed. Demon factions that would laugh if the House of Lamentation were to crumble asked that you be brought out so they could ‘verify’ the subject of the House petition. They call it a formality, but it’s a challenge, one we cannot let pass.” His smile didn’t falter, but it sharpened. The warmth of his eyes cooled. “Do not pass out in awe at meeting Lord Diavolo. Do not pass out from fear at meeting the other guests. They will try to scare you, buy you, overwhelm and tempt you. So long as you can keep yourself conscious, I’ll take care of the rest.”
“Because you’re…” No more words came, and this time it wasn’t because her thoughts were a thousand bats and birds finding an open window. It always took time to pull herself together after the power inside of her manifested. But tonight… What she’d discovered before she erupted was, somehow, even more disorienting.
“Your date,” Asmo chirped as though it pleased him greatly. He straightened, fluffing the cuffs of the cream blouse billowing beneath his tailored black suit coat. Rather than looking androgynous, it somehow looked both very feminine and very masculine. Meanwhile she looked like someone had skillfully painted a very tired doll and put it in a million-dollar dress.
“My date.” Melody stood, wary of the thin heels she wore.
“Now, my dear.” Asmo stood close behind her, so that she could feel the heat of his body, smell the tantalizing scent that had been growing stronger the longer she’d been in his room with him. “Remember our performance. I am the Avatar of Lust. You are a human. Of course you are overwhelmed and besotted by me, and I find you enchanting and criminally cute.”
She stared balefully up at him. “Will anyone believe that?”
He wrapped a fur stole around her shoulders, wrapped her arm around his, and led her out of his room and through the house. Lucifer was gone. She could feel his absence like thirst.
“The part about you falling for me?” He laughed. “You would have caught my eye at a café or a club, maybe a designer fashion show or a perfume house. Maybe you wore something unusual that I simply had to inquire about, or moved in a way I found enticing. Then you said something witty and I laughed. I complimented you and you blushed. We both felt the connection.”
She could see it, a scene playing out in her mind like a movie or a dream, feel the impulse to bow her head shyly even though she wanted to speak to him more. The walls of the art gallery were white, the paintings as lifelike as photographs, artful black and white nudes. The other guests faded into the background. They both held flutes of champagne. The bubbles sparkled, but not as much as Asmodeus. He was so graceful, so beautiful, yet somehow still so manly. He would be domineering, which she loved.
Where had that thought come from? Melody frowned.
He would be gentle, which she loved.
Was that the sort of thing she loved? Her body was made of pins and needles. Her head felt murky, her face almost numb. She ran a hand over it. Asmo caught her wrist.
“Don’t. You’ll ruin your makeup.”
He would be exciting, which she loved.
Exciting like…adventurous? She’d once watched a documentary of freeclimbing, people basically crawling vertically up these massive stone cliffs with almost no ropes or grips. It was insane. Her heart had been in her throat the entire time. She couldn’t imagine Asmo doing that.
Asmo sighed, sounding very put out.
“You’re not making this easy.”
The images cleared. There was no art gallery. They were in the back of a car. When had they gotten in a car? Asmo scowled at her as she looked around for her champagne glass, afraid she’d spilled it. There was no champagne.
“My hypnosis should make you feel calm and besotted, even rapturous. Why isn’t it working?”
She blinked then turned one hand palm up, too tired to shrug properly. “Are you trying?”
“Yes I’m trying!” he screeched, making her jump.
Alarm flared and she was too exhausted to reason her way through it. Then Lucifer’s power woke, that usually quiet reserve that lived just inside her skin, always present even though it wasn’t a part of her. She took a shuddering breath as cool reassurance rolled through her. Asmo rolled his eyes.
“Of course he wouldn’t let you… Fine, Lucifer. Fine. Assign me an impossible task. As if this week hasn’t been hard enough already. I had a stress pimple. Me! For three days!”
Asmo peered out the dark window at the darkness outside muttering to himself. Melody twisted her fingers together, afraid to touch any part of her face or body for fear it would be the Avatar of Lust’s final straw. She couldn’t make out anything but vague, looming shadows outside.
“Okay.” He clapped his hands together and rounded on her. “We’re going to have to do this manually.”
He leaned forward, half intent and half pouting, which made him look like a menacingly bratty kid with poreless skin. “Manual”, from the Latin, meant “done by hand”. Melody leaned away.
“What?”
“Look, I get that you’re all power-addled and have lived a – literally – sheltered life. But powerful demons will be trying to humiliate Lucifer – and me – by seducing or eating you in front of us. With your hexes removed, you will freak out and not be able to resist or stay sane and will probably, as Levi would say, go apeshit. Or pee yourself. Or both. None of those options is acceptable.”
“I won’t-”
“You will. I nearly did a dozen times when I first arrived, and I had power and my brothers with me.” He raised a shapely finger between them. “I didn’t, mind you. Don’t go telling anyone I did.”
“I won’t tell anyone you went apeshit.”
“Good, so-”
“Or peed yourself.”
Asmo’s eyes narrowed. A slight furrow appeared between his eyebrows. Melody bit her lips to keep from telling him about it. He looked like he was on the verge of getting mad or, worse, screeching again, and she didn’t think he’d appreciate the insinuation that he might be forming a wrinkle.
“Don’t worry.” Asmo smiled, his eyes lightening. Even his nail polish seemed to glow. “I’ll make it pretty.”
“Make wh-”
The words he spoke disappeared under a thrum of power and what looked suspiciously like tiny fireworks and confetti made of magic. A burn lit the skin of her lower back and she hissed at the harsh sensation. Harsh, but familiar.
Oh.
The car slid to a stop. Outside, people-shaped things moved toward the car.
Asmo tossed his hair back and winked at her. Power slithered up her spine and the air in the small space filled with the scent of roses.
“There, Melody Vale. We’ve formed a pact. You’re welcome.”
The mark on the lower left side of her abdomen began to burn as if in response.
“Stay out of it, scumbag,” Asmo snapped. “You weren’t even invited.”
The door opened from the outside and a massive gray hand reached into the car. Her power fluttered before a wash of calm went through her. Artificial calm. Asmo smiled gently.
“See? I’ve got you. There’s nothing to worry about. We’ll get through tonight, and the next few days, and everything will be right as rain. Just be a good girl for me, Melody.” He set his hand in the monstrous one, which seemed out of character, and stepped from the car. Howls and shrieks peeled through the dark night outside and Asmo laughed as though delighted. He turned back to her, offering his mostly human-appearing hand. The nails were a little sharp. “Try not to let my fans bother you, my dear. After all, I only have eyes for you.”
He winked. His every gesture, every word, every chemical manipulation, was a performance. But they were performing for a reason. Some convoluted demonic reason, but it was a reason nonetheless. And as the weakest performer among them, she needed to do her part.
Sucking in a fortifying breath, she exited the protection of the car. The mid-level demon that had helped Asmo out was twenty feet tall, with a square grey head that looked like a hammerhead shark had a baby with a slab of concrete. Fine. Small, black devils with pointed tails carried paper lanterns on red sticks, beckoning them along an ascending stone path toward the looming castle. She was probably going to break her ankle. Something massive swam through the clouds above the castle, its foreboding aura all but daring someone to make its day. That…that she couldn’t even think about. The guests ahead of them slithered, skittered and sashayed. The sound of spoken Daemonish grated against her ears and made her teeth ache. The translation charm Asmo had affixed to her bodice like a brooch cheerfully told her they were arguing about whether to eat her soul or her entrails first.
Somewhere, deep inside the towering castle, Lucifer’s power burned. Hot, clean, wholly in control. As if he hadn’t had to stop and clean up the mess she’d made earlier. Again.
Melody lowered her shoulders and raised her chin. She set her hand on Asmodeus’s forearm and tilted her head, giving him what she hoped was an endearing smile. His eyes sparkled. He covered her hand with his own.
“Oh, my dear,” he murmured against her ear, “you keep this up and I might just fall in love with you yet.”
She had to meet the Demon Prince.
She had to not pass out.
She had to not go apeshit
She had to not get eaten.
She had to marry one of Lucifer’s brothers, a demon, in a few days.
Her thoughts threatened to fly away again.
One of the little black demons bumped against her ankle. It wore a straight-brimmed hat which either had horns or had holes for its horns to funnel out. It was kind of cute…until it started rubbing against her. She flicked it away with the pointed tip of her shoe, with a little more force than was probably necessary, and started the long march toward the castle of doom.
Meet. Survive. Marry.
Fucking fine, then.
She’d always wanted to go to parties, to be surrounded by people drawn together and surrounded by interesting music, to politely turn away from dark corners where secret confessions were turning into first kisses, maybe to be one of the people in those dark corners. She wanted to play games and lean together while laughing, to drink a little too much and – later – everyone could wear matching underwear and be attractive and jump into a pool steaming in the cool night air, surrounded by suspended fairy lights.
Okay, to be fair, everything she knew about parties came from movies and tv shows. Or passing by houses and seeing silhouettes in the lit windows, hearing the bursts of laughter from the other side of fences. Parties were friends, in the moment, all together. She had always wanted that. All of that.
This party… Melody’s vision swam back into focus. She blinked languidly up at Asmodeus as he preened and laughed with the three succubi revolving around him. His laughter came to her slowly, like sounds heard from underwater. Colors swirled around him. The ceiling seemed miles away. Her body felt soft and warm. Whatever he was doing to keep her from being scared or tempted or…whatever else it was she was supposed to avoid, was working. In all kinds of ways.
The succubi were beautiful. Beyond beautiful. If he hadn’t been numbing her to the gills, she totally would have just let them do whatever they wanted. She hoped they wanted to cuddle, and maybe tell her how they got bodies like that. They were insane, like those photoshopped “get a perfect body” images that showed up on Pinterest when she searched for twelve-minute workout you could do while trapped in a glass coffin in stasis. She tried not to stare at the long falls of silken hair, the magnetic skin that gleamed just shy of perspiration, the wet pout of their red lips.
“Such a fullsome soul,” one crooned.
“And gift-wrapped by the Avatars of Pride and Lust.” The second made a sound low in her throat. “Are you going to offer her to Lord Diavolo?”
“Ah, my dears. You misunderstand. This lovely is not for the Demon Prince. She’s mine, of course. Isn’t that right, dear?”
Asmo turned bright eyes on her. She smiled, to show them all that they were together and totally not part of a secret ruse. Or, she hoped she was smiling. She couldn’t feel her face. He had changed since they had arrived, sharpened. His long lashes had darkened and winged away from his eyes. The polish on his nails was now deep umber, and the sharp tips of his horns parted his soft hair. He touched her constantly, his fingers sliding between her bare shoulder blades or wandering across her neck or temple as he smoothed an errant hair away and transferred another dose of his calming cocktail to her.
“It is,” she heard herself say. Her voice sounded syrupy.
The succubus hummed. “Mmm. She must be a decadent feast, to hold your attention, Asmodeus.” Her tail stretched out and stroked a single, hot ribbon down the back of Melody’s hand. Her entire body shivered.
Each time one of the succubi opened her mouth, it felt like she was going to suck Melody right inside. The air around them was full of magnetic anticipation. It would have been intoxicating, maybe even too much to resist, if it weren’t for Asmo suppressing her reactions and the dangers spread throughout the rest of the ballroom. She held her breath as a squat demon passed by, the smoke rising from its body smelling of charred meat and brimstone. All around their little bubble of carnal promise, Daemonish hissed or churned between sharp teeth. She wrapped the arm that wasn’t tucked against Asmo’s side around her middle, her hand creeping lower down her torso. She didn’t want to be in this castle full of nightmares.
“Don’t,” Asmo said between his perfect teeth, through his glowing smile. “Don’t you dare summon him. You’re doing so well, my pretty one. Just keep going.”
Mammon’s mark ached, an impatient twinge like a cramp that came and went as the pheromones or toxins that Asmodeus was swamping her with overwhelmed other feelings in waves. Fear. Disgust. Horror. Anger. She was hurt, somewhere under the smothering weight of his influence, hurt that Lucifer had kept this marriage scheme from her then shoved Asmodeus at her. Asmo was attentive, attractive and sensual, but he was enjoying the performance, not her.
The only reason she was out of statis was because a mess had to be cleaned up. And, yeah, her continued existence was the cause of that mess but still. Lucifer should have been told what was going on. It was a big deal, to her at least.
His aura formed the barest outline around him while the two demons he faced flared and sputtered as he showed them up, or aggravated them, or whatever it was that demons did during conspicuous pissing contests. She could see his smirk all the way across the room. Superior. Above them all. Lucifer was old, and he was powerful, and he had serious, important responsibilities. She was an obligation formed of a mistake, and while once he might have felt obligated to take care of her, she was easily shelved. So maybe it didn’t matter if she was scared or disgusted or angry. Maybe it didn’t matter if nobody else cared.
A gnarled, hooded thing scuttled in between other guests and shot a clutching branch-like limb at her. Asmo slid her across his body to his other side and one of the succubi grabbed the branch. The stalk turned red. Then the body of the creature turned purple and belched a plume of sweet-smelling smoke before wrestling its limb away and retreating.
“Such a dirty little pet.” The demoness laughed and licked her hand. Her eyes sparked, a single stark red flare. Melody looked away.
More demonic rumbling. More small acts of aggression, projections of cold menace or glares of outright hunger. There was no laughter in the room. The music made her want to weep
“This sucks,” she muttered.
“What’s that, my dear?” Asmo asked, half-attentive as his gaze raked the room, the succubi finally having moved on. At least two demons swooned from the power of his eyes passing over them.
“The party. It sucks.”
“Everyone is on their best behavior around Lord Diavolo. The Echelon are here to observe you. The Vanguard are scared senseless that they’ll make a wrong move and Lucifer or I will burn them to ash. So, you know, the room’s a little tense.”
“Well they could at least replace the DJ, because this music is a downer.”
“This is the fifteenth symphony of the Night of a Thousand Burning Crosses. It’s always a crowd-pleaser.”
Melody frowned. The speaker sounded affronted. Also he was speaking a human language. Other than Asmodeus, none of the demons who had approached had started off speaking human languages. She turned her head, then tilted it back…and back.
The demon was enormous. Physically imposing, his muscles strained the shoulders and chest of his coat. And he was…handsome, human-like, with his smooth brow and square jaw. But none of that meant anything compared to the power emanating from him. It was like standing in front of a cliff face, looking up and not being able to see the top. Well, Beel had said he was big.
The power inside of her didn’t flutter the way it sometimes did when roused. Instead it focused, and Melody sucked in a breath and gripped Asmo’s arm. He dosed her until she was dizzy, but her power didn’t subside so much as settle in to watch.
“Lord Diavolo,” Asmo purred, “may I present Melody Vale, our human guest and my dearly beloved.”
“I see,” the demon said. His hair was very red, his eyes intent as they settled on their intertwined arms. Melody’s fingers were practically wrapped in Asmo’s sleeve. “You seem quite attached.”
“It is impossible not to be! Isn’t she just the cutest?” Asmo drew a breath to launch into the story they’d prepared, again.
“Do you mind if I borrow her for a moment, Asmodeus?”
The breath left Asmo in a confused whine. Melody turned her murky head to look at him, hoping for a signal of what she should do. But a large hand had already taken hers and was now drawing her away from her guardian/chaperone/dealer. The lurking demons fell back like a wave retreating. Melody allowed her arm to be wrapped lightly around the Demon Prince’s firm, large forearm. His body was very warm. Her sluggish pulse picked up.
“Lord Diavolo, this is such a fine party.”
“Didn’t you call it boring?”
Oh shit, he’d heard that? “Uh…no? No. I mean…no.”
“Is that not what it means when something ‘sucks’?”
He sounded amused, but amusement could be the first step toward all kinds of demonic horrors. She swallowed.
“It…there are many sides to sucking. Various, uh, facets to it.”
“Are any of the facets good?”
She really needed to practice lying. Like, she needed to become the best at it, the champ. Because she could not, for the life of her, come up with a response that might appease a powerful affronted royal demon.
He hummed, a deep rumbling sound that made her shiver. Both Mammon and Asmo’s marks were now hot, and she thought Mammon’s might be trying to tap out some morse code against her belly.
“It is a rather dull party,” Diavolo said, and she was about to nod in compliant agreement when she realized what he’d said. She glanced at him. He met her eyes with a fleeting sidelong glance before continuing to walk them around the room, which felt like something out of a Jane Austen novel, if Jane Austen wrote about the awkward niceties of polite society atop literal Hell.
“I prefer contemporary music,” he continued. “We have several exciting clubs in the Devildom. Some even feature human music. Several of your hosts are frequent guests. Have they taken you? What sites have you seen?”
Did the House of Lamentation and its cursed backyard count as sites? Melody shook her head, trying to cover her unsatisfactory answer with a thin smile so it wouldn’t sound like a complaint.
“Sadly, I haven’t seen much. There are concerns about safety.” Would that offend him, that his kingdom wasn’t safe? Or reassure him because it shouldn’t be safe for someone like her?
He hummed again, and she had to force her shoulders down. He radiated power, emanated power, was power. He was not comfortable, despite his genial smile and light tone.
“You should ask to look around. After all, this will be your home for many years.”
“I should. I will.” Her murky mind tried to project itself along that line of thought. Of living, permanently, in the House of Lamentation, surrounded by darkness, alongside the brothers. All of the brothers.
“There is much to recommend it, though I am likely biased.” Diavolo laughed at himself. “And some of the Devildom’s best attributes may be uncomfortable for you. But your dearly beloved should be able to help with that. Do you and Asmodeus plan to marry immediately on the eleventh day or will you seek a longer engagement?”
She sputtered.
“I see,” Diavolo said, his light tone gone. He turned to face her, speaking low. “It may not be the Avatar of Lust, but if you do not choose one of them and proclaim it by the eleventh day, it will be a problem for the House of Lamentation. It will be a problem for Lucifer. That would displease me. I recommend you not displease me.”
His words were a portent, his threatened displeasure a precipice that she dangled over with shaky footing, no secure hold. Her heart climbed into her throat and she broke out in a sickly sweat. She recognized the catastrophe that disappointment the Demon Prince would bring, felt it in the memories of choking on burning air as the screams of Hell rose around her.
“I understand,” she choked out.
“I wonder if you do.” His gaze turned appraising and Melody tried to hold still under the scrutiny, both outside and in. She was shaking, and her power was waking, unfurling.
“Another fine gathering, Diavolo,” a deep voice said from beside her and Melody would have collapsed back against Lucifer if she wasn’t paralyzed. The Demon Prince’s piercing yellow eyes moved off of her, and his expression turned fond.
“I was told the music left much to be desired.”
“The Symphony of Burning Crosses? It is a masterpiece.” Lucifer’s hand found the small of her back, and cool, snapping power ran up her spine. “I’ll return to listen to the entire movement with you at a later date. For now, I think our guest has reached her tolerance for socializing. I take it the factions are appeased?”
“As satisfied as they ever are. I will hold you to your offer, Lucifer.” Diavolo inclined his head. “I trust you will think on what we discussed, Miss Vale. Thank you ever so much for answering my invitation.”
“Thank you ever so much for extending it,” she whispered, ingrained manners working while the rest of her mind was not. She inclined her head, then kept her gaze on the floor as Lucifer marched her out and into a luxuriously appointed car.
He sighed as the doors closed, giving her a sidelong glance before facing forward. “You did well.”
“I’m supposed to fall in love in five days?”
He waved a dismissive hand gloved in velvety, blood red. “You don’t have to fall in love. It is only a formality. Easily satisfied.”
As if it didn’t matter. As if it was fine for her to be married but not in a real relationship. For her to live the rest of her life in the Devildom, but unable to leave the House of Lamentation. Her mouth opened and closed again. Most of her life had already been blank, a void, an absence. Or, for minutes here and there, out of her control. Part of someone else’s plans. This was just a new version of that. Her eyes were hot and dry and she couldn’t stop the fine tremor working its way through her body.
“I’m sorry I almost destroyed your house,” she said blankly. “I’m sorry your brothers were in danger.”
“Melody,” he snapped.
“I’m sorry you had to stop me.”
“Melody. I don’t care about that.” His hand covered hers, clenched on the seat. It was warm, his glove discarded. “I didn’t tell you about this plan. You were threatened twenty times in the last hour, including by the future demon king. You don’t have to apologize. You can be mad.”
“I’m not mad.”
“Don’t lie.”
“I’m not…why would I lie?”
He exhaled impatiently, raked a hand through his hair. “Because you’re stuck here. Because you’re stuck with this arrangement. It doesn’t mean you can’t argue with me, that you can’t be mad. I won’t punish you for it. I won’t threaten what small amount of liberty you have. I will keep looking for a way to set you free.”
She looked at him, his severe frown, his tousled black hair, the red glove that had fallen to the floor. He looked so young, younger than she would have had she aged normally. But he was weighted by such burdens, including her.
“I’m not mad.” At his incredulous tsk, she rolled her eyes, letting him pull her close and wrap a solid arm around her bare, chilled shoulders. “And I’m not going to start lying to you just because you’re selling me into an arranged marriage.”
He stiffened and she would have grinned if she wasn’t so tired.
“They aren’t so bad,” he murmured. “They are…a few of them are even likable.”
Her eyes slid closed, the chaos of the day and lingering effects of Asmo’s influence overtaking her. She wondered, tiredly and pointlessly, why he didn’t just suggest the easiest solution. Not that she wanted Lucifer trapped in a marriage with someone he didn’t love, even if it was only for her one little human lifetime.
“I figured it out,” Levi declared, grabbing the arms of the chair Melody sat in and spinning her to face him.
She groaned. She had a whole body hangover from her power release and Asmo’s pharmaceutical touch, and the crackers she was gingerly nibbling on weren’t helping much. Or maybe it wasn’t the hangover that had her queasy. Beel had made her a smoothie earlier when he’d found her sliding along the wall toward the kitchen, and she’d started to take a sip before he advised it was made of innards and eyes and nothing nice.
“Figured what out?”
“How to fix this, or end this. How to make all this go away so that we can just chill and have fun.”
Melody cracked an eye. “What ‘this’?”
“This stupid marriage thing.”
She opened both eyes. “How?”
“You’ll marry me!” He tilted his head back and laughed theatrically before grinning at her. “Great plan, right? We’ll get married. The deadline will go away. Lucifer will stop being scary. Everything will be great!”
Melody blinked. He was looking right at her, bright eyes gleaming. No stammering, no blushing. Which meant…
“Just like that?” She asked gently. “You’d give up your prospects at a real relationship?”
“To help you out? Pffft, that’s a no-brainer, Aero. You’re my best friend. This’ll be better anyway. My brothers won’t bother you. And it’s not like I had girls beating down my door to date me, not that I mind because I can be myself more in a 2D world anyway. This way we can hang out and play games all the time, and you won’t have to worry. Okay?”
It would be nice, to spend time with him. For him to be there for her, and her for him. They were good friends. They even knew each other pretty well. Still…
Melody set aside the remains of her cracker. “Do you know what marriage means, for humans?”
“Sure, it’s a partnership and romantic or whatever, and you know each other better than anyone else in the world.”
She leaned forward and slid her hand around his.
“Wh-what are you doing?” His fingers twitched.
She liked what he had to say about marriage. But there was one little problem. “Have you…have you thought about the romantic part?”
“I have,” Levi said softly. “I’ve thought about it a lot.”
Startled, she looked up. He squeezed her hand, then dropped it to wheel her chair across the room to his computer. He jostled the mouse to wake his screen.
“Ta-da! May I present LyfeVerse 2120. We can make our ideal avatars, or fun ones too. We don’t really need to limit ourselves to only one avatar. It’s an adult game, so it can get pretty graphic. I already have four avatars, and I’ve attracted six potential romantic partners, although one is pretty provocative but she’s also mean? So I think I might cut her loose. I’ll create a fifth avatar just for you, so we can go around the world together. The game’s popular so it updates regularly and they hire really good seiyuu, so we’ll basically never run out of potential candidates for romance. There are other games, but this one is the best. I’ve tried most of them, the ones worth playing. I already set up your account so all you have to do is customize it. What do you think?”
She smiled weakly. “That’s really thoughtful, Levi.”
“Wow, Aero. You sound like you’re literally dying. I’m going to get some snacks to fortify you so you have energy to work on your build. Hold on. Or go ahead and start. I won’t watch so I can be surprised!”
He ran out of the room, and Melody heard him hooting as he ran down the hallway. She swallowed as the demo ran, showing her tall guys with long noses and amazing hair, and cute manic pixie dream girls with improbably big boobs.
Virtual romance. Avatars. A good friend for life, but Levi wasn’t going to suddenly start enjoying touch, and it wasn’t like he was attracted to her or interested in real life sex anyway. It was a sweet offer, an amazing offer. She maneuvered the mouse around, opening and closing menus, watching the beautiful, unreal faces and bodies flash by.
Lord Diavolo had made it clear. She would marry one of the residents of this house. And she would do it soon. How long did it take to get to know someone? To like them? She liked most of the brothers already, even thought they might be starting to like her. Beel had been into her. But he hadn’t tried to kiss her again after their baking session. And he hadn’t sought her out except to offer her something to eat or – she remembered the smoothie – drink when he happened to run into her in passing. She played with the game a little to distract herself while her stomach settled again.
She didn’t want to be an obligation, to be fussed over then set on the shelf when she became tiresome in two weeks or two years. She wanted to be liked, maybe even loved. But there was no time to do this right. She was a forty-something year old woman in a twenty-something year old body who had kissed four people in her life (two in the last week!) and the closest she’d come to dating was being isolated with a bored man in a pocket dimension created by her absent demon guardian. That, and developing overly complicated fantasy scenarios with various actors who had no idea she existed. It was a wonder she knew how to do anything.
How did you speed date an entire relationship?
“Hey, I got the good stuff.” Levi shoved the door open with his foot and maneuvered a tray over to the desk. “I got drinks.” He thumped a bottle down beside her. “I got snacks.” He tore open a bag of chips, raining greasy morsels into her hair, still tangled from the prior night’s up-do. “I got dessert.” He plopped two puddings and a bakery box on the keyboard, then looked at the screen and shrieked.
“Dear infernal Hells, what have you done?”
“I found the companion section of the game.”
He pressed a hand to his heart and sagged. “Thank goodness. I thought that was your avatar. You’d have had to wear a bag over your head, because I could not be seen around the world with that.”
“Seen by who?”
“My other prospects. Seriously. That’s the most disturbing thing I’ve seen outside of Resident Evil. How did you even design it?”
The companion had the body of a scorpion and the top of a sea horse. Plus armor. And the ability to breathe fire. It wasn’t conventionally cute, but it suited her mood.
“You know those breakfast scorpion things you have?”
Levi wrinkled his nose. “The chels?”
“Yeah.” She pointed the cursor at the body. “Chels.” She moved the cursor to the head. “Sea horse. Chels-sea. This is Chelsea, my armored bodyguard pet.”
Levi turned a baleful stare her way. “I’m concerned about you. I think Asmo’s toxins fried your brain. Or the devastation inside of you fried it and Asmo filled it with dumb.”
“My mind is not full of dumb, Leviathan.”
“Still.” He gestured to her cracker-crumbed PJs and tangled hair. “You’re a mess today. A hot mess.”
“Ugh. Fine.” She started for the door then stopped, grabbing a drink, a bag of chips, and both puddings. “I’m going to take a shower. Then I need you to help me research something.”
“’Kay.” He slid into the chair she’d abandoned. “I’m going to delete this monstrosity.”
“Do not delete my steadfast companion.”
“How did you manage to give it so many hitpoints? Do you have cheat codes hidden in your jammies?”
“It’s a secret.” She shoved the door closed with her elbow and turned toward her room, only to run bodily into someone.
“Oof. Watch where you're going there, human”
She peered over her haul at Mammon, who was looking at her like she’d been scraped off the bottom of a shoe.
“Wow.” He laughed. “Rough night?”
“No, the party was great. I love being drugged off my ass while surrounded by creatures that want to eat my soul.”
Mammon grimaced. “I told Lucifer he shouldn’t have taken you out before he restored your hex.”
She remembered the feel of his mark on her, the impatient flare. Like he’d been attentive to her for the hours she was stuck in that room. Like he’d been concerned. Maybe she didn’t need to do research. Maybe she just needed to talk to someone with more experience. She shifted the snacks in her arms.
“Hey, could I ask you something?”
“Maybe you should set down the puddings if you can’t make it to your room in this condition.”
“I don’t need help getting to my room.” She stared at his shoulder, her face heating. “I need…”
“Need to get your hands on some rare goods? Something around here caught your eye? I can help you get it, but it’ll cost you. What’s the limit on that credit card of yours?”
She bit her lip, then squared her shoulders. The chip bag crinkled. “I need to know how to seduce a demon.”
He jerked. “What demon?”
“Not anyone specific. I just…I need to do this marriage thing and I want someone to actually like me, not just do it because Lucifer is making them. Last night I was surrounded by succubi who could snap their fingers and have a thousand men falling at their feet. I can’t be like that. But there has to be something I can do to be attractive.” She raised her gaze. Mammon’s blue eyes were wide behind his tinted glasses. His lashes were long. His hair was styled, made to look careless but it was just kind of carefree. She could see the notch in his collarbone over the collar of his loose-fitting black tee. He looked good. This close, he smelled good, his cologne bright and warm. “To be attractive to a demon.”
“You can’t be like a succubi, so don’t even think like that.” Mammon turned away and pressed his fingers against his lips. “That’s Asmo’s area anyway. You should talk to him.”
Asmodeus could teach her to seem a certain way, but she wasn’t sure that he could help her be more appealing.
“The thing is-”
“I’m late already. Busy, you know. I don’t have time to be running into humans and havin’ them make weird requests. Ask Asmo.”
Mammon headed off, dropping down the stairs before she could explain better. The mark on her abdomen didn’t so much as warm. Maybe he had just been irritated he hadn’t been invited to the party. She should have told him it was the most exciting thing ever, that he’d really missed out, the punk. Huffing, she shoved her door open, dropped down at the foot of her bed, and opened the first pudding.
Seduction could wait. First she was going to eat junk food until she stopped feeling sick, or until it made her feel sicker. Whichever came first.
**
The mage walked steadily down the long hallway, his heels clicking on the mirrored tile floor, the black envelope pinched lightly between his fingers. Demonic magic nipped at his skin, whispered in the back of his mind. It would have derailed a lesser magician, shut him down, leaving him prey for any taloned predator to take at their convenience. But the protective ward wasn’t powerful. The envelope, and the news it contained, was intended to move quickly. The name scrawled upon it forced him ever closer to its recipient. It was early evening, and the last of the sun have finally burned through the breaking rainclouds. Far below, red taillights slicked the wet streets bloody. The penthouse suite at the top of the tower was quiet, but for the sound of the mage’s quickening steps, the labored mechanical breathing on the other side of the door.
Pausing to take his own breath, the mage stopped. The hand not holding the envelope rose to the door handle. Bitter power wrapped around him, curled up his arm. He turned the handle, crossed the threshold.
“Sir,” he said to the floor. “I have news.”
His master, mostly machine now, turned his attention to the mage. He stiffened under the intensity of it. The machine continued to breath, great heaving gusts, metal bellows fanning the fire of the greatest power in the human realm.
“Tell me,” he rasped. His voice was low, deep, a rumbling wheeze.
The mage’s hands shook as he fumbled the thin papers out of the envelope. The magic coating the paper evaporated under his master’s force. He crossed the room, stepping carefully over coiled wires and heavy piping. He turned the papers toward his master, held them up and pressed them to the glass of his healing enclosure.
“The r-rumors were true, sir. The House of Lamentation has a human woman they are petitioning to keep. Our allies demanded she be revealed and she was brought to the castle.”
The photographs were taken in secret, one from a low angle, the other slightly blurry as the camera had tried to focus on the dark-clad bodies between the photographer and the woman. She was much smaller than the demons, sleek and soft like a domestic cat caught among wild beasts. She wore a silvery dress. Her dark hair curled around her face. In both images, her eyes were wide. They were very light.
“The…the Fallen Asmodeus accompanied her in, sir. The Fallen L-Lucifer escorted her out.”
“She must think that makes her lucky. Wait…those eyes.” The machine hitched, then the pipes began to rattle and shake as his master laughed. The laugh became a roar. The roar shattered glass and tore cables from the walls. The bellows exploded. Shrapnel struck the mage across the face. His eyes watered. His cheek bled. He held stiff and still until the maelstrom faded.
“Such lovely eyes. I admired them the first time I saw them, when her father offered her as sacrifice so many years ago. So many years.” Without the machine, his breath grated heavily through his throat. “I did always wonder what she offered to the demon she summoned, such a small, helpless thing to summon a demon powerful enough to destroy my spell, damage my toys. Asmodeus. Lucifer.” The names devolved into growls. “The House of Lamentation always was so smug, from the first moment their feet touched down in the dirt of the Devildom. “
Wind sliced through the room again. The shredded pictures fluttered to the floor.
“Call in our assets, boy. Call in our favors. And find someone to call in Daniel Vale. It seems I have use of him once again.”
Melody exfoliated and shaved, moisturized and concealed, then stood in front of Asmo’s door wondering if she should go back to her room and spray on the perfume he’d said smelled “scandalously delicious” on her. But, if she went back, she’d be tempted to crawl under her covers and live there for the next few days until Lucifer pulled her out to give to her new husband. She wrinkled her nose. This situation was already so stupid, a joke that wasn’t funny.
The thought of passively awaiting a fate when she could at least try to steer things was unacceptable. So, she would speed date a bunch of demon brothers, find the one that was the most promising because, let’s face it, nobody was falling in love in a matter of days, then make do until death did she depart while they went on with their long demonic life. No big deal.
She raised her hand to knock, then watched it settle flat against the wood of the door. She looked down at the soft sweater that drooped off one shoulder and was so short it just met the waist of her jeans. The cosmetics felt heavy on her skin, the curl-enhancing products in her hair made it fall weirdly. It was a lot of effort for…what? She didn’t want superficial. She wanted love. Giving it and knowing it would be accepted, not having to want it because she knew it was there, for her.
It wasn’t like she believed love was effortless. Relationships took effort, she knew that. Time. Emotional investment. Give and take, allowing yourself to open up, and enduring frustrations and aggravations. But hopefully there would be more hours that rolled like clear water over smooth stones. Moments of happiness that bubbled up until the feeling grew so large that it burst into smiles and laughter and warmth.
Her dad had always been smiling, lines etched in the skin around his light green eyes. Sometimes he’d shake his head like he had to clear it after he saw her mother, even if it was only a glimpse as she walked past the doorway of the room he was in. He’d rest his chin in his hand, watching her while she worked or read or ate breakfast, and sigh like he was made of contentment. It was as if he fell in love with her each and every time he saw her. Her mother had been quieter, less dramatic, brushing his fingers as she handed him his coffee, pausing for a moment to lean against him before continuing by.
Melody had been surrounded by so much love when she was young, more than most people got in their entire lifetime. It wasn’t as if life was fair, or happy by default. Who got to have everything they wanted anyway? Even Lucifer, who was powerful beyond measure, had unpleasant obligations. So she would start with trying to be attractive, desirable. She could build from there. Hopefully.
Pressing a hand to her stomach she raised the other again to knock on the door.
“Yo!” Mammon slid around the corner. “Forget it.”
Melody startled. “What?”
He was breathing hard, his jacket askew on his shoulders. “Forget about Asmo. Don’t ask him. I’ll do it.”
“You’ll do what?”
“Help you out. You should be grateful, too, ‘cause I got a lot going on today.” He grabbed her wrist and tugged her down the hall. “I’m cancelling lucrative plans to help you out, you know.”
“Really?” she asked even as her pulse picked up a little bit. He’d come back. It was so sweet! No, wait. “Why though? Do you need an alibi or something?”
“You’re not supposed to question good fortune.” He tsked over his shoulder. “Especially not when it’s granted by the Avatar of Greed. Didn’t you know that?”
He opened the door to his room, all but shepherding her through with his own body before he released her. She hadn’t been in here before. He’d left music playing. The beat was familiar. She’d heard it through the walls at night as she lay in bed, a kind of background club rhythm that had grown a little comforting. He tossed his jacket on the couch and she stepped to the side, one hand holding the other while he busied himself dimming lights, lighting candles, and pouring drinks from a black bottle.
“There,” he declared, handing her a short, wide glass with a flourish, “I set the mood for ya.”
“Thank you.” She ran her fingers along the etching of a three-legged crow on the glass, then raised it and took a sip. The drink was a little sweet, a little spicy in the way that most things in the Devildom were. Her lips tingled pleasantly when she lowered the glass, but it didn’t taste like it even contained alcohol. It was probably Demonus, which she’d learned could give her a hangover with none of the fun of intoxication. Mammon finished his glass in a matter of gulps.
His room was open, two stories tall with cold industrial finishes. Lots of metal. Black leather couches. There was also a pool table, a replica – no – probably a real car up on the second story mezzanine. Bits of him were all around, flashy clothes hung in the open closet and tossed on the couches, bottles and books on the small tables surrounded by baubles and knickknacks. In the corner, in a cozier nook, was a bed messily made. Mammon poured himself another drink and drank half of it. Was he nervous or was that how he drank? It would make sense, she supposed, him being the Avatar of Greed and all.
“I don’t have all night,” Mammon declared, setting his glass on the rail of the pool table. His hands went to his hips. “Are you gonna start, or what?”
“Start?” She’d kind of been hoping for pointers.
“Yeah, start practicing. I mean, that’s what you’re all dolled…” His gaze ran down her body and back up again, kind of stuttering around her waist before he looked to the side. “That’s what you’re all dolled up for, right? You were going to practice bein’ seductive and whatnot with Asmo?”
“I was going to ask him to help me figure some things out, like how to catch someone’s interest. I mean, I guess as the Avatar of Lust that’s probably pretty easy for him.”
“He doesn’t have to work to get someone’s interest. He just turns on the charm and they fall all over him. It’s literally his power. You couldn’t have chosen someone worse to ask.”
“You suggested him, Mammon.”
“Someone like him, I meant. Just not him.” He took a step closer, his hands fidgeting against his sides. “What ya really need is someone who gets the limitations of humans. Good thing I spend a lot of time in the human realm, at places where humans are trying to hook up. Taverns. Casinos. Snack bars. I know all the right moves and, more importantly, can provide feedback.”
“Feedback,” she said flatly.
“Constructive criticism.”
She thought about him asking for the horrific chels in his coffee so he could laugh at her. “Are you going to make fun of me?”
“Of course not.” Mammon said indignantly, then he laughed. “Unless you do something stupid. Now, practice your moves.”
“Fine.” She set her mostly full glass down beside his mostly empty one and moved closer until she had to look up at him. Which was a mistake, because it gave her time to get nervous.
She had almost gotten used to how beautiful they all were. The dim light accentuated his high cheek bones. His eyes were that unbelievably clear blue that dipped into gold. His bronze skin emitted warmth. He smelled good, too. She hadn’t known that.
What should she do? What was okay to practice? Ideally, she wanted to musical montage past the awkward small talk and move onto cuddling and touching a demon in such a way that he’d want more touching but, like, in a respectful way?
“C’mon, what’re leading with?” Mammon demanded. “Lots of humans go with compliments. Since your dating pool is full of demonic avatars you could devote yourself to their station. Songs and dances of devotion. Tithing is always welcome. That used to go over big with the old school guys.”
She did not want to devote herself to a sin. She already had two marked on her body, whatever that meant.
“Or are you goin’ straight for physical seduction?”
She thought of the shock of Beel saying he wanted to kiss her, the startling magnetism of Satan’s heavy, angry body pressed against her. She hadn’t had to instigate anything with them and now, sober, with no sugar high or perilous situation happening she wasn’t sure she could.
“Because no offense but demons have experienced it all.” Mammon went on, dragging the word out to indicate just how much “all” could encompass, which did not help with her inexperience insecurity. “And we receive a lot of good offers, so maybe stick to-”
Obviously she wasn’t going to be able to seduce an experienced demon. The very idea was ridiculous. She needed an icebreaker, like everyone had to do on the first day of school. Awkward, stupid, just something that had to occur so they could move on to the real stuff. “Do you like raisins?”
“Huh?”
“Or would you prefer a date?”
Mammon blinked at her for a few seconds before tossing his head back and cackling. “Oh wow. Did you learn your pickup lines from middle schoolers? That was so bad!”
“Not seductive enough, huh?” Melody grinned, trying to turn it into a coy smirk. “Well, if you were words on a page, you’d be the fine print.”
Mammon groaned, shaking his head. “Where did you get these?”
“I’ve had a lot of time on my hands.” She went through the stupider lines in her head, then made a show of looking him up and down. “It’s a good thing I have my library card, Mammon. Because I am totally…checking you out.”
He laughed, then shook his head vigorously. “You’re not even doing them right. You’re too focused on the punchline.”
“It’s not a punchline. It’s the close. The killer close of a killer pickup line.”
“Then stop saying them like you’re telling jokes. You have to say it like you mean it even if they’re corny. Especially if they’re corny. Here.” Mammon raised his chin and glanced down at her out of the corner of his eye. He grinned, a parody of cockiness. “Here I am. What’re your other two wishes?”
Her outrage was only half in jest. He was not allowed to be better than her at this!
“You know, I was feeling a little off today.” She leaned in conspiratorially and raised an eyebrow. “But you’ve turned me on again.”
“Heh. Better. But check this out… Are you a loan? Because you sure have my interest.”
“If you were a vegetable, you’d be a cute-cumber.” At his overblown groan, Melody lost it, leaning against the pool table for support as she laughed
“How are you so bad at this? You were almost doing better, then BAM…worst pickup line ever. Ever! You might even be more awkward than Levi. Like, the only person alive that can make him look like a Casanova.” Mammon snorted, then tossed back the rest of his drink.
“Don’t be mean.” She wiped tears from her eyes. “I’ve never been to your taverns or casinos. I haven’t refined my technique.”
“You know, I may have been born at night but I wasn’t born last night.”
“That’s…that’s not even a pickup line.” She bumped her shoulder against his. Her stomach hurt from laughing. “That’s just a saying!”
“Yeah, yeah.” Mammon’s grin was brilliant, his eyes sparkling. “You’re fine at this. I mean, those lines are the worst, but you got a sort of natural charm.”
“You think someone will find this hot?”
“Hot?” he asked, incredulous. “Nothing about this is hot. Maybe – if I’m being charitable, which I never am – it’s mildly cute.”
She shoved his shoulder this time, or tried. He shrugged her off, leaning against the table.
“All right, you passed that part, despite your material. What comes after your stellar pickup line brings all the boys to the yard? What’re you planning to do next?”
She faced him, mirroring his stance, hand braced on the table. “Maybe a touch?”
When he didn’t object, she brushed her fingers over the smooth rings he wore on his right hand. The metal had warmed from his body heat. His knuckles were rough, slightly calloused.
“It would be easier if there was an activity, right?” she asked, nerves jumping from her stomach to her throat. His hand was larger than hers, fingers long, the white polish on his even nails slightly pearlescent. “A game to play, or something to look at together? That must be why people go to the movies on dates. You can be close without having to face each other the entire time.”
The skin on the underside of his wrist was soft as her fingers skimmed it. His pulse was light, so rapid she glanced up to gauge his expression.
“Dancing’s always good. Y’know how to dance?” At her hesitation, he gripped her hand and pulled her away from the table. “With this music, it’s easy. You don’t have to remember any positions or counts or anything. You’re just kinda swaying.”
His hands rested, barely touching, on her waist, brushing skin as her shirt rode up. His body moved loosely, starting from the hips, feet shuffling lightly. She shifted back and forth with him until he took her by the shoulders and shook her a little, twisted her like a doll whose joints he was trying to figure out.
“You gotta relax. How’s anyone supposed to feel good around you if you’re all stiff? It’s only dancing.”
The volume of the music increased until she could feel the beat even though it wasn’t fast. The lights dimmed further. Only a few sconces on the walls remained illuminated. Those and the flickering, warm light of the candles. She moved an inch or two closer so that her hands could properly rest against collarbones. The tension drained out of her neck and back. She swayed with him. His mark on her stomach tickled, little frissons running through it like bubbles in a drink.
“See,” he asked quietly, “isn’t this better than games or looking at some paintings on walls? Dancing’s good if you wanna be close to someone but aren’t sure what to say.”
“I see,” she managed, her gaze jumping from her fingers skimming the collar of his shirt, to his small smile, almost to his eyes, then back down again. He went to brush her hair back from her face, then pulled his hand away, staring at it.
“Why’s your hair sticky?”
“It’s product. Lots of product.”
“Do you like when your hair can’t move?”
“No I don’t like it.” Him asking made her think about her hair, which had been bugging her since she’d left her room. She curled her hands to keep herself from pulling and pushing at it. “There are a few pieces that I styled at the wrong angle and now I feel them constantly. It might actually make me go insane.”
Mammon chuckled. His hands skated up and down her back soothingly before returning to rest against her sides.
“Do whatever you like but – trust me on this – don’t do something you don’t like just to get someone’s attention. You’ll lose it just as quick as you got it. If you’re serious about this marriage thing, something about it’s gotta be real, right? Not just stealing attention for a night or two. Not just passing the time. Don’t put glue in your hair-”
“It’s not glue.”
“-and don’t pretend to be something that you’ll be resent down the road. Like don’t pretend you like playing Levi’s stupid first-person shooter games that you will never, ever beat him at unless you want to still be pretending that five years from now. Relationships gotta be based on real stuff, you know? How else will you ever develop real feelings?”
“You’re good at this.”
“Yeah, I spend a lot of time in clubs.”
“I don’t mean the dancing. I mean…” She looked up, glanced away a couple of times before she could hold his gaze. “You’re good at this.”
His eyes widened in surprise and a blush lit across his cheeks. “Y-yeah well, I been around for awhile you know? I know all about relationships and stuff.”
For someone who pretended he didn’t care, he’d thought about it, this position she was in. Although, he sounded like a kid boasting that he could keep up with bigger boys. Maybe she wasn’t the only one who could needed practice in the basics. She smiled.
“I appreciate you helping me, Mammon.”
“Yeah, sure. The sooner you get this thing taken care of the sooner we can get back to normal.”
“And helping me flirt.”
“If you’re gonna keep using those lines, don’t tell anyone I helped.”
“And letting me touch you.” She slid a hand around the back of his neck, brushing through the softness of his hair. He shivered, and the mark warmed on her skin. Hmm. “I don’t want to overstep though. Is it okay if I keep touching you?”
“I mean, if you want.” He was gazing off over her head and sounded like he couldn’t be bothered to care, but his hands tightened around her waist, palms flush against her skin, fingers clutching.
“So you wouldn’t care if I stopped?”
“You shouldn’t. You need practice, so much practice.”
“Am I not touching you right?”
His face went from pink to red, and he huffed. “It’s okay.”
“Would you like me to touch you in a different way?”
The mark went hot. Ah. He might not be willing to say certain things to her, might even say the opposite, but she didn’t think he could control what his mark was telling her. Encouraged, Melody slid forward, just a half-step with one foot. He glanced down when she brushed against his chest, pulled with one hand so their hips bumped together as they moved.
“You should probably kiss me or something,” Mammon said. “I mean, you’ll want to get good at it, right?”
Her stomach fluttered. She couldn’t take her eyes off his mouth.
“Fine, but you have to lean down. You’re too far away.”
“You’re too small. That’s not my problem.”
“What, am I supposed to climb you?”
“I’m not a tree. Good grief, human. Here.” He kind of pushed her around, hands on her shoulders as he marched her toward the couch. “Sit first.”
“Why?” she snapped, a new kind of insecurity rising sharp and fast. She wasn’t experienced. She wasn’t a succubus, who could have done anything to a man and had him wanting more. Actually, literally that was what they did. Mammon was so pretty, so sweet, so gentle.
He dropped onto the cushion, his weight bouncing her. A little clumsy maybe. She flailed, one hand landing on the back off the couch, one on the neck of his shirt, pulling it away from his body. His skin was warm. His face was close. His eyes were bright, his lips slightly parted.
“Why not?” he murmured, tilting toward her, too quickly she thought until she realized she was already moving toward him.
Their lips met softly, slid sweetly until they fit together. They fit very well together, a match that made her want to climb onto him to see how close they could get. Mammon’s hand touched her side, just above his mark. Her waist didn’t nip in dramatically. Her hips didn’t round femininely. She wasn’t the kind of attractive demons were used to. They were all hot, not only mildly cute if someone was being charitable. She sat back, separating from him, blinking rapidly.
“Like you mean it,” Mammon said, frowning down at her hand, a flush rising across his cheeks. “A demon knows if you don’t mean it.”
Demons knew falsity, she supposed. But that… Oh. He would know. Lust wasn’t Mammon’s station, but the Avatar of Greed understood true want, understood treasuring something, someone. The sensual promise of a succubus could draw any man but it was empty. Maybe that sort of thing didn’t satisfy Greed.
She relaxed the hand still gripping his shirt, smoothed the fabric against his collarbone, the firm expanse of his chest. She leaned again, kneeling against the side of his thigh.
“Uh-oh,” she whispered.
“What?” he whispered back, urgently.
“You are a cute-cumber.”
“Such a brat.” He actually growled as he pulled her to him, and she laughed as she kissed him again.
Barbatos was gone for eight days, the longest he had been away from the castle since he had been charged with Diavolo’s care and companionship. It was the longest he had been parted from Diavolo by several orders of magnitude. He had returned during that interval, once and briefly to confirm preparations for an upcoming council conclave and to review records. If it were anyone else, other than Lucifer perhaps, Diavolo would have thought he was sneaking time away. Although, it had turned out – over the last four decades – Lucifer had been doing just that.
“Ah, Barbatos.” Diavolo looked up from the petitions and proposals stacked upon his desk, happy for an interruption. “How was the human realm?”
“The what, my Lord?” Barbatos scowled at the silver tea tray he carried.
Diavolo blinked, half-rising from his chair. “Are you well?”
Barbatos’s uniform was crisp. He sported no visible injuries or flaws, and his aura was tidily contained. His distraction, however, was not normal. He was usually not merely attentive but three steps ahead of everyone, including Diavolo. The demon prince was not sure whether that was a passive effect of his ability or a result of how seriously he took his duties.
“Please do not get up, Sir. I am well.” He poured tea for them both and sat heavily in a seat on the other side of Diavolo’s desk. Barbatos rubbed at his forehead, another noncustomary gesture. “The errand required more effort than I had expected.”
The errand? Oh, yes. The tracking of the human woman’s origins. Diavolo had nearly forgotten why he had gone away. Other than the increase in attacks on the House of Lamentation, which happened occasionally anyway, nothing out of the ordinary had been going on.
“You were unable to trace her lineage to Lilith?”
“No. No, that was not difficult. I found her family, or the records for them. She is truly descended of Lilith, the last of Lilith’s human line as it were. Her only surviving relative is a stepsister who believes Melody died as a child.”
“Lucifer addressed her memories?” “Of course. Even remembering Melody was difficult for her. I worked out, too, the estate at which Melody supposedly died. It was owned by a mage, part of a powerful sect.”
“They still live? Lucifer did not wipe them out?” That was a surprise. His advisor was protective of the woman and, more than that, so reliably thorough and merciless that it did not occur to Diavolo that he had not eliminated all who might have been involved in his sister’s descendant’s circumstances.
“It does not appear he searched beyond those immediately involved in her sacrifice. The human news reported a tragic fire which razed the house to the ground. It was so hot the stone exterior melted, though enough human remains were found to identify the mages and Melody. The house was owned by a titled man from a wealthy family. He was a member of the same sect as Melody’s stepfather. Presumably that is how Melody came to be there.”
“He offered his daughter as a sacrifice?”
“Stepdaughter, My Lord. Remember his own daughter lived. Though by Lucifer’s account both were in poor shape when they summoned him. Whether they were friends or became allied at some point during that unfortunate event, I could not ascertain. Interestingly, while Lucifer did not return to the human world to destroy the sect, it appears the sister took that duty upon herself. She is a witch of some note and reputation though she has not been aligned with a coven for a long time. I confirmed she killed seven – probably eight though I could not verify the last connection – members who were not present on that night. One oversaw the financing of the group. The other two procured rare, powerful goods to fuel their sorcerous explorations. She steered clear of several prominent members who had pacts with demons. It’s possible she considered them too dangerous.”
Humans traded part and parcel of their souls with demons for instant gratification, desperate in their hunger, lust or pride. Pacts were formed for mutual benefit, or to pay debts on the demons’ side. It was rare that a demon owed a human who was not powerful or darkly ambitious.
Diavolo made a low noise. He did not care for where this was going. He had spent the greater part of his life, since he had been set as the head of the ruling family, working to rebalance the actions of demons. Humans were their natural prey, angels their longtime enemies with hostility and suspicion on both sides. But that did not mean his citizens had to engage in gratuitous cruelty or glut themselves on the pain of others.
“This sect in particular has a long history of forming pacts with demons.”
“I banned the acceptance of children as sacrifices centuries ago. Is this what you spent so much time looking into?” At Barbatos’s slight frown, Diavolo made a thoughtful sound. “It’s not.”
“No, My Lord.”
Diavolo waited. He was not patient. In his position he’d never had to learn the skill. But Barbatos was not trying to keep him in suspense. Something about his discovery bothered him enough that he was having trouble voicing it, which meant it was important. Days away, only returning for a few hours in all that time. What had the small demons said he was looking for in his records search? Diavolo couldn’t recall. He might not have asked. Wanting to make Barbatos feel useful, he asked, “The connection to Lilith, was that on her mother’s side or her father’s?”
“Passed down from the mother.” Barbatos tilted his head. “Interestingly, the father was a mystery. He was not listed on her birth certificate, which is not entirely unusual for humans, but while former neighbors recall the mother – kind, quiet – and the daughter – clever, cute – they recall a man they called the husband and father but could describe next to nothing about him. Not even his name. All records related to their home – the rent, utilities, mail – were in the mother’s name. Generally, human males enjoy displays of their ownership. A realtor who helped Melody’s mother move to a larger city said he had died in an accident. She married Richard Vale two years later.”
“Is the father what you are concerned with?”
“Merely a side note.” Barbatos finally met his eyes, his mouth set in a thin, grim line. “Lucifer said that Melody’s soul is bound for Hell, that she damned herself in ordering him to kill her captors.”
“An order he could have refused.”
Barbatos’s look was familiar. Diavolo had received it often when he shirked his studies as a younger demon. He shifted uncomfortably.
“That is merely a technicality and you know it, Young Master. Distasteful as it may be, she is slated for descent. In fact, she has already been to Hell.” Barbatos nodded when Diavolo startled.
Hell had always been there, a place of intense, arid heat driven by the endless churn of bloody fires, the air choked with smoke. As the lands of the Devildom were tamed, as cities grew and demons themselves grew more sophisticated, Hell remained the same. A veil of magic separated them, shimmering darkly on one side, a ghastly, oily thing on the other. Corrupted human souls descended into Hell, their hopelessness and the agony of their torture reducing them to shapeless things that knew only the hunger of the sins that felled them. Eventually higher-level demons stopped plucking them out to use as labor or cannon fodder and instead developed a system of ascension. Souls with promise could be removed from Hell and improved, taught, molded. Most were eager to do so. Even the most arduous transformation into demonkin was preferable to damnation. Most remained servants, some soldiers. A few showed the promise and, over time, ascended higher, regaining the powers of speech and cognition. They could be artisans or caretakers, spies or weapons. Diavolo inspected Hell twice a year, as required. He never enjoyed it.
“I have spent the last two days with the keepers of Hell as well as the Master Reaper, reviewing records and their recollections.” Barbatos adjusted his gloves. “Lucifer said that she dies when he withdraws his power from her. I believe his power acts in two ways, by obscuring her from the reapers, whose list she was written on forty years ago, and by sustaining the function of her body.”
“She has already been damned?” Diavolo spread his hands, gesturing toward the ballroom, distant through the castle. He had walked with her, spoken with her. Damned souls belonged in Hell, that was the order of things. “But…she has not ascended?”
“A damned soul may be recovered from Hell by a high-level demon. Under their care, it may ascend until it becomes demonkin.” Barbatos recited this though it was known to both of them. “That is not the case. The Master Reaper documented the disappearance of two reapers shortly after Melody was ‘killed’ in the human realm. They were obliterated, all traces snuffed out. They did not have a chance to communicate to the other reapers. It would have taken a powerful attack, completed in an instant, to effect this.”
Diavolo stood, rounding his desk, abruptly restless. “Lucifer?”
“He is more than capable of it. If he had severed his connection to the human only for reapers to appear, his reaction may have been little more than instinct. His early responses to attacks on his brothers revealed that. He will eliminate any threat to what is his.”
“He did not report this.”
Barbatos smiled tolerantly. “It is not a crime to kill a reaper. Their appearance is menacing and startling, and even those with little strength left will often fight against death, despite its inevitability.”
“Didn’t we speak to them about employing different tactics?” Diavolo asked, hazily remembering a tense conversation with less-than-pleasant gusts.
Barbatos cleared his throat. “They said it dulls the thrill of the harvest.”
“Right. Still…”
“You wish he had confided in you, Young Master?”
Diavolo wished Lucifer had trusted him enough to confide before he was compromised. Of course Diavolo would not – could not – have violated any of his own edicts, or looked the other way, but… So perhaps Lucifer was right in keeping things from him. But if this human was so precious to him, Diavolo would have liked to have known. He would have liked to have known her. And his resources were vast. He could have assisted his friend in devising a solution, if nothing else.
“It is of no matter. So it’s likely he destroyed the reapers who came for her the first time. But you also researched the annals of Hell.”
“Yes.” Barbatos grimaced. “Actually, half a day was spent following other threads. Someone is running a scheme to slip souls out of Hell for ascension without the proper authorization or tracking. I’ve made notes to begin an investigation.”
Diavolo sighed. Demons’ modus operandi was to corrupt. He just wished they did it less in their home territory. Hell was a hostile frontier even to demons. Whoever was running that arrangement would be powerful, which meant uncovering them would be tedious.
“There have been several strange occurrences in Hell since Lucifer gained possession of Melody. But, in reviewing the records, I discovered events on two dates of note.” Barbatos extracted a crisp piece of parchment from his chest pocket and handed it to Diavolo, who frowned at it. “What happened on these days?”
“I checked them against my personal records. They are dates on which you, Young Master, felt a disturbance in the Devildom though we never located the source. We did not think to consult with the keepers of Hell. The veil usually keeps everything…contained.”
Diavolo glared at the paper. No memories were associated with the dates though, admittedly, calendars were not his strong suit. “What occurred in Hell on these dates?”
“A great conflagration which burned through the trappings, devices and guards of Hell but left the souls intact. Though all with faculties were rendered blind and deaf for a period of time.”
“What?”
“Afterwards, large trees grew at the epicenter of the fires. They continue to grow despite the heat and lack of water and sunlight.”
“What kind of trees?” Diavolo asked, at a loss as to where to begin with the rest of the situation.
“I examined pictures. Based on the leaf patterns, I believe they are oaks.”
Diavolo opened and closed his mouth. He paced, hands on his hips. “You think Lucifer followed his human’s soul to Hell, torched part of it while leaving the inhabitants relatively unscathed, then absconded with her, planting magical trees on his way out?”
“That seems unlikely, My Lord. The oak is a common tree, often planted to provide shade, or sometimes to commemorate loss. It is from the human realm. I saw many while retracing Melody Vale’s origins.”
Diavolo ceased his pacing. Barbatos stood.
“I will prepare lunch now. If you wish, we can discuss this after.” He slipped out the side door while Diavolo continued to stare at the seat his butler had occupied.
When a human descended into Hell it disintegrated. Its memories, essence, and power were stripped away. Fundamental components of it could remain. Humans that were strong – notably mages or witches – often retained their basic form, some of their memories. Hell was meant to punish and reshape. He thought the punishment must be worse on those that retained awareness, they were often so bitter by the time they were chosen for ascent. Occasionally, maybe once in a hundred years, a human survived their descent intact. Guards were sent to contain them. Specific devices were arranged to restrain them. A few fought back. Some prevailed for a period of time, going so far as to start uprisings among the more coherent. There was a span of close to a millennium punctuated by uprisings and escapes. This was shortly after Lucifer’s fall, when other discontent angels had defected and hidden in the human realm, just short of falling. Angels did not end up in Hell. Their souls went to Purgatory, where they idled or were reformed. It was their descendants in the human realm – Nephilim – that had caused such trouble in Hell. Scores dead in the ensuring fights. Blights. One Nephilim had restored hundreds of souls to their original forms. Another had died and a garden of wildflowers had grown where his body had collapsed. They still bloomed perennially. The keepers of Hell had deemed the area toxic and off-limits.
Melody had Lucifer’s power inside of her. When he retracted it, she died and, when she died, she went to Hell. But it was possible that not all the power inside of Melody was Lucifer’s. His was obvious. When one sensed it, it was difficult to pay attention to anything else. Something, for example, like an unrefined celestial hybrid power.
When Lucifer had traded his service for Lilith’s survival, Diavolo had to reincarnate her as a human. The power inside of her, while not as strong as Lucifer’s, was intense. He’d had trouble comprehending it, the celestial origins incoherent to him, but it had possessed a kind of brilliant eagerness. Angels held themselves out as noble and calm, superior. That power had tasted purely of bloodlust. Exhausted as Lilith was, her life nearly extinguished, that had been notable and he had endeavored to avoid confronting it directly. He had transferred her soul to a human. The power had remained within her angelic body, snuffed out as it died. He had wanted Lucifer and his brothers on his side, to help him bring balance the Devildom. So it had been a relief, in a way, not to have to deal with it. New allies in hand, a threat against demonkind averted.
Or so he had thought.
Had the power remained dormant through generations of Lilith’s descendants? The meeting of Lucifer’s power could have awakened it. Or…as a child, dying, Melody had been strong enough to call him. Lucifer had killed the mages directly responsible for Melody’s pain then retreated from her human world connections despite enemies remaining. Barbatos had run all his leads to ground, all but one. A father nobody remembered. No, Diavolo mentally corrected. A father nobody could remember. That required power.
He turned to the map of the city, the castle in which he stood elevated in the center. The House of Lamentation sat at the edge of the city, water on one side, the gnarled forest on the other. Were the Fallen housing a weapon there, one with the potential – perhaps even the desire – to devastate his kingdom? The woman had been a guest. He had walked with her, talked with her. She had been suffused with Lucifer’s power, all but floating in Asmodeus’s toxins and pheromones. He’d thought it had been to keep her calm and warn all demons of their claims on her. Perhaps there had been another reason. Had he himself formed the scheme that would secure her in his realm? His fists clenched, anger rising. His demon form emerged, horns curling, gilded adornments scorching against his suddenly hot skin. His wings snapped out. The paintings clattered on the walls. The furniture groaned.
“Young Master,” Barbatos murmured from the doorway, “is there something we should discuss?”
Diavolo exhaled smoke. He turned, eyes glinting gold. “Oh yes, there certainly is.”
“It’s frozen yogurt, but it’s so luxurious that you would never know it’s not ice cream,” Asmo said, practically purring as he pulled own spoon out of his mouth. “Isn’t it simply marvelous? Can’t you taste the Stygian nectar? Oh, it’s so decadent I’d like to bathe in it.”
Melody carefully tasted the frozen yogurt on her own spoon. It was smooth, slightly floral, a little tangy, and far, far too sweet for her liking.
“It’s very complicated,” she said, forcing another spoonful and a smile when Asmo beamed at her.
“I’m glad you like it. It’s good for your hair and nails, too.”
Asmo carried on about the beauty boosting qualities, though Melody was pretty sure he was reaching and trying to justify the treat he’d simply wanted to eat. She shivered. It was also cold and, since they were in the stone caverns deep beneath the house, she was already chilled. The house was full of simple demons working on repairs under Lucifer’s precise oversight while he and Belphegor wove protections into the walls. Extra protections, to go with the additional protections added to the wards around the property. She’d have liked to stay to watch them work and interact. She hadn’t seen much of the different classes of demons, or any demons. She didn’t remember the higher-tier demons from the party at Diavolo’s castle clearly, other than knowing she wanted to avoid them. She wondered what Mammon was doing. Apparently he was particularly bad at spellwork and hadn’t even been asked to assist in the warding despite being the second strongest.
“It’s about time,” an irate voice rang out and she jumped, bumping against Asmo who slid a slim arm around her shoulders. His fingers brushed her chest.
“Don’t worry, pet. It’s just Satan.”
She looked around, from the stone tombs and flickering torches. Three tunnels lined the far wall, the middle one massive while the other two were smaller, but the darkness within them was heavy, like a shroud of ink. The arched stones forming the entrances were jagged as teeth.
“Are we meeting for ice cream?”
“Did you bring me ice cream?” Satan asked, still irate but now a little curious. She figured he was in the leftmost of three tunnels.
“Oops, I forgot to bring some for you. Sorry,” Asmo all but sang. “But I did bring Melody, just as you demanded…I mean asked.”
“Well, that’s something.”
Metal dragged over metal, and bats flew out of the central tunnel, whirling chaotically overhead before she lost sight of them.
“Can you come out of there?” Melody asked as Asmo inched her forward, her entire body leaning back in resistance.
“I’m working on something,” Satan said, his voice fuller now that she was closer. “I hoped we could chat while I worked.”
“Are you helping with repairs?” Her eyes finally adjusted to the darkness. She moved forward on her own, Asmo leaning against the wall as she entered the tunnel.
Surprisingly, it was warmer inside. The ceiling was rather low. Around a slight curve, Satan sat at a rough wooden table, on one of two rough, brown chairs. A book was open in front of him. She could hear liquid dripping somewhere, which was a little disconcerting. A spell prickled against her senses. Was he reading a cursed book in a medieval tunnel for fun or was it not safe in the house proper?
“Reparations more than repairs.” He glanced at her small dish of ice cream and his nose wrinkled minutely. “You don’t have to finish that if you don’t want. Asmo’s ‘miracle health foods’ are often disgusting.”
“Hey, I can hear you,” Asmodeus hissed. Satan smirked. He gestured toward the other chair, and Melody sat, then shivered. The seat was cool.
“What are you working on?”
“Just a bit of research.” His normally bright eyes looked flat in the dim light. “I should ask, because I share the blame for what happened, how you are feeling.”
“Oh.” Everyone was asking her that, cautiously, like they felt obligated but didn’t actually want to know the answer. “Fine.”
Satan crossed his arms over the book. “Honestly?”
She blinked up at him.
“Power of that magnitude must be honed in order to be controlled. Obviously you can’t control it, ergo you never honed it. Are you even aware, when it awakens?”
Cold fire, climbing her limbs, too big and too loud for her to think clearly. “Yes, I’m aware.”
“It must feel overwhelming, as if it is controlling you.”
The eager burn, the waves of manic, seeking hunger.
“When I…came into existence, all I knew was my power.” Satan sat back, deeper into shadow. “There was no beginning and no end. I was only a part of it. Things burned around me, people…burned around me. I knew what was happening, that it was happening and that the powerful, brutal force was a part of me. But none of that mattered, not until I ran out of things to destroy. Then I became aware of myself, and aware of how far that power could reach, how much I was capable of destroying. I was aware of the fear I inspired, the pain I inflicted, the desire to inflict more.”
Melody held her breath. Behind her, Asmo made a small, distressed sound. Satan didn’t look up, only continued.
“While my wrath burned, vague images from memory provided a framework of the world outside the power. Not context. It was less than that. More distant than that.” He raised his head, his eyes still dark, but searching hers. “I was pleased with how strong I was, nigh unstoppable. But it was also frightening. You were not born of your power. It grew inside of you, stole space for itself even though you were not meant to house a force such as it, so when I ask I truly want to know. How are you feeling?”
“It’s…I’m…I mean…” He had been almost clinical in his delivery, but his words were powerful and dark and, in no small way, they resonated with her. “I mean, I am fine. Afterwards, I’m always fine. But it does scare me. I’m scared I’ll hurt the wrong people or, this time, it will keep going and I’ll burn up within it and that will be it, the end. Because nothing survives it when it takes control. But it’s also…it’s also…it’s so sad.”
“Sad?”
“Yeah, it’s sad that this is inside of me and I can’t make use of it. I can’t do more with it, will it away from destruction. It’s celestial power, right? That means it’s supposed to do good.”
“Tch. And here I thought you’d been stuck with Lucifer for years. Did you never listen to him? Not everything that comes out of the celestial realm is good.” Satan bared his teeth. “After all, if it were, I wouldn’t exist.”
He sounded so brazen but she heard his tone for what it was, a veneer. He had fought to harness wrath itself, to control it, because he was more than only that raging power, because he cared about something other than that raging power. She thought of the warmth she felt after her power subsided.
A long time ago, before the Devildom and stasis, before the painful days that led to it, she remembered such warmth passing through her hands or around her head as she sat beside her parents. Their power, divine in origin, had always felt like it was doing good.
“Did he never teach you to use it, never even try to help you with it?”
Melody tilted her head, confused. “Who? Lucifer?”
Satan snorted. “Yes, Lucifer. Or did he just keep you in that damnable box, ignorant and unable?”
“He did teach me.” She shrugged. “He tried anyway. I’m not great with curses.”
“But you’ve created them?” Satan stilled. Melody frowned at him. The excited glint his eyes usually took on when his curiosity was piqued was missing.
“You can, and you’re not lacking in power. Curse Asmo.”
“Excuse me.” The Avatar of Lust stomped his foot.
“Oh, uh, no thank you?” She glanced back. Asmo’s hands were on his hips, and he was glaring past Satan.
“See, she doesn’t want to. That’s a stupid request anyway. You can’t tame that kind of power into a simple curse.”
“So do a complicated curse. Go big. He’s an avatar. He can take it.”
“Satan,” Asmo clenched a fist, “I did not agree to be used as a test dummy.”
Their argument ramped up. The cold air seeped through Melody’s clothes. The irregular dripping irritated her. The rough drag of metal and chain echoing throughout the tunnels grated on her nerves. The book, she thought, didn’t have any words written on the pages.
Asmo’s power crackled. Her mood dropped abruptly as despair dragged at her, talons wrapping around her heart.
“Stop it,” she whispered. What were they doing?
“He’s just being a diva,” Satan snarled. “Curse him and get this over with.”
“Melody, you’re precious and all.” Asmo’s voice rose in pitch. The talons clawed at her. “But if you put one single lick of a curse on this beautiful body, we’re going to have trouble staying friends. I have been through enough stress this week already!”
With an effort, she pulled both of her arms up and set them on the table, palms up. She closed them into fists. The skin beneath her nails had a bluish hue, the power of Asmo’s poison – even a fraction of it, fumes that had escaped with his ire – was potent. Her head throbbed weakly. Concentrating, Melody thought of gentle warmth, of power flowing out of large hands into hers, the essence of magic guiding her spellwork. When she was little, she thought all fathers taught their daughters magic. She couldn’t believe she wasn’t allowed to talk about it with her friends, but they all hid it so well when she tried to drop hints that she felt like she needed to hide it well too. As he had asked. As her mother had instructed. She had never even told Lucifer, though she thought she’d seen comprehension settle on him when he’d tried to teach her.
Whispering words, she opened her hands, releasing buds of light that floated upwards, spinning gently until they were caught on the drafts of warmer, higher air and drawn toward the entrance of the tunnel. As they bloomed, their golden light shifted to bright green and merry pink, stark white and warm yellow. Asmo stopped mid-snarl and pressed both his hands to his cheeks.
“Aww, Melody. How lovely. So much lovelier than a curse.”
“A child’s trick,” Satan snapped. “That’s hardly a demonstration of control. But it didn’t require much effort either, did it? You can do better. Again.”
“I can’t believe Lucifer taught you this.” Asmo’s giggled, following the pinkest blossom out.
“Did you make Asmo mad to add pressure to this little test of yours?” Melody asked, standing. Satan remained sitting. As if he, who pushed into challenges, would remain passive as she glared down at him. She had watched him as the blossoms released their brilliance. The shadows on his face had not been wiped away by the illumination. “Your illusion is pretty good, but it didn’t take into account another light source. Sorry if this is a little rough. I told you I’m not good at curses.”
“Melody,” Satan’s voice was low with warning. “Do no-”
“Forces of clarity, transparency and reversal, remove this illusion and show me all it hides. I am Melody Vale, hear my command.”
The illusion was sticky, or Satan had imbued it with considerable power, or she hadn’t added enough oomph. Lucifer said she tended to underpower curses, a habit she had never been eager to correct. But it peeled down, the force of her curse tearing it away.
The table disappeared.
The book disappeared.
The image of Satan disappeared, which startled her though she had expected it.
In their place she saw Satan pinned to the far, rounded wall of the cave-like end of the tunnel, metal spikes through the wrists of the arms spread like a Y over his head, through the meat of his thighs near the tops of his femurs, through his feet, one pinned atop the other. He was nude, his golden hair lank against a forehead beaded with sweat even though the tunnel was freezing. The spikes turned, slowly, rotating inside of his bleeding flesh. The floor ran with dark, syrupy ichor.
She made an incoherent sound and moved toward him.
“Don’t.” The one eye she could make out glinted swamp green between sweaty strands. “If you come near me, you’ll be injured. Remain where you are.”
Her hands rose to press against her lips. “Wh-wh-what is this?”
The screws continued to turn, thick as thumbs, not driving any farther into his body.
“What does it look like? It’s punishment.”
“No.” She shook her head, denying many things.
He smiled, a wan, gentle smile on cracked lips. “Breaking the hex put all of us in danger. It put the house in danger. Honestly, he would have given me worse if you were not around.”
“But nobody was hurt.”
“Nobody was killed, but it took substantial effort to ensure that. I…should not have meddled with your spells.”
“I’ll tell him to let you go.”
“Do yourself a favor, Melody.” The smile was replaced by a grimace. “Do me a favor, and do not. With greater control, you can be free of him. You might think you don’t want that, but he’s manipulated you into thinking that. Conditioned you. I could teach you control. That goodness you want to make with your power, I can get you there. It will take time, I won’t trick you by pretending it won’t. But I am a good teacher and you are motivated. You can have what you want. I’ll give it to you.”
“Why,” she asked, the word too little for the many things she wanted to know but was afraid to ask.
“You’re unique. I find that interesting. It will be worth my time to learn more of this celestial-human hybrid power.”
She thought of his body against hers, his mouth against hers. When he had been trying to anger her. Trying to figure her out. Experimenting with her, even then. Her voice shook when she asked, “That’s your only interest in me?”
“This marriage scheme is ridiculous, a means to rile up the ruling factions and keep us at each other’s throats. You don’t need to participate in it except as a formality. Marry me. I’ll give you what you want, no other expectations. You won’t have to worry about ‘wifely duties’. I’ll teach you. I’ll make you strong. Unlike Lucifer I won’t force you to hide. You can become your own weapon.”
“That’s not what I want.”
“Lucifer told you your power is one of destruction. You saw it hurt him. That’s what he wanted you to see. Mammon recognized it as celestial power. They were all born of it. He channeled it, transformed it. You should have seen him. He ran around, high and delighted by it all night as you were dragged off to the castle. It does not have be destroy. Those flowers you created were merely the beginning. Your power could be unfathomable.”
She shook her head, fists clenching. The blossoms shot toward her, circling above her head. The shadow she cast circled around her feet, her form distorted over the worn cobblestones, obscured by the spilled demon blood. She felt sick.
“Because Lucifer made you afraid of it, even as he kept that power for himself by locking you up.”
She looked up, through eyes clouding with stinging tears. Satan was smiling that gentle smile again, his eyes full of pity even as he was the one being tortured.
“He mastered manipulation thousands of years ago, Melody. You never stood a chance.”
*
She found him in the kitchen, at the tea station that had been set up after the dining room was destroyed. The sound of hammering reached them through the walls. He stood tall and straight, his hair swept back from his forehead, the deep red of his vest shocking against the matte blackness of the rest of his clothes.
“The repairs are nearly complete,” Lucifer said without turning around. “You only need to endure the noise for a few more hours.”
Swallowing, she marched through the kitchen to stop beside him. He looked her over then his eyebrows rose in question.
“You’re torturing Satan.” Her voice sounded smaller than she’d wanted.
Lucifer’s dark eyes narrowed, then turned away from her toward his steeping tea. “Yes.”
“Yes? That’s all you have to say about it? Let him go!”
“No.”
“Why not? That’s terrible. That is a terrible thing you are doing to him.”
“Because of him we lost a thousand year-old table that has hosted nearly every meal this family has eaten together in the Devildom. Because of him we nearly lost our shelter. Because of him, our reputations were nearly obliterated. Because of him, your health was at risk.”
“I don’t care-”
“I DO.” Lucifer’s voice thundered through the room. The pots fell off the rack with a clatter, making her jump.
“I will not stand to see my brothers unable to walk this realm on their own for fear of being attacked by those who hate us or seek to rip their stations from them. Not again.”
He had led their fall. He had lost their war against the celestial realm. He had led them to the only sanctuary available to them, and it had been hostile. He was so protective of those he chose to claim. She could not imagine the depths of those scars.
“Okay, okay.” She ran her hand down his arm. He was tense as steel, his aura snapping at her. She leaned her forehead against his shoulder to steady herself before taking a breath and drawing back. “Okay. But he knows he screwed up. He regrets it.”
“Not enough, not yet. He would have freed himself already if he did not agree with this punishment. He knows he deserves it.”
Well that was… Satan had been calm, above everything else. Calm enough to plot with Asmo to bring her to him, collected enough to form a solid, interactive illusion. The idea that the pain he was in was only a gruesome irritation made her insides squirm.
“What, are you going to punish anyone who might harm me?” she asked as Lucifer stirred his tea by rote, fury still burning around him.
“Of course not. If it’s one of my brothers, they will be punished as befits their error.” He set the spoon aside, his voice clear and cold. “Anyone else I will kill.”
“No.” Melody sighed with frustration and dismay. All she had wanted was to be awake, to get to know his family. But this was all so complicated. She didn’t want anyone to hurt because of her, least of all him.
“Yes.” A muscle ticked in his jaw. “It is preferable to hiding you in any case.”
“This is screwed up. This…all of this is screwed up.”
He watched her for a moment then touched her cheek. The leather of his gloves was soft, the contact a whisper of a caress. Her chest felt tight. Why wouldn’t he just say it, as easily as Satan had. Offer to marry her? Tell her to. He liked to give orders. He could say it would be a formality only. He could say that and she could agree, and then they would have time. Together. To figure it out.
“It is. These are not matters you should be concerned with. It might be easier if you know my brothers less well.” His hand fell away. “I will assign-“
“No.” She could not handle this, this wanting, this reaching out and finding nothing to grab hold of, nobody reaching for her in return. Turning away, she worked to keep from wrapping her arms around herself as she put one foot in front of the other, forcing herself to move away from him. “Don’t…don’t interfere anymore. Please.”
Levi had left a cell phone on her bed, inside a pink satin bag decorated with smiling Azuki-tans, the little red bean pancake that was friends with his favorite Ruri-chan. He’d started his extensive instructions on a note, then continued them in three text messages and two voicemails. There were a lot of rules to receiving a cell phone from Levi. Mostly he was adamant about setting a difficult passcode and NEVER allowing his brothers to use her phone in case they tried to prank him by pretending to be her. He threatened to block her for life and cut off access to his gaming systems if she ever let that happen. His image in her contacts was his avatar from their game, Dark Path to Starlight. That made her smile.
The rest of her contacts were his brothers. There were no pictures, but Levi had added commentary after their names. Satan came with “Beware: Tricky”. Her smile slipped and she set the phone down on her bed. Of course Levi programmed all his brothers in. They were about the only people she knew. But she didn’t know them, not really. Levi, Levi she thought she mostly understood because they vibed, but she hadn’t seen his demon side. Satan, she did not understand. And Lucifer, she’d thought she knew Lucifer. She was grateful to him. She looked forward to seeing him. She trusted him. She liked him. But she had not known him for even a fraction of his life. In his life, she would exist for little more than the equivalent of a demon afternoon.
The thought made her feel so small, so insignificant. Like a disposable person, for all the fuss that was revolving around her now, for this one short moment in the Devildom. The wind was picking up outside, and she moved toward the window. The occasional dried leaf scraped against the window pane. Through the twilight sky, the warded hedges – repaired or regrown – shivered darkly. A strip of brown paper, curled and rough on the torn edge, rolled its way up the lower story roof toward the window. It had probably come from the supplies the repair demons had used, but the sight of it coming closer, pushed and pulled by the breeze, reminded her of something far, far different.
*
She all but quivered as she sat at her desk in her classroom, hands clasped in her lap, the teacher’s voice an unimportant drone. The clock over the door was so slow, the red hand counting the seconds taking far too long. Melody loved talking to people, loved learning what they liked, loved sharing her lunches with them. But since she and her mom and moved in with Harmony and Daniel, she had only seen a few other kids in the building and none had wanted to talk to her. And since transferring to this school, she had learned the names of all the kids in her grade and the kids on the student council and the dance and club committees, but nobody seemed to remember hers.
Two girls had asked her to meet them after school on the playground. Two girls who were always surrounded by friends, who always had boys offering them food and gifts. Popular girls. They had remembered her name, and invited her sweetly and a little shyly, and her heart had absolutely swelled. She didn’t think she could bear to wait. Deep in her chest, behind her happy heart and lungs that were working too quickly, something fluttered, responding to her excitement with interest.
She turned the page in her language book when the other students did, picking at the plain brown paper wrapped around the outside to protect it. The clock had barely moved. She bit her lip to keep from sighing audibly and stared down at her hands, twisted around each other. Friends. She could wait for friends.
Movement caught her eye. A fragment of paper drifted across the speckled white tiles of the floor, sliding or rolling a few inches before halting, then jerking into motion again. Melody blinked. The air was still in the classroom, smelling of dry erase markers and the slightly sour note off too many children in charge of their own hygiene. The paper rolled again, landing against the metal leg of her desk. It rocked, unfolding until small, rounded bits of itself expanded like limbs. It looked like a gingerbread cookie, but made of paper. Melody smiled, then her eyes went wide as it began climbing the leg of her desk. It wasn’t rolling now. It was actually climbing, the middle of the paper bowing when the tiny, two dimensional feet went higher, then straightening when the hands reached upwards. She held her hand out as it neared the top, unable to stop her curiosity. It leapt the inch from the desk leg onto her fingertips. It was light, only paper, not a creature.
It felt effervescent in her hand and she bit down on a delighted gasp as magic lit in her palm. Harmony’s magic, which she rarely shared but which had settled around the wards on the doors and windows of their fancy apartment, among the books in her new stepfather’s office.
The paper lay flat, the small charm imbuing it exhausted. It did look like a gingerbread man, especially made of the rough, recycled paper they used to wrap their textbooks. Unlike that paper, it wasn’t covered in scrawls and doodles or marked “Don’t Touch, This is the Property of someoneorother”. It did contain a warning though, written in Harmony’s cramped, precise writing.
Don’t go to the playground.
Those girls are setting you up. They suck.
For real, don’t.
Also, don’t interact with spells when you don’t know who sent them, dumbass.
Harmony met her outside the side door of the school for once. Usually she headed toward their subway stop– Melody was not a dawdler, but she was never as quick to put her books into her locker and change into her street shoes as her sister – and didn’t catch up until a block or two from the school.
“I loved your note!” Melody greeted her. “How did you get it from your classroom to mine? We’re on different floors. Can you show me?”
“Can’t you keep quiet for five minutes, nerd?”
Melody had to scramble to keep up with Harmony’s longer legs, her rapid stride.
“How did you learn to do that charm? Does it only work on paper dolls?”
“They’re not dolls.”
“I tried to figure out whether the spell was just in the charm, or in the paper too.” Melody pulled the paper she had carefully slid into her coat pocket out. Harmony snatched it away.
“Hey!” Melody reached, but Harmony balled it up and shoved it into her own pocket. “That was mine!”
“No, it was mine. You can’t even form spells, remember?” The taller girl side-eyed her, as if expecting a challenge.
Melody knew better. Her mother did not want her using or showing the magic inside of her. Harmony really didn’t want her showing it. At first she’d thought her sister might be scared, or jealous. But she wasn’t, not of Melody anyway. Something about her father and Melody’s magic bothered her, though she used her own at his request regularly. Her mother did as well, though Melody knew it tired her. Magic used to flow out of her as naturally as water along a riverbed, but ever since her father had died and her mother had been injured, it had hurt her to use it. Melody missed the warmth. She missed the small spells they practiced, when nobody was around and it was okay. She missed her dad, too. She thought nothing could fill the space he owned inside of her. Harmony was her sister, but Daniel Vale was too different to her father for her to think of him as anything like that.
A girl ran out through the gate to the playground, her face red, something goopy in her hair. Melody watched her go, wondering what had happened. Harmony glared sidelong into the playground. The girls who had invited her to join them stood with a larger group, laughing, and Melody would have stopped if Harmony hadn’t grabbed her arm and pulled her along.
“Don’t look at them.”
“They did something to that girl.”
“Yeah. Don’t think of going after her. It won’t help, believe me.”
“But…they were going to do something to me?”
“Yeah.”
“Something other than make friends?”
Harmony scoffed. “You are honestly too dumb for this world. No, they don’t want friends you dumbass. They just want to mess with people. People only say nice things to get what they want. You’ve got to get that through your brain some day.”
Melody didn’t want that in her brain. She didn’t want to understand it because she didn’t want to believe it.
“You did something nice for me with your doll warning.”
“Not a doll.”
“Do you want something?”
They reached the top of the stairs to the subway and Harmony shoved Melody in front of her, nearly sending her tumbling down the stairs. Mel was used to it. Harmony never used words when actions conveyed her feelings.
“No.”
Melody grinned over her shoulder at Harmony’s peeved expression. “All you have to do is ask.”
“You don’t have anything I want.”
“I’ll be your best friend! You don’t even have to do anything in exchange.”
“I really don’t want that.”
“Too bad, you’re getting it anyway.”
*
It took her a few tries to figure out the latch to her window, then she had to hold her breath when she reached through the ward, up on her toes and leaning half out the window as she scrabbled to pinch the scrap of paper between two fingers. She wrestled the lock closed again, then jumped when her phone buzzed. And buzzed, and buzzed a third time before she’d picked it up from the bed.
The paper had a logo and part of a printed instruction to Tear Here on it. She brushed the rough edge with her thumb, then set it on her nightstand before checking her messages.
Mammon
Hear ya got a new phone. Don’t worry I’ll let ya take a selfie with me for your background. Cause that’s how generous I am. No need to thank me right away.
You know when people say that they mean to thank them right away right? This ain’t an opportunity I hand out to just anybody.
You there Mel? It’s rude to leave people on read. Where you at? What’re ya doing? Is it boring?
She smiled, able to hear his messages in his voice, starting off blustering then getting more and more impatient. It was almost charming. She thought of him racing around the corner to pull her away from Asmo’s door. He’d done the playboy setup with the mood lighting and drinks but then touched her so lightly and only after she touched him first.
Melody
Are you in your room?
Mammon
Look just cause I’m at home doesn’t mean I’m not busy I got lots going on
Melody
Can I visit you?
Mammon
…
That’s fine I guess.
Like now?
You’d better come now since you’re interrupting me and all.
“You married off yet or what?” Mammon asked.
Most of the lights were off, except for the warm fixture directly over his pool table and the rippling screen saver on his giant TV, casting cool colors that reflected off random metallic surfaces. His music was low, a tenor harmony winding over simple acoustic instruments and spacy percussions.
“No, not yet.”
“Whatcha got left? Three days?”
“Two, I think.” She scrunched her nose up. She didn’t want to think about it. That was one of the reasons she was in Mammon’s room Melody wandered while he scooped up clothes and tossed them into a darkened corner. Every surface held small items – piles of coins, stacks of casino chips, ticket stubs, betting vouchers. Gemstones, keys, partially burned candles, what she hoped were not multiple locks of hair in a plastic baggie. “Do you go to lots of different places while you do your work?”
“My what?” he asked, borderline offended.
“Your…demonic work?” Did demons consider the corruption and harvesting of souls to be work or just, like, a lifestyle?
“Oh. Nah. Not really. When humans get desperate they tend to end up in the same places. I go to new places on my own because that’s more fun, ya know? Variety’s the spice of life and all that.” He dropped empty bottles into a bin with a clatter.
Melody hummed. She used to love going new places. The most unique place she’d been to in the last few years was the larder when Beel wanted to show her how many kinds of pickles they had. It had been a lot of pickles, but she didn’t really want that to be the highlight of her decade.
“I know lots of people,” Mammon said as he dug through a bag that seemed to be filled with straw. “Demons in the human realm that don’t pay too much attention to the Devildom. Witches that walk in both realms. I don’t normally recommend relying on them, but they might be kinder to ya.”
Melody reached for a coin, then stopped when the water serpent stamped into the metal began swimming round and around the coin. She watched it, mesmerized. “Why would they be kind to me?”
“‘Cause you’re human. You got options, is what I’m saying. You can tell Lucifer to suck it and take off.”
It took her a moment to realize what he meant. She looked up in surprise. “If I took off, wouldn’t all of you get in trouble?”
“It’d be worth it to see the look on Lucifer’s face.” A laugh skittered out of Mammon. He pressed two fingers to his lips, looked away then back at her.
“I’m guessing by the look on your face that you ain’t gonna skip out and leave him to deal with it, are you? Even though he’s the Avatar of Pride and can handle it.”
“Just because he can handle something doesn’t mean he should have to. I don’t want anyone in trouble because of me.”
“Huh. Well, loyalty’s a good quality. Learn how to flirt better and you’ll be the whole package.” Finished with his hasty cleaning, he stopped in front of her and frowned. “What’s with you? You been blue all day.”
She looked down at her clothes, a purplish-gray sweater over soft black jeans.
“Not what you’re wearing, dummy. Blue.” He made a circling gesture in the general area of her heart. “Sad. All day. Worse after you were with Lucifer.”
“Were you watching me?” Her pact mark warmed, and then her cheeks warmed in response. Ah, that thing where he could feel what she was feeling when he was near enough. “Why do you think Lucifer made it worse?”
“Like I got time to watch your every move. No, I was taking care of important business but kept getting distracted by ya. His power’s so suffocating I don’t get anything from you when he’s around, but after that wore off you were…you…you felt worse. Look, I told you I’m not even paying attention, but it’s hard to ignore your feelings when you get like that. ‘Cause it’s irritating. A real drag. So-”
Yeah, well, it was for her too. She hadn’t felt blue. She’d felt flat. Now she just felt like she couldn’t do anything right, couldn’t be anything right. “Why don’t you just break the pact?”
“Hey.” He reached out, pulling her hands apart where they were trying to wring themselves around each other. “It’s hard to ignore because most of the time you’re pretty happy.”
“And that feels better?” She remembered feeling what he was feeling, briefly. The emotion had been there, in her, but it hadn’t originated in her and she hadn’t really connected with it, or been able to soothe it. But he’d been agitated. She didn’t know what someone else’s happiness felt like.
“Yeah. It’s warm.” His thumbs rubbed over the backs of her hands. “Kinda bubbly. It’s not a bad vibe. So you’d better get happier.”
She shook her head, but couldn’t stop a small smile. “Just like that?”
“Sure, just like that. Why not?” He grabbed a couple of glasses and a bottle, shaking straw off of it. “Here, I got you this wine from your realm. It’s a rare vintage. Humans pay thousands of dollars to taste it, so you’d better be grateful.”
Her eyebrows rose. “You got wine for me?”
“Yeah, well, you don’t like Demonus.”
She shook her head. “It’s fine.”
Mammon snorted, working the cork out of the bottle. “You forgettin’ who you’re talking to, Melody Vale? The Great Mammon can sense all forms of want and greed. That means I can tell when you don’t want something, too.”
She accepted the glass he pushed at her. She raised it toward the pool table light so she could see the garnet hue of the wine. It tasted rich, a little sweet before the aftertaste drew out, softly dry.
“Oh.” She took another, longer sip, letting it flow across her tongue. The fruit opened up, deepened, mellowed further. “I’ve never tasted anything like this.”
“Yeah, and you like it better.” Mammon chuckled, pouring himself a healthy glass of Demonus and dropping onto the couch. “I knew it, of course. You’re lucky you got me around since you don’t even know to go after what you like.”
He tilted his head back as he drank, long fingers cradling the glass, his throat bobbing as he swallowed. He was still smiling as he lowered the glass to rest on his knee and dropped his head against the back of the couch. There was nothing provocative about his posture – his t-shirt barely exposed the notch of his collarbone, his thighs stretched the fabric of his jeans but his long legs weren’t spread lewdly – but he looked pleased.
“And what does it feel like,” she asked, licking her lips, “when I like something?”
Gold sparks lit in his eyes in the instant before he turned away. “It’s, you know, good.”
Pink spread across his cheekbone, making his skin look like it would be hot to the touch. She stepped closer before stopping herself, clenching her fist to keep from touching him to find out. She wanted to touch him. Wanted the easy laughter and soft kisses of yesterday.
“Good how?”
Mammon shifted restlessly.
“You made it so I can’t feel what you’re feeling, Mammon.” She swallowed when his gaze darted to her stomach, the place where his symbol marked her skin. “So I’m curious about how it feels to know what someone else is feeling.”
“You don’t need a pact for that.”
“No?”
“You’re clever. Figure it out.”
Their eyes met, his searching. Wanting something from her. Wanting… Oh. Her curiosity retreated, satisfied, but what replaced it felt demanding, urgent. A surge of energy went through her, warm and effervescent.
Mammon sat up suddenly, shoving his glass onto the end table then reaching for her in a single motion. His hand closed around her wrist, tugging her forward as he relieved her of her glass, slick as a thief. She stood between his knees.
Reaching out, she carded her fingers through his hair – thick and soft – hissing apologetically when she pulled at a tangle. He watched her from beneath long lashes, stroking the underside of her wrist. His other hand went to her side, over his mark. He smoothed over it and heat followed in its wake. The blush continued to spread across his face, staining his neck, and his gaze darted from his hand on her body, to her eyes, to her mouth. But he didn’t pull her closer. His touch didn’t firm. Uncharacteristically quiet, he didn’t demand anything from her. Mammon understood want and satisfaction. He experienced it, certainly, but he also sensed it in others and she could see that it did something for him. When she had enjoyed the wine, he’d looked content. How would he feel if she enjoyed something more powerful than a drink?
“Did you try the wine?” she asked.
“I got that for you.” His sparking gaze locked on her lips as they twitched into a smile. She stroked the sharp line of his jaw, tilting his head up as she leaned down to him.
“Maybe I want to share,” she murmured, pleased that she sounded sort of suave.
He made a sound when their lips met, soft, almost surprised, and a little thrill went through her at how quickly he kissed her back. He’d been quiet for a minute and it was about the most restrained she’d ever seen him. But the Avatar of Greed wasn’t meant for moderation.
He surged up, pulling her down. One hand landed on the hard planes of his abdomen, the other hit his shoulder before sliding into the cushions behind him. He lifted her by the hips, centering her on his lap as he peppered her face with urgent kisses. When his lips brushed the tip of her nose she turned her head to the side and laughed, until his mouth found the side of her neck, sucking gently. She gasped, and her hand clenched against his stomach, nails raking. The sound he made was close to a whine and he pulled her closer, seating her firmly against him.
It was like fifty of her daydreams landed on her all at once and her mind stopped working. Or maybe thought wasn’t required. Sensations melded. The solidity of him beneath her thighs, the teasing friction between her legs as they each moved, the creak of leather, the slide of his fingers over her ribs, the spicy alcohol lingering on his tongue, the firmness of his chest against her breasts, the scent of mint and tropical fruit from his products, the feel of him smiling against her mouth. It didn’t make sense that this was real, that she was allowed to have this.
She stroked her fingers from his temples over cheekbones still flushed hot, then tilted her head and kissed him the way he had asked her to before, like she meant it. It wasn’t as if she had to pretend. His touch was ceaseless, clutching at her until he seemed to force himself to let go only to grasp again. He shifted constantly, pulling her closer, pressing against her. She was growing wet. It felt like electric currents were running through her veins. Each small pleasure made her crave more. Her palms slid up the flat planes of Mammon’s stomach, pulling his shirt up with them. He was all soft skin over hard muscle, warm and welcoming. She shoved his shirt up until he coughed out a laugh.
“You’re so demanding.” He reached to pull it over his head.
“Can I-” she started, unsure exactly what she was asking.
“Whatever you want, Mel.”
“You’re so beautiful.” She bowed over him and pressed an open-mouthed kiss to his chest. Her lip brushed his nipple and she slid her tongue over it. He bucked against her, hard friction between her legs, and her entire body shivered as she ground down.
Mammon finally emerged from the shirt, flushed, hair wild, eyes wide. He looked down at where their bodies met and his hands went to her hips. His fingers dug in as he guided her against him, sliding her back and forth. He leaned back, the posture almost lazy, but his muscles flexed as he moved her and his gaze rose, sea blue lit with gold, to watch her intently.
She pulled her sweater off, shivering at the sight of the sparks that flared in Mammon’s eyes more than the sudden chill of the air. Leaning forward, she pressed her body against his, her skin cool against his heat. Her head swam. She ran her hands down his arms, dug her nails into the back of his hands when his fingers tightened around her hips. Mammon’s breaths were tight, stuttered. She ran her tongue up the side of his neck, nipping at his jaw as she swirled her core against his hardness. It felt luxurious, all this gorgeous shared touching.
He palmed the side of her neck, turned her for an open-mouth kiss that deepened instantly. He touched his mark again, fingertips sliding beneath the waist of her jeans. Without leaving his mouth, she unbuttoned them. Mammon caught the zipper and slid it down, his hand following. He pressed against her through her panties, making her shudder, and then she was on her back, blinking up at him. Her hands froze beside her head as she stared up at him, her body missing him already, her only thought a shaky question mark.
“You don’t…if you don’t… If you need to leave, you should get going now.”
“If I need to leave?” she repeated dumbly.
“Yeah. Now.” Mammon jerked his head toward the door. “You should get going.”
She glanced at the door and a frisson of alarm went through her. Did she have somewhere she was supposed to be? Was she letting someone down? She looked back at him. Strands of white hair hung over his eyes. His dark brows were narrowed. His body was apart from hers as he held himself up on hands and knees, and she didn’t like it. She wanted him with her, here. And she thought he wanted to be with her, here. No, she knew. This was something else. Reaching up, she stroked his face. Mammon’s eyes closed. He swallowed hard.
“I’m not human, you know,” he said tightly.
Melody smiled, nodding even though he couldn’t see it. “I know. Am I going too fast for you? Am I making you uncomfortable?”
His eyes snapped open. “Oy! I’m a demon. There’s no way you’re going to scandalize me.”
“I wouldn’t presume.” She ran one hand down his chest, wrapped the other around his neck and pulled herself up so she could whisper into his ear, “There isn’t anywhere else I’d rather be, you know.”
Mammon shuddered, shaking his head side to side. “Yer gonna be the death of me.”
“Uh huh. Do you know what I want right now, Mammon? Can you feel what I want?”
The needy sound he made wound sweetly through her body. He dropped onto her, skin hot against hers, body solid and hard. His mouth was everywhere. He pulled and tore at their clothes until nothing remained between them. She couldn’t tell if she was trying to keep up or leading him. The leather of the couch gripped at her skin and she winced.
“I’ll fix it,” he muttered against her throat, pulling her into his arms and standing them both up, navigating to his bed. He turned like he was going to sit down but they floated a few feet to land in the center of his big bed, Melody stretched atop him. She laughed breathlessly, straddled him and slid against him, wet against his hardness. His hand strayed to her lower back and he hissed when Asmo’s mark chilled, making her yelp in surprise.
“I don’t think so,” he snarled, white light flooding from his eyes. He flipped her onto her back again, but this time he didn’t leave a centimeter between them.
His cock slid, long and hard, against her core. She was so wet, aching, aching for him. He kissed her, holding her so close, sliding against her clit until she was clawing at him.
“M-mammon,” she managed, shaking so much she could barely form words.
“Greedy.” He chuckled against her throat. “You’re so greedy for me.”
“Come on already!”
“Don’t worry,” he said, voice gentling, “I gotcha.” He sat back on his heels, pulling her hips onto his thighs, widening his legs to spread her open for him. His fingers brushed over his mark, sparks snapping against her skin. He positioned himself, dragging his eyes from the joining of their bodies up to her face. He smiled crookedly, lowering himself over her as he slid into her, catching her gasp with his mouth. “I’ll take care of you. Just stay with me.”
Melody woke as she was rolled partly onto her side, pushed by a man standing over her in the nearly dark room, cursing as quietly as he could, but still cursing nonstop.
“Shit. Damn it. Grr. Just a little more. Come on. Damn it.” Mammon cupped her shoulder and her hip, trying to gently ease her onto her side.
Fighting a grin, she exaggerated the force of his push, rolling fully onto her side before flopping onto her back, limbs splaying.
“Oof.”
“Whoa! Are you okay, Mel?” Mammon squeezed random parts of her arms and legs, checking for damage. He was dressed in a new t-shirt and boxer briefs. His jeans were inside out, one leg hanging off the side of the bed. The other had been beneath her. She hadn’t noticed when she’d fallen asleep after their activities. Their many, varied, possibly even naughty activities.
“No. I am not okay.”
“Oh, shit. What do you need? Do you need a doctor? Did ya break something?”
“I need…” She beckoned him down as though she barely had the strength to do so. He bent toward her. “…a kiss.”
He went completely still for an instant. Then he straightened, hands going to his hips. “You jerk! You had me worried there. Uh… Just for a second though. I knew you were faking. Obviously. I wasn’t even worried actually.”
Melody laughed, delighted as he stammered through his poor attempt to cover his concern. Mammon was so darn cute. He was also, as she had learned the night before, generous, passionate and way more patient than she had thought him capable of, but only when he was teasing her. She wanted to pull him down beside her, or sit up and wrap herself around him again. But he was dressed and trying to sneak out of his own room.
“Are you going somewhere?” she asked.
“Yeah, got a meet up for a trade. Big deal in the works. It’s finally comin’ together.”
“Oh.” She straightened the duvet over her chest and rolled onto her side, watching him shake out his jeans and pull them on. “Will you be long?”
“It’ll take awhile. You should go back to sleep.” He sat on the bed, smoothing her hair away from her face and tucking it behind her ear. He traced the shell of her ear, smiling to himself. Something contracted in her chest, like a hug around her heart.
His hand stilled and his eyes were wide when they met hers. “Melody?”
“I’m still waiting for that kiss.”
Despite everything they had done the night before, he blushed.
“Y-yeah, okay. Maybe I’ll give you one. Just a little one though. Can’t have you getting all greedy on me again.”
But he was grinning as he kissed her, and one kiss turned into a few, and soon he was pressed against her and she was squirming her way out from beneath the blanket.
“I gotta go,” he mumbled against her neck, roaming hand finding her breast and squeezing.
“So go.” She bit his earlobe, teeth dragging at his gold stud before releasing it. He groaned and she laughed into his hair until he pinched her nipple. Her entire body jolted, with shock, with want.
“Fuck,” Mammon said, “I’m not gonna be able to pay attention to this deal knowin’ yer here in my bed. All warm and wet and waiting for me.”
“Who said anything about wet?”
“Oho, I’ll take that bet!” Unlike him, she had not re-dressed. His hand cupped her and her hips tilted up without any conscious direction from her. “Oops, looks like I win.”
Melody sucked in a breath. “I’m not exactly losing either.”
Clever fingers slid, circling her clit before gliding away, dipping into her before retreating. Over and over he teased her, as though he didn’t have any other place he needed to be.
“Mammon,” she panted.
“I got ya.” He watched her raptly, pale blue light suffused with power leaking out of his eyes in the dark of the room. Her head fell back as her hips rolled, meeting his hand. “You don’t gotta worry. Not about tomorrow or anything else. I mean, if you wanna tell them you’re marrying me, then I’ll go along with it.”
Surprised, she stilled, despite the needy ache all but shaking her body. “Yeah?”
“Yeah.” He glanced away, though the movement of his hand sped a little, his fingers driving deeper and curling.
“I’m glad. I-ah!” She wanted to talk about this, but he felt so good and it felt so good to just let go.
“Fuck, Melody.” He lay over her, mouth hot and demanding against hers as she came. Her pact mark flared, and rather than the warmth she normally got from it, or the little snapping shocks demanding attention, honeyed heat rolled through her in waves until she felt like she might start glowing from it. It was happiness so complete it was nearly peaceful. And it hadn’t come from her.
“Mammon?” she started, then squeaked when he pulled her up, blanket and all, into his arms. The duvet flopped up to cover her face and she flailed.
“Hold still, you maniac. Yer gonna make me drop you.”
“What are you doing!?”
“I gotta go, like I told ya a million times already. You can’t always make me late like this, got it?”
Shoving the blanket down, she stared at him as he carried her out of his room, peeking around the corner before heading to her room.
“I won’t,” she said, a little breathless. “I won’t always make you late.”
“Always” sounded good. “Always” sounded amazing.
“Good.” He shoved her door open with his boot, sidestepped into her room, and set her on the bed. Then he messed with his blanket and hers, making a kind of puffy nest around her more than tucking her in. “Yer so much trouble. How’s such a little thing like you so much trouble? Alright, go back to sleep. I gotta do this deal.”
“Good luck,” she said as he kissed the end of her nose.
“Like I’ll need it. Don’t you know who I am? Geez.”
***
“And then Yukio-chan tells Ryu that she never intended for him to read the letters, which he thinks is false. ‘Cause why else would she have left them in his cubby day after day, right? But he doesn’t know that she can see and hear his dead brother Rin’s ghost and that he’s the one she’s writing the letters to, since she feels bad that he can’t be having a regular high school experience like being confessed to or falling in love. But Rin knows that Yukio-chan has been falling in love with Ryu – his living brother – and wants them both to be happy.” Levi paused to take a breath then blew it out gustily. “I mean WOW, am I right? I cannot wait for next week’s episode. I mean, seriously. I’m not going to sleep ‘til it drops.”
“I thought you already read the manga and it’s like a year ahead,” Melody murmured.
Levi was pacing his room, blissfully reciting the events of the anime he’d binged all night while she sat at his desk, one leg pulled up, chin resting on her knee as she idly played with his simulated life game. She’d slept a few hours, then sprung out of bed and dragged him away from his screen for her breakfast. Or maybe it was dinner for him since he hadn’t slept yet.
“Whoaaaa, don’t remind me. I’m trying to un-remember it so that I can experience the anime fresh. Plus they’re different. Totally different mediums, and the times have changed since it was first written, so the anime may actually be better. It’s like you can see the strings of fate at work. And Yukio-chan is so cute. Seriously. Not like Ruri-chan cute, but…”
Melody actually looked up at that, concerned. Had Ruri-chan finally fallen off the number one spot on Levi’s impossible waifu pedestal? “Uh…Levi?”
He started, having apparently fallen asleep standing up. She was tired too but also buzzing with excitement. Mammon had texted twice, once to say he was bored while waiting for his meeting, then again to say his contacts had arrived and he was excited. Or, she thought that’s what the fireworks, diamond and bird emojis had meant. Each time her phone buzzed, her stomach did a little flip.
Levi wiped at his mouth, as if he’d started drooling in the five seconds he’d been asleep. “Sorry, where was I? AH, WHY IS THAT IN MY ROOM AGAIN?” He shoved a hand between his face and the monitor, and Melody huffed fondly at the image he shielded himself from.
“That’s my emotional support monster, Levi! Be nice to my Chelsea.”
“Your Chelsea is massive and your Chelsea is hideous. What is going on with your emotions that you need that to support them? Is this a human thing?” He drew back, narrowing his eyes. “Is this one of those female human things?”
“Don’t be like that.”
He startled. “Like what, a disgusting otaku?”
“A douche bag.”
Levi made an affronted noise and Melody stuck her tongue out at him.
She rotated the image, looking at the scaled body and the beady fathomless black eyes, the menacing, pronged tail. She’d added some armor to the neck and…withers? Did scorpions have withers? And a saddle like the high-pommeled ones she’d seen on camels.
“I guess I like the idea of her being a badass physically because, you know, I’m not. But maybe she’d be strong enough to tolerate my messed up power? I mean, it’s kind of monstrous, isn’t it? I can’t exactly have a kitten or a shih tzu around if I go off. That would be so awful.”
“Huh. I guess I see where you’re coming from.” He dropped onto a stool and rolled it closer, grimacing as he studied the image. “Back when we were angels we battled demons – who could be strong – and watched over humans, who usually weren’t unless technology or sorcery was involved. Sometimes one would build up an army and fortify it with magic, which was tough but we had the seraphim and archangels behind us, so nothing really felt scary unless it involved public speaking or something. Then we landed here.”
Melody barely dared to breathe, not wanting to interrupt Levi, who would always rather talk about fantastical worlds, especially those invented by humans, than his own. He leaned past her, grabbing the mouse and using it to smooth the body where it transitioned from sea horse head and neck to scorpion body.
“Lucifer picked up spellcraft immediately. So did Belphie. Mammon didn’t, but he’s always had physical strength rather than strategy. I didn’t adjust well. I wasn’t all that powerful as an angel, not like they could be, and curses felt harsh and I kept messing them up. But everyone here was out to get us, so…” He glanced at her sidelong, then looked down. “I mean, I wasn’t strong and after the battle with the heavens…I didn’t want to get hurt like that again. So it made sense to put my strength into something else.”
“Lotan?”
“Yeah. I mean, he was just a baby then but he was strong, and I could channel my power into him.”
“Wait.” She shook her head. “I thought you created him?”
“Uh, no. I found him in a pond. Or, like, a hole in the ground full of sludge. I couldn’t quite understand him, but I knew he was panicking, so I pulled him out.”
“Aww, you rescued a little sea monster? Did he cuddle up to you?”
“No, that little assclown tried to kill me! I finally subdued him, figured out how to communicate with him and got him to calm down, and we formed a partnership. It still took awhile to work the kinks out.”
“How many times did you flood the House of Lamentation?” she teased.
“Only twelve or thirteen,” he said in a rush, like that wasn’t much, “then there was the fire.”
“The fire?”
“It doesn’t matter.” Levi waved both hands, his face reddening. “We worked it out. What I’m saying is that I get it. The Devildom revolves around power. Only the strong survive. If demons aren’t strong enough, they die and go to Hell and eventually climb back out and try again. Or band up with others, for strength in numbers. Or learn spellcraft to shield physical weaknesses. I’m sure it’s a scary place for a human, because it was a scary place for us – angels – when we landed. And we’re way more powerful than you. Or, than humans. Not you, I guess, since you have Lilith’s power.”
“How…” Melody floundered, unsure how to ask what she wanted to ask. “Do you think… If she had…”
Levi stared at her for a moment, then his face did something complicated before his shoulders slumped. “How would Lilith have adapted?”
“Yeah.”
“She…” Levi took a deep breath, then surprised her by laughing. “She would have loved it.”
Melody’s eyebrows flew up.
“I mean, not at first. It sucked at first. She would have been kicking the ass of every demon who looked at Beel or Belphie funny. And that was a lot of demons. Beel got challenged because he’s the biggest so it would be like symbolic to take him down? Belphie’s the smallest and youngest, and with his avatar station it’s hard to understand how dangerous he can be. But he’s lazy so he fights mean so he can go back to being laying around. So they had it the worst, which would have made her so mad! But after she cleaned house, she would have just turned it off and gone sightseeing. Or taken classes. She loved learning new stuff. She would have been a terror with spellcraft.” Levi looked up, thinking. “Everything would have been different. Lucifer wouldn’t have had to give so much away. Mammon wouldn’t have had to make all those sleazy deals. Asmo might not have…have become so toxic. But, Belphie might not have become an avatar if he hadn’t been pushed. I might not have.”
“Would Lilith have become an avatar?” Levi ran through a series of complicated gestures with his fingers, like he was figuring out complex equations with them. Finally, he shrugged.
“I don’t know what station she’d have aligned with. Not sloth or gluttony. She liked collecting things so she was kind of acquisitive. But I don’t know about Greed. She was very physical, but Lust doesn’t really fit. She was a little wicked but not mean. Had a protective streak a million miles long. I mean, I was her older brother but she came out swinging for me even if I deserved the mean things people said about me. So maybe Wrath. And if her powers had turned demonic, who knows? She would have been strong.” He nodded to himself, hands clenching into fists. “It should have been her that survived. She deserved to get out, to become powerful. She would have made a better demon than me.”
“Levi.” Melody slid out of her chair and knelt in front of him, covering his hands. “Don’t say that.”
“It’s true.”
“It’s not. And she’d be the first to tell you that, right?”
He leaned on her and made a muffled sound against her shoulder.
“And she got to live a life,” Melody continued, encircling him with her arms. “She got to have experiences and was surrounded by generations of family. My grandmother told me stories about her, how adventurous she was. Never sick a day in her life, never still for a day either. And she didn’t have to worry about being attacked. She got to be free.”
“Yeah, yeah I guess.” They stayed like that for a moment, Levi not exactly relaxing into the hug, but not pulling away either. His hair was soft, silky against her cheek. After a moment, he made a thoughtful sound.
“What?”
“It’s weird… Lucifer said Diavolo extinguished Lilith’s celestial powers in order to reincarnate her as a human. But she lived a life way longer than any human could have. And her power survived, clearly. Because you have it. Like, all of her power. It’s weird to think the Demon Lord got something that big wrong. Hey, I’m gonna give Chelsea a helmet.”
He straightened and Melody sat back on her heels.
“Okay,” she agreed mechanically, her mind stuttering, wanting to take off.
If Lilith had survived, her power would have become demonic. Like the brothers’ had done. Some of the brothers had learned spellcraft, but most of their strength had arrived with them. Inside of them. Celestial power, which would draw notice in the Devildom, could change and become demonic power.
Her power could transform. She felt for it, that swirling warmth resting inside of her. At rest it was simply part of her, had always been part of her.
If she could transform it and learn to hide it she could be free.
Free to make choices. Free to protect herself. Free to go where she wanted. Free, like actually free for the first time in her life.
Melody knocked on the door, almost bouncing on her toes from excitement.
“This had better be an emergency,” Lucifer growled from inside his bedroom.
Hand poised over the doorknob, she hesitated. This wasn’t a crisis requiring immediate action. But she had a deadline, and her idea and that deadline might not be compatible. Was that an emergency? What was an emergency anyway?
“Well?” he demanded.
“I don’t think it’s an emergency,” she called so he could hear her. “Maybe it’s an urgency? Everything is fine of course. Except for maybe one thing. I just-”
“What’s wrong?”
She waved her hands around to ward off the concern he was probably building even though he couldn’t see her. “Nobody’s in danger or anything. But there’s a time element to it?”
“Come in. Stop shouting from the hallway.”
“Right. Okay.”
Lucifer stood beside a desk strewn with papers and scrolls, draining the last of a cup of coffee. His hair, still wet, was combed back from his face. It would soften as it dried, strands lightening at the ends to near white and sliding to frame his dark, deep-set eyes. He glanced at her, a quick appraisal.
“What is your urgency?”
“It’s…” She bit her lip.
“You’re nervous, of course.” It was a statement and, while not untrue, he shouldn’t know what she was going to suggest. She wasn’t sure she understood. “You should think of the marriage as a requisite step only, akin to the completion of an exam. The disclosure at the conclave will be uncomfortable but it will be brief. We’ll get you out as quickly as we can. Once we are past that, curiosity will dim and move onto other, more novel things. You won’t have to worry. You’ll be safe.”
He was so earnest, had put thought into it, planned even for her comfort. But he hadn’t considered every possibility. Melody shook her head. “Actually, that’s not what I wanted to talk about.”
Lucifer arched an eyebrow. “You’re nervous but that’s not what you’re nervous about? You do remember this will occur tomorrow night?”
“Yeah. Yes. I know. But…” She crossed to him, excitement and anxiety battling inside of her like she’d had a pot of coffee then chased it with a bag of sugar. “What if it didn’t have to happen?”
He didn’t turn away fast enough to hide his eyeroll, and she almost reached for him as he slid on his red damask waistcoat.
“We have addressed this. It will happen. You will not be safe unless it does.” He paused. “It is the best solution, all things considered.”
“Okay, but-”
“We will review the logistics tomorrow. The Echelon will likely cause a commotion. It is their way. If the Vanguard want to interfere they will do it before we arrive at the meeting hall. They believe too much in the formality of the conclave to violate any rules once it has begun. You will be guarded between the house and the hall. If you will excuse me.”
He was preparing to leave, already moving on to his next task, his next obligation.
“Right.” She skirted around his desk to join him in the doorway to his closet, snatching the tie he was reaching for. “But Levi and I were talking, and I think there might be another way.”
“Another way to appease hostile factions of the Devildom, fulfill the House of Lamentation’s petition to the castle, and keep you out of Hell? Give me that tie.”
She twisted to keep it away from his reaching hand. “I’ll help you with it.”
“Melody.”
“I’ll help!” She pushed his chin up, ignoring his dramatically belabored sigh, and buttoned the top button of his shirt.
“You’re becoming a valet now? I have several pairs of shoes you should polish. And my razor requires sharpening.”
“It seems fine.” She ran the tip of her finger back and forth across his chin, which was smooth-shaven. He pushed her hand away. She brought it immediately back to slide the tie around his collar. “So there are two concerns.”
“With the razor?”
“With me, Lucifer!”
He chuckled at her irritation.
She shoved one end of the tie through a loop, made another loop, then frowned at it.
“There are a minimum of two concerns with the mess you are making of this Windsor knot.”
Still smirking, he unraveled the loops she had completed, around the interference of her hands as she tried to reassert herself in the process. She needed another few minutes and to maintain a fraction of his attention.
“I’m an unauthorized human in the Devildom, and I bring a certain unwelcome power into the Devildom.”
“Those are not the only two concerns,” Lucifer replied. She was so close to his throat she could feel the low vibration of his voice.
“But they are the two main problems. Everything else is sort of a byproduct. This is what’s causing trouble for you, what’s necessitated this arranged marriage thing, which nobody is enthusiastic about.” She thought of Levi and Satan’s decidedly non-romantic propositions, of Mammon’s casual offer. Of what they had been doing when he’d made that offer. Flushing, she shook her head and grabbed onto the loose end of the red fabric after Lucifer whipped it around the evolving knot. “And the house keeps getting destroyed because I’m in it.”
“This house has been attacked before.” Lucifer held the knot loosely at his throat with one hand and stretched the dangling end of his tie out with his other. Afraid he would leave if she let go, she kept her hold on it. He kept pulling and her arm stretched past his shoulder, dragging her close to him. “It will never be destroyed.”
She nearly flinched under his dark glare, amplified by sharp lines of tension in his face. In all her years with him, even if they were not often together, she had never gotten used to how intense he was. Intense in focus, intense in grief, intense in anger. His brothers still got nervous around him. Maybe you could never get accustomed to this kind of intensity. But she wasn’t afraid, despite all that anger and power. It wasn’t because of how he looked, all that darkness smoldering inside an expensive, civilized veneer, so beautiful it sometimes stopped her mid-thought. It was his taste in skillful, gloomy music and delicate teas. It was his snarled insistence on perfection countered by his gently considerate reassurance when she flubbed something for the third time. It was his persistence, a near-relentless devotion to keeping her going when she should have, long ago, ceased to exist. He could say that this creaky old house would stand forever, and she would believe him.
“We were talking about power,” she said. She kept her eyes on her hand, wrapped around the thin end of his tie, of his gloved fingers so close beside. He was very warm this close. She swallowed. Lucifer was sensitive about certain things and, when he felt uncomfortable, he eliminated the source of the discomfort. It was difficult to tread carefully when she had no time. “Asmo’s avatar station gave him specific abilities on top of his power. Beel’s made him more resilient, on top of his strength. Levi funneled power into a beast he summons. Adding spellcraft heightened your power, and Belphie’s. Mammon didn’t go for a summon or spellcraft, but his powers increased to meet the demands of this place.”
“And this history lesson has what to do with you?” Lucifer asked, all but pulling her along as he strode to his desk to pick up his phone as it began to vibrate. She stumbled to a stop beside the desk and he finally jerked his tie away from her. He muttered as he responded to the text.
“It has to do with the way all of you altered and adapted your powers when you got here. It has to do with the fact that Celestial power is a beacon for hostility, but it can be changed. It can blend in, like yours did. Truly be hidden.” She held one hand in front of her chest and covered it with the other, demonstrating the idea as much as trying to soothe herself. Because there would be a cost to what she envisioned, but it would be worth it.
She jumped when Lucifer’s hands covered hers, her gaze darting up to meet his. Which was a mistake, not because he was angry. He looked troubled, and he was very close, smelling of smoky spice and teak. Dark hair and the ruby depths in his eyes, contrasted against his pale skin. His voice, so near, rolled over her, low and intimate as a caress. She had to open her mouth to draw her next breath.
“Melody, we did not adapt to this realm. We fell. We were reduced to demons. It was astounding that our power remained, in any form.” He squeezed her hands. “You were never an angel. You cannot fall.”
“I know you loved your sister,” she rushed out. Satan had joked about Lucifer for making this marriage deal to save his own ass. But one random human soul wasn’t going to bring Diavolo down on him. A Celestial power meant to level kingdoms might. But she couldn’t hide it forever, not if she was going to stay in the Devildom. Someone would attack. She would freak out. It would erupt. It would weaken Lucifer and he would be hurt, or he wouldn’t be there to stop her and would be held responsible for whatever she did. Or she – God forbid – would hurt one of his brothers. He would never forgive himself. She couldn’t do any of those things to him. “And you didn’t like the way this power was inflicted on her. But her – her spirit – is separate from this power, and this power is dangerous. Not just for what it is, but for what would happen if it were sensed.”
“I am well aware of this, Melody.” His tone was a warning, but she barreled right past it.
“So if I practice with it, I can-”
His hand clenched around hers. “Absolutely not.”
“I can learn to control it.”
“Your memory must still be suffering the effect of statis,” he bit out, leaning toward her. “You cannot control it, and it would kill you to try.”
“Harness it, then. Focus it.”
“It will kill you.” Lucifer’s aura flared and she flinched.
“It was weaker when I was younger.” She shook her head, pressed her fingers against her temples. “It has only ever been as strong as I can handle.”
“No, it has been as strong as I can handle.” He gripped her shoulders, bruising hard, and shook her. “Without my connection, it would have burned you alive.”
“If you withdrew your power it might subside, become manageable.”
“Don’t be stupid. Don’t let yourself be infected by Levi’s fantasies.”
“Let me try, Lucifer. You don’t understand. I can feel it. I’m aware of its dimensions. I can figure it out how to wield it.”
She was all but shouting, and his response was just short of thunderous.
“Celestial power is not allowed in the Devildom no matter how manageable it might be, and this cannot be managed.” Grabbing his coat, he strode for the door. She scrambled after him. “It is only one more day. Mind your place until then. One more damn day.”
Her place. She wanted to scream with frustration. She wasn’t going to change Lucifer’s mind. But Mammon had been energized by her power. And Satan had defined it, differently than Lucifer, who had only ever seen it in terrible circumstances. Lucifer feared what she had inside of her and, when he was afraid, he removed the thing that caused the fear. Or suppressed it. Like he had been suppressing her for decades. She wouldn’t – couldn’t – return to that, reduced to a problem to be solved or shelved.
“I’ll go to the human realm then,” she muttered, almost shocked to hear herself say it even though it made sense. Mammon would take her, he’d said he would. And Satan would go as well, if only to help her – and himself – figure it out. That should be safe enough.
“I trust,” Lucifer snarled, stalking toward her until she was forced back against the wall, “that if one of my brothers has married you, in good faith, for your protection, that you will not leave him.”
“I-it would be temporary. I wouldn’t leave you.”
He stilled, looming over her, surprise breaking his scowl. He looked over her face, then opened his mouth like he would speak to her instead of barking out another command. She smiled encouragingly, and his brows furrowed in something like confusion. Had she gotten through to him?
Tentatively she touched him, letting her fingertips rest against his chest. “Lucifer?”
“Him,” he snapped. Her eyes widened as the black diamond began to form on his forehead and his demon form pushed against his control. As he pressed against her, the proper distance he usually maintained forgotten. “You wouldn’t leave him, you mean.”
Him… But all she could think of was Lucifer, here and now, his teeth bared around demonic fangs, holding her against the wall with his power and anger.
“Him, you. All of you.” She sucked in a breath. It was hard to look at him, almost impossible to speak. But this was her entire life she was negotiating for. It was important. She was important. “Look, I know you despise having to deal with all my problems, but do you despise me so much-”
His fist punched into the wall over her head and she shrank away from the debris, instinctively hiding her head against his chest. His other arm closed around her.
“Do I despise you so much that I drop everything for you,” he growled beside her ear, “protect this house for you, make you comfortable in a realm that would celebrate your death and the anniversary of it for generations? They will not care that you are not an angel. Demons snuff out Celestial power for sport, and you are weak!”
“That’s why I should leave!”
“You should leave. You should not be here.”
She shook her head, confused by his abruptly quieter words, dizzied by the power buffeting the room. His body thrummed with it. Her own power inside her swirled, icily attentive.
“You should never have been brought here.” Lucifer’s gloved hand curled around the side of her neck, thumb over her throat, sharp fingertips near her spine. “You should despise me for bringing you here.”
She wanted to cry, he had it so wrong. “I don’t hate you.”
“If you had any sense you would.”
“I’m grateful to you.”
He scoffed. Something collapsed on the other side of the room.
“And I respect and admire you.”
He actually snarled at her. She could feel her pulse beating wildly against the heat of his hand. He wasn’t going to listen. He was going to bully her into this marriage, enforce it, and she would live the rest of her life in this house, near him, but never with him.
“You could come home with me.” She shrugged helplessly, and looked up into Lucifer’s searing eyes. “A few months or a year would be the blink of an eye for you, right? A tiny break. Help me to master this, to be able to master myself.”
He released her so quickly she nearly fell.
“I am the Avatar of Pride,” he pronounced crisply, disdainfully. “I cannot abandon my station. And you cannot avoid this arrangement. Stop with these fantastical impossibilities.”
Black feathers rustled as he walked away, leaving her there in a room that smelled like fire, the wood in the walls still creaking and groaning from the strain of trying to contain him.
She couldn’t do it. She couldn’t do it. And he didn’t care.
“Watch out, watch out, watch out darling!”
Light, rapid footsteps pattered down the hallway toward her and Melody lurched to a stop when sharp hands gripped her shoulders. The sweet scent of flowers flowed around her and heat traced the edges of the pact mark on her lower back
“Hey, Asmo.”
“My darling Melody!” His sharp chin dropped onto her shoulder as his arms came around her waist, then he used his own body to march her toward the overlook between the two staircases that led to the front doors, humming breathily as he went. The marble steps were bowed slightly in the center, worn from years of footsteps. The two gargoyles arched over the entrance to the house were sharp and cold. The entrance was empty.
“You’re in a good mood.” Her mood was decidedly not in synch with his, but his frenetic energy stopped her from making an excuse to get away from his clutching hands. She wasn’t quite sure what he might emit if she brushed him off while he was like this. Nothing pleasant, she suspected.
“Mmmm, I’m about to be.” One arm slid upward, between her arm and chest, as he pointed a coral-painted nail toward the front door. His voice sounded like a song, and she had the random thought that the myth of sirens could have started with him. “Do you know who is about to walk through that door?”
“A froyo delivery?”
He huffed, swatted her hip, then let his hand linger there. “No, darling,” he purred. “It’s Amrita. Surely you’ve heard of her. The Jewel of the Devildom. The Winds of Passion. A Thousand Souls Gifted. She’s called that because she did not have to trade for souls. Humans gave them to her willingly. She was one of the seven beauties of the realm within days of sashaying out of Hell.”
From outside the front door came the muffled sounds of a vehicle rolling across the stone drive. The last time she had been in a vehicle had been coming from the demon lord’s castle. Asmo’s pheromones had made her dizzy and itchy, the confrontation with Diavolo had left her shaken, and Lucifer had been exhausted and agitated but he had still wrapped his arm around her. She’d thought that meant something.
“She’s more beautiful than succubi?” Melody asked, intrigued despite herself.
Asmodeus laughed. He squeezed her hips, pressed against her back, his mark rolling with heat between them. Melody tried to shrug out of his grasp, which tightened. His manicured nails had turned sharp.
“A succubus is a gnat to her butterfly, a pebble to her diamond,” Asmo said gleefully. Power rippled beyond the doors. Delight swirled out of him, brightening his scent and making her a little giddy.
“Asmo, I’m not feeling great. Could you-”
“She was the Avatar of Lust for millennia,” he crooned into her ear. “Until a being so glorious, so radiant, arrived and took it from her. For every soul she lured with her beauty, I have taken ten.”
Melody wrenched herself around, dislodging his hands. Asmo was all but glowing. He looked luminous, lustrous, beguiling. She touched his cheek, having to force herself not to keep stroking his smooth, firm skin, not to press her body against his.
“Asmo,” she said, irritated by the breathiness of her voice. He was…potent.
“Hmm?” He smoothed a strand of hair back from her face. His gaze was on her lips and her mouth abruptly felt very lonely. She bit down on her lip, hard. He made a sympathetic sound, even as his eyes flared pale pink.
“Can you take it down a notch?” she forced herself to say. “Please.”
“Oh pet, why should I? It’s okay. You can touch me if you want. Go ahead. I want you to.” He raised an eyebrow and she raised a shaking hand, then used it to shove his face away from hers.
Asmodeus gasped. “Melody!”
“I am not in the mood. Turn it off!”
He whined this time, but the pheromones saturating the air dissipated.
“You’re so mean,” he protested, sidling toward her again.
She skirted his hand. “Go play with your Jewel if you’re so worked up.”
The pheromones halted, his scent sharpening along with his gaze. “As if I would waste an ounce of my beauty to stoop to her level.”
Confused, Melody asked, “She’s not here to see you?”
Asmo laughed, setting his elbows on the railing and resting his chin in his hands. Below, sharp footsteps struck the stone floor. Melody’s stomach sank as the sound grew louder. Crisp, steady, forceful. Black hair, gleaming nearly blue, and broad shoulders covered by a long coat trimmed in fur passed below. Even from above, his posture was regal.
“Oh no. She’s here to see Lucifer. Always after Lucifer. Who could blame her?” Asmo glanced over his shoulder and smirked. “But then, if you’re not in the mood then you probably shouldn’t stick around for these fireworks. The tension between these two is astronomical.” He actually moaned on the last word.
She was already leaving, her feet carrying her away but not fast enough that she didn’t hear the front door open and close, didn’t feel the enticing wave of sensual power that washed through the gap, didn’t hear the car doors – two of them – open and close.
Pressure built in her chest, not her power forcing its way out but as if something was pushing against her, like gravity had singled her out and compressed around her ribs and lungs. Her breaths stuttered, shallow. Reaching out, blinded by a haze of tears, she found the wall and leaned against it. Heat filled her, fever fierce, and tied a fiery knot in her throat.
She had asked him to help her free herself. Absolutely not.
She had asked him to go with her to the human realm, knowing he wouldn’t agree, but stung by his response anyway. I am the Avatar of Pride.
It wasn’t like she had forced him to do anything, not since she summoned him that night in the human realm, when she was dizzy, drained and still hurting even through the numbness that had shrouded her. Harmony dragging her over sticks and rocks until she collapsed. Melody offering her blood to make the circle, to summon something, anything to make that nightmare stop. Lucifer’s name in her mind, suddenly, undeniably. That was the influence of Lilith’s spirit she now knew, and she was grateful for it. Still…
She loved him. She had for a long time, but when she had gathered enough courage to try to voice it – or those couple of times she had tried to do something about it – he had frozen her out and turned away. Being with him, even if just for minutes months apart, worth being left alone by him. And so she had folded it up and put it away. Like she’d hidden her power her entire life. Like she’d hidden her grief when her mother had taken a turn for the worse, fading day by day until her sick room was repainted and the bedding replaced and Melody was left alone in the steel and rich wood of a soundproofed high rise apartment with Harmony and Daniel Vale, who loomed and leered when he bothered to look at her.
She loved Lucifer silently and, in return, she was allowed to see him and talk to him and, when he was feeling generous, lean into that unbreakable strength of his. For an instant, in his bedroom, she’d thought that he felt something too. His expression had been conflicted, almost desperate, not only angry.
I am the Avatar of Pride.
He held a position of power and responsibility. He was the left hand of the Demon Prince. A ruler of the Devildom. A former archangel. The head of the House of Lamentation, one of three major factions and the only one not demonic in origin.
He was powerful and beautiful, and she was a task he had undertaken out of a sense of honor. A duty. Nothing more. Dealing with her had probably cut into his cavorting-with-the-jewels-of-the-Devildom time. Sighing, she wiped at her eyes and scrubbed her hands over her face. Every one of her moments since that nightmare night was stolen anyway, and each of them was thanks to Lucifer. She should be grateful for them, for all the things she wasn’t supposed to have. She shouldn’t want more.
So why did she?
A rhythmic sound finally pierced her self-absorbed thoughts, a kind of continuous, grinding noise followed by a loud crunch. Dry bits of grit fell on her shoulder and she brushed them away then looked up.
“Hi, Beel.”
“Hi, Melody.” He took another bite of a massive sandwich stuffed with small blue crustaceans, shells still on.
“You’re getting crumbs on her,” a quieter voice said.
“Oh, sorry.” Beel shuffled to the side, revealing Belphie wrapped in a blanket, settling into one of the big, high-backed chairs in the hall.
“Are you okay?” Beel asked.
She forced a smile and raised one shoulder in a weak shrug. “I’m a little tired. I think I’m going to nap.”
“Is it ‘cause you spent the night with Mammon?” Belphie asked bluntly, peering at her from beneath his fringe. “Or is it because one of the strongest demons in the Devildom attacked you for daring to question him?”
Melody opened her mouth, not sure if she wanted to be offended or protest more. Belphie’s mouth turned up wryly.
“It sucks when he attacks.” He scratched his cheek and looked away. “He’s the strongest so he should know better, but I guess that’s the privilege of being the strongest. Nobody can stop you from being mean. You stood up to him well, for a human.”
“You…heard that?”
“And felt it,” Beel said. “Lucifer doesn’t usually lose it like that in his own room.”
“Because Mammon runs away from him, not towards him.” Belphie eyed her for a moment before looking away. “If you want to know more about that power, you should ask the person who’s actually handled it.”
She looked back and forth between them. They had been triplets, them and Lilith. And their father had altered her Celestial power or injected the Devastation part into her. She wasn’t really clear on the details.
“Have you-”
“Not us,” Belphie snapped before smiling in a wholly disingenuous way. “Lord Diavolo. He is the one who snuffed the power out of existence and reincarnated Lilith as a human.”
“Lord Diavolo,” she repeated, not shuddering at the memory of how intimidating he was, but she came close. Beel stepped nearer to her, until she could feel the heat of his arm a scant inch from hers.
“Powerful stuff, the kind of stuff that would make a fallen archangel pledge an oath of service to him.” Belphie’s eyes gleamed for a moment, the same color as Beel’s but colder than she’d ever seen them even when he was literally eating his enemies. Then he huffed out a laugh. “Except it turns out he only suppressed it. Still, he’s touched it. Manipulated it. He must know something about hiding it. Isn’t that what you want to know?”
The excitement she felt was tinged with desperation, she knew that. But there was this marriage deadline, and Lucifer discarding his unwelcome duty to go off with a woman so beautiful that humans threw their souls at her, and the threat of statis and everything else and it was too much. She felt like she was choking on a scream, but she didn’t have to. All of that, everything, could just go away. She could hide this thing and stop being a burden on Lucifer and go live some semblance of a life.
She had to open her mouth to take her next breath. “It is.”
“I can ask Barbatos,” Beel said, tapping on his phone. “I was going to ask if he had baked recently anyway. He was gone all last week.”
“So we just…” She gestured vaguely down the hall. “March over to the castle? Is it dangerous for me to be out?”
“We’ll protect you, Melody,” Beel said, then he frowned down at his phone. “Huh. Barbatos said we can come over right away. He’ll open a portal to the back garden.”
“Good.” Belphie languidly stretched and stood. He glanced at her sidelong, and his smile was razor thin. “I have some questions to ask as well, while we’re there.”
“What business do you have?” Lucifer asked without looking up from his phone, reviewing his agenda for the day. “I do not recall you sitting on any of the ruling committees.”
“I’m on the education committee of course,” Amrita said, ending the sentence with a practiced pout. She wore a gown of deep green over lush curves and the sheen of her flawless skin. Pheromones poured out of her, at once soothing and enticing, a cocktail meant to put her victim at ease before she struck. It was nothing that could incapacitate a ranking demon, but it also could not be ignored. Sharp black talons slid along the underside of her breast. “Young demons are near and dear to my heart. So impressionable.”
“You have three minutes.”
She tilted her head down so she could peer up at him through long lashes. On anyone else it might have made her look shy, vulnerable. On Amrita, it looked like ambition. “It will take us longer than that to reach Lord Diavolo’s castle.”
The wheels of her luxury vehicle were engineered to provide a smooth ride. But they were also driving slowly, creeping practically, toward the castle. Few people tried to prolong their time with Lucifer.
“Less than three minutes.” He turned to her finally. “State what it is you want.”
She all but purred at his choice of words, biting her lip before she offered, “I have information you need. I will give it to you, on a bargain.”
“Another bargain? What is it this time?”
“A courtship,” she said, and he was certain he misheard. “A public one.”
He actually laughed at that. “No.”
She bared her teeth for an instant before the pout returned. “You’ll agree when you hear what I have to say.”
“A courtship is an intimate thing,” he murmured. Her lips parted. He rested an elbow on his knee, perched his chin on it and looked her over, gaze dragging over the supple curves of her body.
She lunged for him, whip-quick, and he blocked her with a simple spell. Amrita moaned, pressing her body against the invisible barrier, and his aura snapped.
“I’d almost forgotten what it feels like,” she purred, “when you touch me.”
“I am not touching you, former Avatar. A courtship is intimate. Intimacy is personal. You must have forgotten the terms of our standing bargain.”
The Jewel of the Devildom, her power thrumming headily against the confines of the vehicle, stared at him with open want. Pale fire streamed through her irises. A courtship was out of the question but it would be easy to take what she offered, a distraction even, possibly a relief if he allowed himself.
“You do remember,” he asked, “when we made our bargain?”
“I remember.”
“And you remember how we sealed it?”
The demon moaned. Her power licked at him, urging his body to respond. The bargain: a few minutes of his time in exchange for a hundred years of reprieve from her attention except on official affairs of the realm. It had become necessary when her pursuit of him had gone become an encumbrance. It was a simple bargain, easily understood. Yet here she was, daring to violate it after so many decades. He felt when the sparks lit in his eyes, the mounting frustration from the past weeks, all that pent up anger from this morning, rising undeniably. He held back his demon form, barely.
“And do you remember what I get to do if you break it?” He smiled languidly. “Say it to me. Say what I get to do to you.”
Amrita growled, shoving herself back against her seat. Her arms crossed and, for once, it was not to showcase her ample cleavage. Her shiver was not one of lust. Lucifer straightened as well. The car sped up.
“Be that as it may,” she said, gaze fixed on the window, “I am here on official business and you should be more solicitous.”
“You have an educational emergency?” “Not the education committee.” Her nose wrinkled with distaste. “As an emissary of the Vanguard.”
Ah. He had increased his surveillance and intelligence-gathering after the first attack on the house, and expanded it after Melody was presented publicly at Diavolo’s party. She was the biggest target the Devildom had seen in centuries, a living human soul pledged to an Avatar when hundreds plotted to take their stations from them. A weak point for the hated Fallen, when thousands wished to see them tortured and destroyed. Demons had been flooding back from the human realm, trades and bargains abandoned, half-corrupted souls left to fester or escape their clutches, all for a shot at her, the House of Lamentation’s weakness.
The Echelon had fallen quiet, which they only did when they were licking their wounds or planning a major operation. The pits where they grew and broke in their constructs had been working round the clock. The Vanguard was, as ever, more elusive.
“Your three minutes is nearly up,” he reminded her.
Amrita huffed. Her power roiled, no longer enticing. She was…fortifying herself. If she had to gather herself, what she had to say might be worth listening to.
“If you do not attend the conclave and get your little human wedded to one of your brothers tomorrow Diavolo will disavow you.”
“Lord Diavolo.”
“Lord Diavolo will disavow you.”
“The Vanguard believes it can take me down on an administrative technicality?”
“They believe they can take you down once they have removed Di- Lord Diavolo’s favoritism. You have amassed no army, built no soldiers. There are only seven among your House. The Vanguard collectively account for the greater power in the Devildom. The Echelon have the superior numbers and their constructs.”
“Both were true a year and a century ago. Why would tomorrow make a difference?”
“Because those lesser Fallen you call brothers are easily distracted and fight each other at the slightest provocation. Without your firm hand to guide them, they will splinter and separate, leaving them to be hunted and eliminated, one by one. The strongest of them was never an angel. He is a true demon hiding behind the thinnest veneer. Already he has alliances with the Vanguard. Without you, Satan will align with stronger demons, his true brethren. The rest will be destroyed, their stations returned to us. I know you are fond of them, or dutiful. I would be gentle in easing the power of the station from Asmodeus. I would do my best not to kill him, though of course I cannot guarantee he is strong enough to survive the loss. I would be willing to protect some of the others.”
“Some.”
She tilted her head. Passing lights illuminated sharp teeth and condescending eyes. “Creatures like you and I understand power, Lucifer. True power. It is why you ascended so quickly within this realm. Let’s face it, some of them – like your second and third – were never meant to be demons. Without you, they will cease to exist, so that administrative technicality you mock will have consequences.”
Without him they never would have fallen. Without him, they would not have been hunted and hurt their first centuries in the Devildom. Without him, their wings would still be white and they would not struggle so with their dual natures. Cold calm built within him. Lucifer had accepted his role in this place.
“Why are you telling me this?”
“Because.” She smiled, eased toward him. “The Vanguard are boring and decrepit, withered old demons in their hideous crowns on their gruesome thrones, sucking on their own auras. You would make a far more appealing mate. Court me. Assist me in regaining my Avatar station. I will aid you in protecting yours. We can rule together.”
“Side by side?”
“Yes,” she hissed.
“Fighting each other’s enemies, enjoying the resplendence of each other’s bodies.”
“Yes, Lucifer.” Her eyes went molten, her aura throbbed. “I’ll even dispatch that troublesome human for you. I saw it, Asmo’s pathetic pet, at Lord Diavolo’s castle. It’s so plain I can’t even remember its face.”
Dark hair, a flash of light, laughing eyes. Softly curving cheeks and a pink tongue behind her teeth as she teased him, delighted with herself as he rolled his eyes and pretended to be irritated. Melody, candid and fearless as ever.
Lucifer raised a gloved hand to stroke along Amrita’s jaw, the silk of her skin. He leaned toward her, breathing in the scent of her arousal.
“The bargain was simple,” he intoned lowly. “A century of peace from your infatuation. No contact unless it is official. You have threatened my family and demanded my service. Both these things are personal.”
His hand closed around her throat. He didn’t bother using his power as hers battered against him, simply held her with his grip.
“You have violated the bargain, Amrita. Your life is forfeit. You are mine to do with as I please. It would please me to strip you to your bones, let you restore yourself and do it again. And again. And again. Until you forget your original form. Until all you know is pain and punishment and regret.”
“We will crush you,” she croaked out, face darkening. “The force that is coming for your House will make you wish you had died in your war against the Heavens.”
“Is that so?”
“We will torture and dismember and strip every last one of you of your stolen powers. We will-” He clamped down on her throat to cut off her speech, then used his power to stroke along her body. She writhed, choking on a moan and the ichor leaking from crushed veins. Her eyes widened in panic.
“I guess it can’t be helped then.”
He tossed her to the floor of the car, cursed the vehicle so it ground to a jarring halt, and got out. Smoothing his waistcoat, he scanned for threats, then turned back to her, wheezing on the floor.
“You are right about one thing.” Fire burned in his eyes, but what filled him was cold certainty. “I understand what it means to be powerful in the Devildom. Come with your army. Come with your hatred and your jealousy. The House will meet you.”
Lucifer managed to contain the storm inside of him until he arrived at the house. He could unleash it within the containment of his own wards, use his building fury to strengthen the defenses, expand them past the property’s edge.
He’d known the Echelon was building, and the Vanguard was always conspiring against him and his brothers. But to make an overt threat, to include Melody… His aura flared, smoking.
“Uh…Lucifer?” Levi stood in the entry, clothes rumpled, headphones around his neck. An emissary and two guards in castle attire stood in front of him.
The emissary held a scroll wrapped in red ribbon with skulls carved of purple jade dangling from the ends. Lucifer had always thought the colors clashed, but perhaps that was the idea behind them, considering the words that scroll would contain.
“Levi,” he said in a low voice, “gather your brothers.”
“I was kind of in the middle of s-”
“Immediately. And, when you return, I need to see the Admiral.”
Levi jerked, took a shuffling step back, then turned and ran into the house. The emissary pivoted, guards rotating with him, and took four even steps across the entry to Lucifer. He bowed and held out the scroll. Diavolo’s blood red seal was stamped onto it. That would have been sufficient to hold the scroll closed, but the ribbon was the traditional accompaniment to words of war.
“Read it.”
The emissary’s hands began to shake. Asmodeus wandered in, arranging a wispy pink scarf to show off his slender neck.
“Levi said you wanted to see me. Your date over already?”
Sweat broke out on the emissary’s forehead. “Lord Diavolo instructed me to deliver it to you, sir.”
“And I am instructing you to read it to me.”
“Look at this fancy delivery guy,” Mammon said as he sauntered through the front door. “You get a love letter from Diavolo, Lucifer? Shouldn’t it have come with flowers?”
“Lord Diavolo,” Lucifer corrected automatically.
The emissary cracked the seal and swallowed audibly. “L-let it be known that the venerable, loyal Vanguard, noblest of the Devildom, has petitioned to eliminate the House of Lamentation, by any means including violence, torture, war or warlike methods, mechanisms natural or artificial, magical or mundane…”
The Vanguard, the strongest of the demonic factions. Old, powerful, purists. They had petition for the right to destroy the House of Lamentation and all within it, and Diavolo had approved it. They must have been saving a list of allegations and decided to use it in this moment of perceived disarray, while the House of Lamentation was charged with the safety and security of one fragile human soul. His brothers’ powers flared and Asmo began hissing invectives under his breath. Satan would need to be brought around. Lucifer would put Melody in stasis, for her own protection. With her secure, united they could repel an attack on the house.
“…the Echelon joins this petition as an interested party. Regardless of outcome or status, associated activities shall cease within twelve hours of commencing. The petitioning parties shall be responsible for restitution for injured third parties and clean up expenses, including but not limited to…”
The Echelon, less organized but they had numbers, bolstered by the demon souls they pulled from Hell and the machines they constructed, half demon, all deadly. It had been a long time since the Fallen had battled all together. Twice, both battles arriving fast on the heels of their fall, while they were still injured, before Levi and Asmodeus had attained their stations, while Satan was young, more volatile. Three times they had battled at the behest of Diavolo, for the Devildom, but without Satan, who could not be unleashed in an official capacity. They were all stronger now, even after many years of peace. And this, this was an insult of the highest caliber. Against him, his House, his brothers, and his liege. He almost welcomed it.
“…Lord Diavolo.”
“I can’t believe he signed off on this garbage,” Mammon muttered, “that son of a-”
“We accept,” Lucifer said.
“You serious?” Mammon demanded, lightning crackling around him.
The emissary all but shoved the scroll into Lucifer’s gloved hand as he and the guards took off, not even bothering to pretend they weren’t running. Power built in the distance. Amrita’s sudden, desperate request for an audience with him suddenly sense. She had been shoved into action, trying to weasel what she wanted out from under the impending battle. Or, working on behalf of this coalition, she had been sent to separate him from the house but her lust won out. Or perhaps something had changed, a sudden opportunity contracting the window in which she could take action. That seemed likely. His sources had indicated a build-up, but not an immediate attack.
A destruction order took effect once it was read by any of the brothers. And if the feel of the encroaching power was any indication, the battle was imminent. He needed to assign duties to his troops, assess…
Surveying the room, he scowled.
“Levi, where are the others?”
The Avatar of Envy, the Admiral of the Demonic Navy, shifted his weight, eyes darting. “Well, Satan’s still in the dungeon and I didn’t know if I should pull him down. Beel, Belphie and Melody aren’t here.”
He froze. Beside him, Mammon continued to rant.
Not here. Not in the house, within the wards, not safe.
“She was not to leave the house.”
Beside him, Mammon startled, suddenly silent. Then he streaked away, through the house.
“They went to the castle,” Asmo said. Already in demon form, his tail lashed across the floor. “Beel said Barbatos was opening a portal for them.”
Lucifer smiled tightly. Diavolo might not have given him warning, and he might have signed off on this bloody farce – if the petition was properly written and some evidence of wrongdoing had been provided, he would have had no reason not to do so – but the castle would be safer than the house for the next few hours. Twelve hours at most, as if they would need that long to destroy their enemies.
“Call them, tell Beel to remain at the castle with Melody until this is over. Belphie should return, slowly.”
“Why slowly?” Levi asked, holding his phone up to his ear.
“He can flank the adversary and whittle away at their numbers in a way they are not expecting.”
“Wouldn’t Beel be better at that?”
“His twin is more insidious.”
Levi held his phone away and looked at it. “He’s not answering.”
“She’s not here,” Mammon barked, skidding back into the entryway.
“They’re at the castle, idiot,” Asmo said. “I cannot believe these ungrateful bitches are turning on us, after all we’ve done. Don’t they know that I live here?”
“No, I mean, she’s not here. In the Devildom.” Mammon’s eyes were spitting blue sparks. His hair ran with electricity. He pressed a hand to his chest. “I can’t feel her. I can’t feel her on the other end of the pact. She’s gone.”
***
“I can’t marry you.”
Melody tilted her head back to look at Beel. He towered over her. His big hands twisted together in front of his stomach. The leather strands of his necklace looked tight around his neck, he was so tense.
“That’s alright.” She searched his eyes. He looked almost guilty, which was crazy because it wasn’t as if he was the one who was the problem. And it wasn’t like he owed her anything. “That’s fine, Beel. You don’t have to do anything you don’t want.”
“I like you.”
“Okay.”
“I mean,” he paused, for almost half a minute before he continued, in his steady way. “I like you a lot.”
Well that was confusing. It was…what was the phrase? Like he was negotiating against himself.
“I like you more than I’ve ever liked a girl, Melody. And more than I’ve liked any human.”
“That’s really nice of you to say. I like you, too.”
His hands twisted harder, and his aura began to rise around him. Belphie elbowed Beel and rolled his eyes.
“What my brother is trying to say,” Belphie said over the pillow he had clutched in front of him, on which he was improbably trying to nap while standing up, “is that he doesn’t think – as a powerful, near-immortal demon – he would make a very good husband, to a weak, young, sheltered, mortal human. He’s afraid of hurting you and of how much it would hurt him when you die in a few years.”
When she died. In a few years. Because her lifespan, which she was just starting to live, was insignificant compared to theirs. Her stomach fell, and it was Beel’s turn to elbow his brother, knocking him toward the wall of the small underground crypt they’d gone to, which was apparently the House of Lamentation’s equivalent of a bus stop, only the bus was a magical door to the Diavolo’s castle that his butler was about to open. Of course.
“That is not what I meant,” Beel said. “You aren’t going to die in a few years.”
“I can’t tell if you should have read more or fewer of those damn How to Woo a Human books.” Belphie grumbled, rubbing his shoulder.
“I like you enough that I think you’ll be happier marrying someone else,” Beel said, turning back to her. “But if you ever want to make cupcakes with me again, I’ll still want to do that with you. Or go on a picnic, but we’ll be more careful. We can do it indoors so we don’t have to worry about being attacked.”
She smiled despite the newfound tightness in her chest. He was so sweet.
“That would be fun.”
“And I’ll still like the way you taste,” he went on, “so if you want me to go down on you, I’ll still want to do that too.”
“Uh…”
“Or anything else. I supposed I can taste you if we’re f-”
“Beel!” She threw her hands up in front of her, like she could physically fend off his words.
He blinked amethyst eyes at her. “What?”
Belphie snickered. “She’s human, remember? She thinks in terms of sexual morality, and marriage probably equates to monogamy for her.”
“I know that marriage and monogamy aren’t concepts for demons,” she said, trying not to sound defensive, but all she could think of was the carnal wave that had washed into the house when Lucifer left. Like an advertisement for the world’s best sex, with front door service. Just a regular day, if you were a demon.
“Those things aren’t traditions for sex partners here,” Beel said. “It’s usually about power, strength and lust, what they think they can get from someone. Demons don’t always get together for nice reasons. But you don’t have to worry about that. No one will make you do things the demonic way. You can have things how you want them and do whatever you want.”
“Whoever you want.” Belphie fluffed the pillow in his arms and smirked. “Although if you’re pairing up with Mammon you’ll want to watch out because he gets crazy possessive during his infatuations. He gets over them just as quick though.”
“Belphie,” Beel said, voice dropping lower and, while he didn’t shove him, this time his brother shut up.
An infatuation. Mammon had said she could tell the others that they were getting married, that he’d go along with it. At the time she’d just thought he was doing that thing where he tried to pretend he wasn’t invested but maybe he wasn’t pretending. Maybe he figured it was cool because it was just a temporary hook up. That she, as a mortal, could only ever be a temporary hook up.
“It’s fine.” She forced a smile, too weary to get both corners of her mouth up very far. “It’s not like I didn’t know there were differences in the demon realm.”
“Melody,” Beel started, then they all tensed as the pressure in the little crypt shifted. The air grew tight and a spot in front of them began to spark. “A portal jump can feel weird, especially when you’re being pulled. You might want to hold on.”
She pressed against his side and wrapped her arms around his waist, the way Lucifer had taught her to keep contact when he moved her in and out of pocket dimensions, or back and forth to the human realm. Beel’s big arm came around her, warm and secure. She closed her eyes against the twisting weirdness of the transport and thought, hey, maybe I just won’t open them again. If the bad stuff couldn’t see her, then it couldn’t get to her. Which was a lie. Of course the bad stuff kept watching no matter what you did.
Her power rolled inside of her, peeking out from behind her breastbone. It always woke during a teleport. Maybe it liked it the way people liked rollercoasters. It certainly made her stomach flop like a roller coaster. They arrived on soft grass that shushed a little beneath their feet as they walked through a stone arch into a rather ordinary little garden. Beel patted her back once and made an inquiring sound and she let go of him. Belphie stumbled toward a stone bench and fell onto it, pillow-first, curling up around it.
“He doesn’t like traveling that way,” Beel said. “Wait with him while I find Barbatos. We weren’t officially invited into the castle yet.”
“Okay.”
“Don’t wander. The security and guards are aggressive.”
“Right.” She sat on the edge of the bench beside Belphie’s feet.
It was daytime, probably still morning, but of course it was dark, the sky a murky eggplant color that indicated clouds.
Vegetables were laid out in rows, some taller plants supported by stakes and twine. Nets were tucked around low, leafy plants, and she wondered if the Devildom had something like rabbits that they needed to keep out. Lights had been strung across the garden, hung from the four stone walls. The plants leaned and twined toward them. She swung her feet, watching the lights twinkle and occasionally peering around in the murk for a potential devil-rabbit.
“If Lord Diavolo gets angry, Beel will get you out,” Belphie murmured.
Startled, she turned to look at him. His eyes were closed, his youthful face – he still held onto a little baby fat in his cheeks – at ease. She wasn’t sure he’d actually spoken until he cracked one eyes to peer back at her. The lights reflected in his iris, making it look pink.
“Why do you think he’ll be mad? I’m only going to ask some questions.”
“Questions about how he failed to do something that’s kept a powerful archangel loyal to him all this time.”
She stopped swinging her feet. This time when she looked around, the garden looked less like a medieval cottagecore scene and more like a collection of lurking shadows.
“But since Lucifer’s known about what you have inside you for so long, I guess he doesn’t blame Diavolo.” Belphie shoved upright then slouched. “Maybe it’ll be my questions that make him mad. We could have had years with Lilith.”
“She lived a long, good life.”
“Yeah, but not with us. A day would have been enough.” He spoke so softly that her heart went out to him. “Just one more day.”
He slouched, bumping against her. Then he stiffened and looked down.
“What did you bring with you?”
“Hmm?”
“What’s in your pocket?”
She patted her leg. It had been tingling a little, pins and needles. “A translation charm.”
“A charm? Get rid of it.”
“What? Why?”
“We’re entering the castle. The demon lord’s castle. You can’t bring outside magic in, you idiot. I can’t believe it hasn’t blown you up yet.”
“The translation charm will blow me up?”
“No, his security spells will blow you up. It’s a good thing it’s weak.” He pointed toward the arched doorway they’d entered through. “Toss it out there.”
Jogging on tiptoes, like that would hide her transgression, she crossed under the stone arch and pulled the charm out of her pocket. It was hot. No, wait. The scrap of paper, the one she’d pulled in the window because it reminded her of her sister, was hot. She’d grabbed the charm off her nightstand before heading out in case someone spoke to her in Daemonish. The paper had been wrapped around it and she hadn’t taken the time to remove it. It flared, the top of the paper bursting into a cool, yellow flame. Black script began to appear, moving left to right as though someone was writing.
You’ve got to stop picking up every damn scrap of paper that finds its way to you, it said. This could have been a curse.
The fire spread and she squeaked, tossing the charm and the scrap away from her. The charm landed in the grass. The paper flared up, unfurling and unfolding until it became…it became… Melody’s mouth opened as she tried to take a full breath. A portal stood in front of her, yellow around the edges, like molten glass inside, refracting the lights from the garden. The note, in that tone she knew. The handwriting, with that harsh slant she knew. And the feel of Harmony in that portal, like a muffled voice from another room. She stepped forward, stretching her hand out toward it.
Someone shouted behind her, and the feeling in the portal grew stronger. Clearer. Mornings walking to school in the rain, Harmony hip-checking Melody away from the street as a car raced by, splashing water onto the sidewalk and dousing Harmony’s shoes and socks while Melody remained dry. Evenings sitting on the floor of her bedroom, Harmony studying but not so intently she couldn’t also make her paper figurines climb around, letting Melody chase them. That night, that horrible night, Harmony forced to kneel, her dark eyes wide and vacant, her slim body shaking with effort. Melody strapped to the stone altar, pulling against the cuffs that bit into her wrists, trying to reach her sister. She could reach her this time.
She stepped into the portal.
***
“What?” Levi yelled into the phone. “Slow down, slow down.” He turned toward them, eyes wide. “Beel said they were outside the castle walls and got dragged away to the human realm.”
Another prong to the attack, executed as soon as the destruction order was read. This, this was the opportunity that had hastened the Vanguard’s timeline. Conquer and divide. Target the one fragile human soul in their charge.
“Go,” Lucifer said mechanically. “Go and rescue them. I will defend the house until you return. Go now.”
“I’ll stay,” Asmodeus said.
“I ordered you to go. Be quick about it.”
“I can finesse a boudoir, but my powers – my other powers – are best suited to crowds. You’d make better use of me here, General.” His stress on the world was borderline treasonous. Lucifer turned his furious aura on him. Asmo’s eyes widened, but he stood his ground.
“Same,” Levi mumbled from his other side. “I don’t think I can even with the human realm right now anyway. So I might as well fight here. Besides, they’re definitely coming by the water.”
“I gave you both an order.” Lucifer’s wings snapped out. His claws tore through his gloves. The shredded leather fluttered to the floor.
“An order based on emotion. Belphie and Melody are the distraction.” Satan said from the doorway. He was shirtless, his feet bare, his wounds crawling closed. “This house is the main event. It’s what’s important to them. To destroy this house is to show all demons that the angelic trash has been crushed. Between Mammon’s power and Beel’s strength, the three of us will be effective and quick. And I can teleport a group. Asmo and Levi are your best weapons against larger forces.”
“Did you know this was coming?” Lucifer demanded, feeling the heat building in his eyes.
“And if I did?” Satan lifted his chin, eyes poisonous green though his aura remained neatly folded around him. The Avatar of Wrath: calm, collected. This was him at his most dangerous. Lucifer’s aura grew, smoking upward, outward. There was no reason to contain it any longer. The wards around the house darkened, opaquing, thrumming with his power.
“You will take your brothers to the human realm. You will not force Melody to use her power for your amusement. She is not an experiment. You will collect our family and bring them back to me, alive.”
Satan’s eyes glinted. His lips parted, smirking around sharpening teeth.
Beel arrived, wings buzzing frantically, black ichor dripping from his horns and fangs.
“How big is the army?” Levi asked, his voice high.
“Not big enough,” Beel snarled.
Not enough to satisfy his appetite, which was insatiable when provoked. His twin was missing. Belphie’s safety and Beel’s peace of mind came first. Melody’s survival. He would have to rely on Satan, have to trust that his resentment of the other factions turning on them was stronger than his resentment of Lucifer.
“Go,” Lucifer murmured, wiping ichor from Beel’s cheek. “Go and give them what they deserve, and more.”
“Alright,” Mammon clapped Satan on the back hard enough to make him stumble. “You three save some of the bad guy army for us. We’ll be back with our little brother and our littler human in two shakes. Come on, Satan. Throw your feather boa on. Let’s show these fools what happens when they mess with this family.”
Melody pushed up. The floor beneath her hands was rough concrete, gritty. Dust climbed into her throat, making her want to cough which she couldn’t quite do, with the wind knocked out of her. The weight on her back was significant. And warm. She glanced back, getting a mouthful of Belphie’s indigo hair. He’d tackled her through the portal, then apparently fallen unconscious. He hadn’t fared too well in Barbatos' short ‘port from the house to the castle. Transiting between realms must have taken a lot out of him. Her own power felt a little washed out. Blowing the hair out of her mouth, she looked around. More concrete. Crates, metal drums, and piles of metal things.
“H-Harmony?” she wheezed out, not quite having recovered her ability to breathe.
Maybe she’d imagined that feeling, familiarity on the other side of that shimmering door through time and space.
A pair of black boots came into view and, behind it, a pair of stained and worn red Converses. She craned her head back, following the skinny black jeans to a belted waist, layered black and purple tank tops, arms bare except for intricate tattoos and a thick black and silver wrist cuff. The woman’s hair was long, inky black, and it probably would have been shiny if she brushed it once in awhile instead of shoving back into a ponytail. Frown lines bracketed her mouth, and the dark half-moons beneath her eyes looked like permanent installations.
“Is it really you? I thought – I hoped – but I wasn’t sure…”
“Seriously?” Her voice was lower than Melody had expected, and her face scrunched like she’d smelled something unpleasant. “Picking up cursed trash. Following anonymous notes. Diving into a portal without confirming what’s on the other side. Idiot moves. How can anything as naive as you have survived this long?”
Harmony’s caring had always sounded like someone else’s criticism. The more she cared, the more scathing it got. It had confused Melody when she was young, used to her parents coddling, where caring was always comforting and reassuring. Melody’s heart, already stressed from the teleportation and short term lack of oxygen, squeezed in her chest. Harmony was older, and taller, and…
“Why do you look like such a badass?” she asked, making very not-badass sounds as she wormed her way out from under Belphie. She set his head gently on the floor since his ubiquitous pillow didn’t seem to have come through with him, then shoved up to her feet.
Harmony crossed her arms. “Why are you still so short?”
Melody’s fists clenched involuntarily. “Rude!”
Harmony smirked. “True though. Who’s that guy sleeping on you?”
“A friend. Who’s that guy lurking behind you?”
Her sister glanced back, as if just remembering the guy with the pale, scruffy beard and stained gray hoodie was there. “Someone doing me a favor. Trans-realm portals aren’t easy. You can go, Ken.”
“Yeah, sure. Uh…nice doing business with you.” Ken picked a smudging bowl off the floor, ground something out under this heel, and trotted toward a door on the far wall of the warehouse. Melody looked around. Yeah, this was totally a warehouse. She could hear highway traffic nearby, and smell grease, dirt and something vaguely chemically drifting in through the high, busted windows. Voices shouting directions, squealing truck brakes, the beeping of heavy equipment backing up.
Harmony frowned as she watched Ken go, then she reached out and gently but firmly pushed Melody behind her.
“So do you want to catch up?” Melody asked, her mind whirling. Harmony was here, alive and well and recognizing her. And she’d somehow ‘ported Melody – and Belphie because he’d physically been attached to her – to the human realm. “Should we get coffee? What have you been doing? Did you make that portal on your own? Where are we by the way?”
“I don’t drink coffee.”
“Oh, okay. But what about…” She watched as Harmony slid a knife out of a sheath on her back. The knife was big, the sheath angled to allow for quick access. Such a badass! Then she realized what her sister was about to do and threw herself in front of her, spreading her arms blocking her from Belphie. “No!”
“That’s a demon, Melody.”
“Yeah, yeah I know.”
“You’re protecting demons now?” The lines around her mouth hardened and her dark eyes focused predatorily. Harmony adjusted her grip on the knife, and Melody swore one of those tattoos moved.
“Protecting people who don’t deserve to be stabbed.”
“All demons deserve to be stabbed.”
“Okay, that’s…a rough generalization, and we can talk about it later. Just don’t stab him right now. We’re friends here. We’re all friends.”
“Are we?” Harmony straightened. “You know, it’s funny. When you died forty years ago I mourned you. Grief is a weird thing. It visits, like an acquaintance you don’t really like but can’t run off. It comes in the middle of breakfast or the middle of the night. Brings other things with it. Anger. Guilt. Regret.”
The ache inside of Melody surged up, immediate and raw, making her want to crumple around it. Because Melody was the one with the valuable power inside of her, it had been better for everyone to think she was dead, including Harmony. That way she could remain in the human realm, with the relatives Lucifer confirmed she had even though Daniel Vale had never taken them to visit or even spoked about them. It would be hard, but safer for Harmony. And Lucifer had believed he could cure Melody of her dependence on his power and return her to the human realm as well. Melody had believed both things, back then.
“Harm-”
“I was still mourning you a few days ago when someone sent me pictures of you, at a party, with demons. You were all dolled up, beautiful gown, beautiful hair. On the arm of the Avatar of Lust no less. Looking so young, so healthy.” She reached out, and the blade of the knife flashed beside Melody’s eye as Harmony stroked a calloused finger down her cheek. “It’s been forty years, kid, and you barely look twenty-five. So I had to ask myself, how does a human do that?”
“Harmony, there’s an explanation.”
“I know,” she murmured.
Melody blinked. “You do?”
“Sure.” Harmony’s tight smile made her eyes look sad. “It’s obvious.”
“Really?” Melody frowned. “It felt pretty complicated.”
“You traded with a demon, gave up your soul and your power in exchange for, what, perpetual youth and good sex?”
Melody stared, understanding the words individually but not understanding why Harmony was saying them.
“You think I gave up my soul for sex with Asmo?”
“You have a nickname for the Avatar of Lust and wonder why I’d think that?”
“He just likes to be called that, but…” Melody waved both hands and huffed. “I didn’t trade. I didn’t trade anything.”
“Does he know about your power?”
“Yeah, but-”
“He knows about it but doesn’t use it. You look like that but not because you traded with a demon. You died forty years ago but here you are, alive and young. You’re putting your own fragile human life on the line to protect a demon right now.” Harmony twirled the knife. “Do you understand how these things don’t add up?”
“No.”
Harmony scoffed. Melody put her hands on her hips and stuck her chin out.
“It’s not adding up because you don’t have the right numbers.”
“That doesn’t even make sense.”
“It’s a witty retort, insulting both your assumptions and math skills. It’s a pretty good comeback if you think about it.”
Harmony closed her eyes for a second. The muscles of her jaw flexed. “You are still. So. Damn. Aggravating.”
“But you tracked me down, sent secret homing notes, and built a portal to my exact location in another realm which, by the way, wow! That is so impressive!” Melody wanted to clap, but when Harmony opened her eyes it was to unleash a withering glare. She raised her hands placatingly. “Which we’ll talk about another time. But for now I just…I just want to talk to my sister. Without a knife between us. Can we do that?”
“Fine.”
Progress! “Can we hug?”
“No.” Harmony pointed with the knife before sheathing it. “Sit down, away from that demon.”
“The floor’s gross.”
“You landed face first in it so you’re already gross. Now talk, before that thing wakes up.”
“He’s not a thing. He’s a person, a sleepy person.”
“You’re not helping your case.”
“Fine, let me explain.” Melody thought through the years, those that she’d been awake, then all the crazy things that had happened in the last ten days. “There’s too much. Let me sum it up. We summoned a demon, remember? To…to…” She swallowed. “To stop what was happening. I didn’t trade. Also, I was eight, remember? If I had traded it wouldn’t have been for sex and eternal youth, it would have been for books, and the ability to stay up past our bedtime and never get in trouble.”
“It took you to the demon realm?”
“Yeah.” Melody breathed out. Harmony was stiff, arms crossed, mouth turned down. A tattoo on her right arm was swirling slowly, like it was trying to soothe her. Her eyes felt hot, suddenly, and her nose began to sting with incoming tears. “It was only supposed to be for a little while. I was badly injured.”
“I remember,” Harmony ground out.
“I was dying.” She didn’t talk about it. She didn’t like to remember it. Lucifer’s hex had kept the memories hazy for years, so she hadn’t had to think about it. But the memories were there now, the pain, the cold, Harmony’s desperation, Lucifer’s fury. Harmony’s lashes swept down, shuttering her expression. “He used a spell to save me. And the spell got messed up. We became entangled, and we couldn’t break it.”
“The demon said you couldn’t break it. The demon who found you too weak to move, but still full of power. That demon?”
“Yes. But he wasn’t tricking me. He tried to remove it and… You know it’s a sin to kill, right? Like a damning sin.”
Harmony’s dark eyes flashed. She bared her teeth. “Yeah, I’ve heard that.”
“So, hypothetically, if someone summons a demon and orders it to kill other humans, that’s the human’s sin. And if a demon casts a spell as that person is dying, and it’s the only thing keeping them alive, when he removes that spell they finish dying. And since their power summoned the demon and their intent killed those humans…”
“You go to Hell,” Harmony breathed, horrified. “You went to Hell?”
“Yeah, but it’s okay now. I’m okay. But I wasn’t supposed to be. He’s been keeping me from death so I can have a life, but it’s against the rules. Like, there are so many rules you would not believe it. I had to be kept secret, and sometimes that meant being suspended for long periods of time, so I could stay hidden. And that’s why I look like this. And that’s why I’ve been in the Devildom. And that’s why I couldn’t find you or talk to you.” Tears ran, hot and free, down her face. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, Harmony. I wanted to. Every day. Even for just one day. I wanted to.”
Her words were muffled as Harmony’s arms came around her, crushing tight, all sharp bones and sinuous muscle. Melody’s power shifted, expanding, coming close to the surface of her skin.
“Shhh,” Harmony said, over and over. “Shhh, shhh. It’s alright. It’s alright. You’re here now. You’re okay.”
Melody cried, biting her lips to keep quiet, flinching at the spells coating Harmony’s skin but unwilling to let go. Gentle fingers stroked her hair.
“It’s okay,” Harmony crooned. “I killed the rest of the them, the mages. I killed anyone who had a hand in hurting you. There’s nobody left who knows about you.”
“You killed the humans,” Belphie drawled, and Harmony shoved Melody back so hard she fell. Her knife was out in her right hand, a wreath of magic wrapping around her left wrist, in an instant. Belphie was standing, facing them, but barely looked at her.
“Belphie, don’t scare her,” Melody said, wiping her eyes and trying to stand while Harmony kept shoving her back and down. “Harmony, don’t be scared. He’s not going to hurt you.”
“He’s a demon. A powerful one.”
“Sorta powerful,” Belphie said, smiling coldly. “I’m not the one you should be worried about though, unless you’ve set us up. Demons and mages are coming. Are they with you? Are they coming for her?”
Harmony stilled, like she was listening, then she hissed. “Fuck. I should have known Ken sold me out when he didn’t demand a bigger payment for bringing you both through. Fuck.”
Melody wrangled herself out from under Harmony’s hand and stood. A hum filled the air, which was fast growing hot. And the sky, visible at a sharp angle through the few windows high up on the tall walls, was darkening under bruised-looking clouds. Her power swirled, getting excited.
Don’t, she pleaded, trying to wrap her metaphysical arms around it. We’re in the human world. There are people nearby. Don’t do anything unless we have no choice. Nobody else can get hurt.
Outside she heard machinery clanking, voices growing curious and nervous as the weird weather began to register. Her power bucked, cold flames sparking.
She held on more tightly, time slowing as she focused her intent. No. No destruction. No burning. Not unless we have no other choice. We have to keep Harmony safe. We have to get Belphie home. No burning. No destruction.
It didn’t stop, but it…paused.
“Melody,” Harmony said at the same time Belphie flickered in front of her.
Thunder filled the warehouse, amplified, echoing. Melody dropped to her knees, covering her ears. Something bit into her shoulder, her thigh. Harmony flung a spell and Belphie did something that sent a funnel of smoke in the same direction. It whispered as it went. Fighting, they were fighting demons. In the human realm. Was that right?
Her arms dropped, too heavy to hold up. Her vision swam. She blinked languidly at the small blue dart in her leg, fumbling until she pulled it out.
“Wasss this?” she slurred.
Harmony turned. “Mel!”
“It’s poison,” a pleased male voice said, projecting to be heard over the sound of coughing and choking.
They locked eyes, Harmony’s going wide.
“We have the antidote, of course. We aren’t heartless.”
People had said that her eyes were black. The kids joked about it, at school, about how it meant that Harmony was “evil”. But they weren’t close enough to her to know that they weren’t black. Her eyes were darkest green, like the needles of old fir trees, the only spot of color in the cold of winter. Now her pupils expanded, overtaking that warm green.
“But we’ll only be able to administer it if you stop fighting. That’s the only way she’ll survive. You always wanted to protect her, isn’t that right Harmony?”
The speaker stepped into view, smoke swirling behind him. He was tall, broad-shouldered, in a fine black suit. Melody’s throat locked, from the poison, from fear. Harmony straightened like she had a string attached to her spine. Her eyes were flat, unblinking.
“Don’t fight and your precious Melody won’t get hurt. You hear that, demon? Aren’t you sworn to keep her from getting hurt?”
“Who the fuck is this guy?” Belphie mumbled. “He doesn’t feel right.”
“Harmony,” the man said, smiling his charming smile, twisting the gold ring on his left hand. “Dispose of that demon for me.”
“Don’t,” Melody tried to say. “Run,” she tried to say.
Harmony pivoted, whip quick, and stabbed her blade into Belphie’s side. His surprised sound cut off and he dropped, hard, to the gritty floor.
Harmony’s father had roared with magic, an ambitious mage from a powerful line. She had never liked the feel of his power. It felt hungry, invasively seeking in a way that even Beel’s gluttony and Mammon’s greed did not. She’d worked very, very hard to keep her own power hidden from him. He had been in that house, on that night, and he had died. Lucifer had killed him, which meant he had gone to Hell. Of course he had gone to Hell.
“That’s a good girl,” Daniel Vale said, his power slithering around Melody, his hand landing hard on Harmony’s shoulder and bearing down. He used to be tan. Now his skin was gray. He used to have blue eyes. Now they burned with dull, orange Hellfire.
Of course he had gone to Hell. And someone had pulled him back out.
A warehouse was burning as they stepped out of the portal Barbatos had aimed at the one that had snatched their brother and human. The butler had been embarrassed they’d been kidnapped two meters from the castle, and Satan didn’t mind saving his own ability since it gave him a chance to examine Barbatos’s construction. Red and orange flames roiled inside thick, black smoke. Magic crackled in the clouds over it, invisible to the humans, but they still huddled in small, scared groups outside the meager wire fence. Sirens wailed in the distance.
Mammon laughed and turned a hundred and eighty degrees, followed by Beel whose shoulders dropped a few inches.
“Belphie,” he sighed.
“And Melody.” Mammon grinned, eyes flashing. “They’re fine.”
“Whatever happened in that warehouse doesn’t seem fine,” Satan said, examining the remnants of magic. The traces of Belphie’s power were as familiar to him as his own. There was other demonic magic, human mage spells. There was no hint that Melody had come close to releasing the celestial bomb she carried. He turned in the direction Mammon and Belphie were focused. There was a road. They could be fifty feet away, or fifty miles by now.
“We’ll need to determine where they are. I will ‘port us in a widening circumference until we pinpoint their location or determine whether they’re still on the move-”
“No time!” Mammon yelled, over his shoulder as he had already launched into the air, Beel fast behind him. “We got a skirmish waiting for us at home, remember? Let’s get our baby bro and human and get back before Levi drowns everybody and there’s no spoils left for us!”
Idiot. Satan followed, keeping to the road. It was typical of Mammon to rush into the situation, ignoring clues that could help deduce the situation. He followed a two lane road off the rural highway up a gentle hill. Thick, leafy trees thinned out, and Satan frowned. He…knew this place. He’d conducted reconnaissance on it less than a year ago.
Mammon and Beel had landed atop the hill, obscured by the shadows of the large trees. He’d stopped there at the beginning of his own survey, looking for obvious traps or dangerous defenses.
“Yer so slow when you run instead of flying, Satan.”
“And you miss so much when you speed through the air,” he answered by habit, his mind racing.
“Belphie’s there.” Beel pointed, his heavy hand now tipped by dark orange talons.
“Yeah, we know, big guy.” Mammon patted his shoulder. “My pact is going crazy, too. Okay, here’s the plan…”
He would waltz right in while Beel chewed up the forces guarding the big, stone house, and swoop his brother and human to safety, all heroic-like.
“What’s wrong, Satan?” Mammon asked.
“Nothing is wrong.”
“Because my plan’s so good?”
He felt…wrong. Twisted, inside. Where Mammon was physically direct, Satan was emotionally direct. He identified when he was interested, bored or angry. He knew why he did what he did. He’d known what he was doing the first time he came to this place. He rarely felt guilt or shame, but that might be what he was feeling now.
He could warn them about what was inside. He should. He glanced at Mammon, who was always reliable when it mattered, at Beel whose greatest pleasure wasn’t in eating but in being surrounded by his family. He didn’t want to tell them.
“We should…do that.”
“I said that plan so you’d stop me and give us a better one. I’m not gonna run into a house that’s slathered in magic and surrounded by mages.” Mammon’s hands went to his hips and even Beel, fixated as he was on the sensation of his twin, turned to stare at him.
“What’s wrong, Satan?” he asked, voice a low growl. But soft beneath that. Worried. Satan cleared his throat, fighting the urge to look to the side.
“It’s nothing to worry about. We know what we are here for. I do, however, have a few suggestions.”
***
Melody turned the page in her book, running the side of her thumb against the uneven edge. The book was old, the binding sewn by hand. She couldn’t remember where she’d gotten it, but to be fair she was tired and memories seemed very far away. The slight breeze through the open window waved the curtain, allowing spears of bright sunlight to slip through before it shaded her again. The day was warm already. It would be hot by evening. They could drink cold drinks, or go to the stream at the bottom of the hill. Her grandmother didn’t like her to go on her own, even though she didn’t even have to cross a road, only follow a trail down. And the water wasn’t very deep.
Belphie sat on the floor in front of the small television, hunched over his crossed legs, his back to her. On the screen, Rainbow Road curved and bounced, and his little car turned and bounced along with it. She hated that track in Mario Kart.
“Do you want to go to the stream later?” she asked, leaning her head against the back of her chair. A puffy cloud drifted in front of the sun so she could see the brilliant blue of the sky without being blinded.
“The stream?” Belphie’s tail flicked, the long hairs at the end landing close to her feet. “Sure, we can go later.”
“You shouldn’t sit so close to the screen,” she said, like her grandmother had told her a dozen times. “It’s bad for your eyes.”
“It doesn’t matter.”
Why didn’t it matter? Oh, right. Because he was a demon and demons didn’t have to worry about things like eyesight wearing out.
The almost cartoonishly puffy cloud remained over the sun. Blue and pink flashed in her peripheral vision as Belphie raced his car past his competitors, unleashing a barrage of green shells. The paper in her hands was thick, uneven along the edges. There were no words on the pages. The curtain continued to wave. The air grew hotter.
“This is my grandmother’s house,” she said.
The clicking of the controller paused for a moment. “It’s comfortable here, isn’t it?” Belphie asked. “It’s nice?”
“I always loved it here.”
It was comfortable. She knew every dent in the wainscotting along the walls, heavy with layers of paint. She knew the wallpaper, complicated foliage with little animals hidden between branches and brambles. She used to love trailing her finger along the shapes, “discovering” each one long after she’d memorized the pattern.
The chair felt hard, cold. She wiped sweat from her forehead, could feel it on her neck. Her stomach felt squirmy. Her mouth tasted bitter.
“It’s never sunny in the Devildom,” Melody said.
“That’s true.”
“We were in the human world,” she said, wondering when she’d stopped thinking of it as “home”. “We were attacked.”
“Yeah.”
“This isn’t really my grandmother’s house. Where are we?”
“Asleep,” he said, beginning another lap. “Or, you’re asleep and I’m hanging out with you.”
“Why?”
“To keep you company. Isn’t this pleasant?”
She loved her grandmother’s house. It meant rambling walks along old paths. She had a favorite rock there, a big smooth stone with orange striations on one side. Her grandmother let her decide how much chocolate to add to the cookies she baked. It was safe there and she was happy and, at the end of every visit, she’d hear the car doors close, run out and be caught by her father’s big hands as he lifted and swung her around, her mother grinning fondly behind him.
The temperature was just right. The motionless cloud kept the glare of the sun out of her eyes. The book had no words. There was no view outside, just the impression of an outside world. She hadn’t been to her grandmother’s house since her father died.
“Why is the game real when nothing else is?” she asked.
“Levi keeps beating me at this course. I recreated it exactly and play it when I’m sleeping so I can beat him next time.” Belphie laughed under his breath. “He’ll never see it coming.”
Levi, his brother.
“Belphie, where’s Harmony?”
Belphie sighed, setting aside the controller. The game images disappeared from the TV. He was in demon form, she realized as he turned to face her. His horns curled, surprisingly solid around his fine features. His eyes glinted like hard-faceted jewels. He looked her over and sighed again.
“You should stay asleep, Melody.”
“I don’t feel sleepy.” Her stomach rolled again. Her mind felt fuzzy, her memories still distant, words more difficult to pronounce than they should be. It wasn’t like when she came out of statis though. It was worse. “I feel a little sick, but we can’t stay here. Those people might attack again. We have to get Harmony and go.”
“My brothers will be here soon. Lucifer can find us no matter where we are.”
Lucifer. Thinking about him made her want to throw something. Squeezing her hands into fists, she shook her head.
“I need to talk to Harmony. Let me wake up.”
“I didn’t make you sleep.”
“But you can wake me up. So do it!”
“A pact with Asmo is usually a good thing,” he said, but he sounded displeased. “He’s immune to poison. They shot you with poison and a sedative, to knock you out and make you weak. But the connection of your pact is burning through it.”
“That is a good thing.” Why was he being so unreasonable? “Let’s get Harmony and go.”
“Stay here.”
“Belphie, no!”
The corners of his mouth turned down. “It’s nicer in here.”
Alarm spiked through her. She felt her power swirling, impatient, barely agreeable.
“Belphie.”
“It’s nicer in here, but I guess it can’t be helped.” He was very close to her suddenly, the dream starting to flake away. “Pay attention, Melody. Because, when you wake up, it’s not going to be in a place as comfortable as this. Here’s what you’re going to do. One, don’t respond to them. Don’t answer. Don’t negotiate. Don’t beg. No matter what. Got it?”
“What?”
“Listen to me. Agree to this or you’re staying here.”
“I don’t even know where ‘here’ is.” When his aura snapped around him, she waved her hands. “I agree, I agree. I won’t answer.”
“No matter what. No matter what they say they’re going to do to your sister or me. No matter what they are doing to your sister or me, don’t agree to anything. Don’t worry about me at all, in fact. What they’re doing doesn’t matter. Don’t offer anything or try to negotiate or make an exchange. Say it. Promise.”
The idea of anything happening to Harmony that she could stop?
“Melody.” Belphie tilted his head toward her, his eyes luminous. “Lucifer will find us. Beel saw us go through that portal, remember? He’ll already have made it back to the house. They’re already coming for us. We are going to be fine. But you can’t give them anything, no matter what they do.”
“What will they do?”
Belphie’s jaw clenched. “We are in a big house, far from any town or city. The demon holding us is powerful, avatar-level power. He is old, cruel, and he’s had a lot of time to prepare. They have spells and wards, and someone resurrected your sister’s father and he’s got your sister working for him.” Her breath caught and he gripped her shoulders, shaking her. “This is important, pay attention.”
“That was really him? D-daniel Vale? How?”
“It doesn’t matter. He’s there, and he might have some kind of spell on her. This demon wants power. If he figures out the power inside of you, he will tear you apart to get to it. Be patient. Don’t give them anything.”
Belphie watched her carefully but all she could feel was shock. Layers and layers of shock. This couldn’t be happening again, it couldn’t. Harmony was supposed to be safe. Summoning Lucifer was about keeping her safe. Staying away for all these years – missing her – was about keeping her safe. She could not let it happen again.
Power surged inside of her, and Belphie rushed out, “We’re in devil’s traps – containment spells – and Harmony is powering them. If you try to break the trap, the force of it will rebound on your sister and hurt her. Do you understand?”
“What?”
“Stay here, Melody. Stay asleep.” Belphie smiled sadly. “You can’t control your power.”
“I can.” She could, if she could work with it.
“If you wake up you’ll hurt your sister.”
She could feel her power expanding, filling her limbs, forcing its way out. Even a fraction of it crashing against Harmony would kill her. Melody wasn’t stronger than it. But, for all it wanted to destroy, it would not hurt her.
“Harmony isn’t working with him,” she whispered, eyes squeezed shut as she fought against the force inside of her. It had to listen. It had to understand what it was not allowed to do. “It’s a geas. He placed it on her when she was little, to make her obedient. He was ambitious, and she had a specific talent he wanted to use.”
Please, she thought at the terrible force churning and building within her. Please. Remember what she means to us. She’s our sister. She looked out for us. She saved us, you and me, before we were strong enough to save ourselves.
It wasn’t listening, building and building, unfurling into that gleeful fire that would burn everyone around it. The last of the poison receded under the force of it, which meant that she could feel reality again. Belphie was right. She should have stayed asleep.
Her shoulder hurt, and her leg where the darts hit her. Her wrists hurt, too. She was cold, she could feel it now, feel the difference between the fading sensations of her grandmother’s house and her actual body. She slid out of the cozy dreamworld and back into consciousness in her body.
She blinked gritty eyes, saw the slate floor she lay upon, saw her arm stretched limply beside her. Power lightened the veins on the underside of her arm to pale blue. She hadn’t seen it the first few times it had activated, too overwhelmed. The power was devastation, terrible damage, attached to her but not her. The power wanted to serve its purpose, had increased inside of her, strengthening as she grew up and grew stronger. But even when it burned, it never burned her. In order to serve its purpose of destruction, it had to persist, and it could only persist in a descendent of its original vessel, Lilith.
A spellwork circle smoldered in the stone around her, harsh black and red magic, barbed symbols etched into the stone in- and outside of it. Beyond the circle, the figures of people – human and demon – blurred. Magic choked the air, Harmony’s bright and silvery, the pressure of Daniel Vale’s power, and something much, much larger than both. Her power fixated on that, the biggest and most hostile target. But Harmony was between her and it. And Belphie was nearby.
You can have your target, she thought desperately. You can crush it, take it down, destroy it. I’ll let you out, but only if you limit it to the bad guys here. Don’t hurt our people. Don’t hurt Harmony.
It faced outward, looking through her eyes, tasting with her tongue, borrowing neurons in her brain to form delightful anticipation they could both feel.
If you hurt her, you will hurt me too.
A flicker of attention.
You can’t hurt me, remember? If you do, you can’t keep going. But there’s no need. I’ll help you, while we keep Harmony safe. I know it’s been hard. You’ve been so good, so patient, waiting for me to get strong. It’s been hard, right? Keeping yourself quiet so I could grow strong enough to carry you. I appreciate it so much. I appreciate you so much, so now let’s work together. Slowly, so I can actually see what you can do. Quietly, so you truly surprise them. Won’t that be fun? To do it together?
Nerves twitched along her spine, a frisson like her entire nervous system was waking up after falling asleep. She gasped, but the sound was lost under bootheels on the stone floor, shouts, the crackle of the magical circle – a devil’s trap, Belphie had called it – and a harsh, hissing sound that had her breaking out in goosebumps.
She pushed herself up to sitting, the muscles of her arms weak but the power inside of them strong. It was hiding, that celestial white blue hiding within her bones and veins. The room was massive, one wall lined with tall windows that rose into a peaked arch, the other with dark wood crests and coats of arms. Demons stood around, men in mages robes, some with weapons, some fueling spells. Wards lined every visible surface, the magic so dense she couldn’t tell one spell from another. Another devil’s circle had been drawn and powered a meter from her. Belphie sat slumped in it, his head hanging, his eyes closed. It would have seemed like he’d just nodded off if not for the inky ichor running from the side of his head. It had pooled in a few places around him. He hadn’t been worried, though, certain that Lucifer was coming for them. Her eyes moved on and, when she scrambled to her feet, the demons closest to her turned her way.
Harmony.
She stood on the far side of Belphie’s circle, dark hair loose, shoulders curved forward, the tattoos on her arms so faded they looked like smears of ash. Daniel Vale stood to her side, just behind her, teeth bared in a wide grin. He used to survey the rooms he walked into. If the girls had made a mess, or even had their school books spread out too widely over the expensive surfaces of his apartment, his displeasure was loud. Now he looked unbearably pleased. The fact that he looked like anything was wrong. He was supposed to be dead. She had damned her own soul to make sure of it.
“The girl is awake,” a mage announced, his bright, high voice loud enough to quiet the others. Everything but the crackling of magic and that constant hiss.
There was a single piece of furniture in the room, a dark wooden chair with a high, ornate back. It was like the kind of thing you’d find in a museum, something no living being would choose to sit in. The thing sitting in it now was alive and, as it turned to her, she shuddered. It was giant, a thin shard of a being, pale and jagged along its back like a piece of wood ripped loose from a tree. She thought it had four arms. She thought it had three eyes, in a line but too close together. Tubes ran out of it, snaking thickly along the floor then writhing up into a series of unfamiliar black machines. The power emanating from the creature felt like fumes from a sickroom. Some of the wards on the walls were to keep that power in, to mask it, to hide it.
To hide…
What if nobody could find them? This was the demon with the avatar-like power. Belphie had said that. What if it was strong enough to hide them? Fear gripped her, and her power churned.
Something crashed outside, then a door opened somewhere in the house, letting in the sound of angry shouting and cracking spells, a low buzz that shivered across the bones. It closed again, muffling the chaotic noise. On the other side of the room, along the wall with the wood and the plaques, mages powered up their spells. A pair of demons coughed out roaring barks, another wreathed its hands in fire.
Satan stepped into the room, black feathers and the ruffles on his shirt fluttering, his tail wrapped neatly around his leg. Melody could have wept, or sung with relief. Not lost. They weren’t lost. Satan’s clear green gaze swept the room.
“The wards!” someone shouted.
“How did he-”
The creature in the chair laughed, a thick, grinding sound that made her want to retch. It stood, rising up and up until it towered over the others, until it blocked out light from the windows.
“I invited him of course,” the thing ground out. “Welcome, Avatar of Wrath. It is so good of you to join us.”
“The pleasure is all mine,” Satan said, pressing a hand to his chest and bowing.
“Your invitation specified a truce.” Satan gestured toward Belphie. “This is an act of aggression.”
The demon’s row of eyes blinked, one at a time starting with the middle one. It was disconcerting, but not as disconcerting as the strength he displayed, not as a boast but as a fact. Power drenched his rough skin. It ran, liquid-thick, drawn upwards by the tubes on his shoulder. This was Marduk. An archdemon. Older than Diavolo, nearly as old as Diavolo’s father if the history books had it right. Lucifer had crashed into the Devildom, a comet of bloodthirsty, righteous indignation, and the station of Pride had torn out of Marduk so violently that nothing remained of him. The Vanguard had divided his assets and vassals among their elders on that same day, the day Satan was formed. Small world.
Satan had received an invitation to meet with a force seeking to elevate demons of “true belief”. They said they served Marduk. He’d known they were powerful, known they practiced old magic and possessed ancient spells. He’d been intrigued, willing to entertain their stodgy ideals until he determined what he could get from them. That the archdemon actually lived was, in all honesty, a surprise.
“Our apologies, Avatar,” the mage at Marduk’s knee said. “We were unaware you were coming today.”
The giant demon wheezed out a massive, teeth-rattling scoff. “The youngster was but a by-catch. It was unnavoidable.”
“Then you will release him from the trap?”
“That is the wrong ask. And here we thought you were the smart one.” The archdemon grinned, showing sharp teeth the color of rust. Satan’s eyes flashed, but his aura didn’t flare. Lucifer did not do things halfway, and he had been vicious directly after his descent. If he had suspected the former Avatar of Pride of surviving, he would have hunted him down to protect his station. There was an agenda at play which Satan did not understand. He hated that. “It’s for his protection, you see. A devil’s trap keeps magic in. It also keeps magic out. In this case it shields him.”
One of the demon’s long arms swept outward. Satan stifled a flinch. Melody threw her arms up defensively on instinct. “She’s the real trap.”
Satan allowed himself a glance at the smoking magical circle, at the fragile human inside of it. Her face was drawn and pale, her body curled in on itself. She looked injured though he could see no wounds. “What, the human?”
“Mmmm.” Marduk lowered himself into his chair as if it were a throne. Mages and mid-level demons fussed over the tubes, arranging them so they didn’t kink or get caught. The hissing continued rhythmically, as if the machines were breathing for the demon. “Perhaps Lucifer did not share with you the reason he kept her. It would appear he kept much from you.”
He was fishing for information. That game was as easy as breathing, especially compared to the dynamics of this situation. Beel and Mammon fought the ranks outside. Beel would continue, despite his urgency to get to his twin, until there was nothing left to consume. Mammon would bore quickly. Belphie was injured and resting, most likely by choice rather than necessity. Melody was somehow restraining and hiding her devestating power. Her sister, that same witch who had caught and imprisoned him with a trap on her worn kitchen floor, was the pivot point in a web of curses and magic. He’d felt what she was capable of, even begrudgingly respected her for it. But here she was, another stupid human who’d traded her promise to demons. Disappointing.
“I’ve never cared to ask,” Satan said. “She’s a personal possession, nothing more.”
The demon laughed again, the grating sound of it deafeningly loud.
“Could it be he does not know, the pretender of Pride?”
“Know what?” Satan scowled.
“What she truly is.”
“A summoner, a human with a little magic that got tangled with his. He keeps her on the shelf.” He let a little disbelief bleed into his tone, hiding the sudden concern that they absolutely knew what she was. “You’re saying catching her was your objective?”
“Oh, Wrath. We forget sometimes, with your strength and your cunning, that you are so young. You haven’t been around long enough to have battled the angels. Pity. Nothing is as sweet as draining the essential power of a celestial.” Aura billowed out of the demon, then he leaned back. “Or is this a ploy, a part of that delightful cunning?”
“Oy! Whadya think you’re doing?” Power crackled and the room lit up, filled with stark white light, as Mammon rushed through the door. Demons howled. Outside, Beel’s buzzing intensified. A spell sparked and, on instinct, Satan flash-stepped to the side. He heard more than saw the blades fly past. Mammon grunted as they impacted and Satan glanced back, once and quickly, to see him speared to the wall by two swords through his chest and abdomen, another through the arm he’d flung out. Like a butterfly poorly preserved. Satan’s gaze raked over Melody before returning, surely and calmly, to Marduk.
The circle she stood in was filled with vivid blossoms, an entire floating bouquet of her flower lights having erupted into being around her. They bobbed in the air, fizzling out in puffs of smoke when they impacted the barrier. He exhaled slowly. She hadn’t lost control. This situation was still manageable.
Satan raised both hands, palms up. The demons around him flinched, weapons and spells at the ready. Marduk bared his rusty teeth. “You invite me to negotiate but doubt my words. You kidnap my brother, then say it is an accident but do not return him. You stole Lucifer’s human, and say that she is a trap, but ask me to explain why that is. I don’t care. Will you give me my brother or do I have to take him?”
“You would try to take him from us?” Marduk sounded eminently amused. He was enjoying this too much. It was a game to them. A thought rose through his rapid calculations, a gut instinct. They had not invited him out of genuine respect. He did not have leverage here. This was not a negotiation. It was a distraction, dividing the might of the House of Lamentation. Which meant the situation in the Devildom was worse than he’d estimated. This charade needed to end, quickly.
“He’s young, of no use to you.” Satan’s eyes hardened. “Release him now.”
“Patience, Wrath. I realize that must be difficult for you, but it is truly for his protection. We’ll move him away when our preparations are complete. Then you can return your brother home.” Marduk laughed, a low, sour note. “What’s left of it.”
“Yes, I know the Vanguard were given permission to skirmish.”
“You are unconcerned? You do not care about the destruction of your kinsmen?”
“The elder brothers of the House of Lamentation made their choices.” Asmo and Levi had stood their ground against Lucifer, volunteered to fight. He did not normally consider them brave.
“So cold, Wrath. So cold.” Two of his eyes turned, glinting, toward Mammon’s prone form. He hadn’t made a sound. Satan wasn’t sure he was even breathing. “We approve. But then, it is not as if they are your actual family.”
“I’ve heard this story before, that they are celestials and I am a true demon.” He’d heard it twice, actually, recently. The conversations had not ended well.
“Not even celestials. At least those have some actual power, though they are too cowardly to leave their realm and prove it. You are a true-spawned demon. Why do you obey a failed angel?”
“I don’t.”
“No? Maybe not always, but you obey when he calls you to heel, do you not? You allow him to punish you. You, the Avatar of Wrath. Anger incarnate. I’ve never heard of such an insult!”
All that time he had spent beneath the house, in the cold, alone. All Lucifer’s orders, his restrictions, his demands, his punishments, the way his eye was ever upon Satan. For the thousandth time, he considered why Lucifer did it. He missed the rest of Marduk’s rant as he considered why, too, he put up with it. A question brought him back.
“What if I tell you, my kinsman, that this human is a celestial?”
“I would say that someone has misled you.” Satan shrugged, hiding his alarm at their knowledge, and made a decision. “Here, under the threat of death or worse, she cannot do more than create bright flowers. Look, even if you threaten her beloved sister, she’ll do nothing.”
Satan strode to Harmony Vale, stopping just in front of her. Her eyes were flat black, her mouth a thin line. The considerable power she stored in her imbued tattoos and jewelry was largely depleted as the traps consumed it. The anger rolling out of her though…oh, what a force it was. A frenzy of hot, wild rage. He could feast on this for days, even without a pact or trade. Simply being close to her was invigorating. If she was so angry though, why wasn’t she acting on it?
The man behind her was big, full of that feverish energy of the newly resurrected, as well as the dull thrum of the curse that connected him to Harmony. The lines of magic connected clearly to his fist, but were nearly transparent, almost a part of Harmony. It was magic he had cast in mid-life, but had been with her since she was young. Ah, no wonder she was mad. She was trapped more surely than anyone else in this room. Satan looked again at the resurrected human preening behind her. Tall, muscular, skilled enough in the arts for his power to be notable. He resembled her, in the shape of his face, the thin lines of his mouth. She had not traded. This was a relative, maybe even her father, who had bound his child before she could have known what consent was.
Satan stroked a finger along Harmony’s jaw. Muscles clenched beneath his touch. Her anger flared, biting hot. He suppressed the urge to tell her how well she was doing.
“Threaten someone she loves, however,” he murmured, turning to face Marduk again, “and the human you’ve caught actually pays attention.” He smirked. Beyond the archdemon’s throne, Melody clenched her fists. Her eyes went incandescent. He hoped she was paying attention. “But it doesn’t matter. She can perform tricks, small pretty spells as befit a small, pretty girl. Go on, Melody. Show them what little power you’re capable of generating even when your sister is in peril.”
Her lips moved, repeating a single word, inaudible within the confines of the trap. Please. She was shaking and, because he was looking for it, he could see the power moving inside of her. The devil’s trap was helpful in that the fumes of the circle spell were obscuring visibility. But surely it would not be long before it burst free or the powerful demon sensed it. The archdemon that knew it was within her. That would bear thinking about later.
Her hand rose, pale, fingernails icy blue as though they had been painted. Gaze locked with Melody’s, he slid his hand down to Harmony’s slender throat. Smiling, he applied pressure. She stiffened and, within the circle, Melody opened her hand.
A flower formed on her palm. It bloomed rapidly, pale pink and much larger than the earlier burst, and drifted up and away from the trap. Harmony winced as the flower passed through the barrier. He stroked her throat soothingly, his thumb light over her jugular. This was all about to be over.
Marduk glared. His smoking aura expanded. The room filled with smoking darkness. It was not unlike Lucifer’s aura though the malice in it was more ravenous.
“She can probably feed her meager power into it, make it larger or brighter. But whatever you thought you had in her was incorrect.” Satan gave Marduk a sympathetic look. “It’s possible Lucifer extracted her power. Why else would he have kept a human around for that long?”
“I tasted that power,” Marduk snarled. He growled, and his oily aura wrapped flowed over the flower, consuming the bright, delicate color. “I have lived off of Nephilim for centuries. If the vessel lives, so does the power. Pain will bring it out. It always does. That sacrifice was meant for me and me alone. A ruined angel deserves no such feast!”
“He takes as though all is his due.”
“A pathetic excuse for Pride. What strength has he ever shown? It was luck, nothing else, to fall into a station he does not deserve. He will know today. We will crush Lucifer, dismantle the House of Lamentation forever. We shall cleanse the Devildom of the fallen.”
“We?” Satan asked. His mouth had gone dry. Anger churned inside of him, his station activating despite his iron control. His anger teased at Harmony’s, drawing it out. Her breath hitched at the intrusion. He stroked over her skin again, forced himself to relax his tightening hold.
“Join us, Wrath. Feel what it means to be, finally, unfettered. Your true self.” Marduk rose, towering over the hall. The mage at his knee collapsed, overcome. The oily darkness of his aura splattered onto the surfaces around him, running along the tiles of the stone floor, over the wood on the wall, suffocating the light of the windows. “There will be no limits, no punishments except those we dispense. You have always hated Lucifer, and for good reason. You have never been one of them, despite being forced to serve them for so many years. You belong with us, the betters, the winners.”
“You can kill Lucifer?” Satan asked quietly. “You’re certain?” He felt strange. Detached. Like he wasn’t really there, having this conversation. A world without Lucifer? How could he, of all people, envision that?
“We have planned this for centuries, operating beyond the shadows, building toward the day we rid the Devildom of his corruption. He managed to drive two of my brethren into hiding, but they will join us in celebration soon. The Fallen will feel his own weakness, watch as his wretched excuse for a home crumbles. An army of hundreds marches on him as we speak. Abominable creations. Elder horrors. Our finest soldiers, hardened in the fires of Hell itself, brought forth for this exact moment.”
Satan’s eyes brightened. The feathers around his neck ruffled.
“Ah, there it is. You hate them as much as we do, parading around with the stumps of their wings as if those make them better than us. But we know better.”
“And when he is gone?”
“Diavolo has estranged his allies. He will revert back to the fold without his infatuation there to manipulate him. You will be a prince, Satan. As cunning and ruthless as you like. We value weapons like you.”
“You absolute dipshits,” a voice rang out.
Satan sighed. Did he always have to be so loud?
Mammon drew the blades from his body, tossing them away. All but one. Whistling, he held it up to examine.
“I can’t believe you impaled me with cheap blades. Don’t you know who I am?” He ran his hand along the flat of the last sword. The rust flaked off, making the blade gleam.” This one’s nice though. A Masumune Goro, right? I can barely tell, it’s so tarnished. You have to look after your valuables. Since you didn’t, I’m keeping it.”
He stepped, moving through the air like he was sauntering down a staircase. Lightning crackled around him, competing with Marduk’s inky darkness. When the light subsided he was in demon form, black and white and sharp black horns. The metal ornaments hanging from his collar chimed. Black ichor stained his chest but it did not run.
“So much talking going on here. It’s so boring Belphie fell asleep listening to it.”
“He’s not sleeping,” a demon rasped angrily, “he’s dead.”
“Pfffft.” Mammon laughed. He ran his hand over the other side of the blade. The masterfully thin steel shone. Mammon’s smile sharpened as well. A flash of gold light rolled through his eyes. “Is that what you think?”
Belphie sighed, propping his chin on his hand. His eyes were barely open. “We gotta do this?”
“Yeah, come on man. Didn’t you hear him? Centuries old plot? Murderous intent? Burning the house down? Think of all your favorite pillows. Think of poor Beel’s pudding. He just got like a whole order delivered. ‘Course we gotta do this.”
Marduk’s aura writhed, bulging behind him. “As if the two of you could take us down. Don’t make me laugh.”
“Three,” Satan said.
“Yeah, sorry if I interrupted your interrogation there, little bro,” Mammon said.
“Don’t call me that.”
“I had an itch, thought someone would notice if I scratched my nose while I was supposed to be dead and whatenot.” Mammon flicked a hand over, smacking him on the chest. “You did great, though. Got all the deets.”
“Don’t touch me either.”
“You are not one of them,” Marduk roared. “You belong to me.”
Satan’s aura snapped around him, spitting venom. “Those brothers you mentioned, the ones Lucifer drove into hiding? They haven’t been too discreet to contact you. They’ve been resting in pieces.”
“He could not have taken them down on his best day.”
“He didn’t even bother to try.” Satan smiled, a cold baring of teeth. “I killed them, for daring to ask for my loyalty. Though I did enjoy listening to them beg, at the end.”
When the swords had speared Mammon, Melody thought her heart had stopped. Everything stopped. Her heart. Her ability to draw breath. Even the pressure of her power had ceased. But their connection, their pact, allowing her to feel what he was feeling, kept her from losing her slippery hold. He’d opened it the second he walked through the door, filling her with the live wire of his excitement, the snickering delight of the mischief they were perpetrating, the steady thrum of acquisitiveness as his sin responded to the riches around him. The pain of the swords stabbing through him and holding him, up in the air, against the wall, had been a mere sensation compared to that, a blip. She might have doubted it if she hadn’t felt him, all of him, his anger, the doubts and fears skittering through him like they never really rested, worry and protectiveness for his brothers, and a low, seeking warmth that she knew, in some lovely way, was just for her.
And she’d known they were going to be fine.
Mammon had…grounded her. It was so many feelings, on top of her own, in the midst of all this chaos, but his had been real and true. She could rely on them. She could rely on him. Despite everything he was feeling, Mammon was strong and sure, and that allowed her to listen to Satan, not his leisurely talk with the demon that used to be the Avatar of Pride, but the other things he was saying about her. To her.
Melody drew a slow, steadying breath. They were going to be fine. She would take a minute to pull herself together and then-
A roar rumbled through the room, then the door shattered as Beel kicked it down. Defensive spells discharged automatically. Mages chanted new ones. Marduk’s demons, which had been lurking around drooling and snarling, snapped, leaping for the brothers. The edges of the trap seared Melody’s hands when she pressed too close. Time was up.
Harmony… Satan was with her, his hand still on her as he spun a shield around them both. Dark smoke filled the room, flashing green with Satan’s poisonous magic and deep red with Beel’s seeking hunger. Brilliant, blinding lightning blazed high up near the ceiling.
Exhaling, Melody turned toward Belphie. They had to get out of the traps and-
Hers shattered, harsh magic slicing through her with the shock of glass shards. Staggering, she watched as Harmony collapsed in slow motion, falling limp over Satan’s arm. Hostile magic bit at her from every angle.
The miasma of Marduk’s aura billowed, closing in around Melody. Marduk was not simply hungry. He was not merely greedy. He did not only desire. He believed that anything and anyone was his to command, his to toy with, his to destroy, that all lived to serve him. That their very lives belonged to him. She had lain on a stone altar as a child, sigils of a spell cut into her skin, so far beyond cold that she had stopped shivering, as he had drained the power and life out of her with the cruel teeth of his insatiable pride.
His giant, gnarled limbs emerged from the black cloak of his aura and grabbed her, jerking her off her feet and into the air. The stuttering flashes illuminated the bruise-dark smoke as he loomed over her. And she felt him, felt the needles of his demand stab into her, burrowing deep, seeking her power.
“Still so sweet, but stronger now,” the demon rasped. A cream pale tongue forked out of his mouth and ran along the ridges of his lips. “Ripe. Even if the House of Lamentation were not burning at this moment, once I’ve consumed you, I will be able to destroy all of them. Weak Greed. Duplicitous Wrath. And that foulest of creatures, the misbegotten Morningstar.”
“Is that how it works,” she gritted out.
He wheezed a noise that could have been surprise or inquiry, or just some air left in the tubes that supplied him. His hold loosened the smallest amount.
“You consume me, you get my power?” she asked.
Marduk bellowed laughter. The room shook from it. Her head throbbed from the force of it. He crowed something in daemonish, a phrase her translation charm couldn’t manage. The images that filled her head were of battlefields strewn with corpses, cities reduced to rubble, seas drained of water. He didn’t care what happened to anyone, so long as he got what he wanted. Harmony, slumped over Satan’s arm as he warded off attacks from both sides. Mammon, slicing at the limbs of a construct that kept growing them back. Her, and everything inside of her. He thought he was entitled to it all, and more.
She was light-headed, struggling to breathe, to focus, shaking under the strain of his grip and her power, burning her from the inside out. There were things she needed to do. Satan had reminded her of one, had outright instructed her on the others. Hide her power. Pretend she could make nothing but a little bloom of light. Feed her power into that magical blossom.
Melody let go. The power she had struggled to hold, to meter out bit by searing bit, burst loose. Behind Marduk, so tall it blocked out the strobing light, a beast broke from its hiding place in the absolute darkness of his aura. Its black body arched low over eight segmented legs. Its tail curved up, ending in a blood red stinger. Its giant pincers clacked. The golden, armored neck and head that rose from it would have been almost elegant if the wide-set eyes weren’t so alert, so piercing. White fire ran along the seams of its body, its joints. The blinding flames burned through Marduk’s inky black aura, ran in rivulets from the giant creature’s body, setting fire to the nearest demons. And mages. And walls and floorboards. The windows nearest them began to melt. A lesser demon went up in a cloud of shrieking steam.
“Chelsea,” Melody murmured, willing the beast she’d engineered on Levi’s computer and built with her power out of a single blossom of light, to follow her rules. It could not hurt Harmony. It could not hurt the brothers. But it could – she’d promised it – it could have this bastard. “Do it.”
She almost choked when the delicate little mouth expanded, unhinging to reveal serrated teeth and a throat flaring with celestial flame. Marduk’s three eyes snapped upward as he tried to see the creature that…bit off his head, three arms and most of his upper body.
Melody fell from his suddenly slack grip, paralyzed as much from that sight as from the force of power releasing. Mammon caught her in mid-air, a nervous laugh escaping him as he shot them both across the room.
“Wh-what’s, uh…what is that?” his voice went high at the end. “It feels like you, but that isn’t you. It isn’t, is it? That’s not, like, the real you is it? It’s just a manifestation? Tell me that’s a manifestation.”
Power swam through her, hot, strong. Chelsea reached an unappetizing part of Marduk and shook her head, sharp teeth tearing and shooting loose bits around the room. Beel caught something and shoved it into his mouth in a single movement. Belphie, at his side, wrinkled his nose in disgust.
“Not me,” Melody whispered, as one of those fierce eyes swiveled to find her. She smiled and gave Chelsea a thumbs up. “My emotional support monster.”
“Good then.” Mammon winced as Chelsea’s stinger stabbed through the center of a flying demon, pinning it to the floor where it then burst into flames. “Is it gonna, you know, ever stop?”
“It’s…she is devastation. She needs to stretch her legs a bit.”
“She needs to stretch her devastation legs?” Mammon glanced nervously back and forth from Melody to the giant, armored, flaming sea horse-scorpion. “Then she’ll stop?”
“Yes.” Melody said it and knew it to be true. Now that her power was inside of this creation as much as inside of herself, she understand it a little better. She could manipulate it. Reason with it, or at least bargain with it. That was pretty close to being able to control it. Suddenly exhausted, she leaned against Mammon. His arm slid around her, pulled her close. His lips pressed against her temple, even as he swiveled her to keep her away from a flash of power as Beel and Belphie took something out.
“Good, ‘cause it sounds like there’s more than a little fight going on back home. Lucifer probably needs us to come back and rescue him, like usual.”
***
Satan backed away the absolute havoc being wreaked in the center of the room. Melody’s delicate flower had bloomed into a celestial-powered monstrosity that seemed to be containing the enormity of its strength only because it preferred to tear its enemies apart with its own pincers, teeth and tail. He would have approved if he wasn’t carrying a delicate burden of his own.
She stirred against him, the long limbs that had suddenly gone weak twitching until finally she clutched his shirt, pulling herself up to peer blearily at him. He knew what he looked like, horns curling, eyes glowing, fangs bloodied, his aura sinister enough to send her straight back into unconsciousness.
Harmony Vale blinked until her dark, bloodshot eyes cleared. He’d had to dig deep to find the root of the spell controlling her, and the backlash when he’d snapped it had knocked her out. The portion he’d caught had been enough to sting him, and she was only human.
“Pretty,” she whispered.
“Right,” he replied, not sure what she spoke of. Then she grimaced, setting her feet on the floor and pushing at him.
“We need to leave,” he told her. “This situation is dangerous. You require medical treat-”
“Not yet,” she snarled, shoving hard enough that his grip slipped. He was trying to be careful with her, but clearly she could tolerate a firmer hand. His shield shattered as she broke it from the inside, half staggering and half stomping back toward the smoking chaos.
“Idiot,” he snarled back, catching up to her in two steps. She evaded him again, ducking neatly under a thrown mace and his reach while side-stepping over a body.
A big man, one of the few still standing, turned, his heavy hands wreathed in spells. His face was burned on one side, his suit shredded. The man who had controlled her. Satan knew he had severed the tie that bound them. Was she so used to obeying that she was compelled to return, even without the spell? That was disappointing.
“Harmony,” the man barked. She snapped upright, her spine ramrod straight. The man pointed toward Melody’s beast. “Keep that away from me.”
Satan rolled his eyes. A few lesser demons had escaped, but it wasn’t as if any of the rest of them would be getting out alive. And it wasn’t like anything was going to be able to stop that creature except Melody. But it would be trouble for him if he allowed the human’s precious sister to try.
“Is it a monster?” Harmony asked, her voice small, almost childlike. Wrong, Satan’s intuition told him. False.
“Yes. A bad monster.”
“Should I kill it?” Her hand twitched at her side and Satan halted in reaching for her, fascinated by the unfamiliar magic moving beneath the brittle, leather cuff she wore around her wrist.
“Yes, kill-”
The man choked on the word, choked on the blade Harmony had lightning-quick stabbed through his throat. Magic surged out of the witch, a quicksilver flash that disappeared as quickly as it had activated. She should have been exhausted, depleted, unable to cast a spell with assistance let alone so silently, secretly. Satan’s hand dropped to his side, even the roaring flames and screeching enemies forgotten for a moment as he watched her. The man fell, hands flailing at his throat, heels drumming against the warped floor. Harmony knelt beside him, intent gaze moving over his body to his face.
“Bad monsters belong in Hell, don’t they?” She blinked languidly as she watching him writhe then smiled, almost sweetly. “So go back to Hell, Daddy. Go back to Hell, and burn and rot with all the other monsters, like you deserve.”
Harmony stood, slender and dark-eyed, rage evaporating off of her like mist yielding to the sun. She assessed the situation, frowning in turn at the remains of the devil’s traps and Marduk, at the creature impaling and eating its way through the last of the opposing force then, finally, at Melody. Her expression softened, her eyelashes trembling as she closed her eyes for a moment. Then she exhaled briskly and brushed her hands against each other as though getting rid of crumbs.
“I’m all through here,” she told Satan, stepping over the body of her twice-dead father. “We can go now.”
She was…extraordinary. Fierce. Clever. Merciless. He turned away to hide the flush rising on his face. Holding out his hand, he cleared his throat. “Fine. This way.”
Levi was having the worst day. The absolute worst. Worse than when they’d first landed in this kingdom of night and things were always trying to eat them, or capture them and turn them into pets they could torment for their own amusement. Worse than when the former Avatar of Envy cornered him then ranted until Levi had just gotten so, so damn fed up with him and his complaining insults and insulting complaints that he’d snapped and ended up both the new Avatar of Envy and so injured that Satan had looked at him with pity. Satan! Worse even than when he was so excited about Sucre Frenzy’s new tour tickets that he stayed up all night so he could be first in the digital queue then fell asleep minutes before they went on sale. That was, honestly, the worst day of his life since they had fallen.
Until today.
He didn’t like fighting. He didn’t even like being outside of the house. But, when he did have to come out, and he did have to fight, at least he knew his brothers would be with him. No matter how much he sucked or didn’t wanna, they would be alongside him, so things wouldn’t hurt so much. Lucifer would always be there, looking after Levi in his arrogant, exasperated, actually-really-freaky-all-knowing way. And he was here, up in the sky, in the boil of aura punctuated by crackling power which occasionally spat out dead demons and broken weapons. And it was like Lucifer was at the house too, his power infused into wards the likes of which Levi had never even seen, keeping it standing – proud and untarnished – even though the grounds were smoldering, pitted with craters and littered with bodies. And Asmo was here, strolling through their foes, elegant fingers outstretched to stroke the skin of those demons that managed to fight his compulsions and poisons long enough to get close to him. Those…those demons met bad ends. Levi had stopped looking too closely, only glancing to keep track of Asmo. But his younger, more beautiful brother, initially fueled by spite, was now all but glowing from the power he’d gained from his vanquished.
A torrent of body parts and ichor rained down as another surge of flying demons met their end. Lucifer yeeted a blast at a bespelled construct, blowing it up and making another crater, before the flying demons’ corpses even hit the ground. He was unbelievably strong. Asmo was taking out multiple opponents at a time. Still… They weren’t winning.
Every strat they deployed had been broken. Each time they made progress, another swell came by air or underground or from the lake. Hundreds of demons were attacking them, wave after wave, protected by machines and complex spells. It wasn’t even a boss fight. It was an endless melee. He’d known that demons didn’t like their family, but after their first few difficult years, he’d thought they were good. Accepted maybe, if not liked? They were avatars after all, revered embodiments of the sins that governed all demons! The expressions on the faces of the demons he fought showed him otherwise. These were not soldiers begrudgingly following orders. They wanted to hurt him, kill him. Maybe if he was more charming, like Asmo, some would at least be conflicted about it. Or if he was as scary as Satan, maybe they’d avoid him. Or if he was strong like Beel, he could have destroyed them already and be back home. Inside. Safe.
A sharp tug on his magic had him looking to Lotan. One of the sea monster’s long necks had wrapped around another that was too damaged to hold itself up. But he persevered, following his master’s will as he thrashed what remained of the vessels that had brought dozens of demons ashore. Levi shot out another spell and scattered the small constructs attempting to sneak up from behind with his tail. They just kept coming. The shore he’d stood on countless times, monitoring the water or getting some fresh air where nobody could bother him, was now slippery, the dirt muddied and slicked with spilt mechanical fluids and ichor. A sickly sheen coated the water where Lotan wasn’t churning it. And, from every direction, came more enemies. He was tired. If only he had Mammon’s stamina… No! He was not so desperate that he wanted to be like his scumbag of a brother.
But Mammon was so good in a fight, all that energy focused for once. So maybe Levi missed him a little. How long had they been gone? It seemed like forever. The slavering, horned emissary the horde had sent to demand their surrender at first had said they had another army in the human world, that they would spare Belphie and the weak human if Lucifer surrendered the House of Lamentation. Lucifer reduced him to dusty molecules before the dude’s last word had fully left his mouth, but even Lucifer was holding back. Or maybe he was tired, too. That thought sent a jolt of panic through Levi and he slipped. Something sharp and painful bit into his back as he flailed. In the water Lotan faltered as his master’s concentration cracked. Levi was using too much precious energy to do more than shove his attackers back, splitting his attention as he tried to fortify his summoned sea monster through their bond.
It took him a moment to recognize the yellow skittering light expanding atop the hill. A portal. A portal was forming. Panting, Levi stared at it. Seriously, he could not take any more of this! Asmo was out of sight, on the other side of the house. Bolts and blazes continued to shatter the darkness of the sky as Lucifer battled, but he couldn’t hold both the sky and the sea. More were coming, and Levi wouldn’t be able to stop them. Of course he would be the weak link. Of course he would be the one who broke. He wasn’t the strongest, or smartest, or fiercest…
The portal flared, blindingly bright, and Levi threw an arm up. The nearest demons leapt and he clawed them off, sweeping his tail blindly. Something bit into his side, sliced across his scalp. Levi ducked on instinct, then his feet went out from under him and he fell. His vision whited out and he held his breath, waiting for the final blow. Would he even feel it?
“Hey!”
Levi blinked. That sounded like…
“Oy, get off him!”
That sounded like Mammon. Levi pushed up on trembling arms, slipped on the muddy grass, and would have fallen if strong hands hadn’t grabbed him and pulled him up. The hands belonged to whatever creature stood behind him but he couldn’t even turn around to deal with that as he stared into a massive, beady black eye set within an armored golden ridgebone. White fire glimmered within they eye and he flinched back into the hard body that had picked him up. Oh, wait. He recognized that body.
“Are you okay, Levi?” Beel asked, and he nearly sagged at the low, familiar voice. “You don’t look so good.”
He pointed. How the hells was Beel not concerned about this thing? “M-m-monster.”
“Is he conscious?” Mammon yelled. He streaked over the edge of the lake, spearing lightning into the remaining vessels, slicing through the remains of the amphibious horde with a pair of blades, buying Lotan some space.
That was his lightning which had burst through the portal. And Beel was back, but not concerned about this gargantuan monster. Which meant… Levi craned his head back, looking up and up, gaze climbing over the scorpion-like body, the arched neck and disproportionately small head. In the periphery he noted Melody sliding off the back of the monster, Belphie following more slowly. She ran toward him, concern in her pale, bright eyes, soot streaking her face.
“Levi,” she called, “are you okay?”
He took a deep breath, coughed, then pressed a hand against his injured side. He took another breath, more carefully.
“YOU MADE A FREAKING KAIJU!!??” he demanded.
Melody skidded to a stop, extending an arm protectively in front of the monster that was horrendously familiar and brimming with her celestial power.
“Chelsea isn’t a kaiju.”
“Giant. Monstrous.” He ticked the words off on his fingers. “Impossible. Powerful.”
The beady eye disappeared as Chelsea swung her head to snap an ape-like construct out of the air. It crunched thoroughly between her suddenly unhinged jaws. Chelsea swiveled again, this time focusing on the lake.
Levi jolted, a new sense of urgency rising up through his exhaustion. “She’d better not-”
“She won’t hurt him,” Melody said, her voice calm and soothing and so welcome that tears burned his eyes. “She’s nice, mostly.”
“She’s a menace,” Belphie grumped, “but not to us.”
From the lake, Lotan trumpeted an enquiring sound. Chelsea opened her mouth and released a nasal squeal, ear-piercing but friendly. Melody stroked the lowest leg joint of her monster. “I told you…”
“Your emotional support kaiju, yeah.” He huffed out a laugh. “I’m actually really, really glad to see her.”
***
She’d thought Satan had ‘ported them to the wrong place. To a wrong place. Her mouth had gone dry as Chelsea walked them through the portal. Mammon had streaked past suddenly, illuminating the carnage as he knocked a swarm of creatures off of a fallen man that turned out to be Levi. The Avatar of Envy looked wrung out, his eyes hollow, ichor running from wounds. She reached out, hesitating before stroking one of his horns, the coral-like branches broken.
He whimpered, leaning against her even as he powered up another spell and Lotan continued to stalk the last of the creatures in the water. Marduk had said they were laying waste to the House of Lamentation. She hadn’t believed it, hadn’t believed it was possible. The house still stood, proud and intact. But everything around it…
An explosion shattered the sky. She and Levi grabbed each other as the ground shook from the force of it, then Chelsea shrieked as a meteor crashed into a band of mechanical reptiles advancing on them. Not a meteor, just something as potentially destructive. Lucifer strode out of the crater, the dust clearing around him like it feared getting in his way. His black horns curved wickedly, his grimace showed his sharp fangs, his red gloves were nearly black with ichor stains. The night black feathers of his wings shuddered as though agitated. His aura ran like fog over the ground, wrapping around anything that came close to him and pulling it under.
“It’s not a threat!” Mammon called, streaking toward them, lithe and bright. “It’s just a pet, Melody’s pet.”
“So I see,” Lucifer growled, the flames in his eyes so pronounced that black smoke leaked from the corners as he surveyed Chelsea.
Melody could feel her power, still enjoying itself within the larger shell of Chelsea’s form, responding to him. The sheer force of Lucifer as he stalked toward them nearly buckled her knees. Her power found him…stimulating.
He looked them over.
“Satan’s taken Harmony to a hospital for medical care,” Mammon said, conversationally, as though the eldest didn’t look like homicide made manifest. “He’ll be here in a sec. The rest of us are all good though so…orders?”
“Belphie and Beel, flank Asmodeus. Do not get too close. He has fully manifested. Mammon, take to the Western sky. Levi, release your summon before he is irreparably harmed and take Melody and her beast into the house.”
He turned his head and she saw the trickle of ichor from his temple. Lucifer was hurt. She’d never seen that before. She hated it.
“I can help,” Melody protested.
“Your power cannot be seen here, and your beast is abundant with it.” He started away, toward another surge of demons.
“But…” She reached for him and he spun, catching her wrist roughly.
“Do not challenge me,” he snarled.
“I’m not, I’m not. I just want you to be safe. I want everyone safe. We’ll get out of your way.”
She focused, willing both Chelsea and her less cooperative power to obey. Lucifer was here. They were safe despite the horrific battlefield and the demons that were still marching up the roads toward them. They were safe. There was no need for her to fight.
All at once, like a bad special effect, Chelsea shrank. The size of a small crab, she ran across the uneven ground and Melody crouched so she could run into her palm. Lucifer still gripped her other arm and, when she stood again, it unbalanced her and she staggered against him. The flames in Lucifer’s eyes flickered, going dark for an instant before they flared again. His taloned thumb stroked the underside of her wrist, unerringly careful despite the riot of violence emanating from him.
She touched his cheek, just below the cut, nearly startling at the feel of him.
“You’re cold,” she said.
He made a sound, more growl than murmur.
She looked him over, frowning, but didn’t see any other injuries. “Be careful, okay?”
“We are at war. There will be casualties.”
“Yeah but you’re bleeding.” She met his gaze, raised her chin in that haughty way he always did. “I don’t like it when you bleed.”
Another flicker in the flames of his eyes. “The remainder of the blood to be spilled here today will not be ours.”
Well, that was the most threatening positive statement she’d ever heard.
A narrow portal opened and closed immediately after Satan walked through. He did a double-take at the grounds, then looked at the house, face grim. Lucifer let go of her arm, turning to face his brothers.
“You’re to kill everything on our grounds,” he said in a drawl that made him sound almost bored. His words made the hair on the back of her neck stand up. “And everything approaching our house, and everything on the roads to our house, and anything that’s lurking nearby, watching for their own amusement.”
“What if they try to hide in town?” Beel asked.
“Pursue them as far as you wish, to the steps of the castle itself if they seek asylum. Break anything that gets in your way. Burn anything that shelters them.”
Uncharacteristically, Belphie was fidgeting. “And if the royal guards come?”
“They won’t.” Lucifer’s grin was sharp, sinister. “The rules of engagement were clear. The Vanguard sought to show the Devildom their power. Instead, all demons will feel what happens when they attack our home.”
Venomous green power exploded around Satan, swirling higher and higher around him, a veritable tornado of spiteful anger. Levi cringed against Melody’s back, tugging at her. Chelsea scrambled up her arm and under the collar of her shirt. The Avatar of Wrath snarled as he exploded away, the others fast behind him. Lucifer’s cool hand brushed Melody’s.
“Wait for me inside.”
She swallowed, her heart pounding for all kinds of reasons. “I will.”
He grinned again, still sharp, slightly less sinister. “Good girl.”
Melody cleaned and bandaged the cuts on Levi’s face and arms, and the deep gash on his side, which nearly caused him to swoon. The broken ends of his horns still looked raw and tender, despite having sealed themselves.
“Blacked out,” he countered, “from the blood loss. Otaku do not swoon!”
“I could upgrade it to a faint, but that’s being charitable.”
“Agree to disagree,” he muttered as he limped around the kitchen putting together yogurt parfaits of all things. Someone was shrieking outside, something else was yowling over the sound of crackling flames, and – somehow – atop all of that, she heard Mammon laughing intermittently.
“Asmo likes them,” he explained to her frown. “He doesn’t like it when he has to use this side of his powers. He likes being delicate.”
“He can be both delicate and brutal.” She spooned fruit compote onto the top of the tray of parfaits he slid toward her. “Is he going to eat this many?”
“Beel will need a…uhm…a palate cleanser. I don’t feel like doing any actual cooking. In fact, as soon as we’re done here I’m going into my room and not coming out until next season.”
“You’re not coming out until summer?”
“No, until next anime season. It starts in a couple of weeks. Lots of cliffhangers to resolve. Lots of them.”
“Oh.” She held a berry out to mini-Chelsea, who snapped at it like a turtle, getting purple juice all over her little sea horse muzzle.
The lights flickered and, at the sink, Levi groaned. “We’ve lost hot water.”
Melody had washed her hands and her face, pulled her hair back so it wasn’t touching her, and cleaned the punctures left by the darts. Because someone had shot her full of poison and sedatives, causing her to black out herself after seeing her sister for the first time in decades. Her sister, who had been dragged back into the nightmare of Daniel Vale’s control. In a grand house full of rich wood, malicious spellbooks and powerful mages and demons. While the mega-demon who’d once nearly killed Melody for the little seed her power had been years ago told her he was going to do it again, at the same time he killed Lucifer and his brothers. She’d learned to work with her power, summoned a monster, then ridden the monster through a teleportation portal into a demonic battle. It was like seven different TV shows had jumped the shark and started playing all at once.
“I’m going to take a shower,” she murmured, holding out her hand. Chelsea ran into her palm and latched a tiny pincer around the bottom of her rolled up sleeve.
“Shower parfait?” Levi asked, holding up a tall glass.
“No, no thanks. I don’t care for a bathing yogurt.”
“Okay, well…” Levi looked everywhere but at her. “Are you, you know, okay?”
“Of course. I’m alive after all!”
She went to her bedroom and made a little nest on her nightstand out of a soft sweater. Chelsea burrowed into it until only the stinging tip of her tail was visible, then popped out so she could scuttle around the room, checking it out. An explosion rattled the house, making the overhead chandelier swing. The lights flickered and went out, but her room remained a dim, cool blue, lit by the power visibly circulating in her body, illuminating her veins.
Even without looking, she knew where Chelsea was, the feel of her own power in the little monster compacted into a hard, dense core. It was the same as she felt within herself, attuned to the battle outside just as she was now attuned to it. Tired, she let herself zone out and sort of listen to it. It would focus, anticipating the buildup before a major clash, swivel and zero in right before a major spell was unleashed. It could sense magic, differentiate between power. She figured out the thrumming dome around them was Lucifer’s ward over the house, determinedly strong, aggressively impenetrable. But he was actively feeding it, restoring patches where attacks landed. And he was doing that while fighting outside of its protections. It was a complex spell. She could see bits of it through the lens of her power, like streaming code, though she couldn’t find the beginning or end points. She couldn’t fight, not in the Devildom, but maybe she could help.
Demonic power was strongest when manipulated through spellcraft. Celestial power was used in blessings but it was mostly organic, living power within a physical body. That was why the brothers were so strong, still built around that dynamic despite falling, plus the spellcraft they had learned. Mammon was powerful despite barely paying attention to spells. If she didn’t know the spell for the wards, she could still emulate the intent. And – with the sliver of Lucifer’s power that she’d contained since she summoned him – should could mimic the look of it as well. Her power grasped her intention gleefully. Lucifer said it was created to destroy, but Melody though it simply liked being active, useful. Focusing on Lucifer’s ward, she began unfurling her own power. Surely, camouflaged like his and applied during the chaos of battle, it wouldn’t be noticed.
It streamed out abruptly, forming a layer over Lucifer’s ward, adding to the protections around the house. Then she felt a disconcerting wrench, like falling unexpectedly, and his spell was atop hers again. She would have thought it had corrected automatically if not for the almost-sound of Lucifer growling a warning in her mind. Telling her to be careful, but not telling her “no”. Smiling, she let out a shaky breath.
With her power stretched along the boundary, she could feel everything more clearly. The different levels in force and intentions of spellcraft, the breathless moment before a counterattack was unleashed, the coy pleasure of a trick detonating or a trap snapping closed. Dark hunger. Explosive anger. Wide-eyed fear. Sick delight in pain and suffering. The siren song of Asmodeus’s power, ribboning sweetly throughout the chaos. There were so many sensations, many of them similar to the twisted hungers that had been turned on her, that had taken so much from her. She sank to the floor, her back stiff against the wall, the ichor and blood on her skin dried so it looked like a pattern on her skin. She was vaguely aware of the passage of time, day turning to evening turning to night.
The door crashed open and her head turned by degrees as Lucifer strode in, wings rustling but folded, clothes torn and blackened. He lifted her without speaking or showing any sign of effort and carried her out of the room. She was sore, she realized, and stiff from sitting for so long. The sounds of battle had receded. The sounds close to her felt muted, like hearing while underwater. Maybe she shouldn’t have spent so long focused outside her body.
She blinked as the bite of Lucifer’s aura neared her eyes. He smelled of smoke and copper. His horns were gleaming obsidian, his eyes smoldering embers. His arms were hard around her, and the thrum of his power physically shook her. He carried her through the darkened hallway to his room. Candles caught, wicks blazing for a moment before casting warm, flickering light which made the darkness of the shadows even deeper. His art, which she’d repeatedly labelled “overdramatic” and “morbid” and “seriously, Lucifer, WTF is even happening there”, was actually scary in this lighting.
The gray slate of the bathroom made it feel like a cool, secluded cave. Setting her on her feet against the wall, Lucifer looked her over. She shoved back stray, tangled hairs. She’d come into the house hours ago and here she was, still dirty and bedraggled.
“I must look awful, huh?” she asked.
His talons sliced the laces of her shoes and her belt, then reached for her clothes, rumpled and heavy from all kinds of gross crap she’d been dragged through. Yes, she wanted out of them. But this was…not how things went between them.
“Lucifer?”
His low growl made the glass around the shower shudder. Melody blinked. Was he – eloquent, refined, snidely proud Lucifer – beyond speech? She couldn’t tell whether to be alarmed or laugh at him. He bared his teeth and she blinked. Surely the strange lighting was what made his teeth look so wickedly sharp. He tugged her shirt up from the hem. Roughly. Okay, so. Alarmed then.
“Lucifer.”
“Hurt,” he ground out. The candles sparked, the flames shooting up half a foot.
“No. Not hurt.” She shook her head, tried for a smile and knew it looked weird. “I’m not hurt.”
He growled again, and her shirt tore a little as she struggled against his insistent hands. She winced as a talon dug into the meat of her thumb and this time the sound he made – accompanied by a concussive burst of power around them – cracked the mirrors over the sinks.
“Stop growling at me. I’m not an enemy.” But he was fierce and close, his hands twisting up with hers. Which was very confusing. “I’m not hurt, just dirty and tired and…”
Her throat tightened, the urge to cry suddenly right there in the heat against the back of her eyes. She stopped trying to push his hands away and instead stepped forward, slumping against him. He jerked, tense around an aborted movement, and dimly she thought maybe it wasn’t the best idea to shove against him after he’d spent all day murdering things. But he stopped trying to pull her clothes off of her. His wings receded with a shudder of air and feathers.
“Look,” she mumbled against his chest, “I know I don’t have any room to complain with all that was going on here today but I killed a guy. I killed a big, powerful, scary guy, and all I could think was that it was such a stupid, stupid thing to have to do. Every time I went into stasis, I thought I might not wake up again. Each time we tried to extract your power from it, it ended…” She shuddered at the memories. “Horrendously. And, after all of that and all the waiting and the hiding and the not living…I ended up right back where I started. Only now I can kill the shitty people who want to hurt me myself. But there are so many of them. And it’s not even personal, is it? Demons, humans, angels too probably. So what’s the point? What’s the point of being careful and giving everything up if it all ends up the same anyway?”
Sighing, she shook her head. Lucifer’s shirt all but disintegrated beneath the friction. Tilting her head back she glanced at his face.
“Sorry for the outburst. Do you…do you want to talk about your day?”
“What do you want to do?” he asked, his voice a deep rumble, still rough, but his use of words was encouraging.
“Be delighted.” She brushed away some of the loose fibers, which just made a hole in his shirt, revealing pale skin. She stepped back so she wouldn’t be tempted to touch. “Find little things to be delighted by. It would be so luxurious to not have to worry so much. I could just lose myself in things, get lost without it meaning I needed to be rescued or kill someone. And I want to…share. Things, moments, meals, stories, touch, time.”
The spray of the shower came on. She rolled her head to look at the water beading on the glass.
“There’s no hot water,” she murmured. Lucifer tossed a glare at the showerhead. Steam began to rise. The air grew heavy, pressing against her, making her feel heavy with everything she still carried from the day. All the dirt and gunk and bodily fluids of other freaking creatures on her skin was suddenly and unacceptably apparent to her and she began shedding clothing, tearing it almost as ferociously as Lucifer had in her haste to get it – all of that stuff – off.
He turned her, pushing her toward the shower as she stepped out of the last of her clothes. The spray was shockingly hard and too hot, stinging where it hit her skin and making it hard to breathe. She dropped her chin, enduring the drilling cascade until gradually, gradually, it felt tolerable.
The sound of water meeting slate muted and the temperature dropped as Lucifer stepped in behind her. She swayed when she opened her eyes in the near dark, and he steadied her, his hands on her arms.
“If I let go,” he asked, “are you going to fall down?”
Lucifer’s body was firm and cool and solid against her. Lucifer’s. Body. She thought he’d leave the room once he got her into the shower. Then again, it was his shower. She stared at the wall, water running into her eyes, her heart not sure if it wanted to sprint or just lay down and die.
“No.”
He moved away, under the other shower head.
“What else?” he asked.
“Hmm?” She blinked water away, her entire body tingling from the surge of adrenaline. He opened a bottle and the smell of allspice and teak rose through the steam.
“What else do you want?” He poured soap into her hand and she stared at it for a moment before lathering it between her palms.
“Too much.”
“Too many things?” He flicked the back of her hand when the bubbles began overflowing and she got to work, washing the soot and sweat off her skin.
“Not things. I want to live enough that I get bored of it sometimes. I want to listen to a band for so long that I start complaining that their new stuff isn’t fun anymore. I want to grow too many seeds and fuss when the plants end up too close together. I want to stay home on a holiday instead of going out because I’ve been through too many celebrations so peace and quiet would be nice for once.”
“What else do you want?” He sounded more natural now, a voice like smoke and strong wine instead of aggression. Intoxicating, just like his attention.
She swallowed, trying to be normal like he was being normal. This was fine. Just two comrades cleaning up after a violent day, totally not feeling their hearts beating fast because their naked bodies were in close proximity. She didn’t even feel the slightest, smallest, most miniscule urge to sneak a peek. Not even a nano urge.
“Nothing.”
“That wasn’t much. Surely there is more.”
She shook her head, flinched when she bumped into him, not realizing he was so close. Because she was a decent person who totally did not want to stare at him or touch him or anything like that. Nope, not at all. It would help if he’d stayed on his side of the shower. She couldn’t feel him this time, but he was close enough to block the water from touching her and, somehow, that seemed shockingly intimate. She tilted her head back when he directed her, then closed her eyes as he threaded shampoo through her hair.
It would also help if he wasn’t taking care of her even if he was doing it in a businesslike fashion. Lucifer, the world’s hottest, most naked hairdresser. Also, possibly the wettest. It was all she could do not to moan in abject pleasure.
“I don’t want anything else.”
“I don’t believe you,” he murmured close to her ear. The fight must have eroded his normal sense of decorum and distance. She shivered.
“It would sound ungrateful to ask for anything else.”
“This is a simple question.” He kneaded the back of her neck, hand slick with shampoo, and she bit her lip. Didn’t he know that this was giving her ideas? Wildly hot, absolutely forbidden ideas? “Besides, you have nothing to be grateful for. Everything I have done – to you, for you – has been selfish. So what else do you want?”
Melody turned, wanting to see his face – or confirm she wasn’t hallucinating – but his fingers tightened in her hair, holding her still. It occurred to her, slowly, like the idea was dripping into her brain, that the position they were in was so unusual that he couldn’t possibly be unaware of it.
She shivered again, too distracted with willing her body to calm down to think before she spoke. “I want to give something of myself to someone else, to someone who welcomes it, wants it too. Affection or l-”
He released her and she almost laughed. There it was. She mentioned her feelings and suddenly that – not being naked and wet together – snapped him out of his weird mood. Now everything was normal, and she was going to have to hunt for a towel in the dark then feel her way down the dark hallway to her room.
Strong hands turned her. A heavy body pressed her, tripping, back against the wall, all but knocking her breath out of her.
“So give it,” Lucifer said, looming over her.
“What?”
“Give it. Your affection.”
She looked down, then quickly to the side, for safety reasons. “You know, this whatever marriage thing isn’t…” It was a formality to Lucifer and a joke, inconvenience or novelty maybe to the others. “That’s not what I’m talking about. Calling it a marriage when it’s nothing more than an arrangement. There’s no connection, no depth to it. Pretending with someone isn’t what I want.”
“You want to share moments, touch. You want it to be real. Something between two people. I heard you.”
She swallowed, flushed and tense, trying not to look at him in her peripheral vision, but she couldn’t not hear him.
“You want to give your affection. So give it.”
“It wouldn’t be real,” she bit out.
“Melody.” His fingers brushed her chin, became more insistent when she wouldn’t turn her head. His palm covered her throat, fingers pressing her jaw as he forced her to look at him. “I heard you. Give it to me.”
Never mind hunting for a towel, she was going to have to run back to her room naked at this rate, to escape before she threw herself on him.
“It’s not nice to tease, Lucifer.” She crossed her arms, mostly to cover her misunderstanding nipples, but also to get a few inches between them.
Fire sparked in his eyes briefly before he smirked. He leaned close. The soft of his lips grazed her ear. She startled upright, legs pressing together in self-preservation, then squeaked when she felt the heat of his breath.
“It’s only teasing, Melody, if I don’t mean to deliver. Give it to me. Your time. Your touch. Your affection. See what you get back.”
She could barely move, physically pinned and mentally frozen. She managed to swallow and he stroked her neck. She trembled and he petted her from hip to ribs. Somehow her hands were on his arms. His gaze lowered to her mouth and his lips parted.
“Lucifer,” she breathed out, “do you…are you saying you like me?”
His eyes closed and he exhaled in a frustrated way. It was a familiar sound. “You are an idiot.”
“Hey!”
“Fortunately you are my idiot.” He opened his eyes, tilted her head back and leaned in, grinning when her eyes widened as something distinctly hard joined all the firm and slippery going on between them.
The sound she made was less a gasp and more an incoherent gargle, but it seemed to please him, judging from the slide of his hands, the shift of his body, the heat of his mouth over hers. Something leapt inside of her, a hope she’d smothered for years, a spark that had never had enough fuel to ignite.
“Lucifer,” she whispered, still not believing this was happening.
He kissed her again, laughed when she whimpered.
“Talk after,” he said.
“After what?”
“After I show you what it means to be the object of my affection.”
They hit the bed in a tangle of limbs, a trail of wet footprints behind them. Lucifer caught her around the waist when she nearly slid off the side and Melody turned over, aiming to crawl toward somewhere near the center of the massive thing. His arm tightened, holding her in place as he kissed his way up her spine. Tenderly, slowly. She was panting out little kitten noises, her body all fired up and what was left of her mind worried that someone might hear. Lucifer laughed lowly in her ear as he ground between her thighs. She arched against him reflexively.
“That’s cute,” he said.
“C-cute?”
“Mmm, that you think I will let you hold back.” He straightened, pulling away. She clutched his hand, then reached back, catching his other wrist and struggling to keep him there while holding herself up.
“Melody?”
“Stay close to me. Please.” She managed to get him back down, so that he pressed against her, the weight and heat of him covering her back. She could just see him through the curled tangles of her hair.
“I’m not going anywhere. Though this makes it more challenging to proceed as I’d planned.”
“Sorry, I just need…”
“Do not apologize for what you need.” He kissed her neck. His hands entwined with hers, larger, fine-boned despite the obvious strength in them. She so rarely saw him without gloves. “Is that better?”
She nodded.
He pressed a thigh between hers, his greater size forcing her legs apart. Then he slid their hands past her head, putting her nearly flat on her front. His mouth hovered beside hers and, when his hands tightened to keep her in place, she had to stretch to meet him for a kiss. He rewarded her with an encouraging hum, then his tongue stroked her lips just before something else stroked her sex. She bucked against him, nearly groaning at the hard friction, and felt his huff of laughter against her mouth.
“Why so jumpy, Miss Vale?”
“Wh-what is that?” Had he grown a tail? A hot tail that had pressed itself against her and somehow, magically and improbably, knew how to touch her better than she knew how to touch herself?
“What’s what?” he asked, his uncharacteristically innocent tone pure deceit.
“That…what are you doing?”
“You presented me with a challenge. I’m surmounting it.”
“Is tha-” She gasped when the pressure intensified. “Is that a spell?”
“Does it feel magical?” he murmured in her ear as the sensation began to swirl and her legs began to tremble. “You know the aura of strong demons can act as a defense – a kind of sentient shield alerting us to nearby dangers – or, when directed, as a weapon.”
It snapped, a brief shock like electricity that made her cry out. She rocked, back against his hardness, her growing wetness sliding them together. It was so perfect and completely insufficient at the same time.
Lucifer’s breath caught before he went on, voice low, intoxicating. “But did you know that, for those strong enough to master it, a concentrated use of aura can provide other benefits?” A steady, firm caress over her clit had her gasping. She dropped her head to the blanket when prickling heat crawled over her belly to her breasts. Lucifer’s hands tightened around hers when she tried to move, his weight holding her in place. He tongued her neck, a counterpoint to her wetness now all but coating him where he slid against her.
“I like these benefits,” she stammered, hoping to encourage him to give her more.
“Do you?” he asked, mocking. The pressure against her clit receded. “I could hardly tell.”
“Lucifer.”
“Hmm?” His cock caught at her opening before he shifted, denying her. She squirmed in dismay, her body contracting into a tight, needy ache. She was going to have to kill him if he didn’t give her more. It would be such a shame.
“You said you wouldn’t tease.”
“I said it’s not teasing if I meant to deliver.” He dragged his teeth along the lobe of her ear. “I did not say when I would deliver.”
She wrenched an arm free using a spark of her own power and twisted to look at him. He peered down at her, his hair falling over his eyes, his gaze tender as he looked her over.
“Too much, love?” he asked softly before cocking his head, “or too little?”
She was going to explode, from desperate frustration and whatever the hell he was doing to her heart looking at her like that. But only after he gave her what she needed.
“Lucifer, I want you to make me come. Here, in your bed, with your body and your-”
He drove into her and all words fled. They ceased to exist. Who cared about words when they could have this? She could barely catch enough air to moan. He was so thick, so hard, too rough for all he was holding back. It was too much and not enough. His body all around and inside of her, his power a shroud protecting them both while it continued to stroke and spark against her. Her power whirled in her veins, reacting to his. Her nerves caught fire as she pushed back, meeting his next thrust, and his shudder shook her too. He released one of her hands to grasp her hip, pulling her onto her knees, and she reached back, nails digging into his neck as she pulled him down for a bruising kiss.
“Lucifer,” she whispered, trembling, tears gathering in her eyes.
“I’ve got you.” He kissed the corner of her mouth. “Come for me, Melody.”
***
He let her recover, stroking her soothingly, rearranging her so that her arm didn’t fall asleep beneath her limp body.
For about two minutes.
Then she was dragged into his lap so he could lower her onto him, her oversensitized shriek met with a smug smile.
“Done so soon, Miss Vale? A shame.”
She pinched the side of his stomach, winning herself an inch’s reprieve before he pulled her down firmly. Her head fell back, which he took as an invitation to bite her breast before soothing his tongue over it.
“Just…give me…a moment…to adjust.”
He chuckled against her skin, but stilled inside of her as his mouth roamed, delivering soft, sucking kisses across her chest and throat. She ignored the throbbing inside of her, threading her fingers into his soft hair.
“This is the most unkempt I’ve ever seen you.” She smiled lazily when he glanced at her before frowning and pinching her nipple. She flinched, inadvertently tightening around him which made him laugh again. “And the most relaxed. Happy?”
She held her breath after saying it. It made sense for him to need to blow off steam after a violent fight, for him to relax now that the danger had passed. Assuming anything else seemed presumptuous.
He stroked her cheek. “I am happy with you.”
“Oh good.” She hugged him, hastily, burying her head against his neck. Her face felt hot. “Because you’re my favorite everything.”
“Everything?” he drawled, rocking against her.
She bit his neck, grinding down as he all but purred in satisfaction. “Everything.”
***
“The conclave will go forward, but the aftermath of this skirmish will be the topic of focus.”
Oh yeah. The demon assembly where her soul would be assigned to the care and keeping of a demon, in front of demons, so demons wouldn’t want to eat her. Or, so they would think twice before trying, hopefully. As a little girl, she hadn’t dreamed of getting married but, if she had, it wouldn’t have been like this. She grunted unenthusiastically. Lucifer petted her side, pulled her closer against the length of his body.
“You can leave.”
She glanced up from where she was drawing lazy patterns on his chest. “Huh?”
“I was following Diavolo’s suggestion, staying to what rules should dictate. But the things you and the other discovered in the human world…that has changed things.”
“Because Marduk survived?”
His mouth hardened, and she had the distinct impression he was about to bare his teeth. Instead he inhaled and exhaled forcefully.
“These resources, alliances, the fact they have been building and preparing forces within Hell, out of sight and away from oversight, and were able to extract a specific human soul over which they should not have held dominion, it indicates a large, deeply-rooted conspiracy. You were an opportunity, but this is proof of a shadow regime of power within the Devildom. I cannot properly express how dangerous that is. Some of them got away after seeing you, hearing Marduk’s story about you. They know the wrong things about you now.” He kissed her hand, turned it over and kissed her palm, her wrist, before pressing it to his chest. “I will set you up in the human world. Provide protection.”
She sat up abruptly, the sheets tangling around her. “While what, exactly, happens here?”
Lucifer shook his head. “It’s nothing to worry about.” His eyes slid closed. Everything about him looked peaceful, everything except his words and the rising aggravation in his aura.
Melody tapped his chin. He smiled.
“Do you love me?” she asked.
“Yes,” he said. Sincere. Certain. His eyes opened, dark, focused entirely on her. Oh, she was in so much trouble. She was never getting over this.
“And that means…”
“I will do anything for you, Melody.”
She had to open her mouth to draw a breath. She wanted to scream and do backflips, and simultaneously clutch him and never let go. But he was already moving on, to a world in which they weren’t together, where he stubbornly protected her despite what it took from them both.
“When I said you were my favorite everything,” she said slowly, “I meant it. I love you as well, Lucifer.”
His careful expression cracked, left him open and vulnerable in a way she’d never seen. She reached for him and he so, so gently, wrapped her in his arms. They held each other, through minutes of heartbeats, simply being together.
Then she pinched his side and he grunted in irritation. She shifted away from him so she could see him clearly.
“So you know what love means then? This ‘anything’ you speak of?” She grinned as his customary glare returned. “You know, it is wildly, unfairly, almost disgustingly hot of you to glare while all…” She gestured at his exquisite and bare torso.
Rolling his eyes, he pulled her back against him. Melody giggled, reveling in the feel of him, the hold of him, his protective power all around and always around her – his love all around her. That was never getting old.
“I won’t leave you,” she said.
He nodded, made a musing sound, then took a deep breath. She would be a topic but not the focus of the conclave. Something bigger and uglier was at work. It had suffered setbacks yesterday, in the human world and at the House of Lamentation. But it was still dangerous enough to scare Lucifer. He needed a win, a decisive victory, to rattle them as much as he was rattled. Removing her from the battlefield might soothe him, but it would not help him.
“You still think I’m too weak to stay?” she asked, a little bitter. “To help you fight?”
“Precious,” he countered. “But no, it is not that I do not think you cannot handle what is to come. It is because I am not sure I can.”
Melody actually flinched with shock at the admission. He wouldn’t let her up to look at him, but continued.
“Demons cycle through Hell regularly, returning to the Devildom as lower level creatures which can ascend to higher status and strength over time and with training. This faction has found a way to shortcut that process, and must be using an area within Hell as its personal training ground. Hell is supposed to be highly regulated. But this practice is of particular concern where you are involved. There remains still the problem I was never able to solve, remember? You died, Melody. But for my power, you are meant to be dead and your soul is bound for Hell.”
She startled upright. “Lucifer!”
“What?”
“Am…am I a zombie?”
“No,” he scoffed.
“No? Then what am I?”
“There’s no word for what you are. But if there were it would not be ‘zombie’.”
“I think it is. Holy shit.” She patted all over her body, feeling so…gross.
Lucifer laughed at her.
“Don’t laugh. This is distressing!”
“A hostile faction has the power to circumvent the natural order governing souls, which applies to you, and this is your concern, honestly?” He laughed again, squeezing her hip. “We will solve that problem as well. Get up, get dressed. We need to talk to the others.”
“I need to shower. Again.”
He smirked and stroked a possessive hand over her.
“I’m sticky. You came all over me.”
“There is no need to be crude. Mind what you say.”
“Mind where you put your dirty di-”
She squealed as he tossed her over his shoulder, carrying her into the bathroom.
In keeping with the rumor that she was Asmodeus’s fleeting obsession, the Avatar of Lust escorted Melody to the conclave. Levi trailed behind them, muttering to himself as Asmo, still high from the battle, glowed and preened as attention locked on him the moment he entered the…what even was this building?
It was a round structure made of stone walls. Rows of seats surrounded a raised dais. Lucifer stood upon it alongside three other demons and massive chairs that looked like thrones. Diavolo wasn’t there yet, but the largest throne had to be for the Prince of the Devildom himself. She shuddered at the thought of seeing him again. For all that Lucifer talked about him like a colleague he had to manage as much as take orders from, he was still intimidating. And she did not for one second believe that his consideration for Lucifer and his brothers – who could benefit him even if they were unconventional – extended to her.
There wasn’t a floor so much as a layer of sand over rounded stones. It was like a colosseum dressed up for a meeting. Demons already filled most of the seats, and those on the floor crowded in small groups. The space was surprisingly quiet. Rather than echoing with voices, it was filled with a low murmur punctuated by the occasional growl, hiss or bark. No laughter. The suspicion and animosity though, if the darting eyes and displays of teeth and horns were anything to go by, was off the charts.
The mood shifted, sharpened, at the first sight of Asmodeus. Those nearest leaned toward him, like flowers toward the sun. A few managed to stay upright or even turn away, but not many. In contrast, as entire contingent of demons went quiet, rounded heads hunching into shell-wrapped bodies, at the sight of Levi. Melody glanced at him. His horn had mostly grown back, but his wide eyes and clenched hands made him look like a kid out of his element rather than a fearsome avatar. Asmo was the only brother not in demon form. He wore layers of pink and cream silk, a blouse over wide-legged trousers, translucent enough that they hinted at the lithe curves and lines of his body beneath. They fluttered around him, waving on the force of the fragrant aura that he either couldn’t or would not rein in.
Melody had had to sit in it while he dressed and made her up. Every time she’d sneezed, he’d pinched her and now she had a line of bruises down her arm. They weren’t visible because he’d dressed her in about thirty pounds of clothing. A high-collared black coat covered a silver metal bustier and hung nearly to the floor in the back. The wad of silver necklaces dotted with gems that covered her from her throat to the top of the bustier was heavy enough to stop a tank. She wore a satiny, asymmetrical black skirt over black leggings laced with silver which she had to work to bend at the knees and hips. And the boots encasing her up to her thighs were stout and well-treaded despite the slight heel. She’d have felt like she was dressed up to play a badass if she wasn’t in a room full of creatures much more violent than herself.
“Darling,” Asmo said, swirling to face her. He smiled, his lips glossy and pink. A squat demon covered in spikes collapsed with a moaning wheeze that she feared signaled some kind of sexual climax. The gold effervescence in Asmo’s eyes brightened and she found herself squinting so she could maintain eye contact. “Why don’t you have a seat and wait for me while I take care of some business?”
“Of course.” She tilted her head toward the pale fingers he stroked down her cheek, playing along as a human besotted by his beauty. Asmo giggled and swooped away.
“They wish they were you,” Levi ground out from between gritted teeth as he led her toward the rows of seats.
“Why?” She spotted Beel, his orange hair standing out despite the dim lighting in the higher rows. He was sitting on the edge of his seat, elbows on his knees, and she suspected the dark lump behind him was Belphie, reclined and sleeping.
“Because Mr. Sexy and Radiant was paying attention to you instead of them. They envy you.” Levi snorted, stomping up the first step. The demons closest to the aisle shuffled or turned away from him. “Not when you’re with me though. It’s like I’m worse than something they’d scrape off the bottom of their shoes. Nobody wishes they were with me.”
“It’s probably hard to see Asmo as a threat right now,” she murmured through her teeth, not sure who was listening. “You, on the other hand, destroyed their fleet and anyone who thought they’d sneak up on the house by the beach yesterday. They’re scared of you.”
Levi hesitated. A flush rose along his cheeks. “You think?”
“Totally. If you summoned Lotan in this place, half of them would never make it to the doors.”
“And the Targus clan spontaneously combust when submerged in water.” Levi laughed.
“Yeah, so cheer up!” she said, hiding a grimace. That actually was not information she wanted.
“I’m the dark horse,” Levi declared with feeling. “The wolf in sheep’s clothing.”
“More like a dork in a hoodie,” Mammon said as he shoved past Levi and dropped onto the bench beside Melody. He stretched his legs out, propping the heels of his boots on the row in front of them. Nobody was sitting there. Or beside them. Or behind them. The other seats were crowded, but they were giving the brothers a wide berth.
“Why are you moving so stiffly?” Beel asked. “Are you hurt?”
“No.” Melody grimaced as she tried to shift into a more comfortable position. “It’s hard to move these pants.”
She rocked as Mammon bumped into her, the bangles on his collar chiming as he and Levi slap-shoved at each other. Levi finally stepped over his older brother’s legs and dropped cross-legged onto the floor in front of Melody.
“Lucifer said I was supposed to stay with Aero!”
“Well I’m her first demon so I’ll protect her. You’re not needed. Go take a nap in your bathtub!”
From the dais Lucifer glanced their way. It might have been her nerves, or a phantom memory of the night before, but she swore she felt the slide of his aura down her back. She stiffened so quickly that her vertebrae popped.
“Don’t worry,” Beel said. “I won’t let them eat you.”
Startled, she glanced at him. “Who?”
He gestured broadly. “All the demons here who want to eat you. The hunger for human souls has a specific feel to it.” He thought for a moment. “Piquant.”
Ugh. Sighing, she slumped as well as she could with the stiff clothing. “Thanks, Beel.”
“Sure.”
She was in a colosseum full of demons who wanted to eat her. Her friends were the most fearsome beings here. She had no family with her – Satan had said Harmony was mostly recovered but it was safer if she stayed at the private medical clinic he’d teleported her to, until all this was sorted out. Not exactly a dream wedding scenario. Chelsea squirmed against the back of her neck, in the space under Melody’s hair that she’d shrunk herself into, and Melody fought the urge to scratch. Those little feet tickled.
Beel moved around as Belphie jammed a knee in his back. One of the Avatar of Sloth’s feet landed against Melody’s side and she grunted.
“He dreams like a dog sometimes. All four paws get going.” Mammon wrapped an arm around her waist and slid her closer. “Careful or he’ll kick you into next week.”
“How do you know how dogs dream?” she asked.
“’Cause one time,” Mammon laughed to himself as he launched his story, “I was in the human realm dealing with this crazy rich movie producer guy. He had a pack of dogs, like an entire pack. Purebreds. Adopted dogs. One that was missing legs and pulled its back half around in a little wagon. Cutest thing you ever saw. Ankle biters. One that couldn’t be with the others but liked to hang out near them so he had his own little house and back garden...”
She tilted her head to look at him when he trailed off. His smile faded. He inhaled. His pact mark stirred. A ring of warmth radiated away from it in a wave that passed over her entire body.
“Mammon?”
He was staring at her, gaze on her neck but focus indistinct. There weren’t any visible marks on her, not because Lucifer hadn’t left any but because he had methodically healed them with a spell, after making a few more. But it was as if he could tell anyway. Mammon’s eyes rounded in surprise and his mouth dropped open before he shut it with a click. He laughed, a sound which cut off quickly.
“Hey, you don’t need to be nervous about this or nothin’. You just gotta listen for your cues and say my name when it’s time. It’s only two syllables. The best two syllables, obviously. But it’s not difficult. Millions of people pray to me daily, after all. You can manage it, can’t ya?”
“I think the ceremony will be more complicated-”
“Don’t need to be. You’ll probably get nervous when you get down there on the floor, with all these demons watching ya. And Diavolo, too. You been on the receiving end of his attention? It’s intense. Maybe you should practice now.”
She couldn’t tell if he was jealous or mad, but he was certainly affected. Demons weren’t monogamous by any means, and he’d repeatedly told her how promiscuous he was. But it was cute, this little act of possessiveness.
“Mammon,” she murmured.
His lips curled up as his gaze darted away. So cute. They both flinched when someone else barked his name. Beneath her hair, Chelsea hissed.
Satan loomed over them, brows pulled low over unimpressed eyes. “Let’s go over the war reparations one more time.”
“I don’t need to.” Mammon tapped the side of his head. “Got it all up here.”
“You didn’t put your list to paper? We’re required to submit the list in writing.”
“What? Nobody told me that!”
“Lucifer and I both told you that. Repeatedly. Come on.” Satan hauled him out of his seat by his collar.
“Remember,” Mammon called over his shoulder as he tripped down the stairs, still being pulled. “Just say the two most important syllables.”
“You wouldn’t actually marry him, right?” Levi asked from beside her knee. Her palms began to sweat as Satan and Mammon disappeared through an arched doorway. More demons flooded into the arena.
“’Cause he’s a mess.”
The clothes Asmo had put her in felt too heavy, too tight.
“He’ll sell your stuff, miss important dates, and talk like he’s got a good excuse for it. The best excuse. Always an excuse. But you’ll never be the most important thing to him, you know? That’s just how he is. So don’t, don’t get your hopes up or anything.”
The sound of daemonish grated at her, the ill-intent behind the words raking at her mind. So many demons, all wanting her soul.
“Melody.”
Lucifer’s voice broke through the pandemonium, snapped her back into the moment. He stood beside her seat, black wings rustling, horns gleaming, his hand in a pristine red glove extended toward her. She blinked, looked at the bottom of the aisle where Asmodeus stood, beaming. The other demonic leaders were now finding their seats on the dais. The Prince stood in front of his throne, towering over them. A clerk in a loose, dark robe was arranging items on a small desk. A slight, dark-haired demon in a green and black jacket and white gloves stood beside the prince. The prince’s butler, Barbatos. Lucifer was always careful when he spoke about him. Her power discreetly, curious.
Standing, Melody took Lucifer’s hand. He kept it in his, held high between them like they were stepping onto the dance floor of a ball.
“He is quite a handful,” Lucifer said, ostensibly speaking about Asmo since so many ears and ear-like things were aimed in their direction.
“A handful?”
“Dangerous. Difficult to predict. One moment he can appear weak or cuddly, another flamboyant and poisonous. But the appearance or demeanor are not as important as the fact that, at any moment, he could kill you.”
That was probably true of most of the demons assembled.
“I know.”
His fingers tightened around hers. His pace slowed. They had talked, until the small hours of the morning, along with two of his brothers. Satan had shared the intelligence he’d gleaned from the demons he’d plucked off the battlefield to question. Belphie had speculated about what was likely to follow the Vanguard’s failed destruction of the House of Lamentation. She’d hoped his ideas were worst case scenarios but suspected they were merely things likely to occur. Average attacks. Mediocre tortures. Run of the mill conspiracies drenched in blood. Lucifer, oddly, had been quiet, offering only his occasional opinion of the egos and proclivities in play. They all agreed the Vanguard and Echelon would not take their public defeat lying down.
“Or worse,” Lucifer added, biting the words out. “He could hurt you, for a long time.”
“It’s my choice.” She paused a few steps from the floor, trying to read the subtle nuances of his stony profile. “Like we talked about.”
“You can still leave,” he murmured through gritted teeth. “Right now, this instant. Melody.”
She could feel the invasive prickle of malice and many hungers around her. If she ran, it would always be like this. Free, but waiting until the wrong eyes spotted her. She wouldn’t live in hiding, with her guard up, afraid to love anyone for fear it would put them in danger. She couldn’t, not anymore.
“My choice, Lucifer.” She turned, leaving his grip and stepping, smiling, to take Asmo’s arm.
The Avatar of Lust radiated warmth and comfort. She waved a hand around her face like she was shooing away a mosquito.
“No pheromones, Asmo.”
“It’s for your comfort, my love,” he all but chirped. “You’re so lovely when you’re happy.” He nuzzled her ear, whispered. “It also helps with the performance if you carry my scent.”
“A little then. But nothing mind-altering, please. And…thank you. Your pact helped me yesterday, helped me stay sane while everything was going sideways. But today.” She smiled up at him. “Today I need to be able to focus.”
“Oh, Melody. Aren’t you the sweetest?” He scrunched his nose for a moment before sighing. The chemicals drifted away, leaving behind a mild, floral scent. “Very well. Now, let us so get you your happy ending!”
The clerk rose, a short, round, very human looking demon, and recited the agenda, ending with the understated, “and then there is the matter of yesterday’s destruction exercise.”
“Let us all remember that this is an ordinary conclave,” Barbatos said, not raising his voice, but it settled the impatient mutters than had begun to rise. “We shall follow the agenda and the rules agreed to by the major families and houses, particularly the rules prohibiting fire and violence. Anyone who requires a break from those rules can exit to the south, following the hallway to the double doors. There is a fireproof silo to the left, and a small killing field to the right. Due to their more sensitive nature, massacres and blood oath duels will need to be dealt with off the grounds. Thank you for your attention.”
“Asmodeus, Avatar of Lust, and resident of the House of Lamentation.” Lord Diavolo’s voice carried, silencing the remaining murmurs. “And Melody Vale, human and guest of the House of Lamentation and this kingdom.”
From below the dais, his golden eyes, tawny skin, broad shoulders and chest inside a long red coat ornamented with gold were imposing. But Diavolo spoke softly when he said her name, his voice a half-octave higher than when he addressed the demons. An allowance, she supposed, for the weak human among them.
“Lord Diavolo.” She inclined her head and curtsied, and Asmo fluttered into a graceful bow alongside her.
“You’ve had eleven days to enjoy the wonders of the Devildom,” the Prince went on without a hint of irony, “getting to know the Avatars, rulers of the fundamental sins of this realm. And now you have the rare privilege of making your choice. Which of our Avatars do you wish to join with, in mind, body and soul?”
Lucifer had resumed his seat, a little behind and to the right of Diavolo. His legs were crossed. His forearms lay along the armrests of his chair, his hands hanging over the ends, fingers loose and relaxed inside of those blood red gloves. His chin dipped as he looked down at them, his dark hair sliding forward to shadow his eyes. He was, as always, so beautiful. And somewhere, in a room adjacent to this giant round one, her pact found Mammon, his delight a warm bubbling sensation that nearly made her smile despite where she stood now, a morsel ringed by predators.
“I’m afraid,” a high, male voice said from close to her right. Nobody had been there a moment ago. She startled and Asmo inserted himself between her and the speaker. “Out of concern for the integrity of this conclave, that I simply must object.”
The speaker was tall, slim, and dressed like he had walked off a London street, circa Sherlock Holmes. He tipped his head toward her – the pointy chin, pencil-thin mustache, stark white part through his greasy black hair and all – and winked at her.
“And who do you represent?” Diavolo’s clerk asked politely, quill poised over parchment.
“Myself. I am acting on my own, as a concerned party. Mitrit Talis, Clerk, My Lord.”
“The petition is valid,” Lucifer drawled, resting his cheek on his fist. One of the other demons at the table watched him with naked interest. Another examined the juncture of the walls with the roof with unwarranted interest. “Let us move on to more important matters.”
“Do you dispute the wording of the petition, Talis?” the clerk asked, quill again poised.
“Not the petition, no. I would not question an executed petition.” Talis raised his hands in submission. “But I do question this human’s capacity to be party to the petition.”
“The agreement is between the House of Lamentation and the castle.” There was an edge now to Lucifer’s bored tone. “The human is merely the subject. She did not have to agree to it.”
“On what basis do you believe the human to be unfit?” Diavolo asked curiously.
“The petition is for the care and keeping of one human soul until which time it chooses to marry itself to one of the esteemed avatars.” Talis pursed his lips. His mustache twitched. “Such a petition would not apply if the human did not hold her soul lawfully. If it were not hers to hand over, in other words.”
Diavolo stared.
Lucifer glared.
Asmo drew a sharp breath, and the tendrils of calming pheromones he released might have been for himself rather than Melody.
“What evidence do you have that the human, Melody Vale, is in unlawful possession of her own soul?” the clerk asked, bald head tilting.
A group of demons near the floor burst into fits of melodious, sensual laughter. Melody didn’t even have to look to know they were incubi.
“She already traded you her soul, Lord Asmodeus, and now you ask her to pledge it to you again?”
“How much more could she possibly submit?”
“You took her soul, wreathed her in your perfume, and you still want to put a ring on it? The pussy must be exquisite, Asmo dear.”
“She has not traded her soul,” Lucifer snapped, silencing then. “I know the Vanguard is not eager to pay for its aggressions of yesterday, but let us move on from this charade.”
“Not traded,” Talis stammered, eyes darting, repeatedly, to his side. A stout demon sat there, in the front row, monochromatic and gray as a boulder, thick arms bowing out from its body so it could rest its taloned hands on a silver-tipped cane. “B-because it was not hers to trade. She is human, but she died. Some time ago. Her soul is not hers because it belongs to the reapers.”
The assembly erupted in shock, in laughter, in demands. Melody did her best to keep her shaking legs from failing her. Her vision swam as she stared at the floor, marks in the sand expanding and contracting. Asmo rubs circles on her back.
“It seems there would be an easy way to prove this.” The higher-up demon who had been studying the architecture said, swiveling its head down to engage. Something bristly climbed up the leg of its chair, and Melody wasn’t sure if it was his tail or a pet of some kind. “Master Erebus, could you please join us?”
A flash of darkness, a surge of cold air, and the large reaper stood on the dais. She recognized the billowing black cape. The brown sweater vest and half glasses when he irritatedly shoved his hood back were a surprise. He bowed to Diavolo and Barbatos, inclined his head toward the others.
“The reapers are neutral. A conclave is political. Whether the soul is intended for the reapers or not, we will not claim it here for show.”
The assembly responded again, with jeers and hoots. They wanted the show.
“Could you please confirm whether it’s on your list,” the clerk asked, “for the record?”
With a heavy sigh, Erebus reached into his cape and pulled out a clunky PDA, complete with an attached pen. He tapped it a few times, scrolled through it.
“Vale, Daniel,” he muttered.
“Not that one,” Lucifer snarled.
“Vale, Melody.” Erebus frowned, tapped a few more times, then licked his lips. His tongue was black. “It is on the list, yes. Has been returned to the list following two unsuccessful harvests. Highly unusual.”
He glanced down at her and only her clutch on Asmo’s arm kept her from turning on her heel and running.
“Lucifer won’t let anything happen to you.” Asmo petted her, the hormones transferring from his hand to hers, surging out of their pact mark, slowing her racing pulse so abruptly she swayed. “It’s all right. Everything will be all right. I’ve got you.”
“There, that’s confirmed,” Diavolo said impatiently. “Mr. Talis, thank you for your inquiry. I’m certain this can be settled after the conclave, but, as time is limited, let us table this item-”
“Apologies, My Lord.” The gray man rose, and Melody’s stomach sank. “I hate to interrupt, but this cannot stand. The House of Lamentation abuses our civilized processes, abuses the trust of the court, abuses – it would seem – the absolute sanctity of separating the living from the dead. This cannot stand. The petition is null, that much is certain. Which means this human is under no house and no family’s protection. It should not have been, these last eleven days. It is an interloper, a trespasser, and outsider. I also have it on good authority that it is also of celestial derivation.”
The responding growls were enough to make the ground shake. The hisses raised the hair on the back of her neck. Chelsea hissed in response, bulging slightly.
“Civilized creatures such as we must use politics to fortify our values, to maintain the purity of our demonic ways. This human illegally retains its soul. The House of Lamentation illegally sheltered it and attempted to bind it to the one of our most venerable positions, to distract and taint the station of an avatar. What is next? The misuse of our royal family? Of the rare sins who grace us with their omnivorous presence? These fallen cannot be trusted with it. The reapers are too honorable to disrupt these proceedings but, as ever, the Vanguard will sacrifice to protect this realm. This soul belongs to nobody, so we humbly petition to take guardianship over it.” The gray hand extended sheaf of parchment toward the dais. Diavolo frowned, even as Barbatos stepped around him and retrieved the documents.
They knew she had died. They knew of her angelic power. Satan speculated that some demons would have escaped their fight in the human realm. The brothers had not been looking to kill, only to rescue. And Marduk’s faction had clearly been working with others in the Devildom.
Asmo still held her arm.
The others were still her friends.
Lucifer loved her, still.
But, without the protection of the castle…
“Would anyone care to review the documents and add a second?” the clerk inquired.
“I second,” Talis chirped, going up on his toes in excitement.
“Let it be known then, that Lord Garrett of the Vanguard, seconded by Mitris Talis of…”
“The Echelon.” He grinned, winking at friends in the seats.
“Let it be known then that Lord Garrett of the Vanguard is now the guardian of the soul of the human, Melody Vale.”
Time seemed to slow. Asmodeus shrieked beside her. There was a commotion behind her, a press of force, a shift in the humidity of the air. Melody turned as if she had been pulled, and looked up at Lord Garrett’s craggy face.
“Guardian?” she whispered.
“A guardian has the responsibility to make best use of a soul,” Diavolo said from above, his voice low but steady. “To provide for its rehabilitation, education, and welfare, and to guarantee its debts.”
She turned back, seeking Lucifer. There was a brief struggle as Garrett lifted Asmo’s hand off her. The fist resting against Lucifer’s cheek was clenched so tight the stitches of his glove were tearing. The gray demon’s voice droned beside her, another sanctimonious monologue. Lucifer blinked, a slow shuttering of his blazing eyes, long black lashes brushing his cheeks. Lashes she’d run her fingertips across. Cheeks she had kissed. He raised his hand from the arm of the chair, the hand that had caressed her body last night, held her through this morning. He mouthed a word, his rich voice always so welcome to her ears.
He tore his power out of her.
Her spine arched, the pain so hot and jagged she couldn’t draw breath to scream. A portal burst open before her, spitting orange and writhing black. Two reapers wormed through, skeletal jaws grinning. They sank their claws into her soul and her body, and tore her out of the Devildom and into Hell.
Mammon’s plan was ingenious. Amazing. Outrageous. He’d plotted it for decades, lulling himself to sleep with scenarios where he’d pulled it off, never thinking he’d actually be able to carry it out, but BAM, one little human soul wandered into the Devildom and he finally got to enact Mammon’s Plan of the Century (trademark pending).
Jealous clans!
Greedy elders!
Wrathful minions!
It was better than Levi’s over-the-top animes and Satan’s convoluted soap operas that he pretended were intellectual dramas.
Step One: Spend every waking second consciously or subconsciously tracking rare objects of superior value.
Step Two: Put together a list of war reparations that included the actual costs to rebuild (with a sweetly inflated overhead of course), interspersed with accusations that the offending factions had stolen the previously catalogued rare and precious items, which they would dispute but TOO BAD, because they’d LOST. He wouldn’t get them all, but the odds were good he’d get some.
Step Three: Profit!
“Write more clearly,” Satan grumbled, taking the third sheet of parchment Mammon slid toward him.
“Can’t.” Mammon scribbled furiously, all that sweet, sweet knowledge tumbling out of his hand onto the paper. “Gotta marry Mel then plunder those sad sacks of all the treasure they don’t deserve. Revenge is best served with gold, suckers!”
The wooden table groaned when Satan leaned on it, fingertips tented below straight arms, that sharp tail of his tapping on the surface.
“You honestly think she’ll choose you?”
“We made a deal. Also, what’s that supposed to mean? I’m obviously the best choice.”
“You were out all night.”
“Yeah, ‘cause this realm is crawling with opportunistic scavengers and there was no way I was lettin’ them get to all the goods before me. Did I tell you what a murder of my crows did to the pirates that snuck onto that ship Levi grounded?” He laughed, slid another piece of parchment over. “Oh man, it was classic. And now I got a whole glass eyeball collection. I don’t know whether to keep them in a jar or string them on a necklace. What happens if you melt glass eyes? Do they turn into something better?”
“I mean, you were out all night so…” Satan straightened abruptly.
Mammon glanced up. The murmur of the crowd reached them, distorted by the winding hallways between the arena and the antechamber. The little room smelled like candle wax and as astringent tonic someone had applied to the tapestry depicting Lord Diavolo’s father facing down a phantasm. There was a story that went with it, but since it hadn’t included any kind of tangible rewards, he hadn’t paid much attention.
“So what?”
Satan glared at him sidelong before huffing. “So she spent the night with Lucifer. There, now you know.”
Mammon blinked. Where was he going with this? Shrugging, he refocused on his list. “And?”
“So every woman Pride has taken to his bed has fallen for him. Irrevocably. Like he is a disease without a cure.”
“The cure is his personality and his schedule.” Mammon laughed. “So she’s in love with him. So what?”
“I see.”
“You see what, Detective?”
“That you don’t actually care for her. You’re only doing this for the reward.”
“My reward is going to be certifiable fire, little bro. You should see the list I put together!”
“She already felt dependent on him and now he has her wrapped around his little finger.”
“Technically he had her in a cursed box on the shelf.”
“It doesn’t bother you,” Satan demanded, “knowing you will always be second to him?”
“Too late to change our birth order now. I don’t even know how I’d go about doin’ that though. That’s probably a sorcerer-level magical thing. Although, I think I’m probably stronger than him by now.”
Satan actually laughed. “He has mastered deception, diplomacy, amassed more wealth than you’ve allowed to slip through your fingers and is owed favors by Diavolo himself. He has every advantage over you. Oh, and did you forget that he works spellcraft like a natural born demon while you can’t master simple potions?”
“Potions are for cheaters, everybody knows that! Anyway, me and Melody made a deal. And a pact.” He slid the last piece of parchment over to Satan and capped the inkpot with a flourish. “There. You’re welcome. Now let’s get back. Asmo’s gonna be getting’ his hormones all over my human.”
She was nervous. He was almost vibrating from the force of her anxiety. Or because he was excited about his incoming riches. The next few decades were going to be so sweet. He was going to have a vault dug under his room so he could fill it with gold coins and swim through it like Scrooge McDuck. That guy knew what he was doing.
“Are ducks poultry or fowl?” he asked as he rounded the last corner.
“Both,” Satan said, and Mammon jolted so hard he almost collapsed.
“Shit,” he wheezed as he forced himself upright. His head was spinning and Satan’s hand was bruising tight around his arm.
“What’s wrong?” his brother demanded.
“Melody.” He shoved through the crowd, a lot of whom had descended to the floor and a lot of whom were riled up.
Staggering, he made it to the space around the dais where he was supposed to meet Melody. He shouldn’t have left her alone. Even with Lucifer and Asmo there, this crowd was nasty.
Asmo stood there alone, hands fisted in his hair, leaking poison. Beel was there, too, and Belphie. Levi stared at dark spots on the ground, face pale. Mammon made it to his side. Someone had opened a portal. Was there a special surprise guest for this conclave?
“Here.” A sleazy looking demon in an unfashionable suit set a battered, rusty can at the base of the portal. “To collect what remains of her, should she manage to return.”
“What’s going on?” he asked.
“Aero,” Levi moaned.
Mammon grabbed his arm, shook him. “Where is she? What’s going on?”
“L-lord Garrett. He took ownership of her soul, and made Lucifer take his power away, and the reapers…they just came out of nowhere…”
Why the fuck hadn’t Lucifer stopped this? Mammon tilted his head back, fighting to stand up straight with the force of Melody’s power churning through their connection. The eldest sat motionless in his fancy chair, legs crossed, two fingers pressed to his temple, eyes blazing red.
“She’s burning,” Asmo whimpered, the calming pheromones leaking out of him likely the only thing keeping the crowd from violence. “She’s burning. They took her and she’s burning.”
“Beel,” Lucifer growled, “take your brother back to the house.”
“Took Melody where?” Mammon demanded. He shook Levi again, but he folded in on himself, muttering. Beel hauled Asmo away. Lucifer was rigid with tension, but he did not move. Why wasn’t he doing something?
Oh.
Because he couldn’t. The Avatar of Pride couldn’t act, couldn’t save Melody. Satan was right that Lucifer had lots of advantages over Mammon. But all power came with a cost.
“The little human has gone to Hell.” The demon speaking was big, bad, gray. That musta been Lord Garrett. He was a thinker, not a fighter. That was the problem with the Vanguard. It was rotten with scheming plotters and strategists. “Every minute that passes here is an hour in Hell. The air burns, thick with noxious fumes. The water is undrinkable. There is no rest, only nightmares. It was constructed to break down weak humans souls and reform them into the building blocks of true demons. Lucifer’s little toy will now be of use to the realm. If she survives her disintegration that is. Should she crawl back to us in proper humility, we will cradle her in our loving arms and raise her into a proper, obedient demon, to serve the realm for all time, as we best see fit.”
They were also talkers, but never had anything interesting to say. The actual worst.
“I’ll give you three outta ten for your dating profile. The bit about the noxious fumes was okay.” Mammon turned to Satan, leaning close so only he could hear. “Tell me the teleportation spell.”
“You can’t properly execute a simple spell,” Satan whispered back. He looked away. “Teleportation is too complicated.”
You needed to pack a lunch if you wanted to argue with Satan, he’d take so long. Already seeking options, Mammon caught a violet eye peering out from under indigo hair tinged with white, and pushed his way to his youngest brother. “Belphie, tell me the teleportation spell.”
Someone banged a gavel and demons grumbled their way back toward their seats. They’d sent Melody to Hell and now they were returning to their agenda. This realm was so cold.
“Belphegor, don’t.” Satan followed, grabbing at Mammon, who shrugged him off. “He’ll deliver himself somewhere in pieces.”
“As if he could get it to work at all.” Belphie blew a strand of hair off his forehead, then frowned. “You…you could get really hurt. I haven’t even gotten it to work yet.”
“I need to get to her, Belphie.” He could feel her confusion, hurt, anger, and the scream of her power.
Belphie started speaking, a flowing phrase in Latin and witchcraft.
He knew how magic was supposed to work. It was about power – which he had – and these stupidly finicky phrases. But mostly it was about the caster’s intent.
Every minute that passed was an hour in Hell.
Soft brown hair and brilliant, smiling eyes.
The air would be choking her as nightmares attached her mind and reapers and roving demon souls attacked her body.
The twisting purse of her soft lips when she worried, the sly grin when she tried to pull something on him.
The dark spots on the ground were human blood. The reapers’ attack had injured her, here, where they were supposed to keep her safe. Where he was supposed to keep her safe.
Mammon closed his eyes, his mouth shaping the words. Intent.
Melody’s hands grasping him, sharp nails digging in as she whispered/pleaded/praised, “More.”
With power on his breath, he spoke the spell.
Time and space burst, and he whipped through the void of in-between, and skidded across sharp rocks. He stood at the entrance of a cave. The air was so dry his lips began to crack. The hot air seared his lungs. The sky was a dark, malevolent orange, ringed by boiling purple clouds. He squinted at the landscape. Rocky planes and gnarled gray trees, strange angles that could have been hills or canyons. One wouldn’t know until they were too close. The moans and pleas, cries and begging, of the damned carried on the wind.
The side of the cave shifted and Mammon froze. Seeing a flicker of movement from above, he looked up. An armored neck curved around, aiming a mouth full of sharp, splintered teeth toward him.
“Ahhhh!” He leapt back.
“Chelsea, no!”
The dragon snapped its mouth closed, hissing steam. Then it tilted to the side, and a figure slid out from between two armor plates and landed on the ground. His heart skipped a beat.
“Melody, what the hells!?”
“Mammon, what are you doing here?”
He grabbed her, pulling her tight against him with both arms, the pressure in his chest finally lessening. “I came to freaking rescue you. What are you doing, letting yourself be sucked into Hell? And why is your kaiju so flippin’ enormous?”
“She’s not a kaiju.” The little human wriggled until he let her pull back a little. “Were you worried? I’m sorry.”
“I wasn’t worried!” He felt her over. Punctures in the shoulder explained the blood he’d seen but thankfully the skin appeared scabbed over and he didn’t see any other cuts. Not bleeding to death then, even though she’d been here for awhile in Hell time. Her coat was torn, the jagged ends flapping in the wind. Her pants were torn at one knee, her skirt shredded. One side of her hair was shorter, the ends frazzled like it had been burned off. That side of her face was streaked with black dirt, and she…
“What. Is. That?” He poked the thing protruding from her head and she squealed and ducked away from him.
“Don’t touch it! It’s tender!”
“What is it?” he recoiled when it pivoted toward him. “AHHHH, is it alive? Is it a parasite?”
“It’s part of me. Part of my demon form, I guess.”
“Your what?” He gaped at the thing, four inches long and an inch thick, the same color as her skin where it grew from the meeting of her hairline with her forehead, but red at the tip. The bulbous tip. Mammon put his hands on his hips and fixed his gaze past her shoulder. Looking directly at it when it was aimed at his face was beyond him. “You’re telling me you are transitioning into a demon and part of your demonic form is a penis growing outta your head?”
“It looks like a penis?” she gasped, reaching up to feel it. With both hands.
“Don’t touch it like that!”
“Don’t yell at me! I’m already having the worst day. Do you know how many things I’ve had to kill?”
“Look.” Gentling his voice – he totally had the right to be freaking out here, but she was more important – he took her by her shoulders then turned his head to the side when the thing swung, just missing touching his face. None of their horns moved and – gods above and below – was it growing as he spoke? “Look, I came to get you outta here. We can deal with whatever the fuck that is when we get home.”
“Home.” She all but moaned the word, then slumped against him. He nobly ignored her penis horn resting on his shoulder. “I miss the house. I miss your room. I miss running water. I miss gaming with Levi. And eating. I really miss eating.”
“I know.” He rubbed her back, hand slowing as he felt two parallel ridges on either side of her spine. Where her wings would grow. “I’m sorry you got thrown in here, and that you’re turning into a demon. But it’s fine. It’ll be fine. We’ll get ya back, see if we can reverse it.”
“I don’t want to reverse it.”
“I know, then we’ll… What?”
She sniffled, then scrubbed at her face. Her nails were long, thick, sharp and pearlescent. Now that he really looked at her, her lashes were longer and darker, winging out from her eyes. Humans turned into lesser demons in Hell, if they evolved at all. She was going straight for full-fledged demon, like how they had when they’d fallen. Angel one moment, demon the next. No disintegration or lengthy crawl back to sentience in between.
“We knew they wouldn’t just accept their loss,” she muttered, arms snaking around his neck, fingers threading through his hair. He was supposed to be the one protecting and comforting her, but it was probably fine if they comforted each other. “Knew they’d keep coming for me, no matter where I was. I’m just…weak. I’m weak and I make Lucifer and all of you weak. This was the only way. Survive Hell. Become a demon.”
“You chose to come here?” He looked around, at the hostile desolation. The blowing dust and heat waves didn’t hide a line of figures advancing on them. It only made it hard to tell how many and how fast they were traveling. “Everything here wants to kill or destroy you.”
“But I don’t have to hide. I can fight back. If I emerge strong enough, I can break loose of their guardianship or whatever they called it. I’ll be able to speak for myself, make my own choices. I just want so much.” Her voice broke, but not out of despair. Sparks of power lit her unblinking eyes. Longing flowed out of her, not the typical greed that called to him. It went deep, so deep.
“You let yourself be dragged to Hell because you wanna live.” A short laugh burst out of him. “Yer really something, human.”
“Not human, not anymore.” Her expression hardened as she turned to glare at the figures drawing closer. “It seemed worth the trade off.”
“I’ll like ya in any form,” he said, tugging on a lock of her hair. “Is this one of those deals where you gotta do everything on your own? Where I can’t help ya?”
“Yeah, it’s one of those. But you did help, by coming here.” She straightened his collar, gently untwisted one of his straps and laid it flat against his chest. “I chose this, but it’s not what I expected.”
“Here.” He pulled one of his rings off. “I won’t interfere. I won’t make it so they’ll call you out on one of their bogus technicalities. But wear this.”
She frowned, pulling her hands away. “It’s too big. It’ll slide off.”
“It won’t. It adapts to its wearer.”
“What if I don’t survive?” Her voice rose and, for once, Mammon wished Asmo’s touch could reach her here. He’d do a better job of calming her. “It could be damaged, or end up belonging to them.”
“Melody.” He waited until she raised her head. Her eyes were worried, and bloodshot. She wasn’t fully demon yet. Hell was hurting her, and he hated it. “It’s not a gift. I’m only loanin’ it to you. So you gotta come back. You gotta come back so you can return it to me. Got it?”
Eventually her breathing steadied. “Okay.”
He slid the ring onto her finger, held it there against her skin as it adjusted, sizing down to fit the slim circumference of her fourth finger. Her eyes widened as she looked at it, and Mammon felt his face heat.
“You didn’t exactly get the wedding day you’d hoped for,” he muttered. “You might as well get a ring out of it.”
Her lips pressed together, tears beading in her eyes despite the arid atmosphere.
“Then later-” He tilted her head up, stroked her cheek, pressed their chapped lips together in a quick kiss. “-I’ll give ya everything ya ever wanted.”
“It’s a deal.”
“And do something about that thing on your head. You got some control over your demon form. I can’t be seen with someone sporting a parasitic dick ornament.”
She huffed. “You said you liked me in any form.”
“You better get used to wearing hats then.”
She kissed him this time, then put a hand on his chest. Power flared around her, blindingly bright. She held her other arm out to the side and the sword sprang from his ring. Behind her, the figures neared. Bigger than her. Horns and teeth, speared tails and weapons. He’d bet on her taking them any day of the week.
“You got this, Mel!”
She grinned, then shoved him, frigid white power tossing him out of Hell…to skid across the sandy floor of the arena.
A row of demons screamed, spontaneously erupting in a burst of vines that rolled them up in a protective foliage burrito. Mammon coughed out a lungful of hot, noxious fumes. Half the seats were empty. On the dais, the tables were stacked with paper and scrolls. Chests lined the floor. Grimm, jewels, paintings and sculptures in wooden crates. They’d been making progress on his list while he was gone. Yesss.
The tall, skeezy demon dressed like a magician jumped to his feet, stabbing a finger in Mammon’s direction. “You! You interfered with our soul.”
Theirs.
Lord Garrett smiled smugly from his seat. Mammon didn’t get angry often but he felt his aura lift around him, felt his own eyes going arctic blue.
“Mammon,” Barbatos intoned. “I must ask you to respect the rules of the conclave. To break them would result in unpleasant consequences.”
“Mammon?” Lucifer’s gaze burned into him. Mammon looked away. Lucifer hadn’t told him what was going to happen to Melody. Let him worry for once.
“I couldn’t get to her.” He tried to sound resigned and sad but not melodramatic. Maybe he should say the word “alas”. No, that was too much. “Or there wasn’t anything left of her to get to.”
Nailed it!
Turning away, he found Levi slumped near the exit and dragged him to his feet. “Come on.”
“Leave me. I don’t have enough energy to walk home.”
“Fine, then I’ll kick your ass all the way back.”
Levi struggled ineffectually. “Go get Belphie if you want company.”
He managed to drag the nerd through the exit, then glanced around hurriedly. A few demons lurked by the stables, a few more squatted in a circle inside the ring of a mild intoxication spell. “I don’t need Belphie. I need someone who can design a template for a 3D printer.”
Levi gave him a sad excuse for a glare, but Mammon could tell he was curious.
“’Cause I found Melody,” he whispered, “and we’re gonna make a mint printing figurines of her before she comes back. She’s got this crazy ass demon form. Everyone’s gonna want to buy one.”
“She what.”
“Like there’s a penis growin’ out of her head. We’re gonna have to downplay that. As kinks go, that’s a little too niche.”
“SHE WHAT.”
“Agenda item nine hundred forty-nine,” the clerk said. A wooden chair creaked. One of the witches yawned. A rock demons in the higher seats tipped over and rolled down the aisle, still fast asleep when it sprawled on the arena floor. “The matter of the damages to Madame Scream’s chocolate fountain array, charged against the Vanguard.”
Another chest of grimm was lugged out from the stack to the right of the dais and set on the flatbed the petitioners had thoughtfully brought with them. Clearly they had been around long enough to know how these proceedings went.
“Conceded,” the new representative drawled, tossing the petition on top of an already teetering pile.
He was the third representative the Vanguard had sent. The first had been ejected after shouting at the first petitioner for ten minutes. The second pleaded illness after less than an hour. If he’d been a betting man, Lucifer would have put good money on the demon slinking off to find a new affiliation after watching the Vanguard’s wealth leaking away from them. The depletion of their legacy wealth was pleasing. The irritating buzzing behind him was not. It had gone from intermittent to constant, and had finally caught the clerk’s attention.
“Master Erebus, we must ask that you refrain from personal matters during conclave.”
“The matters are official,” the reaper administrator replied.
“Has there been a calamity in the human realm?” Diavolo asked, twisting on his throne. “So many humans dying at once?”
“No, My Lord.” When Diavolo did not turn away, the administrator sighed heavily. “It is reaper business, in Hell.”
That caused a minor uproar. Even Barbatos seemed disturbed, which was a feat for a demon who could see the future. Barbatos had not been surprised by Lord Garrett’s petition to assert guardianship over Melody. Diavolo had. Of course, Melody was only a line item on the agenda rather than a concern of the realm. The prince likely hadn’t remembered her until she was standing in front of him. Lucifer inked another note on the draft agreement for the House of Lamentation’s damages and ignored Diavolo aggressively staring in his direction. They could finish out the conclave alongside one another and, if Diavolo asked anything of him he would provide it, but this was not a day on which they should be conversing.
The portal had shrunk to the width of a single hand. Heat emanated from it, and the ground beneath it was littered with bits of dark ochre sand. Melody was on the other side of that portal and, while hours had passed in the arena, days had passed for her. Weeks, at this point.
“Is Hell under siege?” one of the underlords asked. “Is it a celestial attack? Dare those monsters set their wings to our fair skies once again?”
Lucifer corrected a typo and initialed an amendment. Mammon had done a fair job with the House of Lamentation’s demands. Lucifer might have been tempted to reward him if the Avatar of Greed had not withheld news of Melody from him. The punishment for that would have to be…unique.
“The skies of Hell remain riotous and vile,” the administrator drawled. “As they should be. It is merely a temporary anomaly. Fear not.”
Lord Garrett chuckled. He remained in his seat in the stands, centered in front of Diavolo but lower than him. It was a show of humility toward the castle despite the Vanguard considering themselves better than the prince. The Vanguard was older than Diavolo, and believed themselves purer demons, the guardians of the past rather than practicality or progress. For a demon of Garrett’s statute to be here but not involved in the war reparations, Garrett would have opposed the attack on the House of Lamentation, or abstained from supporting it. But he had been close enough to the conspiracy to know specific details of what Marduk had sought in Melody. He had walked into this arena with those documents already drawn. He had personally called on the reapers to take her. His move was yet another prong in the Vanguard’s attack on the House of Lamentation, one meant to humiliate. Normally Satan addressed such problems, but in this case Lucifer would make an exception and kill the demon himself.
“But how do you know, Master Erebus?”
Erebus frowned. “How does one know what grows in one’s own garden, young underlord?”
The demon looked perplexed. “How, Master?”
Mitrit Talis, who had been pacing the length of the arena floor, snapped. “That wasn’t a riddle, you idiot. The answer is by monitoring it. Lucifer, what deceit have you perpetrated?”
“Avatars are to be addressed by title or honorific during conclave,” the clerk intoned.
“Lord Lucifer, what deceit have you perpetrated?”
Lucifer sipped from his coffee before answering. “My devious deeds are vast. You’ll need to be more specific.”
Talis bared his teeth. With his thin face and mustache it made him look like a sallow rat. “What aid did you send to Hell for your human?”
“The Vanguard’s human,” Lucifer said, relishing the startled murmurs even as he loathed speaking these words. He tilted his head toward Lord Garrett. “She is their human, their responsibility. Or, did you not second an agreement ratifying that very thing only hours ago?”
“No mere human could have lasted this long.” Garrett’s bland smile revealed sharp teeth. “Nor caused so much trouble. Clearly the House of Lamentation is again attempting to thwart-”
The portal shivered and they all looked toward it. Talis laughed sharply and prodded the rusty can he’d set down below it with his foot. “Finally.”
The portal shivered again, grew then contracted. The atmospheric pressure in the arena warped as it bulged abruptly. A thin black leg shoved through, so sharp at the end that it stabbed inches deep into the rock of the floor. The pale head on a long arched neck followed, screeching in such a vile key that the harpies perched in the rafters screeched back. Legs and body of a chels. Torso, neck and head a massive armored version of a seahorse. Lucifer caught his sigh of relief before it left him. He had never been so pleased to see something so hideous.
Melody tottered through alongside it, her clutch on the armored joint of the creature appearing to be the only thing keeping her upright. Burns scored the back of her left shoulder and arm. Her armored coat had been reduced to a tattered strip of bandage tied around her other arm with the remains of her necklace. Blood ran down the side of her face. Red, human blood. Lucifer’s eyes narrowed. On the other side of Diavolo, Barbatos made a surprised sound. Garrett was right about one thing, a human could not have survived that long in Hell. Even newly formed, demons bled black ichor.
Her glazed eyes roamed the arena, squinting when they passed the torches lighting the dim expanse. She coughed harshly, then grimaced, pressing a hand against a pronounced dent in the ribs of her breastplate. Jeers and applause filled the arena, accompanied by the sound of coins changing hands with bets lost and won.
Talis stalked forward, smoothing the lapel of his black coat. Oblivious to him, Melody tilted her head as though listening then reached out, grabbing at the air. She frowned when she opened her hand and found nothing, then turned it over to examine the back.
Talis glanced around at the laughing crowd. He cleared his throat, voice going higher. “You owe homage to your lord. Bow to him!”
Melody blinked languidly, her gaze wandering toward him but not quite focusing. “Bow?”
“Yes, you ingrate.” He pointed toward Lord Garrett. “Bow to your betters!”
Following his finger, Melody discovered Garrett’s smug, round face. The Vanguard lord smirked, nodding patronizingly.
“My…betters.” Melody continued to turn until she faced the dais. Standing on the floor below it, between the tall Mitris and massive Garrett, she looked so small. The silvery scars of her human life were only visible on her bare arms if you new to look for them. Her new wounds were starkly pronounced. “Bow,” she whispered, as though reminding herself.
She bowed toward Diavolo, stiff and slow but bending deep enough at the waist that the dark, rough ridges alongside either side of her spine were revealed. The rust red, star-shaped mark at her tangled hairline was a specific kind of scar. Lucifer’s breath quickened. Wings, a single horn. No tail, red blood. Signs of demonhood, but also not. She had been in Hell a long time. She had not disintegrated, but had her time there been so trying that she also had not fully evolved?
“Lord Diavolo,” she murmured, her voice husky.
“Miss Vale,” Diavolo replied courteously.
Her head tilted as she peered past the demon prince toward Barbatos. She blinked that strange, sleepy blink as she looked over each demon on the dais, showing no reaction to any of them until she spied the reaper master. Her lips pursed and she moved on quickly, to Lucifer. Their eyes met, hers so pale within ink dark ashes. He couldn’t give anything away, which meant he could not give her any kind of care or reassurance. But her eyes held no emotion other than mild curiosity.
She blinked again before turning her attention to the stands. The incubi had unwound from each other to pay attention, their flowing clothing reduced to little more than artful drapery rather than garments. The harpies had dropped from the rafters and were perched on benches, one hand down to support themselves, feather wings ruffling. The furies had ceased passing around bits of carrion but were still picking their teeth with slivers of bone. A pair of malignant spectres who attended every conclave though they were never seen in demon society otherwise flickered excitedly. Even Belphie had roused from his napping spot. He was subtly trying to get Lucifer’s attention, but there was nothing he could tell his youngest brother.
Melody was always so open with her emotions, so quick and obvious in her reactions. But there hadn’t been anything in her eyes. Not relief or fear, not joy or longing or amusement. Not betrayal that he had let this happen to her, which he had not expected but would have endured. He should not have let her be taken, should have smuggled her to the human realm, hidden her away. The body and soul were not the only things that could be broken in Hell. Her beast could have protected her from physical attacks, but with humans it was usually the mind that cracked first.
Lucifer swallowed. He wanted to see recognition in her eyes, to hear her say his name, to feel her fine hand squeezing his as she pulled him toward her, laughter in her eyes. He had expected too much of her, too soon. For all that power, she was still so delicate.
“Paying homage to the prince first.” Garrett flexed his hands over the head of his cane. “This one knows its place. Obeisance is rewarded, young demon. Obeisance to all to whom you owe it.”
“You heard him, wretch,” Talis crowed, reaching to shove her down. “Bow to Lord Gar-”
Chelsea’s neck swooped. Her jaw unhinged as she bit his head off with a single firm bite. The demon’s body collapsed beside Melody, who watched the body’s death throes impassively for a moment before her lips parted and her eyes widened.
“Is he going to be okay?” she asked, inching away from the spreading pool of ichor.
“It appears Mitrit Talis of the Echelon is dead,” the clerk said into the shocked silence, interrupted only by a crunch as Chelsea’s jaws crushed the demon’s skull before she swallowed it.
“Ridiculous!” the Echelon representative on the dais bellowed. “There’s to be no violence during conclave. She has taken the life of one of our brethren, a high ranking demon with centuries ahead of him. The grief she has inflicted on the Echelon, on any demon of high rank, is incalculable! Her life is forfeit!”
“My life?” Melody asked wonderingly, gaze wandering toward the dais. “Uh oh.”
“Order, please,” Barbatos said, raising his pristine, white-gloved hands which silenced all but the snickering furies. “Newly-formed demons are not responsible for violations even of the stern rules of conclave. Their guardians shoulder the responsibility for the actions of their charges as well, of course, of the risk of being injured or even killed by them if they lack the fortitude to control them.”
Garrett darkened at that, his aura stewing around him. Barbatos smiled mildly.
“With that in mind, a fine will likely suffice if the Echelon is willing to accept it. With an additional premium for disturbing this particular venue. As compensation for your incalculable grief.”
“Mitris was really important,” the Echelon representative said quickly. “The fine will need to be high to be, uh, commensurate with his talent and superior skills and, uh, talent.”
“Send us the bill,” Garrett said curtly, rising. He glowered at Melody, his restrained performance in front of Diavolo the only thing keeping Lucifer from grabbing Melody and returning her to the warded house, before addressing her. “You are able to speak, young demon. You are able to maintain a summoned creature capable of killing a higher level demon, whether by your will or its own whims. This shows promise, which is the only reason you won’t be executed as an inconvenience today. But, just as obeisance is rewarded, insubordination requires punishment. A powerful demon with no control must be governed by a firm hand. This begins immediately.”
He flicked his hand, summoning one of his kin from a densely-seated section of the stands. Demons moved, parting around a figure in an ornate cape. Torchlight caught the facets of jewels and the ornate metal of her jewelry and headdress as she descended. Lucifer did not look up as the powerful demon’s aura rippled through the arena, eliciting gasps and delighted moans in response. Diavolo fully turned toward Lucifer, only Barbatos’s warning hand on his arm keeping him quiet, and the incubi devolved into a mass of grasping limbs and wet enthusiasm.
“You are lucky, little demonkin.” Garrett grinned as he announced, loudly, “Your education will be conducted personally by The Winds of Passion. The Thousand Souls Gifted. The Jewel of the Devildom, Amrita. Many demons would pay anything for this privilege.”
The former Avatar of Lust stepped into the light, her gilded hair waving on an enchanted wind, her burnished skin displayed by the artful cut of her gown. The scent flowing from her was a tantalizing mix of sugar and musk. She turned her coral eyes on Lucifer and they lit with golden flame before the narrowed her gaze on Melody. Her generous lips parted around gleaming teeth.
“Oh, little demonkin, it will take a long time to whip you into shape. The better part of a century, I imagine. We’ll have the best time together.” She laughed melodiously, tilting her head coyly. “At least I know I’ll enjoy it. And, by the time I’m done, my enjoyment will be your sole desire.”
Lucifer’s power boiled out of him, his anger at the indignity beyond his ability to restrain. They dared do this, in front of him, to someone who was his? He stood, the table in front of him disintegrating beneath his aura. Diavolo rose swiftly as the others on the dais scattered, only Barbatos and the clerk remaining behind him.
“Lucifer,” Diavolo warned.
Lucifer held himself back. He couldn’t break the rules, not here. They were divided, the others back at the house. Levi was still injured, Asmo’s power near exhaustion. Belphie and Beel, his youngest charges, were here, surrounded by hostile demons. And Diavolo would use the royal guard against them as well. For him to act would be treason.
Amrita waved a hand, and Melody’s monster screamed as an invisible fist gripped her, pinning her venomous tail, lifting her off her deadly sharp feet. The scream cut off as she disappeared, Amrita’s power overwhelming the magic that sustained her. Melody staggered, hands coming up to press against her chest. She had only mastered her power, for a matter of moments, the day before. She had been subjected to Hell, alone, for weeks. And she was still human, or close to it. His power whirled around him, held back by the sliver of restraint he maintained.
To act would be treason.
He had already dragged his family down from the celestial realm. There was nowhere else to fall, except to Hell itself.
At least they would all be together.
“Amrita?” Melody murmured, frowning. She lifted her head, inhaling, and focused, for the first time since she had returned, really focused, on the demoness. Then she looked at Lucifer, her eyes rounding with worry.
“Don’t worry, pet,” Amrita crooned mockingly. She towered over Melody, all curves and beguilement, her hip cocked, her chest thrust out. “I’ll take good care of you.”
Amrita ran a razor-sharp black talon along Melody’s cheek. The skin split, red blood welling in a line. Amrita licked her lips.
“Such good care of you.”
“You’re Amrita.”
“Of course my reputation precedes me. Even an oblivious little human knows my name.” Amrita threw her head back and laughed.
A shockwave burst from the floor, blowing all the sand away from the stones, bowling demons out of their seats. Bits of debris crumbled from the walls. Amrita’s headdress was knocked askew, the rest of her protected by innate shielding.
Lucifer sucked in a breath as the blood on Melody’s cheek turned black and flaked off, leaving behind smooth skin with no sign of a scar. Wind swirled around her, flapping the ragged ends of her black skirt and raising her hair. Her arms peeled away from her chest. The white iridescence of her power ran through her veins. Another concussive blast tore out of her, accompanied by a tumultuous, unrestrained aura, at once teasing and bitter, laughing as it plunged a gnawing ache into all it touched.
Her power swirled up around her, following the current of air. Her hair blew back as her horn grew, deep crimson, long and curved like that of a highland bull. Then it clicked sharply as segments appeared in it, rotating on two joints to aim directly at the Jewel of the Devildom.
“An articulated horn.” Diavolo laughed delightedly. “How novel.”
The portal, which had closed after Melody passed through, tore open. Jagged shapes boiled through, their forms shifting, growing and shrinking disorientingly. They formed a half circle around Melody’s back, wailing with misery, raining down pain and sending the Echelon faction which had been advancing on Melody scrambling back.
“Phantasms are not known to gather in groups,” Barbatos mused, refilling Diavolo’s teacup from an ornate black pot. “Most extraordinary.”
Amrita retreated a few steps before catching herself. She drew herself up to her full height and spread her hands, drenching them with golden power.
“You think to challenge me, fledgling? Your elder? Your superior? In a million years you would not be able to put a scratch on this perfect body. For this, the rest of your life will be nothing but torment.”
“No, thank you.”
“Pain,” she hissed, her aura turning poisonous. “Nightmares. Degradation.”
“Wow, hard pass.” Melody’s horn lit almost neon before it fired a targeted burst of power. It hit Amrita’s shields are wrapped around them, bathing her in red. The demoness grinned, building her own power. Melody all but glowing stark white, power leaking from her eyes which had lost all color, the torrent of force from her horn heating the entire arena. Amrita’s expression faltered. Her eyes snapped down to her hands as her power sputtered out. The red force darkened, and she began to burn. Her mouth opened around a scream that never came. Amrita exploded, her magic detonating with it. Her target gone, Melody’s blast cut through four rows of bleachers before she managed to stop it. She staggered, weaving like she was drunk, blinking rapidly.
Garrett cracked his cane against the floor. “What is this abomination the House of Lamentation has dropped in our midst?”
“If you can’t control or contain me, that’s on you, right?” Melody asked conversationally, her voice eerie with all the power suffusing it. “I’m just a fledgling demon, still blinking the dust of Hell out of my little baby eyes. You’re the responsible custodian, with the wisdom and the power and the experience and whatnot. Do I have that right, Lord Barbatos?”
Barbatos inclined his head quickly to hide his smile. “I am not of nobility, child. You need only address me as Barbatos. You are correct though. A guardian is responsible for any and all damage done by their charge, unless and until they forsake it or it kills them.”
Melody grinned, revealing a baby fang in the place of her left canine tooth. “Do you yield then, oh master of mine? Are you gonna give me up and forsake me?”
His cane flashed and became a sword. It was an ancient longsword, strengthened by the lives it had taken and imbued with spells that enhanced its menacing aura.
“Ohhh,” Melody breathed, eyes lighting up at the sight of the heavily-bejeweled hilt. “Shiny. I’ve got one too.”
A sword snapped into her left hand, the blade short and chipped, the hilt plain and black. Mammon’s ring sword, a little worse for the wear. Garrett’s steps actually stuttered, either at that sight or at the feel of the strange aura now pulsing from Melody in waves.
He swung. She raised her short sword as if to block, then it retracted as she leapt forward, past his guard. Cold power sparked as she blinked out of sight, reappearing behind him, landing crouch as though she’d taken flight between within the span of a single breath.
The audience collectively gasped, all senses on Garrett, waiting to see what he would do. He turned, steps lumbering, and raised his sword. It trembled, then he watched in disbelief as it clattered on the floor.
“Monster,” he snarled through bared teeth.
“No.” Melody shook her head as she rose, hurt on her face as she tapped her chest. “Demon. Just like you wanted.”
Black ichor covered her hand to the mid-forearm. She lowered her arm, flicking the ichor off and revealing long red talons. Her horn rotated, and the demons behind her dove for cover as it settled over her head, pointing backwards. Chelsea reformed in a burst of power, chirping as she spied Melody.
Garrett collapsed, his left side falling straight down, his right peeling away to thump some distance away.
Chelsea lunged toward a burnt piece of Amrita. Melody raised a hand, stopping the massive creature’s momentum with a flick of her fingers.
"No. How many times do I have to tell you this? We don't eat garbage." Then she looked up with a sigh. The phantasms’ wailing died down, their miserable aura contracting. “And you guys. What did we talk about? I was going to ask if you could come. This is a really important meeting…thing. You can’t just crash it.”
Her gaze snagged on the trunks of grimm and her eyes lit up. “Ooh, is this like party swag? Can I have some?”
Lucifer was off the dais before he’d consciously decided to go. He caught Melody’s shoulders, squeezing too tightly, shaking her a little before she pushed at him.
“Too much, Lucifer. Be gentle. Newborn here.”
He wanted to touch her all over, to reassure himself that she was here, and whole. But what she was was different. As they had planned. To survive, and to be free, she had to be a demon. She was strong enough to survive Hell. But…
“What took you so damn long?” he growled.
“You would not believe what I had to do to get my demon form in order. It was…” She shook her head, closing her eyes for a moment before opening them. “A lot of trial and error. And things were attacking all the time. Then I got lost and couldn’t find the portal and I went to some reapers to ask for help, but they were so hostile.” Scrunching her nose, she peered around his shoulder at Master Erebus, hiding behind his high-backed chair. “I’m really sorry for what happened in there. I swear it was just a misunderstanding.”
“What happens in Hell stays in Hell, child,” Erebus said meditatively.
“Melody,” Lucifer shook her again as one of the incubi winked at her and she tilted her head and smiled at him. “What is your sin?”
“Hmm? Did you see my deceits? I had to practice so hard.” She dragged her gaze back and him and looked him up and down. Then her hand began to follow the path her eyes had taken, stroking him from neck to waist. He caught her hand.
“Yes, your pretending was effective.” He had certainly fallen for it. “Do you feel insatiable or offended? Are you angry or desirous?”
“The predominant sin doesn’t matter,” the Echelon representative piped up, dusting his clothing off as he rose from where he’d hidden behind a chair. “She’s clearly a violation of the natural order. He did something to her, knowing poor Lord Garrett would try to take custody of her, for her protection of course.”
His comment drew boos from both the witches and the furies.
“Lord Diavolo, we beseech you,” the rep tried again.
“Hmm?” Lord Diavolo sat on his throne, legs crossed, leaning idly on his elbow, looking for all the world like he was enjoying some light entertainment.
“We beseech you. In the interests of protecting this realm, destroy this thing. No newborn demon could be this strong.”
“We were,” Lucifer said, startling the Echelon into silence.
“Ah,” Barbatos said. “This appears to be a point of confusion. That is easily remedied. No damned human soul, even that of an experienced and powerful sorcerer, is likely to transform immediately into a higher tier demon with such impressive control.”
Withdrawing a paper from the inside pocket of his jacket, he stepped beside the clerk. “Melody Vale, could you please tell us your father’s name?”
At that, Lucifer nearly startled, his eyes widening. It would have been easy to name her as a descendant of Lilith. Barbatos and Diavolo knew that already. However, it would have painted an even larger target on her back. Her celestial power had to have been bolstered by her other parent. He had long suspected that and, despite saying he would not search for it, he had. And while his search had been rather passive, he’d never found a single record.
“My dad?” Melody asked. Chelsea chirped, and the demons who’d returned to the first few rows of the stands sobered abruptly. Even the incubi stopped their motions. “My dad’s name was Nate.”
“And he was?” Barbatos prompted.
“A history professor?”
“Of course. But I don’t mean his profession. I mean, what was he?”
She opened her mouth then closed it. The demon seated closest to her began to rock. Others wrapped their arms around each other. Lucifer stifled his own impulse to pull her close to him. Ah.
“You’re emitting,” he murmured to her, smiling at her baffled expression. “Like Asmodeus, but rather than pheromones meant to soothe or reduce inhibitions, you’re emitting sadness.”
“Oh.” She looked down for a moment, then shifted her shoulders as though making herself more comfortable. The artificial sadness dialed down a bit. “He was…he’d been…he was an angel.”
“And when did he leave the celestial ranks?” Barbatos asked gently.
“When he fell in love with my mother.”
“Before that, he was in the human realm to hunt Nephilim, is that right?”
Melody’s eyes widened. Lucifer set his arm around his waist, pleased when she leaned into him.
“He didn’t talk about what he did before. I wasn’t supposed to talk about what he was, at all. He hunted other angels? Why would he do that?”
“Demons aren’t the only ones who do not want angelic power in the human realm,” Lucifer said, stroking her hair back from her face. She looked anguished, her aura fluctuating wildly. “He stopped, Melody. He saw it was wrong and stopped, and devoted himself to you and your mother instead. That takes a lot of strength, a lot of innate goodness.”
“An angel went missing a few years before you were born. Nathaniel, out of Raphael’s ranks.”
Lucifer stiffened. “Nathaniel was an archangel.”
“And Raphael commands Heaven’s hunters and inquisition,” Diavolo said, adding the detail Lucifer would not. “An archangel. It explains her strength. One of Raphael’s…that perhaps explains her instinctive acumen in wielding her power. What it does not explain is her novel form. I’d never even considered an articulated horn. And it does not explain her aura.”
The demon prince stood. He was taller than Lucifer, but now he appeared massive, standing at the edge of the dais, surrounded by the remnants of Melody’s destruction and the piles of golden grimm that had spilled from the crates.
“Does that wealth attract you?” he asked.
Melody bit her lip, aborting a movement toward it.
“And does this intrigue you?” he gestured toward the incubi, lazily petting each other.
She smiled, and a sensual perfume began to flow from her. Lucifer’s hand tightened on her hip and she made a small, pleased sound.
“And are you hungry?”
“I could devour a man whole,” she said, running her tongue over her cracked lips.
“Were you angry with Amrita?”
The perfume cut off abruptly, and her aura crackled. Taking a deep breath, she let it out slowly. “She wasn’t my favorite.”
“And why is that?”
“Because Lucifer is mine.” Power suffused her voice again, and the force of it rattled the arena. The declaration seemed to rattle them as well, as all eyes turned to Lucifer to see his reaction to such a claim. After a moment, Melody looked at him as well, uncertainty in his eyes.
“I am proud to be yours,” he murmured, unable to hold back a smile when she beamed in return.
“Remarkable,” Diavolo said, turning an admonishing eye on the Echelon representative. “A Sin is a treasure for the entire kingdom, second in strength to an Avatar, but with her connection to multiple sins, she is much, much rarer. What a privilege for all who stand here today, to be able to bear witness to such an event. You emerged from Hell fully formed. There are some formalities, but let it be known that Melody Vale is a full-fledged Sin. Do you wish to state any alliances?"
“A Sin,” Melody repeated, feeling the word out in Daemonish. It sounded good in her voice. "I am connected to the House of Lamentation."
"To which of the occupants?" the clerk asked politely, quill pen poised.
Melody turned her smile on him, and the pen jerked in his hand. "To all of them, of course.”
The formalities, it turned out, were a lot of paperwork. And, apparently, a special formality for her was that Melody was excused from harvesting human souls on the basis that Sins inspired other demons so much that they basically improved the flow just by existing.
“But I was supposed to?” she asked, over the bowl of spiced honey-drenched berries Asmo slid in front of her the second she entered the kitchen. “I was supposed to harvest souls?”
“I’m sure Lucifer would have scheduled us to pick up your share,” the Avatar of Lust said. He wore a frilly apron over his pink bootie shorts and a pale halter top. “On account of that being a lot like cannibalism even if you’re not really human anymore. But winning a soul trade isn’t the only satisfaction in dealing with humans. It’s about the seduction, the devotion. If you ever want me to bring someone or many someones home for you, you just let me know. Now eat up. After that you’ll replenish your toxins. I’m putting them in a green smoothie. So good for your skin!”
Asmo had a strict diet, mostly for maintaining his figure, but also to supply his body with nutrients and minerals that enhanced the effects he had on others. They’d tried the same diet on Melody, who had broken out in hives one day, and inspired three spontaneous orgies while jogging with Beel the next, not that it was her fault because he had looked mm-mm finger-looking good in his running shorts. But whatever Asmo had fed her made her pheromones a little too potent.
“Why is it that I can inspire orgies but not join them?” she asked when Asmo turned off the blender.
“Your control is too raw. You’ll cause some poor demon, or ten, to combust. Believe me, having someone explode on top of you – not in the good way – is traumatic. It will put you off sex for days.” He plunked down a tall glass of green goop which was bubbling untidily throughout. “I can handpick a resilient group if you want, and I’d happily lend you the use of my bathtub so you can try it inside the wards. A girl only gets one first orgy after all. But only if you make sure Beel’s in attendance. He never participates even though I arrange the nicest, most flexible groups.”
“He said he doesn’t like orgies.” She popped the caustic bubbles with her fork. “Too much sex getting in the way of the buffet.”
“There will be no buffet at my bathtub orgy!”
“And that’s why he doesn’t join.” She nearly gagged on her first taste of the smoothie, then exhaled bitter smoke after she managed to swallow. Her eyes watering, she asked, “What’s this one supposed to do for me again?”
“Judging by the scent, it’s paralyzing venom,” Satan said as he strode into the kitchen. He wore fitted black pants and a utilitarian black vest over a dark green t-shirt.
“Ooh, the soldier look,” Asmo cooed. “I likey.”
“How’s Harmony?” Melody asked, almost knocking the smoothie over in her haste to get to him, then almost running into him. The sin-specific powers that came and went like unpredictable weather were one thing. Her demonic physical state, which heightened with strong emotions, was another. Satan stopped short so she didn’t collide with him. He looked her over critically.
“Have you managed to control your horn?” he asked gruffly.
She self-consciously pressed her fingers over the star-shaped red scar at her hairline.
“She’s so much better with her laser beam,” Asmo praised, stealing a berry from her bowl.
“I can stop it within three seconds,” she said.
“Three seconds of what?”
“Of freaking obliterating anything in its path,” Levi said, shuffling into the kitchen wrapped in an orange blanket. His hair was ratted up on one side, and the dark bags under his eyes looked positively human.
“Oh, hon, you’re a mess. Want me to make you a smoothie?”
Levi glanced at Melody’s, now burbling out of her glass and hissing when it made contact with the counter, and shook his head emphatically as Asmo reached for the blender.
“No! Don’t threaten me with whatever that is.”
“Toxin enhancer,” Satan said as he grabbed a bottle from the refrigerator and headed out the other door.
Melody tugged at his sleeve. “Come on. How is she? She doesn’t say much in text. Is she mad at me? Is she mad that I’m a demon? Does that make her mad? I’ll bet that makes her mad. Does she not want to talk to me anymore? That’s it, isn’t it? She’s got other cool friends, and you guys are off being badasses together, and I’m getting smoothie hives and eating the little demons that look like minions because I can’t control my hanger. She probably hates me.”
“Breathe, Aero,” Levi called from where his head was stuck in a cupboard. “Pull back from the spiral. None of those bad thoughts are real. Satan, please acknowledge her and answer her questions.”
Sighing, Satan faced her. He filled the dark, arched doorway leading to the medieval larder they needed to stock sufficient quantities to satisfy Beel.
“She’s well. She doesn’t hate you. She’s not mad at you for being a demon. Once you’ve gained enough control to be around humans, you can meet with her all you want. She understands that you can’t be together now.”
“She does?” Tears came to her eyes, against her will. It was so embarrassing. Being a new demon was like having PMS all the time, plus a gambling addiction, a sex addiction, intermittent terrible self-esteem, the random desire to demand to speak to the manager, and the occasional rage so intense she blacked out. “God, I miss her. I miss her so much.”
Satan’s hand hovered over her shoulder before it landed, squeezing awkwardly. “There there. She’s…eager to see you as well.”
“Is she?” Melody sob-laughed. “Okay, then. Okay. And you guys are working well together? You’re not scaring her are you?”
His barked laugh startled her, and Asmo and Levi as well judging by the sputtering coming from behind her.
“No, I am not scaring her. Your sister is a certifiable menace.”
“She’s what?”
“A menace. A problem. A liability. She’s impulsive, thoughtless, reckless-”
“HOW DARE.” Melody bared her teeth as her horn formed, gleaming red, matching the haze tinting her vision.
“Nope,” Levi said, swaddling her with his blanket in record-breaking time and pulling her backwards. “No firing your cero in the house. You summon Chelsea and I’ll summon Lotan – once we are outside – and we’ll all have a nice, nondestructive picnic at the beach. Doesn’t that sound nice and normie?”
“What’s a cero?” Satan asked as they left.
“Her horn laser.” Asmo signed. “’Cero’ is some kind of nerd phrase. It doesn’t sound like you’re enjoying working with Melody’s sister.”
Satan slammed a mug down on the counter, somehow not shattering it, or the countertop. “She’s infuriating. Reckless.”
“You said that.”
“Clever. Well-connected and better read. She would be a worthy partner if she wasn’t so disobedient.”
“Ohhhhh?” Asmo hopped onto a stool, resting his chin in his palm. “Go on.”
“Go on about what?”
“It sounds like you find her interesting.”
“Nine hours out of every ten, I want to throttle her.”
“And the other hour?”
Satan ground his teeth.
“Does it start with an ‘f’ and end with ‘uck’?” Asmo teased.
“Yes.”
“Just kidding,” Asmo giggled, then gasped, pressing a hand to his chest as though scandalized. “Wait, what?”
“She is insufferable, and competent, and tough. Nothing rattles her. She’s not afraid of me but...” Satan frowned as he poured coffee into the mug. “Sometimes she almost scares me.”
“She…scares you? This human? Is she powerful, like Melody?”
“It’s not like that. I’m not afraid of her. I’m afraid of what she’ll allow to happen to her. It’s like she doesn’t care that if she gets hurt or anything. Having to watch out for her is exhausting.”
Asmo’s mouth formed a circle. His eyes went wide. “Oh, Satan.”
“What?” He downed half the hot, black coffee in a single gulp.
“You like her.”
“No. Absolutely not. Don’t be ridiculous.” He turned on his heel and stalked out of the room. Asmo adjusted his apron, then straightened his silverware. He filled the blender with water and set it in the sink to soak. Satan stomped back in. “Out of curiosity, what might that feel like?”
“Liking someone?”
Satan wouldn’t meet Asmo’s bright eyes. He shrugged.
“Oh, hon. Pull up a stool. Let Daddy Asmo tell you all about it.”
“Don’t call yourself that.”
“I mean, I guess I could call you that.”
“I will punch you. In your face.”
“Rude. But I will let it pass if you spill the deets. Sit down. Tell me all about it. When did this start?”
“I guess…in her kitchen.”
“What were you doing?”
“Waiting.” “Waiting.” Asmo widened his eyes expectantly. “Any more details that might be pertinent?”
“I was naked?”
“Wow, so you just went for it.”
“No. It wasn’t like that. First I was a cat.”
Asmo tilted his head. “Like…a hairless cat?”
“Just listen!”
***
Mammon wasn’t sneaking into the house because he was a resident of said house, ergo he could not sneak into it. He set a mental reminder to look up the word “ergo”. Normally he would creep around Lucifer’s wards, slide through a soft section of the thorny hedge, then creep through the side door. There was no point tonight.. Judging by the yelling upstairs, all but shaking the house, a. Lucifer wasn’t home and 2. Nobody was going to focus on him.
Unless they were mad at him for some reason, but that didn’t seem right. He’d been keeping busy organizing their loot from the war reparations, and sure maybe he’d helped himself to a little here and there. But thar was like a commission, or a finder’s fee. He’d earned it!
The shouting had turned hostile, and the house shuddered with the force of gathering auras. It was a little weird, feeling that kinda chaos when he wasn’t in the middle of it. Lucifer was away, and Satan was in the human realm dealin’ with the leftover conspirators and enemies of the House. Beel was there, but his energy was a low, steady thrum so his hunger wasn’t the problem. That left Levi and Belphie arguing. He would not have put money on that.
“You don’t get to make demands!” Levi yelled. They were faced off in the hallway outside his room.
“Who’s demanding anything,” Belphie retorted. “I just want to see.”
“It’s not up to you!”
“Beel and I both want to. That’s two against one.”
“I don’t think-” Beel started to object, but Belphie turned on him, teeth bared. He was actually in demon form. Since he normally didn’t exert enough energy to stand upright, let alone transform, things were already out of hand.
Mammon spotted Melody hovering at Levi’s side. She wore one of Levi’s oversized hoodies, which covered her almost to her knees. Her legs were bare and she was barefoot, her hair wet. Her eyebrows were all scrunched up but she wasn’t really looking at anyone. Probably goin’ through her exercises to control the many sins demanding she act for them. He could barely handle his own when it demanded, and other than Lucifer they all had regular outbursts.
“Hey,” Mammon barked, crossing toward them. “You’re supposed to leave the wards when you gotta vent. And no fighting!”
When Melody got upset, with her new demonic strength and temper, and power bent on destruction, things got bad. Like juvenile Satan bad, except he’d been a little shit and Melody felt bad when she broke stuff. Worse, right then she looked the sad kind of upset, like she might start crying. Whoever put that expression on her face was about to get his stupid ass beat.
“Just show me!” Belphie insisted. What the hells did he want so badly that he’d sprouted horns? A new game? One of Levi’s figurines? Did Levi have a new figurine that special and, if so, what might it be worth?
“I told you I can’t do it on demand.”
“Won’t, you mean.”
“Belphie,” Beel warned.
“Fucking selfish,” Belphie spat.
Melody turned to leave and Belphie grabbed her arm hard enough that she gasped. Hard enough that Levi transformed on the spot and punched his little brother. Belphie eeled around his outstretched arm and sank his fangs into Levi. Blood spurted from his shoulder and Melody exploded.
The lightbulbs burst in a shower of sparks. The stench of burnt wires ran through the walls. The temperature plummeted. Their next breaths fogged the air. Belphie was rigid, caught in the crater his body had made in the wall, a few feet off the floor. His eyes were wide, flashing angrily, his aura writhing as he struggled against Melody’s invisible hold.
“Mammon!” Levi warbled, backing up, arms raised to shield his head.
“Hey babe.” Mammon approached Melody slowly, his power held close, releasing just enough force to push the jagged spines of her aura away. “We’re a little too fired up here, ya know? It’s probably a good time for everyone to go their separate ways.”
He didn’t tell her to stop. He didn’t grab her. They’d learned things, mostly the hard way in the weeks after she transformed. Melody didn’t like being told what to do, which Lucifer said was a demon thing but they all knew was a pride thing. And she didn’t tolerate being grabbed or restrained forcefully. Belphie knew better. He wasn’t the youngest anymore, not with her around. Mammon liked being spoiled as much as the next guy, but at some point you had to be responsible.
“I got something I want to show you,” he said, biting down to keep from hissing when his body brushed her side and her cold power lanced him. She was so frickin’ stabby. “Found it while goin’ through all our new treasures. It’s so brilliant I almost had to dim the lights to be able to look at it. Real shiny, ya know?”
He herded her with his body, guiding her without shoving at her. When he broke her line of sight with Belphie she turned her glare on him, baring that cute little baby fang in a snarl.
“Those losers didn’t know what they were giving it up,” he continued. “I’m probably gonna sell it in the next couple days. It’s worth millions, maybe more. You don’t have to look at it if you don’t wanna, I guess.”
“I want to see,” she said quickly, moving more willingly toward his room.
Her strongest affinities were with greed and lust. Leftovers of her pacts with Mammon and Asmo, Lucifer said even though the pact marks were gone after she returned from Hell. Obviously the eldest was wrong and she just had good taste. Well, good taste and some similarities with Asmo.
Behind them, Beel peeled Belphie off the wall, his low murmurs soothing. Levi’s door closed with a slam. The bite hadn’t been bad so even a crybaby like Levi would be alright. Mammon managed to get Melody into his room. Luckily he’d Satan-proofed his space years ago and the electricity was still working. He set the lights lower and keyed up the soundtrack he’d added to his Melody playlist. The sound of delicate strings filled the room from the overhead speakers. Boring as hell, but Levi said she found it relaxing. They each had their roles in helping her while she figured out how to deal with sudden-onset demonhood. Levi researched and made lists of helpful, neutral and “never, ever, ever do this” actions, words and foods. Lucifer brought in How to Manage a Demon tips from the experts, along with alterations specific to her powers. Asmo and Mammon tried to keep her on an even keel as she navigated her altered body. Beel recognized her hunger signs before she realized gluttony was ascending and was careful to leave enough prepared food around that she never really got hungry. Belphie hadn’t done much other than complain that she was being spoiled LIKE THE HYPOCRITE HE WAS, but he’d kept out of the way. And Satan had kept his distance. It had taken him centuries to stop exploding, tormenting and destroying everyone who annoyed him. Personally, Mammon thought he was envious of her quicker mastery of self-control. But Satan had been born of rage and resentment and, for all the things that had happened to Melody, she didn’t actually hate anyone. He liked that about her.
“Yer gonna love this,” Mammon said, tossing his jacket on the couch and heading for the stack of boxes next to his bed. He’d show her the nightmare jade and gold necklace. He’d been meaning to give it to her anyway. He just hadn’t figured out the words to go along with it yet. Then again, the ruby pendant would match her horn. Or maybe she’d like the basilisk scale bracelet with the-
His door flew open, hitting the wall hard enough to crack the stone and send a plume of gray dust up. Belphie’s aura snaked along the floor and walls, darkening the room. Mammon’s eyes felt heavy, and unease filled him. Belphie’s nightmare form was the worst.
“Show me,” Belphie snarled. “You fucking owe it to me!”
Melody’s eyes went bright, the sections of her horn snapping together and swiveling toward the intruder. Shit.
Mammon ran for her. “Get him outta here, Beel!”
Beel caught his twin who elbowed him in the gut. Grunting, Beel wrapped both arms around him and bodily hauled him away. Mammon skidded to a stop in front of Melody, using a burst of power to slam the door shut, hoping it burned away the remains of Belphie’s aura as well.
“Hey, Melody. It’s alright. Nothing to see here, okay?”
No answer.
“Let’s look at the treasures. Gold and rubies, all the good stuff.” He pulled a handful of shiny grimm out of his pocket, showing it to her. “Wanna roll around in a pile of doubloons again? That was fun.”
Her eyes were blank, smoking that painful white light. Not good. Whatever Belphie was harpin’ on was majorly setting her off. He dialed Lucifer then dropped the phone to catch Melody as she launched herself toward the door.
“What,” Lucifer’s voice said from the overhead speaker.
“Gotta problem here,” Mammon said in a strangled voice as he struggled to keep her away from the door with his body.
“Get her away from the others,” Lucifer instructed, the indistinct sound of voices fading away.
“In my room,” Mammon gritted out as he absorbed a concussive burst that rattled his brain and made it difficult to breathe. How she managed that trick when the rest of them couldn’t figure it out, he had no idea. “She’s fully checked out.”
“Use one of her affinities to distract her,” Lucifer ordered.
“Mmph.” Mammon whipped his head to the side to avoid a spear of power that punched a hole straight through his door. “My face is my job, Melody! Also, the rest of my head is behind it. Be careful.”
“Mammon.”
“Yeah, yeah. I tried shiny things. She didn’t even look.”
“Use her other affinity.”
Asmo. Lust. Right.
“So, uh, you come here often?” he tried.
Lucifer’s sigh filled the room.
“What am I supposed to do? She’s in wrath mode!”
“Lust is always a part of her and she likes you, for whatever reason.”
“Yer judgement ain’t helpin’!” Mammon hissed when she shoved at him. Her power freaking burned.
“Your lack of effort is not helping. She knows that this behavior is not acceptable. All you need to do is give her an alternative, preferably a pleasant one.”
“Oh, it’s gonna be hella pleasant.” Mammon cursed when she sank her teeth into him. That little fang was sharp. “Wh-what do you say to using that mouth for kissin’ instead of maiming?”
Somehow the silence from the speaker sounded disgusted.
“Melody,” Lucifer said.
Her head twitched before she lunged for Mammon again, forgetting she was trying to go for the door and instead targeting him. The wood of the pool table groaned when she shoved him against it and Mammon swung them around, tripping Melody so that she stumbled and he could get her a few steps away from his precious table. And the glass coffee table. And the crate of aged demonus he’d just gotten. Why did he have so much breakable stuff, and why was she barefoot?
“You’re wearing entirely too many clothes,” Lucifer said.
“The fuck,” Mammon breathed as he landed on the floor beside his bed, Melody’s knee smashing into the floor between his legs and way too close to his groin.
“They’re too tight, too constricting.”
“She’s only wearing a hoodie,” he said to the speaker as he crawled backwards on his hands.
“Too hot,” Lucifer said, clipping the words out before his voice lowered. “Mammon is also wearing too many clothes. They’re in the way of your skin touching his. In the way of your hands and your mouth on him.”
Melody lowered her chin, fixing her white hot glare on him. Mammon froze.
“Do you remember how he tastes, Melody?”
She tongued at the thin line of ichor running from the corner of her mouth.
“I don’t think that’s what he means,” Mammon whispered. His face felt hot. She felt hot, her bare legs on either side of his right leg.
Her arm snapped out, razor sharp talons slicing his shirt cleanly down the center so it felt apart, bearing his chest.
“You cannot touch him while your talons are out. You cannot kiss him while your fang is bared.” Lucifer went on, his low, deep voice nearly hypnotic as it filled the room. “You want to touch him, don’t you? To taste him? Be a good girl and put your weapons away so you can take your pleasure. How long has it been since he held you last? Far too long.”
It’d been like six hours, but the memory of her in Mammon’s arms, beneath and all around him, made Mammon swallow. He shifted his hips in an attempt to relieve the growing pressure.
Melody blinked, dark lashes shuttering the white flame of her power for an instant. She lowered herself until she was on her hands and knees, caging him with her smaller body. She frowned, and her horn swiveled to point backwards, then curved downwards, half-hidden in the waves of her dark hair.
“Mel,” Mammon whispered. “That’s good. You’re doing good.”
He licked his lips, and color returned to her eyes. She leaned close to his throat, inhaling. He tilted his head to give her access, heart hammering as she settled against his attentive lap, chest brushing his. He ran a hand up the outside of her bare thigh, and she made a soft sound against his throat. He squeezed, and her responding burst of pheromones made him shiver.
Something crashed in the hallway and Mammon decided right then and there that he was going to soundproof this entire fucking room. Right after he kissed her. And kissed her again. The second his lips touched hers she growled. And bit him.
“Ah!” Mammon reached up to cover his bleeding lip, then changed course to hug her as she tried to shove off, aiming for the door again where Belphie’s aura was smoking through the hole she’d made in it. She slashed at him with sharp talons, carving what felt like canyons into his sides. Grimacing, hating having to do it, he held her tighter. He’d rather she cut him up than do whatever she wanted to do to Belphie.
Melody roared – and that was new and terrifying – power building around her again. Then she was torn away from him, kneeling up and arched backwards. Lucifer held her arms behind her back with one hand. The other gripped her horn, pulling her head back at a sharp angle.
“You know better,” Lucifer growled. “You had the chance to stop and you chose not to take it. You know what happens if you choose not to control yourself, Melody.”
Mammon opened his mouth to tell him to take it easy when Melody began to growl, the low, hollowed out sound of her demonic side rumbling through them. Her horn began to swivel again and Lucifer wrenched it away so it wasn’t pointed at either of them. The black diamond appeared on his forehead like a spreading stain and he leaned down to say, a growl in his own voice, “Punishment.”
The world was red, hazy, too hot and too hostile while she felt soft, raw, exposed to everything, everything, all the time. A nasal voice stabbed through soft light, barking harsh demands at delicate bones, light as air. She wanted the noise and the barbed hooks circling inside of her like sharks, always awake, always impatient, to stop. And everyone, everything making these demands of her should burn for bothering her. She owed them nothing. She would take everything they sought to take from her, teach them what happened when they dared make demands of her. As soon as she remembered what she was supposed to be doing.
Her arms were held behind her in a steel grip. The aura pressing against her, crucial as a blade to the throat, made it difficult to breathe but easier to think. There was nothing else to focus on while such overwhelming strength surrounded her.
“Look,” Lucifer said, close to her ear.
She blinked, trying to turn to see him.
“No, look.” He shook her and she blinked some more, until the red haze dissipated, allowing her to make out her physical surroundings. Mammon’s room. The lights were low. A mess of overturned furniture and spilled shiny things flashed in her peripheral vision. One of the barbs dug in, tugging her toward the treasure. She resisted. That’s not something Lucifer would point out to her, and he had told her to look.
Mammon sat on the edge of his bed in front of her, his face scrunched in an irritated grimace. He was hunched over, elbows on his knees, but it didn’t disguise the ichor staining his shirt, the drying rivulets of it running black over his abdomen. Her chest went tight, anger building through the buzz inside of her.
“You can carve him up some more,” Lucifer said, “since you enjoy making him bleed so much.”
She growled. The base of her horn ached when it tried to pivot, to punish him for daring to accuse her of such a thing. Lucifer’s power easily held it in place.
“Don’t say that to her,” Mammon chided. “You don’t want to hear it, do you Mel?”
“If she doesn’t want to hear it, she can voice her displeasure using language. Any time, Melody.”
“Maybe I don’t want to hear it.” Shaking his head, Mammon stood.
Melody shoved him without consciously deciding to. He landed with a grunt and she followed him down, knees tight against the sides of his waist. He shouldn’t be trying to get away from her. Not while he was injured. Anyone might take advantage. If Lucifer let her go too easily it didn’t register as she, careful with her talons, peeled the sides of Mammon’s shirt away from his body. Scratches. Glancing bites. Deeper gouges. She looked up at his face, half hidden from her as he turned away.
“It’s fine, Mel. Instincts and all that.” He laughed tightly. “Don’t worry about it.”
She pressed a hand to the worst of the cuts and he flinched, body twisting away from her touch.
“Barely even hurts,” he wheezed. She tilted her head, watching the tender red skin knitting slowly together.
“Proud of your handiwork?” Lucifer asked.
Her work? She had done this?
She snatched her hand back and held it against her chest as if it was the thing in pain. The angry edge of her own talons in her soft palm made it seem possible. She retracted them, sucking in a breath at the sting.
“Hey.” Mammon rubbed soothing circles against her thigh. “You’re okay.”
His gentle smile turned wary when she reached for him again. She tried to emit calming pheromones only for him to start choking.
“That’s poison, Melody,” Lucifer said conversationally. “You’re going to incapacitate him.”
She pulled it back. Asmo created and emitted these invisible mists as easy as breathing, but finding the right formula was like mixing pigments to match a specific color in the dark. She tried again, aiming for lighter, more organic. She wanted to make him better, to fix him. Whatever she produced needed to be feel like wellbeing and vibrance. Her horn retreated, unsuited to her new intent. Lucifer hummed approvingly.
“See, she’s fine,” Mammon said through gritted teeth. “You can go now.”
“You called me because you could not handle her. She’s still nonverbal, which means she is not in control. Anything could make her snap right now and you would be right back where you started. Until that changes…”
She wasn’t even sure which of them Lucifer’s lecture was intended for. One of the barbs twisted, wanting to shut him up, to show him he wasn’t the only one with words worth hearing. And there was something she wanted to say. She tried to pull up the words, but getting them into an order that made sense was difficult. And tedious. The grimm and jewelry scattered on the floor called to her, sharpening greed.
Mammon’s hand covered her knee. He squeezed, the metal of his rings cool against her skin. When he shifted, the hard edges of his belt dug into the inside of her thighs. The buckle prodded uncomfortably between her legs. She slid back, away from it, and he lurched upright, the muscles of his stomach contracting. Mmm, nice.
“Heh, watch it there, Mel. Where you’re, uh, landing.”
Something sparked in him, rich, delicious, but it was fleeting. When it came to him she wanted more. Carefully touching his stomach, she trailed her hand upward. Warm skin. Ridges of muscle. She settled more firmly against him. A thread of lust bloomed in the wake of her touch. Her pheromones darkened, deepened, matching to him.
Mammon laughed nervously, deliberately setting his hands on the sheets before leaning back on them. “You, uh, you feeling better then?”
Lucifer tsked. “She thinks she deserves a reward despite being unable to demonstrate she is fully in control. Don’t be manipulated by this immature ploy.”
Melody twisted, considering frying him on the spot. He stood with his arms crossed, his chin raised haughtily so he could look down his nose at her. His dark eyes were unimpressed. Unacceptable.
She released more pheromones. Mammon squirmed beneath her, making a choked sound when she squeezed her legs around his hips to still him. Lucifer’s glare hardened.
“She thinks she can distract us from her transgressions,” he said, “though she is still controlled by her sins.”
She had to bite the inside of her lip to keep from snarling or snapping at him. She was not about to prove him right. Infuriating Pride. Infuriating need to please him.
“Me,” she said hoarsely, focusing, focusing to make the words work the way they were supposed to. “I. Don’t talk about me like I don’t understand.”
His eyebrow rose in mocking amusement. “She speaks.”
“Dick.”
“If this dick removes the power holding you in check, will you go back to destroying your friends and home like a feral beast?”
His inky hair was windblown, falling over one eye. His shoulders strained the fabric of his black dress shirt. He wore only a waistcoat over it, rigid red and black brocade. No gloves, no jacket. He must have returned in a hurry, which meant he’d been worried. He’d left his duties to fly home because he’d been worried about her. Again.
Mammon had been with her and she had hurt him. Again.
“I’m sorry,” she whispered.
Surprise flickered over Lucifer’s face. She turned back to Mammon, who was now clutching the sheets.
“I’m sorry,” she told him.
His eyebrows shot up but then he laughed brightly, shaking his head. “Don’t worry about it. It was nothin’ I couldn’t handle. Obviously.”
“You shouldn’t have to,” she said fervently. It was one thing to be distracted or dragged around by these sins. But she hated when she really wasn’t in control of them, in control of herself. Sometimes she didn’t even remember what she’d done, when she was at her most destructive. They said it would take time, and that they’d all been through it. But… She looked at the new scars on Mammon, wrinkled her nose at the echoing derision in Lucifer’s voice, aimed at her. She hated it, and not because of her newly prickly pride. That wasn’t who she was, wasn’t who she ever wanted to be.
“You don’t have to let me hurt you.”
“You heard her,” Lucifer said, “Stop her next time, by whatever means necessary.”
Mammon’s eyes went wide. “What?”
“She’s a demon now. If she’s going to dish out pain she should know what it feels like to be its recipient.”
“Absolutely not.” Mammon turned and glared at the wall.
“Lucifer is right.”
Mammon’s jaw set petulantly, adorably.
“Explain it to him,” Lucifer said, “in a way even he can understand.”
Irritated sparks lit in Mammon’s eyes.
“You’re always so gentle with me,” she said, stroking his chest.
“’Cause you’re fragile, ya dummy.”
“But I’m not.”
“Are, too.”
“Mammon.”
“Precious then,” he mumbled, red dusting his cheeks.
She touched his chin, then cupped his cheek, trying to make him look at her. She liked seeing the emotions he struggled to speak play out in his expressions, liked the ones he directed only at her. He tilted his head farther away until she had to lean over him to reach.
“You’re precious to me, too, you know. Mammon?”
He huffed, and she kissed his collarbone since it was all she could reach.
“Always so good to me.”
He relented enough that she could pepper kisses along the line of his jaw. The sharp pangs of greed she always felt in him, those blinding sparks that triggered in her a kind of acquisitive mania, subsided under rising anticipation. He wasn’t the only one feeling it.
“Do you have to go back to work?” she asked Lucifer, looking back over her shoulder.
His dark gaze moved from her hand on Mammon’s chest to her bare legs. The hoodie she was wearing, while long, was also loose and riding high on her thighs. His eyes half-lidded. His lips curled into a smirk.
Her pheromones shifted, reaching, winding around them both, coaxing them to respond. Mammon’s hips rolled before he caught himself and she hummed appreciatively. Even she felt a little heady from the intensity, but Lucifer’s control was always absolute, as was his sense of duty. He would probably leave, like he usually did.
“Your control is still tenuous,” he said after a moment, coming to stand directly behind her, between Mammon’s feet. He stilled Mammon’s bouncing leg with a firm press of his hand. “It’s not safe to leave you alone right now.”
“I’m right here!” Mammon snapped.
“I see.” Melody leaned back against Lucifer’s chest, raising one hand to curl loosely around his arm. “You should probably place wards, to protect the others from us. You can manage that, can’t you?”
The glancing smack against her flank wasn’t even a spank.
She’d have to do better.
“Are we… Is this…” Mammon’s pupils were blown wide, darkening his usually light eyes. Her sin liked that look on him. Lust was no longer the pleasant build, half excitement and half ache, she used to feel. The sin swam through her now, expanding her senses until she could feel those near her, the way it rose and released in them. Her ache pushed outward as well, sharing itself with others, seeking their pleasure in return. But not right away. Lust urged until desire turned to desperation, and only them could it truly be satisfied.
“You’re escalating too quickly, Melody.” Lucifer leaned down until he was murmuring beside her ear, an unusual lilt to his deep voice. She breathed in the scent of him, pressed her shoulder against him when his hand smoothed over her hip where he’d swatted her. “Tell him how well he’s performed for you.”
Mammon’s lips parted around his quickening breath as he stared at them both, eyes wide.
“You’ve been so patient,” she said, reveling in his unwavering focus, the tension building in his body. “Gentle with me. I don’t know what I’d do without you, without your strength protecting me, and your hands guiding me.”
He lunged for her, tugging her firmly into his lap, his mouth covering hers so forcefully that she rocked back against Lucifer, who didn’t move except to straighten and begin working a spell. Normally she’d observe, trying to learn the magic, but that was nowhere near as interesting as the taste of Mammon, the desperate ache she could feel as surely as if she held it in her hand. And Lucifer’s body behind her, hard, thrumming with power and a simmering lust. He was doing nothing to satisfy or dispel it, instead creating wards so thorough that even her heightened senses couldn’t pick up anything from outside the room.
She slid her hands around Mammon’s neck, into the tangled silk of his hair, holding her body slightly away from him so he had to push off his heels to make contact. His frustrated desire was delicious, more so when she shoved his shirt down his shoulders then left it tight around his biceps so he had to fight the fabric to keep his arms around her.
“Not fair,” he complained against her lips. “You don’t fight fair anymore.”
“Who’s fighting?” she murmured, hands roaming.
“Reward him,” Lucifer said, the smoke of his voice sending a thrill through her. “For all the care he’s given you.”
They had both been taking good care of her, giving her what she needed even, especially, when she hadn’t been sure what that had been. It would be nice – the polite thing, really – to reward both of them. Equally. Fairly.
Mammon pressed wet, sucking kisses to her neck. His hand found its way beneath the oversized hoodie, seeking skin.
“Take that off,” Lucifer ordered.
Mammon laughed, his breath hot against her throat.
“Don’t like her smelling of Levi?” he asked as his hands wandered up her sides. The cooler air of the room crept in as he pulled the garment up, but his calloused fingers trailed heat over her skin. Slowing in his task of undressing her, he ran the backs of his knuckles against the undersides of her breasts, then across her peaked nipples. Back and forth, the repetitive, too-soft touch sensitized her entire body. Her breasts and lips felt heavy and full, wanting. Her skin felt electric, like the right touch would throw sparks and, oh, she wanted that.
“Raise your arms, babe,” Mammon whispered.
She dragged her nails up his back, unraveling her arms upward. She couldn’t be blamed for posing a little as she did so, rising up despite the loss of friction, arching a little, angling her fingers in what she hoped was an elegant way. She wanted both their attention. The oversized sleeves slid down nearly to her elbows. Mammon shrugged out of his own shirt, and her mouth watered at the sight of all that dusky skin. She needed it pressed hot against hers, needed to feel every roll of muscle, every shiver, needed to hear every gasp, swallow every moan.
“You keep looking at me like that, this ain’t gonna last long,” he said.
She opened her mouth to take it worse then jerked when a cool hand caught her wrists.
“I told you to do something,” Lucifer said, voice hard.
“I was getting’ to that. Lil distracted here.” Mammon sounded more breathless than annoyed.
“Not you.” The hand that wasn’t holding her wrists caught the front of her sleeves, then sliced the garment in neat lines. The fabric fell away and she shivered, as much from Mammon’s suddenly heated expression as the cooler air.
“Refusing to do as I say, love?” Lucifer asked, his lips brushing her ear. She turned swiftly, caught him in a kiss that he broke too soon, pulling away from her with narrowed eyes.
“Impatient much?” She grinned, grinding back against him.
She expected a controlled display of his endless restraint, or a reprimand. Mammon was there, after all, and despite this being sexy circumstances Lucifer did not lower his guard in front of others. She was braced for it, so she froze when he caught her hip and pulled her hard against him, when he turned her head at a demanding angle and kissed her.
She made a surprised sound and, either in response or because he had no restraint, Mammon’s tongue laved over her nipple before he bit down. She jolted, caught between them with nowhere to go. Chuckling darkly, Lucifer squeezed her hip before he slid his hand forward, covering her sex with his broad palm, sliding his fingers easily through her wetness.
She shuddered, rolling her hips to get his hand where she wanted it, to feel the abrasion of his fine clothes against her sensitive skin. His consuming kiss, Mammon’s clever tongue. Lust stretched inside her, luxuriating in the tension and need coiling around her.
A sound scratched her attention, vexing. She felt the itch at her hairline, the tingle that preceded her horn growing.
“Can’t fuckin’ turn your phone off for a second?” Mammon grumbled, coaxing her away from Lucifer’s mouth so he could kiss her, ever greedy.
A targeted burst of power from Lucifer sent the phone crashing into the wall, where it exploded into tiny shards. Surprised, they both turned to stare at him.
“They can wait,” he rumbled. “I’m serving the interests of the realm.”
Mammon laughed tightly, palming the pronounced bulge in his pants before Melody pushed his hand away to unbuckle his belt.
“The interests of the realm?”
“Of course.” Dark flames lit in his eyes. Such a devil, her prideful demon. “I’m testing the control of our sin when she’s deep in the throes of lust.”
“I get a prize if I pass?” she asked, dragging Mammon’s zipper down.
Another burst of power, less explosive, knocked Mammon flat on his back. Lucifer’s hand trailed up Melody’s spine, stopping between her shoulder blades. His fingers brushed her parallel scars and she shivered, irritation crowding her desire. They were the ones who were supposed to be desperate, submitting to her.
“Show me how well you can control your lust, Melody,” Lucifer murmured, pressing her down. “And I will give you any damn thing you want.”
She lay draped over Lucifer, his hand in her hair, massaging her scalp. Mammon was flung across the bed beside them, arm over his eyes, chest heaving, his hair sticking up from being pulled, sweat-darkened around the temples.
“I’m parched,” Mammon groaned. “Don’t even know if I can stand.”
“Grab some demonus,” Lucifer said languidly, which started a lazy, playful argument over which were the better vintages and a slightly more intense negotiation into which Mammon might be willing to share.
Melody smiled, breathing in Lucifer, reaching out to run her fingertips down Mammon’s arm. His hand twitched, grasped hers when it got close. Their power ran through her, strong, bright, delicious. It made her feel bold, desirable. Anything she wanted from them she could have. They were her demons. Hers.
“Fine, one bottle of the Stonefire and one bottle of the Asher Estate,” Mammon said, exasperated. He squeezed Melody’s hand then, with a groan, pushed himself up.
She watched him walking away, limbs loose, the muscles of his backside enticing. She wanted him back already, with her. Her demon.
Mammon stopped. He looked around the room for a moment then started back toward the bed.
Lucifer’s hand stilled in her hair. “Get the demonus,” he said.
“Oh yeah.” Mammon turned around, heading toward his stash again.
Melody shifted, restless where before she had felt lazy and sated, cool where she enjoyed being warm. She didn’t like him walking away from her.
Mammon hesitated, his hands hovering over his bar. He glanced over his shoulder, blue eyes questioning. She raised an eyebrow. He turned toward her.
“Mammon,” Lucifer said firmly, “the demonus.”
“It can wait.” His steps were slow, his gaze fixed on her. She smiled. Her demon, returning to her, to the place he belonged.
“Mammon, stop.” Lucifer’s sharp command made her wince. Mammon’s steps stuttered. His brow furrowed but he kept coming.
“Melody,” Lucifer said, brushing her hair away from her face, “tell him to stop.”
“Why?” she murmured.
She wanted him again, wanted the crackle of his power flowing into her when their bodies met. She wanted more of Lucifer, too. The power he shared had been steady, heady, but it was like a single mouthful of water scooped from an ocean. So selfish of him to keep it all to himself. He could share with her. He should want to after all she’d given him. She slithered over him, slipping her legs between his thighs, kissing a path down the heated skin of his chest and abdomen, lower. The marks she had made on him early had faded. She’d fix that in a minute.
“Why don’t we take a break,” he suggested before she reached her goal. A ridiculous notion.
She licked his half-hard cock, delighting in the responding twitch, raked her nails down the underside of the shaft before gripping him firmly.
“Melody.” His warning tone cracked when she wrapped her lips around him, sucking.
His head fell back, the tendons of his neck straining as he hardened almost instantly. He was so beautiful, pale skin over heavy muscle, dark lashes fluttering closed. She moaned as power began to flow into her, heating the place that had cooled without it, soothing the ache.
“Aw, c’mon Mel, don’t start without me,” Mammon whined. His hands slid up the backs of her legs, over the curve of her ass. His mouth followed, kissing and nipping until she writhed, pulling her knees beneath her to raise herself up. Big hands pushed her legs farther apart.
Mammon’s tongue touched her, the flow from him immediate and generous. She rocked between them, digging her nails into Lucifer’s inner thighs, making him buck into her mouth, pulling off to gasp when Mammon rolled the flat of his tongue against her. The sounds they made, the intoxicating taste and scent of her demons, fed her. And their power moved through her in waves, exhilarating and so rich she felt like she was floating, drifting, becoming more than her body.
She knew what the current felt like, catching floundering objects and steering them until they didn’t know up from down, sky from deepest sea, until it was too late for them to stop their own drowning. She knew what stars felt like, dragging planets into her orbit and burning them up in her heat.
“Do you feel good, Melody?” Lucifer asked. He watched her from slitted eyes, his hand in her hair a guiding pressure.
She slid her mouth off of him, replacing it with her hands which tightened when Mammon straightened, rubbing his hard cock through the wetness he’d drawn from her.
“So good,” she purred. Beautiful, her beautiful demons. All for her. But, still she wanted more. The warded room, which had felt intimate, now felt small. A limitation rather than a sanctuary.
She wanted to venture farther, share her desire with more suitors and bask in their adoration. Lucifer and Mammon were powerful and perfect, but there were so many other demons, so many flavors to sample. There were even humans. They would be weaker but easier to entice. So many, all for her taking.
“Lucifer, why don’t you lift your wards on the room?” she asked, the suggestion steeped with power.
His eyes opened, dark, intent. Behind her, Mammon stilled.
“That’s not a good idea, baby.” He ran a soothing hand down her back, hummed softly. “You’re too sweet right now. We’d be overrun.”
She smiled at Lucifer, letting him see how much he pleased her as she increased the force behind her words. “Lucifer, dissolve the wards.”
He sat up abruptly, pulled her along with him despite Mammon’s whined protest and Melody’s surprised squeak. The flow of power ceased and, inside her, lust roared. How dare he deny her?
“Release me,” she snarled.
His expression was tight. “To whom am I speaking?”
Such an idiot. She would teach him to mock her! She opened her mouth and the words forming on her tongue were not her name. Disoriented, she shook her head.
“You know who. Fine.” She sweetened her tone, raised a single shoulder in a playful shrug. “Let’s just go back to what we were doing.” Distracted enough, she could sway him. She just needed a little more power first. Leaving her hands on his shoulders, she lowered her head, raising her hips. But he didn’t rise toward her mouth. And Mammon didn’t return to her. She looked back at him, anger flaring when she saw him backing away.
“What are you doing?” she demanded. Lucifer had cut her off and now Mammon was withdrawing.
“Melody,” Lucifer said, his tone firm and almost weary. Devoid of desire, devoid of adoration and obedience. Cold, cold inside. Unacceptable. “Listen to yourself. Separate the things you are feeling.”
Ignoring him, she tilted her head beguilingly, wiggled her hips. “I can make you feel good,” she promised. “Just come back to me. Touch me.”
Mammon ran a shaking hand over his mouth, turned away. Turned away from her.
“Touch me, Mammon,” she put force into her words. “I want you.”
“F-fuck, Mel. J-just…listen to Lucifer. This isn’t you.”
“You think someone else can make you feel like I do?” she demanded, a string of insults rising in her mind.
Nobody else will want you.
You don’t deserve to be touched.
You’re useless, but not to me.
But that…wasn’t true. And it was so mean. Why would she even think that when he was nothing but good? Mammon’s face was wide open with dismay. So wrong, so wrong. She wouldn’t hurt him. She would simply demonstrate to him how well she would reward him, if he would only do as she said.
She reached for him. His hand flexed at his side before he tentatively, inexorably, reached back.
“Look, Mel, this isn’t… We’ll take a little break. I’ll put on a movie or somethin’ and…”
She grabbed his wrist, holding his gaze as he swallowed with a click.
“That’s too much,” he breathed, shuddering, eyes going hazy.
“It’s what I can do for you. I can make you feel so good.” She flooded him with the sensations he – they – had given her. Rising pleasure ungovernable as a storm. Incipient release dragged along a needy edge so sharp it burned. Once he tasted what she could give him, he’d never walk away. Never leave her.
He jerked his arm away, grimaced when he dragged her with him, and resorted to prying her hand off him. His skin was burning hot, his fingers clumsy as he all but vibrated within her grasp.
“Fuck, Mel.” He tore loose, dropping gracelessly onto the bed and coming, untouched, with a choked cry.
Another few lessons and he wouldn’t dare defy her. Grinning, she crawled toward him.
“Nnnng.” Mammon pushed her hands away. “Stop, stop. Give me a minute. That wasn’t-”
She launched herself at him and he backpedaled violently to get away.
A hand closed around her throat, hard enough to stop her. Of course Lucifer had to show off with all that selfish power he wouldn’t share, all that strength. Fine. It was skin on skin contact, which helped her to access them. She didn’t mind showing him what he was missing out on as well.
“Your touch is already powerful,” he said, pulling her flush against his bare chest and torso, his still prominent erection. “You mastered it quickly.”
“Thank you,” she breathed, feeding him pleasure. He was more mercurial, Pride, withholding his power from her. She’d have to work to break him down.
“You are beautiful, powerful, desirable,” he said, stroking her throat, pressing his lips to her shoulder. “You could have anyone you choose. Offering. Begging, even.”
The idea made her giddy, dizzy. She arched against his body, preened beneath his mouth.
“But you went after him.” His voice was soft as he turned her so she faced Mammon. “He’d give you anything you asked. But you didn’t ask, did you?”
She made a soft sound to get Mammon’s attention, would have reached for him again if Lucifer hadn’t wrapped an arm around her ribs, holding her arms against her.
“Give me a minute,” Mammon said tightly, walking away.
Something sank inside of her, deeper and more dreadful that the cold emptiness that spread as he moved away. The bathroom door clicking closed was loud in the silence of the room.
Melody squirmed, trying to get away. To go to him. To bring him back.
“Do you want him now,” Lucifer asked, “protesting? Or do you want him later, willingly?”
Now. Now. NOW. All of him!
No, that wasn’t right. She didn’t want anything from Mammon if it hurt him.
“Melody, which do you choose? You, not the sin. What do you choose?”
Lust laughed at the challenge, encouraged her to writhe against Lucifer, to draw him closer before she lost him. She should never let them leave the room, or turn their backs, or close their eyes. If they did, they could escape her.
Her body thrummed, filled with the energy she’d siphoned from Lucifer and Mammon. But still, lust’s thirst burned, unquenchable.
Unfamiliar.
This wasn’t her. What she was doing, what she had done…this wasn’t her. She loved touch and connection, this intimacy she had begun to experience with them. But Melody Vale wasn’t a shameless sex goddess. She didn’t seduce multiple demons, hadn’t even dreamed of it (okay, once. Maybe twice). But the idea of Mammon not being able to stand looking at her made her feel ill.
“Do you understand,” Lucifer murmured, tracing his lips along her shoulder, stroking her forearm where she’d wrapped it around her middle, “the difference between what you want and what the sin demands?”
Licking her lips, she settled down, knees slightly parted to eliminate the distraction of friction, hands lowering to wrap lightly around her ankles to keep from touching Lucifer or herself. She tried to unwind what she’d done, cutting off the pheromones she’d been emitting nonstop. A fine tremor went through her, all of that wanton catalyst now trapped within her skin.
“Learn what the sin does, what it wants you to do to feed it. It is a potent defense and an insidious weapon, but you will need to master it to make use of it. And protect yourself from it.” He let go, drawing away from her, and the burn inside of her flared from unpleasant cold into jagged ice, making her gasp.
Had she been doing the sin’s bidding all this time, become its pawn so it could steal power from others? She was the demon, but the sins wanted power and control. Staring at the closed bathroom door, her lips parted around a realization. Was that the only reason they’d both wanted her, why she’d ended up in a hot musical montage between the two of them? Because lust have overcome them? She twisted her hands tighter around her ankles, digging in to keep herself from chasing after Lucifer, from touching and taking.
“Do not attempt to ignore it, Melody. It will not go away.” Lucifer sent a curse through the room, burning away the pheromones and, with them, the euphoric haze she’d been floating within. Reality settled around her. It was sore, thirsty, sticky and unsettled.
“Can you hand me my clothes?” she asked without looking at him.
“We don’t have to stop, so long as you are in control of your mind.”
She shook her head emphatically. It didn’t matter than her skin was hot and itching for contact, everything else throbbing. It didn’t matter that lust, that shady asshat of a sin, was thrumming inside of her after having run free for so long. She wasn’t going to make them be with her. That idea was so gross.
Lucifer circled into her field of vision, holding up the shredded remains of an oversized blue hoodie.
“It’s not exactly serviceable,” he said, not exactly apologetically.
Oh right. That’s what she’d been wearing, all that she’d been wearing. Tears welled in her eyes, a combination of frustration and wanting to sink through the bed and the rest of the house so she could lay face down in the dungeon for awhile. Or maybe she’d be better off in the dirt below that. Then she wouldn’t have to face anyone.
“All right!” The bathroom door swung open and Mammon strode out, a towel around his waist, his hair messy from having been hastily dried off. “Let’s try this again. I’m gonna… Whoa, what’s the matter? What the hells did you do, Lucifer?”
“Not a thing.”
“Oh really?”
“I explained how lust is a useful weapon.”
“Huh?”
“As well as a potent defense.”
“World’s worst pillow talk, man. I can’t take you anywhere.”
“It is information she needs.”
“Not right now.”
Mammon dropped onto the side of the bed, leaning down to see Melody’s face. Or at least she thought that’s what he was doing as she turned away.
“Hey, what’s going on?” he asked softly. He touched her cheek, his hand cold, and she jerked away so that she didn’t lean into the touch and start leeching off him again. “Is it hurting you? Do you want your mist back?”
“How can you ask that,” she rasped. “After it… After I…”
“’Cause it hurts when you’re not feedin’ lust while it’s ascendant, right? You don’t have to starve. Or are ya cold?” He leaned over the side of the bed, snagged Lucifer’s black shirt and wrapped it around her. She held the shirt closed in the front, careful not to make contact with his skin. But she couldn’t stop herself from glancing up.
One side of his mouth pulled down in a frown. “Aw, don’t look at me like that. Breaks my heart to see you looking at me like that.”
“Why are you being nice to me right now?” she whispered.
His eyes went wide, bright in the dim light. He scrubbed a hand down his face then, sighing, stood and walked away. He and Lucifer spoke in low tones at the edge of the room. The distance hurt. The painful cold scraped at her insides. Her hands shook too much for her to button the shirt. They separated and she did her best not to track their movements, to pose and preen to get their attention. The walk back to her room was going to be… Well, they called it the walk of shame for a reason, didn’t they? Shifting, she swung her legs around, gritting her teeth against the coarse feel of the sheets against her skin, the rough wood beneath her feet.
“Hold still,” Lucifer said, approaching. She shrugged away from him when he reached for her. He tsked, grasping her chin firmly. “Close your eyes.”
That was easy enough to do. With her eyes closed she could pretend nothing was happening, like if you closed your eyes the monster under the bed couldn’t see you.
A cool cloth pressed against her forehead, and Melody flinched.
“Relax,” Lucifer said, but there was no force in his voice, no demand. He brushed it over her forehead again, then over the rest of her face before gathering her hair in his hand and swiping the cloth along the back of her overheated neck. She relaxed a bit, bowing her head to give him access.
“Demons aligned with sins adapt to best make use of the sin’s abilities.” He ran the soft cloth around to her throat, along her collarbones. “So, with every successful use, it also shapes you, affects you. You deal with gluttony, pride and sloth well enough because they are inimical to your nature. Wrath appeals to the celestial devastation but not to you, so you can be distracted away from it. You dislike the way envy makes you feel and break with it rather than sinking into it. Greed entertains you but is not essential. But lust, it wants what you want…to an extent. So you feed it and it feeds you. And when your values deviate from its desire, it seeks to direct you. It uses rewards and, if that’s not enough, punishment.”
“It’s so cold it burns,” she said, “when I’m not touching you.”
“We feel the inverse, heat inside of us which only you can cool. In addition to the physical desire. The sensation must be subsuming to you. To us, however-” He gestured toward Mammon, then himself. “-it is distinct and pleasurable, but not overwhelming or painful. It’s familiar, a sensual intoxication.”
She opened her eyes, concerned.
“He means tipsy not drunk, that’s it,” Mammon called over. “And it’s familiar because of Asmo. Not because we’re running around with lust demons all the time. Don’t get the wrong idea.”
Lucifer traded the cool cloth for a warmer one, but it was still refreshing as he stroked it over her chest, around her breasts. His eyes met hers, dark, deep. He didn’t look hypnotized, or overwrought by lust. It occurred to her that he also didn’t look terribly concerned.
“You weren’t kidding, were you,” she asked, feeling a little hurt and a lot embarrassed, “when you said you were testing your sin? In the throes of lust.”
He hummed in acknowledgement. “It might not feel right yet, but this is natural. We understood how to handle power when these forces came to us, but we also had trouble at times. Some still do.”
“There’s no way you’re airing dirty laundry right now, right?” Mammon asked testily. “’Cause I got some of yours, you know.”
Lucifer shot him a warning glare before turning back to her. “You can work with it or learn to suppress it. But you need to know how it feels, know where your limits are and when you are approaching them. You must establish the boundaries you require, early.”
He reached the apex of her thighs, nudged her legs apart. She allowed him to, her breaths coming more quickly, the cold inside of her melting in increments with each stroke, each stray brush of his hands.
“And this was meant to be…” Her eyelids fluttered when he ran the cloth over sensitive skin. “…a safe space.”
“The safest.” He inclined his head, brushed his lips against her temple. “Melody, we won’t let you hurt yourself.”
“But what about you? What about…your boundaries?”
“We had front row seats to a brand new Avatar of Lust for, like, five years. And it was like one of those shitty dinner shows where the audience has to participate, whether it wants to or not,” Mammon said. “Asmo’s never been known for his restraint. There’s nothing you’d have done that woulda come close to that.”
He dropped beside her. His weight on the mattress made her bounce, which pushed her core against Lucifer’s hand, hard. She gasped, grasping the sheets in both fists to keep from grabbing his arm. He took his time sliding away from her, then aimed a long-suffering sigh at the single glass of demonus in Mammon’s hand and went to the bar. She felt him walking away from her, but the pain wasn’t as intense. Lust’s demands in her mind weren’t as insidious, feeling like strange, dark versions of her own thoughts. Her body, though, it still craved.
Mammon handed her a bottle of water. He fiddled with the tail of her shirt, tugged at locks of her hair while she drank it.
“I’m sorry it was too much before,” she said, eyes on his collarbone while he exchanged her bottle for the demonus.
He shrugged, ducking his head. “It was fine.”
“It didn’t seem fine.” The cut crystal of the glass gouged her hands, she gripped it so hard. She took a sip, bracing herself for the flat, too-sweet taste. Surprisingly, it was pleasant, complex spices and warmth.
Mammon huffed. “I was already fired up. And you were right there, lookin’ so pretty for me. I can last longer. I mean, obviously you know that but still.”
His words caught up with her. “What?”
Their eyes met. His face flushed instantly, and she felt her own heat in response. She waved her hands and he extracted the glass from her before she spilled.
“Wait, wait, wait,” she whispered urgently. “You were upset because you didn’t last long when I forced a lifetime’s worth of pleasure into you?”
“’Lifetime’ is pushing it, but…look, it’s not my station or anything but I am a man.” His volume barely qualified as a whisper. “I got my pride!”
“Then why’d you leave me?”
“I didn’t!” He set the glass aside, then swiveled to take her hands. “I didn’t leave you. We agreed to separate if the sin started getting pushy, to give you time to figure it out. Seemed like a good time for a cold shower, you know.”
“Why cold?” Usually an entire cloud of steam accompanied Mammon when he got out of the shower.
“To cool off.” He rolled his eyes, going redder. “So, you know, like I said, I could last longer.”
“You wanted to keep going? With me?”
He laughed, nipped at her fingertips. “What’s going on in that head of yours? ‘Course I do, Melody. We do, I guess, since he’s still hanging around.”
“Mammon,” Lucifer warned as he returned.
They still wanted to touch her. Even without the pheromones and the influence.
She looked up at Lucifer, his dark eyes, that promising smirk, as he walked past. Mammon was so close she could feel the heat of his body despite the cold shower, smell him. She already knew what they felt like, what they felt like together, and she was still saturated with desire-inspiring chemicals. A fine tremor went through her.
“Fuck, Mel,” Mammon breathed. “We’re not gonna leave you hangin’ or anything. You don’t have to worry about that. If you’re still up for it.”
A sound escaped with her next exhale, a high whine.
“You sound as though you’re still up for it,” Lucifer drawled, settling back against the headboard. “And I doubt that pretty flush is just for show.”
“It’s not nice to tease,” she whispered.
“We’ve been over this before. It’s not teasing if I mean to deliver.” His eyebrows rose with the command, “Come here.”
His eyes darkened as she crawled across the bed toward him. He pulled her the last few feet. His mouth pressed hungrily against hers, his hard thigh rose between her legs, and the touch and friction was such a relief she would have cried if she hadn’t been busy reminding herself to breathe and forcing down lust’s desire to consume him one drop of power at a time. Lucifer’s firm touch grounded her. His taste, punctuated by stinging bites and sounds that made his chest rumble but were barely audible twisted the craving inside of her. Tighter, higher.
When his mouth moved to her neck, she turned glazed eyes toward Mammon, wanting him with them but still hesitant. After she demanded, asking felt too forceful.
“Like ya ever gotta ask.” He stretched out beside them, resting his head on his hand. He ran his other hand up her thigh, watching its progress raptly. It dipped, his thumb brushing over her core before he slid upwards to cup her breast. Shivering under Lucifer’s tongue laving the juncture of her neck and shoulder, she arched toward Mammon. He raised his head, making a soft wanting sound that had her swallowing and clenching around Lucifer’s thigh.
“Tell us what you want,” Lucifer said as she twisted her upper body. Mammon squeezed her breast, holding her steady for him as he flicked his tongue against her nipple.
This, just this, she wanted to tell him. Tell them. The way they held her, touched her, played with her, was so good, filling her sin with heat and drawing everything else inside her so deliciously, achingly tight. It was enough, more than enough.
“Make me come,” she heard herself say, breathlessly. Oh, well. That would be good, too.
“Fuuuuuuck,” Mammon groaned against her, his brow furrowing as he pulled her closer, palming her other breast.
Lucifer’s thigh pressed insistently against her and she slid against him, so wet already, again. His hand glided down her back, squeezing her ass before continuing on. Two big fingers pushed into her, making her jerk and bend further, opening herself up to him. He pumped into her while Mammon sucked and squeezed, pinching her nipples then biting down hard enough that she cried out. Which only made her wetter, and only made Lucifer drive into her harder. His fingers twisted, curled to press against the sensitive place inside her. She grabbed at them, nails digging into Mammon’s side and Lucifer’s biceps as she came, grinding down until Lucifer caught her hip to stop her.
“Easy, Melody.”
“More.”. She’d reined herself in so mercilessly that the orgasm only heightened her hunger. Lucifer laughed softly, irritatingly, against her hair. Lust rolled inside of her, making demands, offering revenge. And it was tempting. She needed more, needed relief from the wanton hunger. And if they didn’t give it to her, lust offered her a means to take it.
“Come here, babe,” Mammon murmured, his hand on her waist firmly guiding her toward where he stroked himself with the other. She licked her lips and his eyes sparked. She sank onto him as soon as she was positioned, wringing a groan from him and a broken cry from herself. Despite her being flush against him, he still thrust up. She tilted forward, oversensitive nipples brushing his chest, hips swirling until she found the angle that gave her the most, best pressure. His hands caught her face, fingers tangling in her hair as he pulled her down for a deep, wet kiss. She rode him hard, moaning every time her clit slid against the base of his cock.
Lucifer murmured something beside them and greed sparked in Mammon. He thrust up, going so deep she curled over him, mind blanking at the almost pain. Then his heels were digging into the bed for leverage, his hands spreading across her jaw and neck to hold her in place for him, the friction so absolutely delicious as he drove into her.
“So pretty, baby,” he groaned against her. “Taking me so perfectly.”
She slid one hand up to cover his, and he twined their fingers together. The other she slid into his hair, gripping tight enough to pull his head back. He shuddered, swelling inside her, driving fast and deep until the instants of pleasure became a taut, endless moment. She screamed when she came, panting and shaking and a series of thrusts ended with him coming with a cry that softened into a delighted laugh.
He kissed her lips, her nose, her cheek, blinking lazily up at her.
“Ah, so good, babe. So good.”
“You’re not going to fall asleep are you?” she asked, smiling down at him.
“Nope.” His eyes closed, hands falling lax onto his chest.
He was so beautiful, his face relaxed, a sheen of sweat gleaming over his tawny skin as his chest rose and fell with deepening breaths. So beautiful, so attentive. He was everything anyone could ever want. But he liked shiny new things. He’d move on, of course. The prize for marrying her was over with, lost. And she wouldn’t be the shiny new thing for much longer. She wasn’t even that shiny any more, more like a lot of work. A lot of work for both of them.
She forced herself to look at Lucifer, afraid he’d appear angry or – worse – indifferent. She felt different than before, when they’d all been high or tipsy or whatever on sex mist. It hadn’t crossed her mind to be embarrassed or uncomfortable. She’d known what she wanted, known they wanted her, and had gone for it. Now she was present, accountable for what she was doing, just herself. Their eyes met, his tinged red with deep flames and deeper hunger.
“Come here, Melody.”
She swallowed, her entire body tightening, tingling with anticipation despite two orgasms in such a short span. She climbed off of Mammon, who tensed for a moment and grumbled a wordless complaint. Lucifer sat as regally as was possible on a rumpled bed, his hair smoothed in place, his body exquisite, his face…painfully gorgeous as always. She self-consciously pulled the sides of the shirt together as she moved toward him on her knees, blinking rapidly, having trouble meeting his gaze.
“What’s the matter,” he asked, tilting his head, mouth curving up wickedly. “You cannot be satisfied yet.”
She stared at his shoulder, trying to think of something to say.
“Melody?”
“Sorry, it’s just. You’re intimidating,” she said in a small voice.
His eyebrows shot up. “I…” He closed his mouth so that he didn’t sputter, then grabbed her by the shoulders, pulling her close, something like anger in his voice. “You’ve been talking back and standing up to me your entire life. Not once have you been daunted when facing me. What’s changed? Is this the sin, a new tactic?”
“It’s not the sin.” She stared at the wall, the ripple of muscle over his broad shoulder too much. “I’m…not used to being naked with you?”
“We’ve been naked together for hours. And this is not the first time.”
“Yeah, but that was like fantasy time and this is real and it just…I’m not…”
“We can stop,” he murmured, grip loosening like he’d only then realized how tightly he held her. “If this is too much, we can just cuddle.”
She felt Mammon’s abruptly attentive shock from beside her. He repeated the word “cuddle” weakly.
“I’m not fragile,” she said, finally forcing herself to look Lucifer. The fire had banked a little but she could still see the flames deep in his eyes. “And I’m still so unbelievably fucking horny that I will either die or kill something if I don’t have another orgasm. But I feel like maybe I’m not the s-sort of girl you want to have around you. Like maybe playing with lust is fun, but that’s all it is? Just a little fun before…”
Her voice trailed off as she looked away. He didn’t say anything for a long time, and she was pretty sure the tension in his hands was him working to not shake her. Or throw her as far from him as he could. Not that she believed that of him. He’d be nice about it if he left, polite. Did she really think he was going to leave?
Everyone left.
Everyone always left.
She hadn’t had to think out it much while she was hidden, sleeping most of her life away, but it was the one truth that had survived everything else.
“Today has been trying,” he said evenly, and her heart sank. Polite. She’d called it. “Physically and emotionally. The sin has made you feel strong, then pushed you around, toyed with you, and left you feeling needy and vulnerable.”
He unclenched his hands from her shoulders and slid them down to wrap around her own.
“I will take you strong. I will take you playful. I will take you needy and vulnerable. I will not leave you, Melody. Not now, not ever.”
Startled, she stared at him. Pink tinged his cheeks as he watched her from beneath dark lashes. She had never, ever seen that look on his face. If she had to put a name to it, she would say he also looked vulnerable.
“I will not leave you,” he repeated. “And, if you would like, if you would let me, I will fuck you until you are absolutely certain of me. And absolutely satiated as well, since Mammon can’t even manage that.”
“Oh you son of a-” Mammon grunted when Lucifer kicked him.
“I-I want that,” Melody stammered.
“The certainty or the satisfaction?”
“Yes. All of it. The f-fucking and the forever.”
His smile was soft, as fond as it was amused.
“Let’s start by removing this offensive garment,” he said, plucking at it.
“This is your shirt.”
“Ah, so it is.” He tilted his head, his eyes heating. “Then perhaps I can make use of it after all. Raise your arms.”
Curious, stunned, still ridiculously horny, she did. He slid it up her arms, maintaining eye contact as he manipulated it. That was not how you removed a shirt from someone.
“Did you tie my hands together?” she asked, pulse kicking up as she pulled her arms down to find her wrists bound firmly and neatly in black silk.
He merely hummed in response. His hands gripped her waist and he turned her to face away from him. He shifted behind her and she bit her lip as need mixed with anticipation. She tried to press against him.
“No,” he said, moving her forward. She stopped when both knees bumped up against Mammon, perplexed. If he wanted to take her somewhere, why did he tie her up?
“Help her,” Lucifer instructed. “Help her get comfortable.”
“Ah. Gotcha.” Mammon grinned, his flush returning as he held one hand up for her to lean her joined hands on and used the other to carefully guide her leg over him.
“Wrap your hands around my neck,” Lucifer instructed, conversationally. Looking back, focusing on balancing, she did. And found herself spread wide, straddling Mammon and arched back, exposed.
“Good girl.” Lucifer kissed her neck, where her pulse was beginning to race.
“What are-”
She jolted when his hand covered her sex, moaned when he pressed his palm against her clit.
Mammon made an irritated sound and pushed Lucifer’s hand away. “This is mine. Find something else to do.”
Her eyes went wide as Mammon wriggled down the bed. He grinned at her before running the flat of his tongue from her entrance to her clit. Melody sagged, held up by her straining arms and Lucifer’s hand splaying across her stomach. The other he was using to position his cock against her entrance.
“Oh, fuck,” she breathed, shaking.
“We don’t want you to die or to have to kill something,” Lucifer said.
Mammon’s hands came up to hold her, supporting her and holding her against him while she twitched and writhed on his tongue. Lucifer rose into her, stretching her, filling her, and together they drove every worry, every concern, every last thought out of her mind.
Melody had presents. Big presents and little presents. Yummy presents and pretty presents. She wanted more presents. She deserved them, deserved gifts and accolades and reverence…
No, that wasn’t right.
Presents were for giving. She had gotten these for others, to celebrate.
“Celebrate what?” Beel asked, picking at the wrapper of the petit fours she had ordered from the local bakery.
“My one month anniversary with the House of Lamentation. I’ve been so-”
The package was empty. Beel had a smudge of frosting at the corner of his mouth. He licked it, then stuck a cake-covered finger into his mouth.
Melody’s smile faded as she watched the wrapper flutter to the floor.
“Your one month anniversary?”
“Uh, yeah. I’ve been here for one month. I’ve been really h-”
“I need something to wash that down. Want some coffee?” Beel started for the kitchen, then stopped, turning to eye the other packages in her arms. “Are there more tiny cakes?”
She clutched them closer. “These are for the others. You’re the only one who got food.”
“Yeah?” He beamed at her, eyes crinkling up, before he started for the kitchen again. “I’m glad.”
“Me too,” she said to his back. Okay so…she should have expected that. Her own adventures with gluttony had also been fast, and considerably messier.
Blowing a strand of hair back, she searched the house. Belphie she found in front of the fireplace in the library. After shaking him, poking him, and yelling, she tucked the gift beside him and covered it with his blanket.
“Darling, there you are!” Asmo flounced down the hallway toward her, pouting. “I heard you had given gifts to everyone but me, yours truly, your absolute favorite. How could you?”
She watched him from beneath her lashes, parting her glossy lips as she smiled.
“Ohhhh,” he breathed. “Very good. I like that pose a lot.” His tongue flicked out on the last word and Melody’s blood heated.
“I like what you’re doing too,” she said, trying to emulate his move. “A lot.”
He stopped a bare inch from her, the heat from his body radiating from his thin, draped blouse, the scent of him sensual as a caress.
“Are those all for me?” he asked, running a fingertip along the edge of the boxes she held in both hands, stacked up to her chest. His eyelashes were very long, his eyes full of champagne sparkles and warmth.
It took her a moment to understand the question, to remember what she was doing. She cleared her throat daintily, forcing herself to look away when his gaze moved to her throat.
“One of them is. To celebrate our one month-”
“Our one month anniversary!” He squealed, clapping and sliding the middle box – pink and cream – out of her grip. He raised it to his nose. “A new fragrance, just for me? Aren’t you just so lucky to have met me? I cannot wait to take you out and show you off. You’ll be so cute next to me. We will slay, utterly. But not literally, because that’s a no-no, remember? You’re doing so good, by the way. Over a minute of hallway flirting and no attempt to jump my bones. That’s progress! Oh, that reminds me. I was looking for you because Lucifer texted. You’re due at the castle.”
Lucifer. A different kind of heat rose in her. “At the castle?” She checked the calendar on her phone. She’d had to start tracking things. It was so easy to get distracted lately. Shiny things. Sweet things. Soft things. Glimpses of gleaming, hammered metal or finely cut crystal, or the appealing lines of a neck or wrist or thigh. Her calendar showed no appointments.
“Yes. He said, and I quote, because he said to quote him verbatim, ‘there was an opening. The appointment we’ve been awaiting has arrived. Prepare yourself accordingly.’ How cryptic is that? What’re you doing? Will it be fun? Should I go with you? I should go with you.”
*
“There are times,” Lucifer said, “that I cannot influence things or change them. Diavolo would have kept you at the castle had the enclave not been so demanding.”
“What do you mean ‘kept me’?”
He shifted, the sheets sliding around them, pulling her higher on his chest so that he could brush his lips against her hair.
“Sins are rare. Your transformation was dramatic. And he considers my investment in you notable. All of these things have piqued his interest.”
“He wanted to keep you because you were so into me?” she teased.
“Because I bent rules and expended so much effort for you.”
He had bent rules until they broke, for her. And worked for years to try to cure her, to take care of her until he could. She would be dead without him. Dead, gone, forgotten. The part of her that had always craved love, watching it from afar while her hope of ever feeling it dwindled, that part of her mourned what might have been. Lucifer had done so much for her. He meant so much to her.
“And what will happen now, since he didn’t get to keep me?”
“He will summon or call for you during an event or celebration. It will be less formal or political than a conclave. But there will be an audience. It will be dangerous.”
“You think someone will attack me?” She’d been violent in Hell, and afterwards. She’d had to be. Alone, when every encounter was literally life and death. She could defend herself if she had to. Plus she had new demonic tendencies running through her, instincts quicker than thoughts, and absolute in their determination.
“Not then. No one would dare attack you near the prince.”
“Then what is there to worry about?”
Lucifer shook his head. She heard the grind of his teeth, felt the shift in his aura, heard the warning in his silence.
“He will try to take you from me.”
An unpleasant jolt went through her, driving away the last of her sensual contentedness. She wanted to be happy. She wanted Lucifer to be happy.
“It’s not…he won’t mean to. It won’t be conscious. But he is a demon. We did not start as demons. We are different, fundamentally. Demons are acquisitive. Sins like you are coveted. You bring a specific…flavor of delight to demons.
“Is this a lust thing?”
“No.” Their limbs slid together and Lucifer made a low, pleased noise. “Or, it’s not only that. Demons are creatures of habit, fed by the sins they pursue. But greed underpins all sins, even sloth to an extent. That’s the original sin. It’s why we are so relentless in curbing Mammon.”
“But he only goes after low value things, pennies rather than hundreds. Nothing that will cause serious harm. It’s not in his nature to harm.”
“And we reinforce that.”
“You’re mean about it. If that’s the original sin and everyone else is driven by a paler version of that and you all lose control at times, can’t you understand what he has to deal with?”
She’d felt the bright allure of greed, the sting of a want thwarted. It had to hurt Mammon, to hold himself back when he was powerful and smart enough to go for big scores. And she knew it hurt him when his brothers ridiculed him for his greed.
“Do you punish him because of what your sins do to you?”
“We’ll revisit it later,” Lucifer said.
“I’m not going to hurt someone else just because I’m full of sins. That would be shitty,” she said, petty as could be. Rolling onto her back, she clutched her hands over her chest. “I’ll just decline Lord Diavolo. Politely.”
Lucifer nodded, not looking at her.
That stung her pride, and unease built inside her. “You think I can’t do it?”
His eyes were dark when he finally turned to her, mapping her face as he said, softly, “I’m afraid you won’t want to.”
“What, because he’s some big handsome guy with lots of money?”
“And power.”
“And power.” They all had power. “So what?”
But even as she said it she could feel something churning inside her, a compelling curiosity. What was the strongest demon like?
“He can be very charming,” Lucifer said. “Magnetic. It will be as though he already knows all your innermost desires, and how to get to you through them.”
“I’m not leaving you,” she said fiercely.
“I’m glad.” Lucifer kissed her hand, turned it over and kissed her palm and what could she do but cup his cheek, run her thumb across his lower lip, and pull him back on top of her.
“He’ll call for you while I am occupied elsewhere,” he murmured. “Out of consideration. I will try to provide a warning. It is an appointment you have to keep, but you must prepare for it.”
She would prepare to meet Lord Diavolo as she now was. And she would tell him no. The House of Lamentation was her home. These were her demons. But he was their prince, the strongest of them all. Could she be blamed for being curious? After all, she was acquisitive now too.
*
The doorbell rang and Asmo’s attention shifted, his radiance switching off so quickly she felt abruptly cool. Or maybe that was due to the news. Lucifer warning her rather than coming to fetch her. Because he was not nearby. This was the appointment they’d been waiting for. Dreading.
Asmo flounced off to greet their visitors and Melody brushed the bow on the top present. It was gold, satin over a richly embossed box. She’d picked it out for Mammon especially, had to pester Lucifer to get it ordered.
She’d been awake for one month, a demon for a couple of weeks, a sin feeling her way through the depths of attraction for things she’d never before cared about. And now she had to go to the castle, to meet with the demon prince and navigate him while surrounded by whoever was gathered around, his entourage or audience.
She needed to prepare herself.
Anticipation made it hard to think.
Following the sounds of enthusiastic shouts and caustic complaints, she found Levi and Mammon in the common room, each sprawled out on a couch, Levi on his back under a fuzzy blanket, Mammon on his stomach, boots dangling over the armrest.
“Check this out, Aero,” Levi said, not looking up from his handheld game. “I’m already top ten in Escape from Stellar Nine and I’m gonna crack top five by tonight.”
“That’s nice.”
“I told you that you should play. It’s the best. The submersibles are so realistic. There’s a forty page manual for operating them and you need a crew of six to man the guns. Six! The game craftsmanship is so good!”
“That’s great.”
“What’s with you?” Mammon demanded without looking up from some kind of blueprint he was examining under a handheld black light.
She loved them. She loved being with them, and the little one month anniversary gifts seemed so inadequate. She loved them and her new nature wanted something in return for that love. Something to gild it, celebrate it, scream it to the sky. Something to show her they would remember her.
“Tell me how much you want me here,” she said.
Levi hooted at his game, then laughed. “It’s great that you’re here. I always have someone to play with and we can just hang out without having to do normie stuff. It’s the best.”
Melody smiled, warmed slightly. She looked at Mammon, whose face was going red.
“It’s okay that you’re here. You know, i-it’s not a big deal or anything. It’s like…” His gaze darted to her then away, then back again. “It’s not like the best thing I’ve had in my life.”
“Melody!” Asmo called, his voice echoing off the high ceiling of the entryway and wandering down the halls into this room.
Setting the gifts down beside of each of them, she smiled when Mammon snatched his and slid it within the protection of his arms. She wanted to crawl in there as well, to close her eyes and press her face against his chest and pretend this wasn’t happening. But then they’d all be in trouble.
“You’re the best thing I’ve had in my life, too.”
She followed the feel of Asmo’s growing panic, down the hallway, toward the four figures in royal uniforms and into the waiting car. She had an appointment, at the castle. She had to hold it together and say no.
Mammon blinked at the empty doorway. He fiddled with the small box she’d given him, feeling the weight of it, hearing the intriguing clink of metal inside. The paper felt expensive, the ribbon exquisite.
“Why did that sound like good-bye?” Levi asked, then stood abruptly. “Did she leave? Did she just leave the house? What’s going on?”
“She’s going to the castle. Lucifer’s been worrying about this, a summons. Just for her.” Mammon wanted to chase the car down and steal her back. He wanted to hide her, where nobody but he could look at her or talk to her or touch her.
He’d defied Heaven. Surely he could defy the Devildom as well.
But she’d known. He’d seen it in the defeated curve of her shoulders, the resignation in her tone. She’d known who called for her, and probably why. And she’d gone anyway.
That had sounded like good-bye.
Two of the guards rode in the front of the vehicle while the others – who had lost the illusion of their humanoid shape the second they left the House of Lamentation – paced it outside, one in the air and one on the ground. Four royal guards and a heavy vehicle with a velvety interior interspersed with gleaming obsidian surfaces and jeweled accents. There were no handles or buttons to open the doors or lower the windows from the inside.
Melody’s breaths came faster. The city streaked by outside the tinted windows, distorting in their thickness. Orange and red lights passed in a blink, structures loomed and retreated. The attention of demons narrowed on the car, full of anticipation and envy, greed and hunger. Her limbs tingled, fingers twitching, nails digging into the fabric of her pants. The scar on her forehead ached, her demon form reacting to stress. Shooting a hole through the prince’s luxurious prison on wheels when there was no active threat wouldn’t be a good look. She was a Sin and, more importantly, she represented the House of Lamentation.
Satan would be telling her to survey her surroundings for tools, exits and compromising documents or pictures. Weapons or leverage, anything that could hurt others. Mammon would have demanded she pull open every compartment and figure out how to pry off and pocket some of the gems. Beel would… She snatched delicate chocolates off a decorative plate and popped them into her mouth. Berries burst and chocolate melted slowly around her tongue. Delicious.
There would be more guards, castle staff, and probably a lot of petitioners or hangers on at the castle. Powerful demons, because who else would be invited there? Diavolo might even be holding a party or something. The last time she’d been at a party she’d been human, shepherded by Lucifer and dressed up and smothered in calming drugs by Asmo. Now she just had herself. Pheromones wafted from her skin, reminiscent of lavender and mint, a self-soothing cocktail. The vehicle rolled to a stop. Melody stuck her finger in her mouth, sucking at the melted chocolate.
There was movement outside the door. She took a deep breath, straightening, wondering how she could shuffle across the bench seat without looking like a dork. The door opened, and six and a half feet of tall, broad demon slid gracefully into the seat beside her. Diavolo smiled at her, all white, even teeth and softly lambent golden eyes.
“Miss Vale,” he said, his sonorous voice filling the car.
Melody pulled her finger out of her mouth with an undignified pop. “Lord Diavolo.”
“I understand you’ve been cooped up at the House of Lamentation since your glorious transformation.” Somehow he sounded earnest rather than mocking. “A Sin must stretch her wings.”
The car started up again, because apparently she was going for a drive with the royal prince of the Devildom. That probably required that she perform complex actions like closing her mouth and sitting back against the seat. She set her hands together in her lap and tried to project proper, ladylike vibes.
“Where are we going then?”
“I hoped you would accompany me to dinner. Perhaps some light entertainment.”
“Okay. Yeah. Yes, of course.” Was she supposed to call him “Your Majesty” or something? Lucifer spoke so casually about him, and she’d been so nervous and loopy during their first meeting that she couldn’t remember what she’d called him, if anything. And the second time…well, a lot had been going on. But she’d noticed him, and not because he was scary. Or not only because of that.
She’d felt that power, like a mountain, a glacier, or an entire planet looming over her. Insurmountable, unending, he radiated strength despite clearly being in control.
“You do not need to be nervous, Miss Vale.” He smiled, showing a bit of fang. Her eyes roamed. Sharp, gleaming fang. Strong jawline. The hard bulk of his shoulders. His power filling the car, burning away her calming scents. “Are the chocolates to your liking?”
The taste lingered in her mouth and she licked her lips, suddenly ravenous for more. Ravenous and excited. Because something twinged inside the demon prince, like a sleeping limb awakening in a riot of pins and needles. Diavolo was a Sin, probably so used to controlling himself that he barely felt the push and pressure of the seven affinities. But he did feel them and, with all that power, he magnified them. She understood, as she leaned across him, forcing herself not to crawl for the plate of chocolates, why Sins might be revered. There was a thrill to indulging in a sin fed by others, to holding the plate up before the demon prince and feeling gluttony build in him. He selected one, pinching it delicately between his thumb and forefinger. He raised it slowly toward his mouth, and her own lips parted in anticipation.
Diavolo laughed. “Impatient, Miss Vale?”
“They’re really good,” she murmured, watching the one in his hand because if she looked at the plate, she was going to upend it into her mouth and probably lick it clean, then she’d have to throw herself out of the moving car because that would be too embarrassing.
“I remember that ache,” he said, voice deepening, words rolling slowly, “and the satisfaction of slaking the hunger. It’s been so long since I mastered it that the memory is dim. But I can see it in you.”
She knew exactly how the chocolate would melt in her mouth. The scent of it wrapped around her but, unlike other times gluttony had overcome here, it was merely a distraction. Because, beneath that enticing sweetness, she could smell Diavolo, the musk rising from him metallic as money, spiced as the finest tea.
The scent deepened as he said, “Eat it for me, Miss Vale. Let me feel what it does to you, who is still so tender.”
That request was red flag central, but she couldn’t care as he slid the chocolate between her lips. Creamy, sweet, slightly spiced. She made an appreciative sound as she sucked on it and Diavolo’s eyes half-lidded, which did nothing to hide the brightening light they cast.
“Another,” he said, and for some reason he was holding the plate now and she was perched on her knees beside him. She closed her lips too quickly around the chocolate he held up, catching his fingertips and not able to stop herself from running her tongue along them. He looked tasty, too.
The rumble that came from him was not a sound a human could make. Diavolo caught her elbow, setting the plate aside as he pushed her against the back of the seat. He loomed above her, hair falling over his glowing eyes, and they both rocked as the car came to a stop. She swallowed and licked her lips.
“Try to hold out until we’ve reached our table,” he said, a polite order.
She used to think a table was a flat thing that held dishes and plates, but her body was now convinced it was some kind of imminent sex destination. His breath ruffled her hair as he huffed out something that could have been a laugh.
“You’ll want to change, of course. This is not the safe little house you’ve enjoyed until now.”
Those words were meaningless until Diavolo let go of her and stepped into a square of bright light. Oh wait, that was the open door. Because they were in a car going to a thing. A dinner thing. And they had arrived. And changing meant… These were the clothes she’d been wearing around the house. It wasn’t like she’d brought her closet with her. Concerned that she was about to embarrass the prince in public, she looked up to find him shielding her from the lights and rising noise outside the car with the breadth of his wings. Change. Oh. Oh.
He was in his demon form. Standard form for him, she supposed. Impressive and imposing as they were, the tailored suit and shiny shoes were the watered down version of Lord Diavolo. The bright lights outside the car caught on the gold tips of his horns, more gold across his chest and the bracers on his forearms. A large, faceted ruby held the ornate straps and chains of his clothing together in the center of his chest. That was…a lot of skin, darker and burnished in a way that put the gleam of gold to shame. The obvious show of wealth drew her. The skin and the scent rising from him tempted her further, differently. She took the hand he offered, gliding her fingers the length of his palm before he closed his grip on her and pulled her from the car. She stood slowly, deliberately ignoring the sensations around her as she focused on shifting. For her changing to demon form took effort, and she had to be careful, so very careful about how far she went.
Her soft sweater and stretchy jeans were replaced by a silver bustier, black leggings and a satiny black skirt which fell diagonally from her left knee to right ankle. Asmo said most demon forms could be molded over time, but she reverted back to the outfit she’d worn on her way to Hell, only she’d lost the heavy coat and now the skirt came pre-tattered. Heeled boots replaced her slip-ons, raising her so that she was less than a foot shorter than the demon prince. There were a lot of demons around, but she would have to trust that Diavolo meant for his guards to protect her, too. Which was…not something she believed. But Lucifer had said this day would come and that she must go, and she could trust that he would not allow her into a dangerous situation. Her horn rotated, curling as best it could with its angled joints, to follow the fall of her hair. Diavolo looked smug as she effectively sheathed her most prominent weapon.
She took a breath, letting herself feel what was going on around her. The transformation had cleared her head a little, but if anything her demonic senses, those that noted sins like scents on a breeze and helped her to tease and push at them, were heightened. A crowd had gathered around the car, remaining a respectful distance from the prince and his circle of guards. Between the obsequious bows and saluting gestures, some of the stares and murmurs turned toward her. Sizing her up, judging. It was that scene from every movie where a thirty year old playing a teen got the glam up she deserved. Melody could almost hear the sappy pop song cover playing over it. This wasn’t her world, but she’d survived the worst they’d thrown at her and now stood with their most powerful, most respected leader. The light he cast would have been flattering on anyone. Tossing her hair over her shoulder, she turned bright eyes toward the group most obviously talking about her. They startled, leathery mantles fluttering around their necks.
Diavolo offered his arm and she set her hand over his gauntlet. The metal was bathwater hot, and he glanced sidelong at her when she scraped a long, pearlescent nail along a seam.
“Your poise is impressive,” he murmured. “Elegance in one so newly transformed is rare.” He nodded to various of his subjects. A few swooned. Two tall creatures trilled and blanched white. Another released a cloud of shimmering pink spores. From her Demon 101 studies, Melody was able to identify it as a debauching pollen, and being able to recognize it while bombarded with so many sights and sensations made her smile.
Speculation turned to admiration for the Sin who walked so confidently, prettily even, beside the prince. Murmurs turned to grumbling jealousy, of her. A few were even envious of the prince. Melody’s chin tipped up as she drank in the feelings of so many creatures.
“It is nothing compared to your own grandeur, Your Highness,” she heard herself say.
Diavolo chuckled lowly. “Pride looks well on you, Miss Vale. I would expect no less of one under Lucifer’s tutelage.”
Something shifted inside him, that phantom limb sensation again, but it was lost in the barrage as they climbed the wide stairs flanked by ornate black columns. Noise spilled through the open doors. Music, laughter, glassware, and the chime – the beautiful chime – of slot machines and chips being stacked and tossed, counted and lost.
Mammon refused to take her to a casino just like Asmo refused to take her to sex clubs. They were both so unfair, hoarding all the excitement for themselves when she could handle all of that and more. Her hands fisted, nails turning to talons and digging into the malleable gold of Diavolo’s bracer. She smoothed over the gouge with a whisper of magic as her entire being focused on the bright, shining web of want coming from within the yawning doors.
Give me more. a little more.
Just one more, please.
I’ll give anything for more.
Anything.
More.
Greed, desperate as prayer, prickled against her skin before burrowing deeper.
The casino was bright, full of cheerful bells and jangling chimes enticing players and signaling the many small wins designed to keep its audience hooked. And, underneath, ran the barbed desire for more. She drank it in, bit her lip as they passed a high rollers table where the dealer was sweeping an armful of chips away from the gamblers. One of the men turned toward her, raising an arm to shield his eyes against her, and reached out. She patted his shoulder and gave him a wink before Diavolo steered her away. The touch was meant to transfer a bit of luck. The swamp of envy from the players around him slid into her with oily satisfaction.
“I’ve never been to a casino,” she said, smiling up at Diavolo. “This is amazing.”
“Though one of our smaller ones, I enjoy it,” he said before a slight frown marred his brow. “Mammon hasn’t taken you to the others?”
“He barely even lets me bet on games at home.” A female in a long gown stumbled through a curtsey and offered a handful of shining grimm. Melody’s palm itched but she forced herself not to snatch it away. “Thank you, but you use it. I hope you have good luck!”
The woman all but sobbed her thanks, hightailing it for a machine with a large, flashing sign.
“A shame,” Diavolo said. “Greed complements you. You’re all but glowing with it.”
Melody caught their reflection in a chrome pillar and laughed. Diavolo was imposing, regal and beautiful. Her hair waved around her like she was on a movie set and she was radiating light, a side effect of the sin that even Mammon puzzled over, brilliant though he was.
She leaned close to the prince, whispering conspiratorially, “Don’t tell the others, but it’s one of my favorites. It makes me feel like I’m full of bubbles and light, like nothing can go wrong.”
“You aren’t afraid your luck will run out?”
“It hasn’t since I came back from Hell. Don’t worry though, Lucifer has had the tough love in effect, teaching me respect for the sins.”
“I would expect no less.” Diavolo’s hand spanned her lower back, fingers tightening around her waist as he directed her. “Just a little farther.”
“So formal,” she murmured, holding her expression and posture together. The casino was beyond stimulating. It was difficult to remain grounded, focused, to not let herself be drawn away by the wants of others. They navigated a series of gossamer curtains. None of the partitions were opaque, but they became progressively darker, effectively isolating them within the heart of the casino. A velvety, deep blue couch curled around one end of a long table covered in fragrant foods. Beautiful demons simpered at the ready, the serving implements and elegant pitchers they held more voluminous than some of their skimpy clothes.
“Melody.”
She blinked as she turned, uncertain how long she’d been standing still and staring.
Diavolo’s eyes held amusement as he gestured toward the couch. “Please, sit. Join me in tasting all that the Devildom may offer.”
A sphere of hazy smoke bloomed beside the table. Performers disappeared into it in singles and pairs. Lust rose and the smoke swam, giving tantalizing glimpses of flesh, hints of pleasurable acts. On the other side of the table, a woman played an instrument that keened like heartbreak.
Phenomenal food.
Flowing fortunes.
Molten bodies.
A song that made her want to lie down and never rise again.
Envious breaths moving the barely-there curtains as the kingdom’s subjects longed for a glimpse, for a taste.
He’d said it would be nothing like the safe little house she’d been in. He wasn’t kidding. This was not merely a casino. It was a palace of demonic pleasure. All the sins were on display to some degree. Heightened, amplified, feasted upon.
Tasty morsels slid into her mouth. Hands petted her body. Music haunted the fluttering room. Scent turned to color, light to taste. Energy roiled inside of her, a storm building, and Melody floated, teasing occasionally to draw a broken moan or drop someone to their knees. Fed by so many demons, it took so little power to make them do what she wanted. The males closest to her were tall, all broad shoulders and defined muscle, pale skin and midnight hair. The females were curvaceous, with startling jewel tone eyes.
Greed rolled. Lust sighed. A few hot sparks of wrath flitted past, noticeable because there was so little of it. And, after some time, she realized something was missing as well. Something she’d become intimately, boldly familiar with.
For all that Diavolo was showing off the pleasures of the Devildom and waving away would-be admirers, she sensed no pride from him. Power, yes. But not pride. All this was his. He ruled it, and it alternately delighted and mesmerized her sins. So why was he not happy with it?
She crawled toward him, over the bodies writhing around them, pushing empty plates into waiting hands. Her body felt hot, supple, floating on the power of sin. When had the couch gotten so long? Diavolo tapped the hands massaging his arms and they slid away without protest. He caught her with a finger beneath her chin, tilting her chin. His touch was warm. Power thrummed in him, the force of it spilling over her. She knelt up to maintain contact. For the first time since she’d returned from Hell, the cravings subsided completely. His presence, the essential force of him, washed them away.
“Does this delight you, my dear?” he asked.
She laughed, felt sparks light in her eyes. “Of course it does.”
“Say a word and it can be yours.”
“What?”
“Each day and every night. Everything you might desire, and more. With me, you can let go. There would be no rules requiring restraint, no need to minimize yourself for fear one sin or another might take too much from you. I would catch your power. You would have no need to hold back.”
To let go. To do as only she wanted, without having to be careful, to worry or feel guilty. She could live, freely. Forever.
“Let go,” he whispered.
It was a gently-delivered order, but one she had wanted to obey since before she awoke in the Devildom. He could give her this, power and freedom, riches beyond count, pleasure immeasurable. She could have it. She deserved it. She just needed to seal the deal. Heat coiled inside her. Her pheromones darkened. She sensed the curve of his smile, anticipated his tip into lust. Except…he didn’t fall. Or even sway.
She was emitting the strongest allure she’d ever allowed herself, beyond what she had used to bring Lucifer and Mammon together to their knees. And Diavolo was unaffected.
Maybe he was only interested in her as a Sin, not as anything else, which…fine. But the performers around them were breathtaking. The food… All the delicious greed surrounding them. He’d said he liked this casino in particular. Why come to such a feast and not partake himself? Why tell her to let go when he was not indulging? Why offer her so much if it did nothing for him?
“It is everything you could ever want, and it could be yours, forever.” He stroked her cheek, his touch a kindling flame. “I would love to see you embrace your power, all of it. All you have to do is agree. Say it.”
This was a bargain. He would gain something in return. Demons traded. Demons acquired. But he didn’t want her. Her mind felt hazy, despite his siphoning away of the worst effects of the cravings. This wasn’t her world, and she couldn’t guess what he wanted. Was his offer not genuine? Or was he making it to achieve something else? He had her on his arm, but she suspected she was a pawn rather than a queen.
“What would it take,” she asked. One of the males behind her trailed his hands up the outsides of her thighs, distracting her. She licked her lips. “To have all this?”
“Come to the castle. Stay by my side. I would give you all of this and more.”
Not an answer. He was so powerful, so beautiful. But the castle – his castle – was full of powerful demons. And Diavolo was very busy. A new Sin might be a novelty, but she wouldn’t matter to him all the time, or for long. She might not matter to him at all. The House of Lamentation was small, and Lucifer had a lot of rules. But she didn’t doubt that she was wanted there. That she had been cared for since before she held the force of this ever-turning wheel of temptation.
She took a shallow breath and said, lightly, “I’m not sure Lucifer would like that.”
“He would get over it,” Diavolo said, just as lightly.
He leaned back, stretching his muscled arms along the back of the couch. His wings twitched as they arranged themselves. He looked relaxed, strong and inviting. But she was looking beyond the surface right now. From within him she got the sense of a swamp, deep and murky, a bog that dragged at anyone that accidentally floundered into it. She knew that sensation, felt it sometimes when Levi lost a battle or someone else got something he really wanted. She knew what it was, but she still didn’t understand. Did he envy Lucifer for having her, even though his actions felt like a performance?
“I could bring your sister to you,” he said. “Would you like that, your Harmony with you? She has lived a hard life. I would happily take care of her, alongside you.”
“You wouldn’t let your sister be hurt, would you?” Daniel Vale mocked. “You’re spoiled but nobody could be that selfish.”
Harmony knelt by his feet, her lip split, her eyes raging beneath her tangled hair.
“It’s a simple thing. Do as I tell you and Harmony can rise, she can leave. She’s only here because of you, Melody.”
She’d learned the threats disguised as offers, the blame placed on her for someone else’s hateful actions. Her sister had been used to control her before. They had both nearly died from it. She would never allow that to happen again. The demon prince arched a brow, smiling and showing his fangs. “That angers you?” He leaned close, inhaled against her neck, his low voice vibrating against her sensitive skin. “This is the first time I’ve scented wrath on you. All that’s been done to you, and you never once showed anger.”
Her fangs extended even longer. The scars on her back ached. His power withdrew abruptly and hers billowed out. Diavolo had been shielding her, or shielding the others from her as her power grew in response to all the stimulation.
Chimes went off, all the slow machines hitting wins at once, following by thunderous steps as people scooped what treasure they could grab and ran. Demons fought over the banquet. The performers crawled toward their couch, sobbing, begging.
“Come with me,” he said.
Melody sat back, pushing away the male writhing against her. It hurt to move even a few inches away from the demon prince. His gaze didn’t leave her. He was waiting, but he was not patient. And she was not the only one who was angry. He had everything. How could there be anyone or anything left for a creature like him to envy, and why was he so mad about it?
“The subjects of the Devildom do not withhold from their liege,” he bit out. “It is not because of loyalty, or respect, or trust.” He tilted his head. His wings fluttered and the force of his power descended on the room. The curtains tore from the rods. His aura, boiling black clouds filled with biting gold lightning, flattened the servants around them. “It is because they can’t. Show me what you are hiding, what damned Celestial remnant you hold that has Lucifer so besotted.”
He practically spat the words.
Pain lit on both sides of her spine, in her bottom lip where her fang pierced it. Cold power filled her, distinct from the influence of sins. Brighter. Clarifying. The Celestial power that remained distinct from her demon self. She did have something special inside of her, but Lucifer didn’t care about it so why should Diavolo?
Unless he didn’t envy Lucifer.
He envied her, what she had with Lucifer.
Taking a shuddering breath, she opened her mouth. “Lucifer turned from the Celestial realm. He burned it behind him and sought you instead. He is not going to turn from you.” Her pulse was so rapid she felt like she was going to pass out, and then she’d surely be crushed beneath the monumental force of him. “If that’s what…” She probably shouldn’t insinuate he was afraid of losing Lucifer. “If that’s what’s bothering you.”
Diavolo’s eyes flashed, and she nearly lost the battle. “He lied to me, over you.”
Oh God, had she just bumbled into an unrequited love? Was she part of the world’s hottest love triangle? Why did nobody warn her of these things? Did Lucifer even know? It seemed like the sort of thing he’d be smug about. After all, he was… Oh. Well, that was something a demon would understand.
“He couldn’t fix me,” she managed, pushing air through lungs that felt bruised from the pressure. “He is Pride. Has he ever, in your long friendship, been able to admit he’s failed? At anything? Is he even capable of doing so?”
Diavolo stilled. Black dots filled her vision. Her forehead ached where her horn struggled to rise, wanting to blast this malignant force off of her.
“He is loyal. He respects you.” With a force of pure will, she raised upturned hands, not quite able to fight the force of him enough to shrug. “If you believe he values me so highly, then why do you think he let me come with you tonight? He trusts you.”
Diavolo bared his teeth, then abruptly turned away. The pressure receded, a hurricane evaporating in an instant. His control of that massive power was terrifying. She almost sobbed out her next breath. Her greedy demon body slurped up the ambient power. Her skin hardened, armoring itself against the threat. She felt her horn snap into firing position though she had enough survival instinct left in her scattered brain to keep from doing so. Both of those were new. What didn’t kill you really did make you stronger. Who knew? She had to bite down to keep from laughing hysterically.
The plates were crushed on the table, the instrument a wreck of splinters and strings. The servants and performers who remained conscious tried to crawl away. Still, Diavolo was not appeased. His hands curled, talons puncturing the arm of the couch, and she pushed herself up – slow and silent – preparing to make her escape. Or die trying. Haha, again.
“Young Master,” a light, polite voice said.
Melody squeaked, and Diavolo actually startled, snapping his head around. His reserved, impeccably uniformed butler stood behind the couch, between them. Barbatos had a small smile on his face, but his eyes were hard as flint. “I responded to a call for assistance from the casino, and imagine my surprise finding you here, as well as our esteemed new Sin, who should not be out of House of Lamentation so soon after her transformation.”
Diavolo’s wings folded. He cleared his throat, then laughed tightly. “We were only out for a moment. A brief break. The early days can be so stifling, especially for one who is called by all sins.”
“I’m sure Miss Vale is in good hands at the House of Lamentation, tended to by all the avatars.” Barbatos gestured with a white-gloved hand and Melody was surprised to find a…footman or something behind her. The guy was pale, the whites showing all around his eyes. She probably didn’t look much better. “Miss Vale’s time here has coincided with some disarray. I’ve arranged for an escort back to her home.”
“Of course, of course.” Diavolo waved her away good-naturedly, the devastating devil he’d been a moment ago apparently…shelved? Maybe he could put it to sleep and stow it in statis, like she used to be.
Like she was on strings, she rose and followed the footman. He guided her around the worst of the destruction and mild carnage, pushing a few crushed columns and fallen chairs and chandeliers out of her way. She tiptoed, away from the manipulation, away from the remnants of temptation, barely even pausing to scoop up a high value chip here, a gemstone there.
The footman opened the door and she peeked out, afraid of what Diavolo’s release of power might have drawn, then squeaked when Beel grabbed her arm and pulled her out. Beside him, Asmo giggled like mad as they ran for the car. As if they were being naughty and not running for their lives. The car was familiar, sleek and silver and almost too small for all of them.
Mammon was at the wheel, fingers tapping impatiently. Beel dragged her in to the cramped back seat, having to hunch below the low roof. Asmo leapt in after them. Mammon peeled out.
“Down!” Asmo ordered, smooshing her face against his upper thigh.
“Stop it, pervert,” Mammon yelled. “Let her up!”
Asmo giggled then, when Melody bit him, moaned. Beel picked her up, arranging her limbs like she was no more substantial than a doll, and handed her over into the front seat.
She landed, the center console bruising her butt, hair in her face, horn poking at the ceiling.
“Watch the upholstery,” Mammon complained, inserting his hand between her horn and the roof. “Oww, why is that so sharp?”
“What, uh…” She cleared the husky remains of lust from her throat, slid into the passenger seat. “What’s going on?”
“Jailbreak,” Beel said.
“New Sins aren’t allowed in public until they’ve settled down,” Asmo said. “If you’d met him at the castle it would have been acceptable. The fact that Lord Diavolo took you to a casino is positively scandalous. Barbatos was so mad!”
“When we told on him,” Mammon added gleefully.
They were avatars, the strongest of all save Diavolo. And yet, for all they exhibited tendencies associated with their sins, they never inflicted those forces on others. Not even when their fights escalated. Not even when they were hurt. When the entire House of Lamentation had been under attack, they had still been surgical when they fought back. Diavolo had used his power to try to lure her away from Lucifer then scare her when she didn’t go. He’d hurt his servants, his subjects, destroyed the beautiful casino. All over a little jealousy. All without batting an eye. When Mammon and Asmo had first stumbled upon her, a no-name human who could have been used as leverage against Lucifer, they hadn’t used a wisp of power. They’d given her blankets, food. Taken care of her when she had no obvious value. They were demons, but that wasn’t all they were. Power and indulgence and freedom that hurt others wasn’t for her, would never be for her.
“Thank you for coming for me.”
Mammon’s hand covered hers, his thumb rubbing over her knuckles. “Was it bad?” “Intense maybe. And a little weird. And I…we…I think we made the serving staff come like seven times.”
“Lucky,” Asmo breathed.
“Yummy,” Beel said, plucking something from the neck of her shirt and popping it in his mouth.
Her guys. Her guys came for her. She looked around, to hide the prickling against the backs of her eyes, and noted the pristine chrome dials shaped like coins. The silvery, lacquered wood. The custom floormats edged in gold with little black crows embossed on them. She liked the car. She wanted it.
“No,” Mammon said, sensing her rising greed.
She’d find a way to get it. It might not even require betting. “I didn’t even know this thing actually drove.”
“Oh, yer in for a treat.” His eyes gleamed. “Yer gonna love it. Hold on, Babe. We’re going home.”
He changed gears. The engine rumbled. The force of acceleration shoved her back. She raised her hands, retracted her horn, and laughed.
It had happened while Lucifer was away. Melody summoned by royal guards, as he’d expected. To meet with Diavolo, as he’d expected. A Sin was a rarity, something to be coveted even by a royal. But the prince had not walked her through the sprawling halls and grounds of the castle, with all those intimate, private spaces. He had not fed her Barbatos’s incomparable pasties and tea, or lavished her with treasures or magic. He had not seduced her in any of the hundreds of ways he could have. He’d made a spectacle of her in public then surrounded her with his personal servants, well-trained and eager to please. After that, the reports were unclear. Exuberant winnings and chaotic destruction. Rapturous lust and terror-inducing fear.
Lucifer had sheltered Melody from this world for a long time while he searched for a way to release her. But she was now a demon, brimming with impulses and power and surrounded by creatures filled with the same but who bent to those appetites and expected all others to do the same. Diavolo was usually more subtle, his strength alone enough to draw most to him. He had acted impatiently, flooding Melody with sin, seeking to win her with an evening of decadence. But she had rejected him, in the same public space he’d used to overwhelm her. That must have been what caused his rare occurrence of rage. And indiscreet though he may have been, Diavolo had offered Melody a red carpet on which to walk through the demonic world. She had stepped off of it.
The House of Lamentation was quiet. Mammon’s Lexura was parked haphazardly in the circular driveway, one tire against the bottom step. The sound of a hair dryer, interspersed with melodic humming, came from the Avatar of Lust’s room though he seemed to be alone. Belphie was asleep in the library. Beel and Levi chatted in the kitchen, over the sounds and smells of cooking. There was none of the burnt sugar smell that rose when Melody was upset, none of the actual burning that occurred when she fell into wrath. Despite the calm, Lucifer assembled a tray, green tea and cookies which Melody against all reason preferred to cakes, and carried it to Mammon’s room. She turned to Levi when she was confused. She turned to Mammon when she was sad, and he knew she was near him now.
Greed’s door caught on discarded clothing when Lucifer pushed it open. The air was chill from the large overhead door opening to release Mammon’s car, and full of pheromones that stirred Lucifer pleasantly, tasting of Melody and reminding him of recent days and nights. She was here. She was safe. Still, he was unsettled.
Diavolo could seduce the vestments off a priest, draw an archangel down from the heavens. Melody had denied what he had offered her and returned to the house. But did she mean to stay? Rumors had reached Lucifer hundreds of kilometers away within minutes. Of her bestowing her luck upon demons. Of her radiance as she walked beside the demon prince. Of her standing up to the prince and walking out on her own. Like she owned the place, or didn’t care about it. The rumors had been tinged with awe. She had been like an urban legend following her trials in Hell and dramatic reemergence. As of tonight, she stood among the highest level of demons.
“That smile is terrifying,” Mammon mumbled. He was sprawled across his bed, a leg hanging off the side and only one eye open, completely bare and more than a little sleepy. “The hells are you thinking about?” Tsking, Lucifer set aside the tray, unrucked the driest sheet and set it over him.
“The unveiling of our Sin to the Devildom.”
“Heh. Big ol’ screw up by your boss man, there. Takin’ her out in public, then threatening to drag her sister here.” He rolled a little so Lucifer could better arrange the sheet around him. “Thanks for tucking me in.”
Lucifer’s talons threatened to release. “I am not tucking you in.”
“Sure.” Mammon grinned. “You big ol’ softy.”
Lucifer pulled him up by his hair, winning an undignified squawk. “Not. Tucking.”
“Fine. Ow!” He rubbed at his scalp when Lucifer released him.
He would have to think about how to manage Diavolo. He was respectful of Lucifer and his family, indulgently so. Breaking protocol was not out of character. Doing so unsuccessfully was. Threatening the sister, whom he had charged Satan to watch over, was inconsistent. Something else was at play. It was a relief, in a way, to realize that.
“She is well?” he asked, watching the closed bathroom door. From the other side came the sounds of falling water and an old human pop song sung off-key.
“She was shaken up, but not hurt. Kinda quiet ‘til we got home and she dragged us into Asmo’s bathtub for a pool party.”
“I seem to recall Asmo swearing off pool parties.”
“There were no kobolds involved this time, and nobody cracked the tub.” Melody’s singing stuttered around a hitched breath. Mammon’s gaze snapped toward the door. “Is she fucking masturbating in my shower? Without me?”
“It’s too bad you lack the fortitude to stand.”
With a groan, Mammon pushed himself upright, gathering the sheet around his waist. “Well, you should head out to your office now. I’m sure ya got a mountain of paperwork waitin’ for ya. I’ll man up and take care of this.”
But there was nothing to take care of, nothing that required intervention. Melody was home. She was in control of impulses which have overpowered her mere weeks ago.
“She’s gotten stronger,” Lucifer said, settling into a chair, some of the tension leaving him.
Mammon nodded. “Archangel for a father plus Lilith’s devastation finally able to go full bore without killing its host. And now a demon? Yeah, I’d say. Not strong like me or anything, but she can take care of herself pretty good.”
He didn’t want to accept that. There were always circumstances where a lone demon could be surprised, tricked, damaged. And Melody has loathe to hurt others. Still…she had stood up to the prince, had walked out under her own power after he’d unleashed his. Not many others could have done that, even if they had wanted to.
“And she has adjusted well to her specific affinities.”
“Those dirty, dirty affinities. Never thought I’d say it but I don’t even wanna think about sex right now.”
Melody bopped through a crescendo then moaned huskily. Lucifer adjusted himself. Mammon whined and pressed the heels of his palms against his eyes as the sheet began to tent below his waist.
“Would you leave her, if she demanded too much?” Lucifer asked.
“You thinkin’ she’s gonna get too greedy for my tastes? As if!” Mammon laughed, then his expression sharpened. “Why would you say somethin’ like that?”
“She did not choose this life. She isn’t an ordinary demon. She is more.”
His power no longer resided within her. She no longer needed him. Melody had yearned for freedom. Freedom to go other places, meet other people. She would live a long life now, and Lucifer had stolen so many years from her already. While he had previously meant safety to her, he had also meant restriction. She would not be held back any longer. His chest tightened uncomfortably.
“Yeah, about that.” Mammon scrubbed the back of his head.
Melody exited the bathroom, her hair wet, her face flushed.
“I thought I felt you, Lucifer,” she said, lighting up. “Oooh, you brought tea. Thank you!”
A wave of warmth spread through him. Powerful beings didn’t love the way she did, openly. Demons did not give while asking so little in return. It was…humbling.
Wearing only a t-shirt of Mammon’s, so oversized it fell to her thighs and nearly slid off one shoulder, she pranced on bare feet to the tray Lucifer had brought. She did not appear to require consolation but he was still pleased that he had provided for her. He knew her best, could give her the best. Nobody could compare to him in that regard. She had to recognize that.
“Bring me a drink, too,” Mammon said. “Not tea. I need somethin’ stronger.”
Sticking a cookie into her mouth, she grabbed a bottle beside his bar cart, then held it up for his approval. Mammon shook his head. She grabbed another, eyebrows rising in question. He wrinkled his nose. Frowning, she poked through the other bottles before making a pleased sound around her cookie.
“This?” she asked, holding up a bottle so dark the contents were indeterminable but Lucifer recognized it. It had to be worth close to a hundred thousand grimm. And Mammon had it gathering dust on a cart with a shaky wheel.
“I guess that’ll do.”
She poured him a glass, absently brushing crumbs away from her lips. “Do you want some, Lucifer? Or tea?”
“Thank you, no.”
“Hey,” Mammon said when she’d given him the glass, “wasn’t there something you wanted to talk to Lucifer about?”
Her eyes widened, somehow even lighter as she startled. She looked back and forth between them before seeming to find something interesting on the floor. Lucifer stiffened, pressing his hands against the armrests of the chair as a reminder to stay seated, to stay still even if there was nothing calm inside of him. Despite having clearly prompted her, Mammon let Melody take a moment before he smiled fondly.
“Go on,” he prompted. “Remind me what Levi and Belphie were fightin’ about the other day.”
Lucifer frowned at the change in topic. Did they all know something concerning her that he did not?
“Levi and I were at the lake,” Melody said slowly. “Levi blew up a beach ball. Well, he blew up like ten of them because they kids kept popping them-”
“The kids?”
“Chelsea and Lotan.”
“You call them ‘the kids’,” Mammon wheezed.
“Yeah, because they’re baby. Anyway Lotan shot the ball up on a spray of water and it went really high and when I tried to get it…” She grimaced, eyes unfocusing as if the memory was painful. Her breaths came faster and the hormones she was giving off now had nothing to do with lust.
If Lotan or her beast had broken something, Lucifer would replace it. If they’d hurt someone, he’d bury the body. This wasn’t anything to be upset over. He rose, approaching her slowly and stroking her arms. Her entire body was tense, nearly vibrating.
“It’s all right,” he murmured, forcing a calm veneer in an attempt to assuage her. “You can tell me anything.”
Exhaling forcefully, she backed up. His hand clenched into a fist when she gave Mammon a worried look. He nodded back reassuringly. Mammon had lobbied to remove Melody from the Devildom. If he was scheming again, thinking he needed to get her away from Diavolo or play the hero to her in the human realm-
“I’m starvin’,” Mammon announced, snagging clothes off the pool table and pulling them on. His shirt was backwards, his joggers inside out. “Gonna grab something to eat, which’ll take me at least thirty minutes. That’s three-zero.” He shot a meaningful glare at Lucifer as he passed, but closed the door softly behind him.
Melody’s shoulders straightened as she faced Lucifer. His aura had manifested, limning him in roiling darkness, but she didn’t seem to have noticed. “I-it might be better if I showed you.”
With a gesture of force, she shoved the couches apart. The glass coffee table lifted up and floated away, clearing an openspace in the center of Mammon’s entertainment area. She looked small below the high ceilings. The red star on her forehead darkened as power built within her. He’d felt her transformation before. This felt different, more focused.
“Melody?”
She shook her head, hands closing into fists. Her demonic form flowed over her, black and silver rippling to cover her body. Heat rose, causing her hair to curl up as it dried. The pressure in the room changed so quickly his ears popped. Power burst, blindingly bright. But it didn’t burn, didn’t even reach the edges of the room.
And Melody…Melody was suspended in the air, arms spread like she was trying to balance on a slippery surface, great wings flapping lazily behind her. Feathered white wings, four of them.
Gentle gusts of air issued from each steady beat. The feathers shushed with each ripple. Lucifer’s throat and chest went tight. His eyes burned as memories erupted. Of a warm, bright place, blue skies crossed by elegant flights all white-winged, green fields filled with legions of soldiers, golden armor glinting, the arches of their wings uniform and immaculate. Mentors, friends, family, wings brushing against each other in times of comfort and times of joy. His back ached, his scars itching with the urge to release his own wings.
Melody went too high, squeaked, then wobbled back down toward the floor.
“Carefully,” Lucifer said, having to clear his throat. He strode forward, reaching for her. “Glide down. Extend them outward so they don’t strike the floor. I’ll catch you.”
She mis-timed it, landing while they were too low, and bit off a sound of discomfort. Then she twisted frantically, trying to look behind her. Feathers brushed against him and he closed his eyes. His own wings were different now, coarser, denser, sharper. Built for a darker, more hostile place.
“They are not damaged,” he said, eyes fluttering open so he could wonder all over again at the sight. “You manifested these over the water?”
“Yeah, then I couldn’t figure out how to work them and Levi had to fish me out and haul me to shore. I didn’t want them to get dirty in the mud so I managed to retract them. Belphie was napping on the roof and must have seen them. He was really mad about it and I wasn’t sure…”
“You weren’t sure of what?” Removing a glove, Lucifer ran his hand through the soft glide of feathers. He swallowed hard.
“I thought they might make you mad, too. Do you hate them?” she asked, fingers twisting together before her. Her wings shuddered in response to her nerves, rocking her on her feet. Lucifer steadied her.
“These are seraphim wings,” he said, marveling at the nearly invisible blue and gold striations in the secondary and tertiary feathers, “angel wings. And they are yours. I cannot hate anything that is part of you.”
Her eyes shimmered.
“This is what you were afraid to show me?” he asked, still braced against bad news despite his shock.
Melody nodded. Then she threw herself against him, her small, soft body fitting against his as though they had been mapped for each other. Her arms wrapped around him with surprising strength. Finally taking a deep breath, he discarded his other glove and held her to him.
“You’re doing to have to teach me how to use them,” she said. “Levi said he doesn’t remember the mechanics and Mammon said his work differently.”
Demonic wings were different and he alone retained feathered wings. He alone could instruct her. “It will take time.”
She laughed. “I think time is the one thing we’ve got.”
We. Because she was staying. She squeaked when his arms tightened around her.
“We’ll find a more suitable place to practice. You manifested these in Hell when you first gained your demon form?”
“Sort of. I freaked out.” She shook her head against his chest. “White feathers didn’t belong there so I kept them in when I transformed.”
“Diavolo must have required your demon form,” he murmured in question. These wings would not have been missed. And had Diavolo seen them, he wouldn’t have allowed Melody to walk away.
“He did, but…”
“You held back even against Diavolo’s orders?”
“It seemed like more of a suggestion.” She shrugged, but when she raised her head her expression was assured, certain. “I’m not his.”
Her lips curled into a pleased smirk as pride rose within her in response to his own.
He tilted her chin up, ran the backs of his fingers over her throat. “No, you aren’t his. You’re mine.”
“Of course. You hold my heart, Lucifer.” She said it as though it was easy, obvious, the most natural thing in the world. Then her talons dug into his back and her eyebrows rose. “And?”
He had never expected this. He had served, supported and schemed for the people in his life, punished and protected. He had never walked alongside them. He pulled Melody’s arm from behind him, threaded his fingers against hers.
“And you hold mine.”
The End
|
"Hey."
Tommy startles, looks up. He had been building a tower, trying to go back to normal, despite everything. (What even was normal at this point? They surely couldn't go back to the way things were before, after everything. Even so, building towers helped him process, in a way.)
Huh , he thought as he found the source of the voice. It was Ranboo. What was he doing here? And how did he even get up here? The dizzying drop beneath them would surely be too high to climb, and he hadn't seen a second tower or heard a trident, so- oh. Right. Ender powers. Teleportation. Stupid Ranboo and his stupid powers.
"Can I, uh." Ranboo gestures to the spot next to Tommy. "Can I sit?"
Tommy glances at him, confused. "Well... alright." He grumbles, moving over.
Ranboo lets out a relieved breath, like he hadn't expected Tommy to say yes. He nervously lowers himself down onto the edge, his tail instinctively wrapping around the nearest object- which happened to be Tommy.
"Sod off!" He growls, nearly shoving Ranboo off the edge with the force he used to get the tail away from him. It looked too dangerous. He was afraid it could cut him, strangle him, afraid it would-
He shivers, wrapping his arms around himself as Ranboo jumps back. "Sorry, sorry, er-" Ranboo twisted his tail around himself instead, wringing his hands. "Sorry."
Despite himself, Tommy softens. "It's... It's alright, just- don't do it again?"
"Okay. Okay, uh, yeah." Ranboo nods. "Okay."
Tommy just tries to breathe for a bit, still shaky. He tilts his head back, looking at the stars. For a bit, he considers whether or not he should ask Ranboo why he was here, but decides against it. He’ll have to explain eventually , Tommy rationalizes.
They both sit in silence for a while. As much as Tommy despises Ranboo it's... it's nice.
And then Tommy makes the mistake of looking at Ranboo.
Green and red eyes nervously meet blue, then furrow in concern.
"Hey," Ranboo asks gently, tilting his head. "Your eyes are red. Were you- oh. Were you crying?"
Tommy looks away, embarrassed, but doesn't have it in him to lie. "Yeah." He admits, swinging his feet.
The water far below him churns, dark and waiting. The prison in front of him spreads out like something from a painting. The moon shines bright overhead, and everything seems to hold its breath.
Ranboo is the first one to break the silence again. "Tommy?"
Tommy looks at him for the second time that night, bloodshot eyes and all. "Yeah?"
Ranboo hesitates. "Are you- are you okay?"
Tommy looks at the prison, and lets out a bitter laugh. "No." He admits. "No, I don't think I am."
Tommy was up at the tower again.
He’d been coming up there a lot recently, climbing as high as he could, wishing he could leave all his problems on the ground.
It wasn’t as cathartic as he thought it would be. He sighed, his legs swinging back and forth over the edge of the tower.
Ranboo wasn’t here today.
He hadn’t been here since the first time he’d come up, and as much as Tommy wanted to pretend that he was grateful for that, he couldn’t. He was...
He was lonely.
He was so lonely, and with Tubbo being so- so off when he talked to Tommy, there wasn’t really anyone he could talk to.
Except Ranboo, as much as he loathed to admit it.
But Ranboo wasn’t there.
So he sat at the top of the tower, looking out at the prison he’d spent so much time in, that he’d lived and died in.
And Tommy, who’d lived through wars and death and fought for his very place in life itself, let himself cry.
Only a few tears dripped down his face before he wiped them away, too tired to express all his emotions.
After he’d made sure he was finished, he started his climb down, glaringly aware that one misstep could send him tumbling off the edge.
As it turned out, being aware of that did not stop him from doing that.
He cursed himself during those few miserable moments as he fell, knowing he would hit the ground but powerless to stop it.
And if he hoped, wildly, that someone, anyone, would catch him as he fell, well.
No one needed to know that Tommy Innit was a complete and utter coward.
He hit the ground with a sickening crunch.
Starting to hyperventilate from the fall damage he’d taken, he curled into a ball, hugging himself.
He was down to only a heart now, and the thought of losing that last one made it even more of a struggle to breathe. He searched his inventory (maybe he had a golden apple somewhere?) but found nothing.
There was nothing he could do.
Panic set in as he watched his hunger dwindle. He had to go find something to eat, but he was so exhausted he didn’t know if he could.
He stared at his last heart, the bright red seeming to taunt him.
“Dream, Dream stop! Stop, please- Dream!”
A fist flashing towards his face. Red.
The afterlife.
Tommy jerked upright, his chest heaving with the effort of breathing. He shook his head violently, trying fruitlessly to get rid of the flashbacks.
He checked his health. Half a heart.
No, no, nonononono- he couldn’t go back, he couldn’t, please, please-
Food, something in his mind whispered. Food would help. He would get back to full health, and he could pretend this whole thing never happened.
Tommy took a deep breath. Okay. He could do this.
He stood up on wobbly legs, cursing when he lost his balance. He picked a direction, and was walking on fairly steady feet before his brain caught up with him, causing him to realize a very important problem.
Where was he going to go?
It was almost sundown. At any moment mobs would be spawning, and Tommy was nowhere near ready for that
He glanced at the barely-able-to-be-made-out silhouette of the mansion in the distance.
Surely… surely Tubbo wouldn’t mind if he went to Snowchester? They were still best friends, after all.
Mind made up, Tommy crafted a boat, starting the trip across the water. He wasn’t going to use the tunnel, not after what had happened last time.
The trip passed mostly in a haze, Tommy only being startled a few times by the dark shapes in the water.
Squids, he reminded himself. They probably weren’t Drowned, just squids or fish. Still, he was beyond relieved when he arrived on the shores of Snowchester.
He padded across the snow, torch-light casting shadows that, to his mind, looked too close to monsters to be comfortable.
He made his way up the stairs of Tubbo’s house, but hesitated before knocking. He had almost convinced himself to turn away before he took another glance at his health bar, feeling slightly nauseous when he saw the half-heart.
He took a deep breath, and knocked.
No answer.
Another knock.
Silence.
He had done this three more times before completely convinced that no one was home. He let out a breath. Well, so much for that option.
He turned to leave, but stopped. Maybe- they wouldn’t know if he went in, would they? He could just get some food, and get out. And maybe relax in the warmth for a bit as well.
Sighing, he turned back to the house. Just a few minutes, he promised himself. It’ll just take a few minutes.
Surprisingly, it only did take a few minutes. Tommy left with a stack of potatoes, an almost full bar of health, and no confrontations with anyone.
He slipped out of the house without a word.
He had food, health, and even a few golden apples he’d stolen borrowed from Tubbo.
He should have been okay.
He didn’t feel okay.
And as the nagging feeling of loneliness grew in his chest, he realized he probably wouldn’t be anytime soon.
The door was open.
Tommy shifted nervously on his feet, staring into the house in front of him. He fiddled with the book in his hand, opening it again to read what it said.
It was from Tubbo. He wasn't sure
how
Tubbo had known he'd broken into his house, but he could only assume that he'd come to demand compensation for what Tommy'd taken.
His eyes traced the three simple words on the page, trying to find some sort of tone to indicate how angry Tubbo was.
Meet at house.
He took another glance around the inside of the house. Why had they left the door open? Surely the frigid air would get inside.
Well. It would be up to him to close it then, he supposed.
He took a deep breath, and stepped inside.
Immediately a rush of warm air hit him, and he relaxed. He hadn't known he was so cold.
Shutting the door as gently as he could behind him, Tommy made his way further into the house.
It wasn't big. Tommy had almost forgotten how small it was, just four floors, all packed into a small square of space.
He cocked his head to the side, confused. Where was Tubbo? He couldn't hear him, and he was sure if Tubbo was there, he'd be able to. With the size of the house, there was no way he wouldn't.
He gingerly lowered himself to the floor, crossing his legs, and waited.
He'd almost convinced himself he should go before he heard the handle of the door turn. He flinched as Tubbo walked in, laughing and shouting something to someone behind him.
He caught sight of Tommy, and for a moment his eyes narrowed at the figure in his house. Tommy froze.
But then Tubbo recognized him, his face lighting up. Tommy breathed a sigh of relief.
“Tommy!”
“Hey, Tubbo.” Tommy stood up awkwardly.
Tubbo turned, calling something to someone behind him, before turning back to Tommy.
“Sorry we were late, we were just doing some stuff with Foolish and completely lost track of time.”
“Oh, yeah, that’s alright.” Tommy rubbed the back of his neck. “So, er, the reason you called me here…” He started, trying to figure out the best way to start the awkward conversation.
“Oh! That’s right, I completely forgot to explain.” Tubbo shook his head, lightly facepalming. “So-”
A
vwoop
sounded, cutting him off midway as a figure appeared in the doorway.
"Ranboo!" Tubbo exclaimed, turning to him. "You were supposed to be here
hours
ago." He leveled a glare at his husband, who averted his eyes.
"Tubbo, it's literally only been five minutes since we left..." Ranboo sighed.
Tubbo pouted. "Still."
Ranboo rubbed his temples tiredly. Tommy couldn't help but crack a smile.
"Anyways," Ranbo shook his head as if to clear it. "Tommy! We need to talk to you."
Tommy's fingers tapped nervously against his leg. With Ranboo here it would be
so much worse
having this conversation, but he supposed he could withstand it. They didn't seem to be mad at him, so it would probably just be more… awkward.
"Okay, so you know how me and Ranboo have this huge mansion being commissioned, right?" Tubbo asked, stretching out the 'u' in huge.
Tommy blinked. This was not the way he'd expected this to go.
"Yeah?" He answered slowly.
"Okay, well, we've got a lot of rooms, and even though we do have a list of things to put in them, we're probably going to have extra, and I've already said you might be able to do this but we're actually seriously considering it now because honestly it isn't a bad idea and-"
Ranboo interrupts with a wry smile, glancing fondly at Tubbo as he gasps for breath. "What Tubbo's
trying
to say is, do you want to move into the mansion with us?"
Tommy gapes at them.
"Uh."
"It doesn't have to be right away!" Tubbo starts rambling again. "If you don’t want to, we can wait until later. But if you do, we can start moving your stuff. We've already got your room set up!"
Tommy blinked. Blinked again.
Uh
. “Give me a sec to process all that, Big T.”
Tubbo bounced a little on his feet. “Right, right. Cool. Yeah.”
Tommy considered. On one hand, he hadn’t been expecting this at
all
. He was woefully unprepared, and he couldn’t just up and leave
.
He paused. Would it be leaving completely, though? Tubbo and Ranboo both had separate houses outside of the mansion, and he could still keep his old house. He was honestly pretty attached to it.
But there was also the fact that he couldn’t just move in with his best friend and his husband.
XD,
he couldn’t imagine how stupidly sappy they’d be. At least he’d been able to avoid it before, if he moved in now they would be completely unbearable.
And then there was the problem of Ranboo even
being
there. He still couldn’t stand the enderman- half enderman? Hybrid? Whatever. He was a dick either way.
But... on the other hand. It would be nice.
He could maybe finally reconcile with Tubbo, actually be able to talk with his friend for once. That is, if Ranboo would just stop getting on the way. But still, he thinks it would be nice to start trying to actually be best friends again.
“Okay.” The word slipped out of his mouth, but he couldn’t quite regret agreeing.
“Okay?” Tubbo’s eyes lit up. “Okay! Do you want to start moving in now? We told Foolish we’d start doing interior for some of the rooms, so it won’t interfere with anything he’s working on. We’ve already mostly moved in.” He jerks his thumb over his shoulder, vaguely at the mansion.
"Oh, um, sure. Okay." Tommy tentatively met Tubbo's eyes.
Tubbo grinned at him, eyes alight with happiness.
His eyes flicked to Ranboo, and he gave him a small grin.
"Alright, well, let's get going!" Tubbo cheered, grabbing his and Ranboo's arms and pulling them out of the house. Tommy stiffened at the contact at first, before relaxing. This was Tubbo. Tubbo wouldn't hurt him.
So they made their way out of the house, setting off across the water.
And Tommy gripped onto his friends (was he considering Ranboo a friend now? It wouldn't be too bad if he did, he supposed.) and they walked across the water tunnel, and they
didn't let him fall.
And Tommy thought maybe, maybe, with people on his side.
He might be okay soon.
Tommy lugged a chest of his stuff out of his house, dropping it on the ground outside.
“Why do we have to keep going all the way back over there?” He whined, already mentally preparing to make the trip to Snowchester again.
Tubbo wrinkled his nose, looking equally as miffed as Tommy. “Yeah, Ranboo, why don’t you just do it. You can teleport.” He sent a glare at his husband, who already looked tired.
“I’m not taking all of this over there.” He waved his arm at all of Tommy’s stuff. “You two should at least do some of it. Besides, why does Tommy need all this anyway?”
Tommy puffed up indignantly. “We already have taken some! And I need it for only the biggest of big man things, you wouldn’t understand.”
Ranboo stared at him. Tommy stared back.
Ranboo eventually broke the pseudo-staring contest, shaking his head. “Fine, fine.” He picked up a chest, and disappeared in a poof of purple particles.
Tommy cheered. Tubbo sent him a smug glance. “Told you we’d be able to make him do all the work.”
Ranboo reappeared, grabbing another chest and zipping away again.
After all the chests had been cleared, Ranboo somehow got Tommy and Tubbo to get up and move in the direction of Snowchester. Tommy and Tubbo complained, of course, but continued anyway.
Well. Not the entire way. But they were just resting for a bit, they couldn’t be blamed. At least, Tommy couldn’t.
Ranboo had gotten to the beach before he realized he couldn’t hear footsteps behind him anymore. He looked back, only to find Tommy and Tubbo, piled on top of each other and seemingly asleep.
“We’ve- we do have to actually go to the mansion now, you know.” He said in a deadpan, raising his eyebrows.
Tommy groaned and glared at him, Tubbo peeking out only to do the same. “No.” Tommy said decidedly. “We aren’t moving anymore, not after all that hard work that we did.”
Ranboo sighed, eyeing the pile. Tommy sent him a smirk. Ranboo looked like he was questioning why he’d even brought them in the first place.
While Ranboo had his epiphany, Tommy shook Tubbo, who may have actually fallen asleep at this point. He looked down to check and- yep. He was completely out.
He looked back at Ranboo, who finally spoke again. “Come on, just walk the rest of the way? It’s only like, a 10 minute walk from here.”
Tommy grinned. “No.”
Ranboo sighed, and then they were both heaved up- or attempted to be heaved up- into his arms. Instead, Ranboo ended up dropping them.
Fortunately (or unfortunately, depending on how you looked at it) they were dropped into the water.
Tommy looked up at Ranboo with the most betrayed expression he could muster. Ranboo at least had the decency to look sheepish. “You weren’t getting up.” He said apologetically. Tommy sent him the most scorching glare he could muster.
Tubbo somehow still hadn’t woken up, and after some debate, Ranboo ended up scooping him into his arms, carrying him bridal style all the way back to Snowchester, a sopping wet Tommy trailing behind him.
They passed Phil on their way there, who gave them a bewildered look. Ranboo shook his head, a silent don’t ask. Phil blinked, but gave him a nod- albeit a confused one- and kept going.
Tommy hoped he was boring holes into the back of Ranboo’s head with the force of his glare. He was all wet now, and he still had to walk the rest of the way.
(He conveniently ignored the fact that if he and Tubbo had moved, this wouldn’t have happened.)
“Ranboo.” He pouted at the boy in question.
“Yes, Tommy?”
“I’m tired.”
“Mhm.” Ranboo nodded. “And?”
Tommy scowled at him. “I’m tired. And cold. And it’s your fault.”
Ranboo looked at him for a moment. “Can you walk the rest of the way there?”
“No.” Tommy crossed his arms, plopping down on the top of the water tunnel dramatically.
(They had decided to go on top, as Ranboo didn’t think he could pull Tubbo through without waking him up, and he hadn’t particularly wanted Tommy to go through after… last time. To be honest, Tommy hadn’t wanted to either.)
“I thought you were ‘the biggest of big men’,” Ranboo raised an eyebrow. “And yet you can’t walk for five more minutes?”
Tommy growled, but heaved himself to his feet and continued.
They made it eventually, Tommy complaining the entire way. But they did make it, and Tommy immediately threw himself onto the ground, groaning.
“I can’t believe you made me walk the entire way there.” He yelled vaguely in Ranboo’s direction. “You carried Tubbo the entire way.”
Ranboo poked his head out of what Tommy assumed to be the kitchen, a slightly guilty look on his face. “He was asleep, Tommy. And-” He caught sight of him. “Why are you on the floor?”
Tommy just stuck his tongue out petulantly. “I told you, I was tired.”
Ranboo shook his head, a fond grin tugging at his lips. “Go to the living room. Tubbo’s already there, and the fire’s on, so you can warm up.”
Tommy scowled at him again, before walking to the other room, shivering. Yeah, he probably needed that fire.
Tubbo was half-awake when Tommy got to him. “Tommy!” Tubbo whispered, once he’d seen him. “C'mere.” He opened his arms for Tommy, and he obediently sat on the couch to the left of his best friend, leaning into the touch.
Huh. Tubbo was warm already. How had he dried off so quickly?
Tommy went to ask him, curious, but arms wrapped around him, pulling him further back into Tubbo.
Oh. That was nice.
He couldn’t remember the last time he’d had a hug. Now that he thought about that, it was… in all honesty, pretty sad. But now Tubbo was here, and he was a warm and solid comfort at Tommy’s back, and- not that he would admit it- Tommy thought he could stay here forever.
Tubbo hummed, a soft rumble against him, and absentmindedly scratched at Tommy’s hair. Tommy pressed back into him as much as he could, making Tubbo chuckle.
Tommy drifted more and more into a fog as time went on.
It was just so nice. He felt…
He felt safe.
He heard footsteps pad in from the other room, the low murmur of voices exchanged. Someone gently shook him. He blinked blearily up at them, letting out a small yawn.
Whoever was in front of him cooed, and he heard a quiet “Awww.” from the warmth at his back.
“Tommy.” The voice in front of him whispered. “Here.” A mug was placed in his hands. He took a sip, relaxing at the taste of chocolate. He barely remembered drinking the rest of it, but did recall someone settling to the left of him. A second pair of arms wrapped around him, leaving him sandwiched in warmth and comfort.
He let his eyes slip closed.
The first time Tommy woke up, he drifted softly into consciousness, slowly coming back to himself.
Reminded by what had happened earlier at the pressure on him and the solid weight at his back, he let a small smile slip onto his face. He snuggled further into his friends, before realizing.
He was going to be mocked mercilessly if they caught him cuddling them. That, or he was just going to be called “adorable” and cooed over, which, in his opinion, was even worse.
He bit his lip. He didn’t really want to wake them, but… he did need to get up.
Moving slowly, he tried to slither his way out from where he was, but Tubbo let out a grumble in his sleep, arms curling tighter around him.
He tried again, but this time a black and white tail wrapped loosely around his waist, pulling him back.
Tommy froze. He could still remember the panic from last time that tail had been around him, constricting, trapping trapping trapping and he was back in the prison and he couldn’t get out and he was-
At the mansion. And he was at the mansion and this was Ranboo, who wouldn’t hurt a fly, and especially not Tommy. And the tail was curling around him protectively, not controlling.
And he was safe.
Tommy let out a breath. The tail curled tighter around him, almost seeming to sense his panic, and began flicking slowly back and forth over his skin, soothing.
He heard a voice, rough with sleep. “Tommy?”
He ducked his head, embarrassed Ranboo had caught him having yet another panic attack, but answered. “Yeah?”
“You okay?”
“...Yeah.” He answered uncomittendly
“Hm.” Ranboo didn’t seem to believe it, but let the subject go anyway. “I’m here if you need me, alright?”
“Yeah, yeah.” Tommy croaked, burying his face in Tubbo’s shoulder. “I don’t need help, I’m a big man.”
He felt Ranboo smile. “Got it.” He replied, but grabbed Tommy’s hand anyways, rubbing soothing circles into the back of it.
Tommy tried to reply with a witty comeback, but was cut short with a yawn.
Ranboo chuckled. “Go back to sleep. You seem like you need it.” He added sofly, readjusting so he could wrap his other arm around Tommy, who melted at the contact.
Tommy tried to argue, but.
He was tired. He was tired, his friends were both next to him, and he was warm and safe and- and home.
He drifted back off.
He woke up the second time to the smell of food. He tried to sit up- and succeeded.
Frowning, he realized he was alone.
Wandering over to the kitchen, he found Ranboo and Tubbo.
“G’morning.” He muttered, hopping onto the counter next to them and stifling a yawn.
“Morning!” Tubbo beamed at him. Ranboo followed up with a “Good morning”, also seeming tired.
Tubbo had no such weakness, bouncing around with what seemed to be buckets of energy. Tommy groaned. Just watching that made his head hurt.
Instead, he got up and walked over to Ranboo, burying his face in the latter’s shoulder. Ranboo let out some sort of enderman noise that Tommy guessed meant surprise, before wrapping an arm around him.
Tommy let his eyes drift shut, listening to the noise of Tubbo clattering around, supposedly making breakfast. He sank deeper into Ranboo, attempting to disappear.
He managed to be fully awake by the time Tubbo had finished breakfast, and thankfully finished the meal without falling face first into it.
“So,” Tommy clapped his hands together. “What do we do now?”
They’d finished cleaning up the kitchen, and were currently sitting around, doing essentially nothing.
“Hmm.” Tubbo thought for a second. “Oh! We can set up your room!”
Tommy perked up. “Oh you’re right!”
Setting up his room was a more difficult process than anyone had anticipated.
Especially seeing as three hours later, the house was partially blown up.
And it was most decidedly not Tommy’s fault. He had just brought TNT. And placed it as a joke. Why would he know there was going to be a lever, conveniently right next to it?
At least it was only one.
Ranboo groaned, giving him a ‘why now’ look. “Tommy.” He said exasperatedly.
Tubbo was laughing his ass off.
“What?” Tommy asked innocently.
Ranboo put his head in his hands.
(“You’re paying for this, you know.” Ranboo threatened.
“But Ranboo.” Tommy whined, falling against his shoulder. “I’m so poor, and you’re so rich, and you’re my friend, and pleeeeeeease.” He looked up at Ranboo, pouting.
Ranboo sighed, and threw his hands in the air. “Fine! Fine. Alright.” He rolled his eyes, but he was smiling.
Tubbo gave him an inconspicuous high-five.)
They all walked to the nether portal together, having to go get Foolish to fix the mansion.
“You may have gotten me to pay for it, but you do have to explain to Foolish exactly why it was blown up.” Ranboo leveled a look at Tommy as they walked the path to Foolish’s desert. Tommy shrugged.
“Sure. So long as you-”
Tommy tripped.
He tripped, far, far, too close to the edge. And then he was falling, not quite sure how he’d gotten there, and oh XD please no please nonononono I can’t die now I can’t I can’t please-
A tail wrapped around his ankle, hauling him back as arms grabbed him, and then he was in someone’s arms, hyperventilating.
“Tommy?” A panicked voice asked. “Tommy, are you okay?” Another voice chimed in. “Come on, boss man, you’re here, you’re safe.”
He took a few more heaving breaths before he tore open his eyes, glancing wildly around, was Dream there he couldn’t be he couldn’t be he was and he was there and there was pain pain pain and a smile and nothingness and death he was dead he was dead please please he couldn’t go through it again he couldn’t go back there he wouldn’t go back there he wasn’t there he wasn’t-
Tommy was on the ground. He squeezed his eyes shut- he could hear the lava and there was obsidian beneath him and there was-
A voice. It was panicked and choked and sounded seconds away from a breakdown and it was- it was nothing like Dream. Tommy took a breath.
There were hands squeezing his. They seemed to be trying to ground him, and they were working, at least a little.
The voice started talking again.
“Tommy? Tommy, please answer. You’re safe, we’re here. You’re- you’re okay, you’re okay.” The voice seemed to be trying to convince itself more than Tommy.
He opened his eyes.
Ranboo was holding him, arms wrapped tightly around him. He was talking hurriedly, worried to the point he had started to slip into enderman. Worried for… Tommy? That couldn’t be right.
Tubbo was in front of him, holding both of his hands. He was looking concerned, and noticed when he opened his eyes.
“You here, boss man?” Tubbo asked, and Tommy could hear the shakiness in his voice.
Tommy gave him a nod, not sure his voice would work.
Ranboo stopped rambling, instead holding Tommy closer. “You’re okay?” He asked Tommy, resting his forehead on the top of Tommy’s head and taking a shaky breath.
“Whoa there, you seem more panicked than the person who actually had a panic attack.” Tommy joked. It didn’t seem to make the mood lighter.
Tubbo glanced at him worriedly. “That was a panic attack?”
Tommy regretted saying anything. “Yeah, yeah.” He waved Tubbo off. “It’s whatever.”
“It’s not whatever.” Ranboo mumbled from above Tommy, seeming to have composed himself a bit.
“It is, it is!” Tommy exclaimed. “I’ll be fine in a sec.”
He was not fine in a sec, judging by the way he almost collapsed the next time he stood up. He ignored his friends' concerned looks. He didn’t need their pity.
“I’ll just- I’ll just carry you.” Ranboo decided.
Tommy glared at him. “I can manage fine on my own.”
But… Ranboo really did seem worried. And fretting and Ranboo were not a good mix, so he allowed himself to be scooped up and carried back to the mansion.
(“Wait.” Tommy stopped them. “I thought you were going to ask Foolish about fixing the mansion?”
Ranboo gave him a stricken look. Tubbo chimed in. “Not now, you need help.” He looked heartbroken at the thought that Tommy thought they would just- abandon him.)
He resigned himself to be fussed over for the rest of the day. Turns out both Ranboo and Tubbo were mother hens.
Ranboo was halfway through with asking Tommy if he was okay (for the millionth time) when a thought crossed his mind that made him freeze in his tracks. “You don’t- you don’t have any burns, do you? The lava didn’t reach you?”
The thought seemed to terrify him. Tommy was just bewildered. “Uh.. no? No burns here.”
Ranboo seemed to relax a bit. “Okay. Okay, that’s good.”
Ranboo left, muttering something about giving him a heart attack, as Tubbo came barraging in.
“Are you okay? Don’t even try lying, I’ll know.” Tubbo plopped down next to Tommy.
“Yes?” Tommy blinked at him.
“Are you sure? I know you’re- you don’t like damage, and you’re so scared of dying, and this would have to be terrifying-”
“Tubso.” Tommy stopped his rambling. Tubbo looked at him, startled.
“I’m okay.” Tommy repeated.
Tubbo took a deep breath.
Then lurched forward, hugging Tommy with all his strength, knocking his breath out of him with an oomph.
“Don’t-” Tubbo’s voice broke. “Don’t you ever do that again.”
As much as Tommy could tell he was trying to hide it, he could hear the waver in his voice. “I’ll try.” Tommy promised.
“Okay.” Tubbo whispered.
Tommy ended up with both of his friends clinging to him like a lifeline that night. Tubbo had wrapped his legs around Tommy’s waist, his arms just under Tommy’s like a koala. Ranboo had one arm thrown over him, and both of his tails (not just one, Tommy hadn’t even realized he had a second) curling protectively over him.
Tommy felt safe. He was safe, and that was.
Well.
Definitely a change, though not a bad one.
He didn’t think he’d ever felt protected, cared for, as much as this.
No. That was a lie.
L’manburg.
He could still picture it vividly, laughter and songs and happiness. But it was gone.
He choked back a sob. It was gone. Dream had taken it. He closed his eyes, silent tears falling down his face.
Tubbo shifted next to him in his sleep, clinging closer. Ranboo in turn, on Tommy’s other side, pulled Tommy further into his embrace.
L’manburg was gone.
And… it was bearable. Because his friends were here, and when they woke up Tommy would poke Tubbo and make fun of him for being clingy, and Tubbo would shove him back, and Ranboo would watch in amusement, and-
It would be okay.
Tommy would be okay.
He dreamed of hope.
|
Rachel sat on her bed, most of the way through a book Hermione had sent her late yesterday afternoon. A History of the Triwizard Tournament by Irwin Froth had started out as an interesting read, but was slowly growing more and more concerning as she made it further into the book.
The Triwizard Tournament had first been held in 1294 and had actually been pretty interesting. Each school had brought its most talented students and the Tournament had included spectacles of magic, dueling, and singing and lute playing. Three champions were chosen from the cup called the Goblet of Fire that Hogwarts Headmaster Adelard Browne had hewn from a yew tree, and all three Headmasters had added enchantments to make it work. There was a Yule Ball, where the schools feasted and danced until the early morning hours. The Beauxbatons champion Roul Basille had won the Tournament that year after enchanting an Ashwinder, a feat that the author noted may have been accomplished with Parseltongue.
From there things steadily went downhill. The Triwizard Tournament was held every five years for the next five hundred years, and the only reason Rachel could come up with that they hadn't cancelled it before then was that people simply didn't care all that much about students dying.
In 1404 both the Durmstrang and Hogwarts champions were killed by an Acromantula in the final task. The Beauxbatons student was severely wounded but managed to set the Acromantula on fire before it could escape the arena.
In 1559 the Beauxbatons champion and the Beauxbatons Headmaster were both killed when the Headmaster tried to run to his student's aid in the second task, a magical vortex that consumed them both entirely.
In 1679 they banned the dueling competition after Alexsandru Lunev from Durmstrang killed a student to take the place as the top duelist.
In 1714 the Hogwarts champion was gored by a Graphorn during the first task and died shortly after.
In 1794 a cockatrice escaped during the third task, injuring all three of the Headmasters and a number of students in its rampage.
'How could Professor Dumbledore possibly think reviving the Triwizard Tournament is a good idea?' Rachel wrote into her two-way book as she closed the book she'd just finished reading.
'I don't know, it's pretty concerning. I know it's supposed to be safer because only students who are of age can enter, but I'm not sure how being of age makes the tasks they describe less dangerous,' Hermione wrote back.
'Bring the book with you to Hogwarts, I want to read it,' Theo wrote.
'Send it to me first, I'm out of things to read and now I'm curious. Is it really that bad?' Millie wrote.
'It is. By my count there were one hundred Tournaments held, with 43 deaths (not all of them Champions) and many many injuries. Why can't the Tournament be about who can perform the best Transfigurations or brew the best potions or something like that, instead of putting students in life or death situations? I've read up on dueling too, and even in professional circuits that's not deadly anymore,' Hermione wrote.
Rachel thought about that. There did seem to be a sort of entertainment aspect of it, rather than just testing the skills of the students.
'That's a lot of deaths. I wonder if people's parents know about this?' Millie wrote.
'Well, they'll know soon enough. I'm sure everyone will write home to tell their parents what is happening at Hogwarts. And if Lucius Malfoy, who is on the Board of Governors, isn't complaining about it, I think it's probably too late to do anything about it,' Theo wrote.
'Probably. I'll send you the book with Gladys today, Millie,' Rachel wrote.
She got up and wrapped the book using two sheets of parchment and a Sticking charm so they would stay together and then wrote Millie's name on it.
Downstairs she found Severus reading in his armchair.
"Did Professor Dumbledore say why he's bringing back the Triwizard Tournament?" she asked when he looked up.
"He wants to create strengthen the relationships between Hogwarts, Beauxbatons, and Durmstrang in case there's another war, though he'll say it's because it's important that Hogwarts students are also making international connections as wizarding Britain is part of the greater magical community," Severus said.
"Oh," Rachel said. That was a lot more straightforward than she was expecting, also a bit more worrying. "Professor Dumbledore seems pretty certain there is going to be another war."
"Albus has seen many things throughout his lifetime. I would expect that if anyone could read the signs of a coming war, it would be him. Hopefully the war will not be for years yet, if there is one at all," Severus said.
Rachel nodded. "Can I use Gladys to send this?"
"Yes, that's fine," Severus said.
Rachel went into the kitchen and got some string from the drawer to tie around the book so that Gladys could hold it more easily. She wondered if she should tell her friends what Severus had just said about the possibility of another war. At the very least she could tell them that Professor Dumbledore wanted to strengthen international relationships in case of a war.
"Hey Gladys, ready to take a trip?" she asked, gently rubbing the side of Gladys' head.
Gladys gave a low hoot.
"Take this to Millicent Bulstrode please," she said, holding the package so that Gladys could grip it.
She stood at the window and watched as Gladys flew away and tried to push away the feeling that bad things were going to happen.
*****
On Monday, just before one o'clock in the afternoon, Rachel and Severus arrived at Twilfitt and Tattings, where Millie's mom had suggested they go shopping for gowns.
"Rachel!" Millie called, waving to them as they approached. Hermione and her mother were there as well.
"I'm glad you're alright, both of you," Rachel said. This was the first time she'd seen them since the Quidditch World Cup.
"Me too, it was pretty scary," Millie said.
"Do things like that happen often in the magical world?" Mrs. Granger asked.
"No, not since the war," Mrs. Bulstrode said. "Fortunately the Ministry is all over it, though it doesn't seem like they actually caught anyone involved."
"I imagine it's harder to catch criminals in the magical world, what with Polyjuice Potion and people being able to apparate," Hermione said.
"Typically when the MLE is apprehending criminals they place anti-apparition wards to prevent them from escaping, however they were not able to do so this time because it would prevent others from getting to safety," Severus explained.
"Hey!" Ginny called as she and Luna hurried up to them, Mrs. Weasley not far behind. "We're really shopping for gowns for a ball!"
Rachel smiled. She was glad this was something she could do together with her friends.
"I've never been to a ball before, I think it will be exciting," Hermione said.
"Let's go in, you girls have an appointment to be fitted," Mrs. Bulstrode said.
Their group went inside the shop and Rachel looked around at all of the clothes that were on display. There were dresses and robes of all kinds, some in thick velvety fabric and others in gossamery silk. She'd seen people in pretty dresses like this on television, but never imagined that she might wear one.
A woman came out to greet them, her pale pink robes fluttering out behind her as she walked. "I'm Ms. Abilene. These young women are here to be fitted for gowns for the Yule Ball, is that correct?"
"That's right," Mrs. Bulstrode said.
"There are some chairs over by the fitting rooms and I'll have our House Elf bring you some tea while the girls look at gowns. Girls, come with me and we'll start by picking a style and color that suits you," Ms. Abilene said.
Rachel glanced back at Severus and he nodded to her.
"I'll be with the other parents sitting down over there. Let me know if something doesn't seem right," he said.
Rachel checked that she still had her wand in her skirt pocket, nodded to Severus, and followed her friends through an open doorway into another room. There were racks and racks of dresses in a rainbow of colors.
"Wow," Ginny said, turning slowly to take it all in.
"Let's see here. You with the red hair, you with the blonde, and the smaller girl with the curls. The three of you will start looking through this rack as you are all very young and petite. We want to capture your look of youth and innocence. You with the black hair, you need something more stately, you're a young woman now and you want to show your beauty and your power. And you, the taller girl with the curls, you can go either way at this point. Which look would you prefer?" Ms. Abilene asked Hermione.
"Um, beauty and power, I suppose," Hermione said.
"We can work with that. The two of you will begin looking at this rack. When you see something you like, show it to me, and we will decide if it is a good style for your figure," Ms. Abilene directed.
Rachel went with Ginny and Luna to the rack that Ms. Abilene had directed them to and started looking through the gowns. She had no idea how she was supposed to pick something. They were all pretty. After seeing a few dresses it became a little easier - she didn't want something with flowers on it, or lace. Ribbons were a maybe, depending on what they did with them.
"What about this, Ms. Abilene?" Luna asked, holding up a pink dress with ruffles.
"No, no, not for you. See how this grows wider as it goes down, that is for girls who are more heavyset. You are small like a fairy, you want something that is narrow at the waist and then becomes more loose at your knees. Just about any of the paler colors will work with your complexion," Ms. Abilene said, turning to Ginny. "No pink or purple for you."
Ginny put back the dress she was holding and grinned at Rachel as Ms. Abilene went to go help Millie and Hermione.
Rachel smiled back, trying not to laugh. Ms. Abilene seemed to have a very strict idea as to what people should wear.
"I didn't know this was so complicated," Ginny whispered as they watched Ms. Abilene put back a dress Millie had been holding and pull out a different one.
"Me neither. I don't know what to even pick," Rachel said.
"Pick what speaks to you. I think I quite like this one," Luna said, holding a dress in seafoam green that had small shining sequins sewn in small groups at the top and became floating and insubstantial as it reached the floor.
Rachel kept looking, trying to see if a gown spoke to her. She couldn't quite imagine herself wearing any of them.
"Let's see. Yes, you should try that on," Ms. Abilene said to Luna before turning to Ginny. "I think a pale buttercup yellow for you, that will be bright enough not to wash out your complexion and contrast well with your hair. What do you think of something like this?"
"Maybe without the flowers," Ginny said, wrinkling her nose.
"A little plainer, then perhaps more like this?" Ms. Abilene asked, choosing another dress in the same color and holding it out for Ginny to see. This one had small folds that created a texture on the surface and blossomed into waves at the bottom.
"Can I try it on?" Ginny asked.
"Certainly. And now you. I think we want something very pale to bring out your features, something that starts the skirt up above your waist. Lavender, maybe," Ms. Abilene said, going through the rack again. "What do you think about this?"
Rachel looked at the dress. The lavender was so pale it was almost white. It had very short sleeves and the top looked like it was made of some sort of silk, while the skirt of the dress seemed very flowing. There was a small amount of ribbon stitched around where the top of the dress and the skirt met. It was really pretty. "I like it. Can I try it on?"
"Yes, of course. Now that you all have something to try on, let's go back to the fitting rooms. Don't be afraid to reject the gown, you can come back here and pick something else to try on. Don't say yes unless you feel like the gown is truly for you. Let's go, girls," Ms. Abilene said.
They followed her back into the main shop area and were each directed into a small fitting room. After a moment of examining it, Rachel realized that the only way the dress could go on was straight over her head. She changed into it and was surprised at how soft it felt against her skin. When she turned she could feel the dress moving around her legs.
"What do you think?" she heard Ginny say.
"I think it's lovely, dear," Mrs. Weasley replied.
Rachel stepped out of the fitting room and went over to where there were several mirrors.
"Let's adjust the top so that it fits your shoulders better," Ms. Abilene said, tapping her wand against the neckline of the dress.
"Thank you," Rachel said. The dress did seem to fit better now.
"Try letting down your hair, dear, so you can see what it looks like," Ms. Abilene said.
Rachel pulled the hair tie out of her hair and let it fall over her shoulders. Even though Severus had trimmed it this summer it was several inches longer than she'd realized. She'd never worn her hair long while she was with her relatives, her aunt had thought it looked too messy. She almost didn't recognize herself in the mirror.
She turned away and walked over to Severus. "Do you like it?"
"It's very nice, but the real question is what you think of it," Severus said.
"I like it. Do you think it's okay for the Yule Ball?" she asked.
"Yes, it would be fine, if that's the one you want," he said.
"I think so," Rachel said. She went back to the mirror and slowly turned, wanting to make sure it looked okay from the sides and the back.
"That's very pretty," Millie said, coming back out of the changing room in her regular clothes. "Can I look again? I don't like how this feels on my skin."
"Yes, let's take another look. Something in a deep green, I think," Ms. Abilene said.
"What do you think?" Hermione asked Rachel.
Hermione was in a pale blue dress that had shoulders and sleeves of a thin see-through material, blue silk flowers around the waist, and a long flowing skirt.
"You're beautiful," Rachel said, watching as Hermione checked herself in the mirror.
"You don't think the see-through parts are a bit ostentatious?" she asked.
"No, I think it looks nice," Rachel said.
"Yours is very nice too, that's a very good color for you," Hermione said, turning to look at Rachel before going over to her mom. "Mom, what do you think?"
"It's very nice, quite grown up. You should ask your professor if sleeves like that will be allowed though," Mrs. Granger said.
"It's fine, though I would not recommend wearing it outside of the ball," Severus said.
"Do you like yours, Luna?" Rachel asked, looking at where Luna was slowly turning to let the skirt sway.
"Yes, I like the way it feels," Luna said, opening her eyes.
Millie came back in the room carrying a dress in a deep green. "Oh, you all look so pretty."
"Try yours on, Millie, we want to see," Ginny said.
"Do you like the yellow?" Rachel asked Ginny once Millie had gone into the fitting room.
"I didn't think I would, but I do. I think I'm going to ask my mom to do my jumper in yellow this year too," Ginny said.
Millie came out a few minutes later and Rachel was a little surprised. Given how tall Millie was, she usually looked a bit older than the rest of them, but now she looked almost grown up.
"What do you think?" Millie asked, swaying the skirt back and forth.
"Beautiful. You look like you're about to go off for a ball for adults," Rachel said.
Millie looked in the mirror and pulled her hair back. "I wish I wasn't so tall. But this is okay, I think."
"It's lovely, Millie," Hermione said. "We're all going to have to figure out what to do with our hair though."
"You look nice, Millie," Mrs. Bulstrode said. "It's very stately."
"If you all think you've found the dress that's right for you, it's time to try on slippers so that they match," Ms. Abilene said.
It took Rachel a moment to place the word slipper as a dressy shoe that women wore rather than something people wore to keep their feet warm at night.
She smiled as she gathered with her friends to see all the different shoes. This was kind of fun, mostly because she was doing it with her friends.
*****
Severus sat down in one of the chairs near the fitting rooms and tried not to feel out of place. Most of the time he thought he did an adequate job with Rachel, but at the moment he was keenly aware that one thing he could not do was provide a mother figure for her.
He did not think it was likely that he would ever marry, or even date, but especially not right now. Any woman who approached him would be suspicious for any number of reasons and he couldn't risk anything more happening to Rachel. He and Rachel would just have to manage.
A House Elf appeared with a tea tray and each of them took a cup.
"Professor Snape," Mrs. Bulstrode began.
"Please, call me Severus," he said.
"Of course. You can call me Amanda. I was wondering if what they said in the Daily Prophet was true. I heard it from Millie too, but I wasn't quite sure if I could believe it," Mrs. Bulstrode said.
Since it could be any number of things she was talking about, Severus decided to carefully clarify. "I'm not sure what you're referring to."
"About Sirius Black kidnapping Rachel in the spring. The Daily Prophet, especially that Skeeter woman, has a way of exaggerating things," Mrs. Bulstrode said.
"Kidnapping? Hermione told me that Sirius Black was innocent," Mrs. Granger said.
Severus refrained from sighing. "In the spring, before we knew that Black was innocent of what he'd been imprisoned for, he briefly abducted Rachel in order to negotiate a trial from the Ministry. She was returned the next day, unharmed."
"My god, and they just let him out of prison?" Mrs. Granger asked.
Severus understood the feeling entirely.
"Well, they let him off with time served, considering they kept him in Azkaban for twelve years for murders he didn't commit," Mrs. Bulstrode said.
"And, if I'm not mistaken, Sirius is Rachel's godfather," Molly Weasley added.
"That's true," Severus said, a fact he was regretting. Rachel seemed quite fixed on the idea of seeing Black before the school term started and Severus was trying to find a way to do it that involved as little contact with Black as possible while still protecting Rachel.
"And these Dementor things that Hermione told me about, they're not coming back to the school?" Mrs. Granger asked.
"No, the Dementors are gone and are not coming back," Severus said.
"Thank Merlin for that," Molly said.
"And with the Triwizard Tournament, I assume they have some safety precautions?" Mrs. Bulstrode asked.
"Yes, for one, all of the champions must be of age in order to participate. That will ensure they are adequately prepared for the tasks. The judges have also spent some time preparing the tasks and feel that they do not pose a life-threatening risk to the champions," Severus said. He thought the entire thing was a bad idea from start to finish, but he knew well enough to present a united front to the parents.
"I must say, it's been a bit of a challenge accepting that the magical world has a quite a different idea of what constitutes risk than we do. Some of the things Hermione tells me, I have half a mind to enroll her in regular school," Mrs. Granger said.
"Hogwarts is one of the safest places in the magical world, especially for young witches and wizards who are still learning to control their magic. And I know my daughter would be very sad if Hermione were to leave," Molly said.
"I concur, Hogwarts is one of the best schools for magical education in Europe. We do the best we can to ensure the safety of all of our students, but I think you'll find that even in muggle schools the teachers cannot be everywhere at once," Severus said.
"It would also be unfortunate to stop her magical education before she even took her OWLs, that would severely limit her prospects in the magical world," Mrs. Bulstrode said.
"I do understand, and ultimately my husband and I want what is best for Hermione, it's just hard to know what that is sometimes," Mrs. Granger said.
Severus understood that feeling all too well.
"I also wanted to thank you all for finding a way to include Ginny in this. I know it's important for young girls to have these sorts of experiences with their friends," Molly said.
"Not at all, from my understanding it was Rachel's idea and she put it together with the other girls. It's nice that Millie is taking an interest in this, usually she's quite resistant to the idea of dresses," Mrs. Bulstrode said.
"I have the same trouble with Hermione," Mrs. Granger confided. "I'm glad that there are special occasions like this at Hogwarts. I went to a few school dances in my time and it's nice that Hermione is getting this experience."
"Well, formal dances are still quite the fashion in some groups, it's good practice for them to do this while they're still at school," Mrs. Bulstrode said.
Severus had been to several such formal dances at Malfoy Manor over the years and had dreaded every one of them. Most pure-blood children were taught to dance in their youth and Severus could still remember Lucius putting a young woman in his arms and then being clumsily led around the dance floor. It had been Lucius' way of reminding Severus that he wasn't really one of them, and never could be. The only reason Lucius treated Severus with respect now was because Severus held a position of power.
The girls came in, each carrying a dress, and were directed into the fitting rooms. They came out soon after, each nervously checking the mirror before coming to their parent for approval.
Severus stared as Rachel stood in front of the mirror, the woman from the shop adjusting her gown and having her take down her hair. He couldn't deny it, Rachel was becoming a young woman. It had happened so fast that he felt like he'd missed it entirely. It was easier to think of her still as a child, but to do so would be ignoring her growth.
After reassuring her that the dress was fine, Severus watched as she chatted eagerly with the other girls. She would never be the same silent, frightened child that he had first met three years ago, and for that he was grateful. He just needed to do the best he could to ensure she continued to grow and learn so that she was ready to go out into the world when the time came. Fortunately they still had some time before that day came.
*****
Rachel was sprawled out on the grass next to Severus' garden, weeding out his bed of dittany. They'd be leaving for Hogwarts in a few days and she'd spotted how messy it was while she'd been slowly flying around the yard as she finished flying for the day.
She'd never minded gardening that much, at the Dursley's it had gotten her out of the house and away from her relatives for a bit, and it was sort of soothing to do repetitive work. It was even nicer to do it because Severus didn't expect her to do it at all.
Something moving caught her attention at the edge of the garden bed and Rachel rested her hand on the pocket that contained her wand and looked closer. "Oh hello," she said, realizing it was a small brown garden snake.
"You speak," it said back.
"So do you," Rachel said, leaning closer.
"Of course I speak," the snake said. "Big things don't usually speak."
"Oh, some humans can speak Parseltongue, meaning we can speak to snakes," Rachel explained. "What's your name?"
"I am me," the snake said unhelpfully.
"My name is Rachel. That's what other humans call me," Rachel said. "Do other snakes call you something?"
"My eggs call me mother," the snake said.
"Oh, you have children. How many?" Rachel asked.
"I have had two clutches of eggs, with many young in each," the snake said.
Rachel decided she should probably try to find a book or two about snakes if she could talk to them. She wondered if there were any books written by other Parselmouths. "Do you like it here in the garden?" she asked.
"There is light and there is dark, both are good. Plenty of water as well," the snake said.
"Do you need me to bring you anything? Some food or water?" Rachel asked.
"I have eaten recently and I've had water as well. Do you need to eat?" the snake asked.
"I eat every day, but I have plenty of food," Rachel said, glad that this was now true. When she'd been talking to garden snakes back at the Dursley's, before she even knew she was magic, she had usually been hungry.
"Rachel, are you hurt?" Severus asked as he approached.
"No, I'm fine, I was just weeding, and then I was talking with this snake," she said, turning back to the snake. "That is Severus, he lives here too."
"Does he talk?" the snake asked.
"He can talk to me, but he doesn't know snake language so he can't talk to you," Rachel said.
"Has the snake told you anything of interest?" Severus asked.
"Well, she doesn't seem to have a name, but she's had two clutches of eggs with a lot of babies, and she says the yard is nice," Rachel said, tilting her head back to look at Severus.
"That's good. Unfortunately snakes are not allowed as pets at Hogwarts," he said.
Rachel smiled. "It's a garden snake, Severus. I wasn't going to bring it in the house." She knew all too well that he did not want to have a pet, even though they borrowed Gladys every summer.
"That's probably for the best. If you've finished your conversation, why don't you come in for lunch, it's nearly one in the afternoon," Severus said.
"I have to go eat now, I hope I'll see you again," she told the snake.
"I hope you catch your food," the snake said.
Rachel shook her head and got up, taking her broom with her. She'd never really considered before that being a snake was such an objectively different experience then being a human. "Do you think if I become an animagus that I'd become a snake because I'm a Parselmouth?"
"I'm not certain what influences an animagus' final form, so I don't know," he said.
"I don't think I'd mind being a snake, it would be good for being small, and if I was venomous I could attack, but it probably wouldn't be very good for getting away quickly," Rachel reasoned.
"Sometimes being able to hide in plain sight is just as useful as being able to escape quickly," Severus said as he opened the door to the house.
"That's true. Are animaguses able to communicate with other animals of their same species?" she asked.
"It's said that animaguses typically do have an affinity for their species while they are in their form, though I don't know how much communication is possible or how specific it is," Severus said.
Rachel nodded. Maybe Sirius would know more, since he was actually an animagus.
*****
"By now you'll have received your student lists for the year, including the students from Beauxbatons and Durmstrang who will be staying with us starting at the beginning of October," Albus said, flipping from one piece of parchment to another as the staff meeting continued.
"Albus, do you feel confident these students will be able to perform on a NEWT level?" Minerva asked.
Severus looked up from his notes as he also had a vested interest in the answer to that question.
"Madame Maxime and Professor Karkaroff have assured me that their sixth and seventh year students are performing on a comparable level to our NEWT curriculum. Seeing as they are bringing their best and brightest, I don't believe there will be a problem. However, if you have a concern about one of their students, please come to me first and we will address the situation with their Headmaster or Headmistress," Albus said.
In other words, barring an absolutely untenable problem, they'd be expected to deal with the Beauxbatons and Durmstrang students regardless of their ability or aptitude. Fortunately Severus only had four additional seventh year and three additional sixth year students joining his classes. Given his small class size for those years, he thought he could likely manage most issues.
"And what about the Dark Arts?" Moody asked.
"I'm not sure what you mean, Alastor," Albus said.
"I mean what about the Durmstrang students and the Dark Arts? Is Karkaroff aware that we teach Defense Against the Dark Arts, and not the Dark Arts themselves?" Moody asked.
Severus refrained from rolling his eyes, but he was quite certain that he saw Minerva look up in exasperation.
"Professor Karkaroff is quite clear on our policies concerning the Dark Arts at Hogwarts, and he will make those policies clear to his students as well. I do not expect that we'll have any trouble with students performing the Dark Arts while they are here," Albus said.
"That's the problem then, you should expect it. You can't stop it if you don't expect it," Moody said, his false eye swirling around madly before pausing on Severus. "Not just the Durmstrang students we need to keep an eye on either."
"No one is teaching the Dark Arts here at Hogwarts," Albus said firmly. "If you see a student engaging in activities that could be considered Dark Arts, please bring them to me."
"That I will do," Moody said, finally looking away from Severus.
Severus sat back in his chair. It was going to be a long year. He had never gotten along well with Moody during their time together in the Order. Moody held the opinion of once a Death Eater, always a Death Eater, and that the only good Death Eater was a dead Death Eater. Severus had overheard several of the arguments Moody and Albus had on the subject matter, and Moody had said as much directly to Severus as well. Still, at least he didn't have to worry about Moody being a threat to Rachel. Moody was as loyal as they came.
"Please let me know of any additional concerns that you may have. Finally, it's been decided that the champions of the Triwizard Tournament will not take any end of year exams, due to the time they will need to spend preparing for the tasks. Obviously, if the Hogwarts Champion is a seventh year, we should do all we can to assist them with preparing for their NEWTs while they are also preparing for the tasks. I also recommend that you show some leniency in quizzes and homework around the dates of the tasks themselves," Albus said. "We'll have another meeting in September to go over the latest results of the curriculum review coming from the Ministry Department of Education. That is all for today."
There was a low rumble throughout the room at that. This curriculum review had been going on for years now and they were still no closer to an agreement between the staff at Hogwarts and the Ministry.
"Filius," Severus said as everyone around the table got up and began to speak with each other. "Do you have a moment?"
"Of course, Severus," Filius said, turning to face Severus. "How can I help you?"
"I wished to speak with you about a student in your House. She'll be a third year this year, Luna Lovegood," Severus said.
"Ah, Miss Lovegood. A bit of an eccentric she is, but very bright. Is she causing you some trouble in class? I know her attention tends to wander," Filius said.
"Her attention does wander, that's true, though I haven't had any mishaps with her in my classroom yet. Rachel let me know that some of the Ravenclaws are bullying Luna," Severus explained.
"Oh dear, did she say who?" Filius asked.
"Rachel didn't know of anyone by name, but I suspect some of them are her year mates as I've noticed them ignoring her in my class. Apparently they call her Loony Lovegood and will refuse to speak to her," Severus said. "Perhaps if you spoke with Luna at the start of the year, she could tell you directly who is causing her problems."
"I'll make a point to speak with her, as well as anyone she names. I'll also talk to my House as a whole about bullying. It was before your time, but when I was at Hogwarts I had a bit of a rough go with my Housemates as well. Being different does become something akin to having a target on your back at that age," Filius said.
Severus nodded, he knew that well enough from his own experiences. "I understand. Thank you. I'll let you know if I hear anything further about the situation."
"Please do. How is Rachel doing this summer?" Filius asked.
"She's doing well. I actually had to tell her to stop studying and to take a break," Severus said.
Filius laughed. "Ah, well, she and her study group are very keen. They'll do well for themselves."
"I hope so," Severus said. "We're planning to return to the castle on Saturday. I'm sure we'll see you around."
"That you will, take care, Severus," Filius said.
"And you," Severus said.
He took a quick glance around the room and found Minerva and Albus with their heads bowed as they spoke, and several of the other staff members talking in small groups.
Moody was standing with his back against the wall and his gaze came to rest on Severus.
Severus nodded. The next best thing he could do after avoiding Moody was to stay cordial.
Moody just stared back and after a moment Severus walked away. It was going to be a long year.
*****
"Stay close to me. It shouldn't be too busy because it's a weekday," Severus said.
"Okay," Rachel said. This was the last shopping trip they needed to take and she was a little bit excited to be going into London. The last times she'd been shopping for clothes in muggle shops she'd still been a little too freaked out about the whole being adopted by Severus situation to really appreciate taking the trip. Now she was just looking forward to doing something new, and to getting some clothes that weren't too short for her.
Rachel put her hand on Severus' arm and a moment later they were in an alleyway in London.
"How do you know where to apparate to so no one will see you?" Rachel asked.
"In most major cities there are alleyways that have Notice-Me-Not charms on them where people can safely apparate into without fear of being seen. For most people in cities near their homes they're brought there first by other people, and then can apparate there themselves. If you're traveling, you can get the addresses from the local government's Department of Transportation when you portkey there," Severus explained.
"You can apparate to somewhere just by knowing the address?" Rachel asked as they began to walk.
"Yes, though when you're first learning it's much better to apparate places that you've already been to so that you can visualize where you're going in your mind. After that, you only need to know the address and you will arrive somewhere in relative close proximity. Most of the time, when muggles see someone apparate, they are able to shrug it off by saying that they just missed you walking around the corner, but it's still important to be cautious," Severus said. "You have your wand with you?"
"Yes," Rachel said. There was no way she was leaving home without it.
"Good. While it's possible to do small amounts of magic in muggle areas and not be seen, I advise against it except in cases of emergencies. No one wants to be involved with a Ministry squad of obliviators," Severus said. "Is this shop still alright with you?"
Rachel looked up at the department store. "Yes, that's fine, unless it's too expensive?"
"No, it's not too expensive, I just want you to be able to have clothing that suits your tastes," Severus said.
"Thanks," Rachel said. She wasn't sure she had clothing tastes. Mostly she just wanted things that were comfortable and looked okay.
They went inside and looked at the directory. There was a section for young women's clothing on the third floor and they took several escalators to get there. Rachel was surprised at just how many options there were when they arrived, as racks and racks of clothes were spread out before them.
"You'll need at least three full outfits, though four might not be a bad idea. You should get socks and undergarments while we're here as well," Severus said.
"Alright," Rachel said. She reminded herself this was necessary, she couldn't go around in clothes that were too small for her and Severus had done all he could with the tailoring charms. She could do this. "This might take awhile."
"That's fine. There's no rush," Severus said.
After looking through a few racks of clothes, Rachel realized that she had a problem. She took down a pair of jeans and held them to her waist. "Do tailoring charms make clothes smaller as well as bigger?"
"They can be used for that, though it would be better if we got something closer to your size to begin with. Do they have something smaller?" Severus asked.
Rachel looked through the rack and found a smaller size. It was closer to what she needed, but not by much. "Why am I so short? Were my parents uncommonly small or something?"
"No, Lily was about an average height for a woman and James was about the same height as me once we were grown. You have been growing, though you don't seem to have hit a growth spurt yet that is common for children your age. It might make sense for us to check with Poppy when we get back to school and make sure everything is alright," Severus said.
"Luna's taller than me now, just by a bit," Rachel said. She had seen as much while they were at the Quidditch World Cup. She glanced around to make sure they were alone. "Aren't there spells or potions to make you grow taller?"
"There are, but you would want to be fully grown before you considered using such a thing, and there are plenty of advantages that come with being small. Filius made quite a name for himself on the dueling circuit using his stature to his advantage," Severus said.
"And it's not bad for a Seeker to be small," Rachel agreed reluctantly as she put the jeans back. "Why doesn't Professor Flitwick use something to grow taller?"
"Because he has Goblin ancestry and such potions would not work on him," Severus said. "Does it look like the shirts will fit you?"
Rachel went to a different rack and looked through the long sleeved shirts until she found a green shirt in a smaller size. She held it against her. The sleeves were a little bit long, but it wasn't too bad. "I think this will work."
"Alright then. Let's look for shirts here and then we can go down to the girls section for trousers and skirts," Severus said.
Rachel sighed but began looking. "If there is something wrong with me, can Madam Pomfrey fix it?"
"That would depend on what the problem is, if there is a problem at all, but most ailments can be treated," Severus said. "I think you will grow with time, but we can check to make sure there isn't a problem. Don't worry about it for now."
"You know, saying not to worry about something doesn't make me stop worrying about it," Rachel said, picking out a short sleeved shirt in light blue.
"What I'm trying to say is that I don't want you to give too much weight or thought to a particular problem because I do not think it's likely that it either is overly concerning or cannot be easily fixed," Severus said.
Rachel sighed again. "You don't have a voice in your brain that just worries, do you? Like, even when you tell it a problem isn't a problem, but it worries anyway?"
"No, I don't. Is this something you've spoken with Torey about?" he asked.
"Yes. She says we can work on it," Rachel said, leading the way to a rack with jumpers on it. The dungeons got downright cold in the winter.
"Good. That sounds unpleasant," Severus said.
Rachel glanced over at Severus. "I didn't say that to make you worry. I don't want you to worry about me."
"I will always worry about you, that is part of being a parent. I assure you if you asked the parents of any of your friends, they would say that they worry about their children," he said.
"Even Theo's father?" Rachel asked skeptically.
"Even Theo's father. Ignatius wants what he thinks is best for Theo, even though it's not what you or I would think is best for him," Severus said. "Just as I want what's best for you, even though you and I might not always agree on that."
Like the idea of playing Quidditch professionally, probably. Rachel had decided she was waiting at least until she was in seventh year and wanting teams to scout her before she told him. And she still hadn't decided yet anyway. "We get along okay, I think?" she asked.
"We do, but I expect at some point you will want more independence than I think is wise at the time, and when that happens we will figure it out. My priority is your safety and well-being," Severus said.
Rachel felt herself blush. It felt so weird for him to be that concerned about her. But she supposed with the Death Eaters out there, and the Dark Lord out there somewhere, it made sense. "I appreciate that. I do try not to break the rules."
"I know. Do you have enough jumpers for winter?" he asked.
"Three should be enough, I think? I want to try them on, if that's okay, and make sure they don't feel weird," Rachel said.
"That's fine. Do you want to look at trousers first so you can make sure they go together?" he suggested.
"Yeah, that's a good idea," Rachel said.
It was a little bit embarrassing to be shopping in the girls section when she was fourteen, but the trousers actually fit her there. In the end she wound up with a new pair of jeans, a pair of corduroys since they were so warm, a blue skirt, three shirts, two jumpers, and a nightgown. She also grabbed a package of socks, and a package of underpants, which she hid beneath the jumpers so Severus wouldn't have to see her underpants.
"That should get me through the next few years, at least until I actually grow," Rachel said. "Is this okay?"
"It's fine. Have you thought as to where you might like to shop for your birthday present?" Severus asked.
"I really don't know. Could we just walk around and see what shops there are?" Rachel asked.
"Yes, though there are better areas of London we can go to for that. And if you see somewhere you want to eat for lunch, just let me know," Severus said.
Severus paid using muggle money and they stopped back in the alleyway again for Severus to shrink the bags and then they apparated to another part of London.
There were groups of smaller shops here, each with a storefront showing what they sold. They passed toy shops, book shops, clothing shops, and shoe shops. Rachel made sure to stay close to Severus. The sidewalks were a little bit busy, but nowhere near as bad as the crowd at the Quidditch World Cup.
"Can we go in here?" Rachel asked as they stopped in front of a music shop.
"We can, though if you're looking for a portable music player, I'll warn you that they won't work inside the castle," Severus said.
"Will it work out on the grounds?" Rachel asked.
"Once you're beyond the shadow of the castle, yes. So down by the lake, or out by the Quidditch pitch," Severus said.
"I can work with that," Rachel decided.
They went into the shop and Rachel listened for a moment to the song playing through the speakers. Aunt Petunia had never been much for listening to music, she'd always wanted the radio on the people talking about current events.
A man in ratty jeans and a leather jacket came from behind the counter. "Are you looking for something specific?" he asked.
"How much does a Walkman cost?" Rachel asked.
"We have a few different models, but about forty quid," the man said.
Rachel looked at Severus. "Is that too expensive?"
"No, that's fine. You can get some cassettes too," Severus said.
"This your first Walkman?" the man asked.
Rachel nodded.
"Let's show you the different options, and then you can look at cassettes," the man said, waving them over to the cabinet.
After looking at all the models, Rachel chose a black one that also had an AM/FM radio included. It came with a pair of headphones.
"So, what sort of music do you like?" the man asked.
"I don't know, all sorts, I guess. I haven't heard much," Rachel said. She didn't think the wizarding bands she heard on the gramophone in the Slytherin common room probably counted.
"That's alright, we'll sort you out. Sit on that stool there and we'll pop a few things in, assuming your old man doesn't mind waiting for a bit," the man said.
"It's fine," Severus said.
Rachel put on the headphones the man offered her and listened as he put in a variety of tapes, nodding her head to the ones she liked, and one case removing the headphones entirely at the noise.
"So, classic pop and rock seems to be your jam. We can work with that. Try picking from some of these," the man said, picking out several different cassettes and bringing them back to the counter.
After spending about thirty minutes listening to the different cassettes, Rachel picked out a tape that had the top twenty Beatles hit songs, Pink Floyd's The Wall, Fleetwood Mac's Rumours, and a two tape set that had a bunch of songs from the 80s from all different bands.
"And, finally, you'll need batteries. They have rechargeable batteries now, which are good for if you're near a plug, but it's a little more expensive to start with," the man said.
"Regular batteries for now," Severus said.
"Do you want me to help pay?" Rachel asked.
"No, this is part of your birthday gift, you do not need to pay," Severus said.
"Ah, happy birthday to you," the man said, pausing to look up as someone else came in the shop. "Be right with you, feel free to look around."
"Thanks," Rachel said. "And thanks for showing me things."
"Not a problem." The man finished ringing them up and gave Rachel the bag after Severus had paid.
"Thank you, I really appreciate it," Rachel said once they were back outside.
"It's not a problem. Just don't stay outside when it's freezing in order to listen to it," Severus said.
"I won't," Rachel promised.
"What do you want for lunch?" he asked.
Rachel thought about it. "Fish and chips?"
"We can do that," Severus agreed.
Rachel smiled. It was kind of nice to take a break from the magical world, even if it was only for a few hours.
*****
It was mid-morning on the last Friday in August and Rachel's room was a mess. She had unpacked her trunk entirely and was in the process of trying to figure out what she was bringing and how she was fitting it into her trunk.
She had her headphones on, with the Pink Floyd cassette playing, and her Walkman hooked over the waistband of her trousers while she worked. She'd already been through one set of batteries and was very happy with her birthday gift.
She had her stack of assigned textbooks sitting in a pile next to her trunk, with her planner and her finished summer homework on top. Her robes, uniforms, and new clothes were on her bed, ready to be folded, along with her cloak and winter boots nearby. Her gown for the Yule Ball and her matching lavender slippers were also on the bed waiting to be packed. Her current two-way book was also on her bed, open in case anyone wrote while she was packing, alongside her stuffed bunny.
She'd put her old clothes, robes, and uniforms in her wardrobe because she wasn't really sure what else to do with them. She supposed she could ask Severus to give them to a second hand shop, it wasn't like they were going to fit her again.
Her Nimbus 2001 was still sitting in the corner of the room - she'd carry that by hand, it wouldn't fit in her trunk anyway.
That, along with her school supplies, was almost everything that she knew she needed, apart from her toiletries, which she'd pack tomorrow morning.
The rest was more nebulous. She knew she wanted to bring some fiction books with her, but she hadn't decided what ones. She always kept her dad's invisibility cloak, his copy of The Tales of Beedle the Bard, and her mom's jewelry box in her trunk, mostly because she didn't want to leave them behind anywhere. Her photo album from Hagrid also joined the things in her trunk, as she didn't want to be without that either.
After some maneuvering she managed to get all of her clothes folded and put into her trunk, along with all of her school books, her homework, parchment, quills, telescope, cauldron, and potions kit. She decided she had enough room for two book series, and quickly put the Horath Bogtrotter books in as well. She finally put in the Alanna quartet as well, since she decided she'd be most likely to reread them.
She closed the trunk lid and was relieved that everything fit, though she would put her two-way book, her stuffed bunny, and her Walkman and cassettes in her school bag to carry them. It was hard to believe that three years ago she hadn't had anything at all.
Three years ago she had gone off to Hogwarts without any idea what to expect and completely unable to speak. In retrospect she could hardly believe that she'd done it. At least, no matter how hard her life got, she could always look back and say that she'd been through something worse.
'All packed for Hogwarts,' Rachel wrote in her two-way book, not expecting an immediate response.
'Me too. Only six days left. I'm looking forward to seeing all of you on the train,' Theo wrote back.
'I'm looking forward to that too. I'll be very glad to see you again,' Rachel wrote.
She would be glad to see Theo, and all of the rest of her friends, on a daily basis again. But, at the same time, she would miss being at Fallow Farm with Severus. It was nice to have both. |
~ by Baby Pengawing Sherlock Flower Petal Holmes ~
~ published by my penis ~
Table of Contents
I. And Then I Almost Died Because Transparent Linen Britches II. Arse Globes of Moon Lit Harmony and Heart Palpitation Inducing Jiggles III. The Infinitely Glorious Movement of Perfected Thrusting Against My Thigh IV. When a Tongue Is Not Just a Tongue but a Device of Ultimate Pleasure on My Trembling Arsehole V. A Cock by Any Other Name Would Taste as Sweet VI. How Do I Love Thee, Let Me Suck the Ways VII. The Time the Sun Was Jealous Because John Watson Golden Beauty I Am Blinded VIII. Should I Die Let it Be Between John's Muscular Thighs
I. And Then I Almost Died Because Transparent Linen Britches
Should I age to one hundred years upon this magnificent earth, I shall never forget a most cherished image, seared as it is into my memory. I see it now, as it happened then. It took place on my passage from England, during those long weeks at sea.
The crewmen were swimming in the ocean, held safe from harm by nets which had been lowered to enclose them near the side of the ship. My own John, beautiful, golden John, had stripped down to his white linen breeches for his dip into the brine. After his swim he gracefully catapulted himself back over the ship's rail, and I found myself unable to speak, or blink, or breathe, for a miracle of fabric had taken place.
It was not known to me at the time, but became quickly apparent, that white linen goes transparent when it has been submerged, or made wet in any way. In addition, it absorbs a quantity of water that lends to it a heavy, clinging quality, allowing it to mold tightly to the form underneath. It was in this way that I first came to suspect the bounty that swelled between my sailor's legs.
linen, dear god what secrets do you hide concealed, only waiting you appear virginal downy soft cotton weave a cool comfort on hot bare skin
and yet
you transform yourself disingenuous alchemist physical alteration the promotion of raised heartbeats quickened pulse stolen breath
there, slung low dripping you cling desperate slipping over majestic hips but for the slope of strapping thigh the swell of robust buttockabove you golden tan skin taut concave abdomen a bowl from which I drink
below you flexed musculature wrapped around bone pressing hard under fleshmy lover himself hangs thick and heavy swaying but for your temperance now you reveal laud and revere each curve ridge flair the sanguine vessels running that fantastic length and girth
and there! vibrissa's nest the swirl and twist and wave lush blond whorls upon which I lay my virginal head
then he turns and you, sweet linen ever-clinging transparent an occipital treasure those plush round globes into which I greedily sink my gaze my eyes aflame
linen!
linen savior I pray for your eternal light may you always remain wet
II. Arse Globes of Moon Lit Harmony and Heart Palpitation Inducing Jiggles
(haiku)
your clenching full moon i shall knead grope squeeze kiss mount your arse shall be mine
III. The Infinitely Glorious Movement of Perfected Thrusting Against My Thigh
we stand together at the farmers market and inspect the tangerines for rot one kilo of apples and two of kumquats suddenly you are gone from my side instead you clutch and stroke the bananas and moan a despairing plea dear love supreme I know how you yearn for release as the pressure builds and drives you to distraction but this is neither the time nor the place for me to take you in hand or mouth or arse or armpit or elbow not even between my calves or feet as we have often practiced my mind whirls in a race toward solution I can deny you not one blessed thing and so I turn with our purchases and guide you to the strawberry ice vendor who has a rather tidy queue and I whisper in your seashell of an ear an instruction to rut and thrust and grind upon my thigh as I negotiate our purchase you fit so sweetly where leg meets bum because you are sort of short and you move and move and move and move and there are people behind us in the queue now but still you don't stop look at how they glare, those fuckers you breath so loud each exhalation a panting growl like a wolf about to swallow down his prey put your hands on my hips now and I shall curve my body to meet you and you shall finish and spend and climax all over my new woolen breeches and I look forward to making you lick it up as soon as we get to the sassafras stall dearheart you have mangled those bananas
IV. When a Tongue Is Not Just a Tongue but a Device of Ultimate Pleasure on My Trembling Arsehole
muscular hydrostat moist pink mucosa lingual papillae taste buds thousands of them nerve-like cells frenum saliva mastication gustation phonetic articulation sweet, sour, bitter, salty, umami
and yet, anilingus
V. A Cock by Any Other Name Would Taste as Sweet
(based on the age-old nursery rhyme, Jelly on a Plate)
Penis in your pants, penis in your pants Wibble wobble, wibble wobble, penis in your pants
Sausage in my hand, sausage in my hand Sizzle sizzle, sizzle sizzle, sizzle sizzle bang! Pecker in my mouth, pecker in my mouth Twirly wirly, twirly wirly, pecker in my mouth Phallus up my butt, phallus up my butt Popping popping, never stopping, phallus up my butt Honey spurting out, honey spurting out Runny honey, runny honey, honey spurting out
VI. How Do I Love Thee, Let Me Suck the Ways
my love knows no bounds neither do my blowjobs I shall suck you in the evening I shall suck you in the morning I shall suck you well into the afternoon and all day long I shall nibble lick nurse slick suck drool swipe gloss lap tongue taste dab smack bite daub gulp swallow gobble guzzle quaff glut I shall choke it down and beg for more
VII. The Time the Sun Was Jealous Because John Watson Golden Beauty I Am Blinded
(tanka)
you were so golden Helios son of Titan steed-drawn chariot now you weep in the shadows Saint John of Sex outshines you
VIII. Should I Die Let it Be Between John's Muscular Thighs
Of all the ways one could perish, I choose only one. Let me not fall from a great height, or impale myself on a spike, or be put into an oubliette. I wish not to choke on a morsel of well-seasoned meat, or to be torn asunder by rabid lions, or to slip on some foul bit of refuse and break my neck. Let some other brave fool expire from dehydration or gout or infection. If another desires to annihilate himself under the wheels of a lorry or the hooves of a horse, so be it. Not I.
No, not I. Let me pass with the knowledge that I reached my end while endeavoring to give pleasure. Let me find eternal slumber only after having performed such mind-bending, soul-sucking fellatio upon John, that he squeezes the last breath from my gasping lungs by clenching his powerful, almighty, glorious thighs around my trembling flower petal neck in the throes of an orgasm so profound that he also succumbs, and joins me in everlasting Elysium. |
It was like some bizarre Mexican standoff, if you could imagine seraph blades in place of the guns, Nephilim didn’t really do the whole firearm thing. Magnus had never really seen the appeal of the barbaric things himself, either.
It was probably one of the only things that he agreed with them on,
“Well? I’m still waiting,”
Magnus refrained from rolling his eyes, of course the harpy was still waiting. She had just walked in on her eldest son, sucking tongue with a Downworlder, she was unlikely to go – oh golly, sorry love – and then walk back out again.
Magnus kind of wished she would though,
They were really onto a winner right there, who knew his Alexander would be such a dark horse.
It really was always the quiet ones.
“Alec…?”
Of course the father would be the good cop, although Magnus had to give him a little credit. In his own experience in was always the daddy that was the bad cop, it was nice to know that things could be switched around every now and then.
“Yes father?” Alec mumbled, his head down and his arm still rubbing the back of his head where he had smacked the back wall, Magnus didn’t blame him. With the sound of that ‘crack’ he was lucky he hadn’t given himself a concussion or something.
“Do you want to explain to your mother and I what was going on here?” he asked somewhat gently but still assertively. It was more along the lines of please don’t confirm what I think we were seeing and make me seem like the xenophobic homophobic asshole I’m desperately trying not to be.
Again, kudos for not instantly having his Alexander striped of his runes or something equally brutal.
Alec glanced up at his father through his fringe and shook his head slightly,
“Not really,”
Clearly that answer was all his mother needed to blow her top, not that she really needed a reason. Shadowhunters could be a passionate bunch.
“Not really?! What do you mean, not really?!” Maryse seemed to swell up like a Christmas turkey,
Alec reddened and ducked his head down again, his shoulders dropping like a naughty school boy about to be punished by the headmaster. Magnus cocked his head to one side and tapped his claw cuff against his lips, that was quite the appealing description.
It would be a really hot roleplay too,
When they got to that point of course.
He hummed,
Clearly this was the second wrong moment to have drawn attention to himself.
Maryse’s war ready eyes turned to him and she stepped forward with clenched fists and a tightened jaw. Magnus wasn’t one to attack a lady but in that moment she looked more like a battle axe, he didn’t think it would go too much against his morals to spirit her away if she slapped him.
“Your work here is done Warlock, you aren’t needed anymore,”
Magnus’ eyebrows would have hit the ceiling if it was possible, he was being let off with that, considerably less than expected. But then he supposed, with calamity coming in from all sides, it was better to have the High Warlock on your side then against you.
He opened his mouth to say something particularly cute, when Alec clutched weakly at the back of his jacket, just out of view of his parents.
“Are you sure?” Magnus asked lowly, his eyes not moving from the parental Lightwoods but his mood was darkening rapidly. His magic responded to his rising negative emotions and the wooden floorboards creaked ominously. He didn’t take kindly to his cherub being intimidated and going back into his crab shell, it took a lot to get him to peep out.
Robert looked surprised by his audacity and Maryse bristled like a scorned cat,
“What do you mean am I sure, get out!” she had this way of speaking, in which her voice didn’t get above a raised voice but it seemed like she was shrieking at you. Magnus was sure it would be very effective on others. It was clearly very effective on her children, highlighted by the way her son flinched and hunched his shoulders further down.
Magnus had probably met her mother’s mother’s mother’s mother’s mother’s mother … you get the picture. He had been around when the fates hadn’t even considered what would happen if they’d one day thought to put a militant harpy on the planet.
In short he’d met meaner, scarier, uglier people than her, he wasn’t intimidated.
He adopted a quizzical look and flourished his hand to one side,
“Oh darling please, I wasn’t talking to you,” he turned to face Alec head on, taking only brief moment to taste and enjoy the uncensored looks of pure shock on the Lightwoods' faces before he did so – it was like no one had dared speak to them like that before – Magnus loved popping people’s cherries, and not just their sexual cherries.
He tried to look past Alec’s pale, drawn face and keep the energy upbeat. His darling was positively shitting himself alright. The silly pickle had nothing to fear, Magnus would never let anything come to him – at least – no harm would come to him from his parents anyways. Well not without them seriously coming to regret it.
He held his pinky and thumb up by the side of his face and smiled,
“Call me tomorrow darling,” he dropped his smile, to ensure Alec understood the next part was serious, “Unless you need my services, always free for my Alexander.” Alec nodded slightly and his eyes darkened, Magnus hoped that meant he had understood the intention there.
He wasn’t thrilled about leaving at that moment.
Alas,
He’d respect Alec’s wishes for now.
With a few swishes of misty, mysterious blue, Magnus Bane was gone.
Alec had to refrain from jumping into the abyss with him, or even calling him back. It wasn’t that he was ashamed of who he was – it was just that he was very slightly ashamed and freaked out about who he was – and really come on, who hadn’t gone through periods of their life when they looked in the mirror and quite frankly didn’t know who was staring back at them.
He could face the mirror but he couldn’t face the person staring back at him just yet. Baby steps, he’d get there eventually. Certainly, if he was going to be with someone like Magnus Bane, there was no way he couldn’t learn to accept himself.
“Alec!” He was jolted back from planet cuckoo cuckoo land by his mother roughly grabbing his forearm and jerked him as though she wanted to shake him. Luckily she wasn’t an idiot and knew with the reflexes he possessed she was likely to be accidentally attacked.
He blinked at her,
“What has got into you,” he opened his mouth, not exactly sure what he was going to say but clearly, she had no plans to hear it anyways, as she just stormed right on, “Why are you doing this to us? If this is some sort of belated teenage rebellion, then I assure you. You have our attention” his father stood stiller than a statue. Never adding to his mother’s cruel words but never defending either.
Alec didn’t know which was worse.
When he didn’t respond Maryse, seemed to lament to herself, “Why is Raziel punishing us still? What have I done to deserve a daughter that doesn’t know how to keep her legs shut but can’t use the ability for something useful and a son that lays with men, Downworlder men!” the disgust was thick in her voice and cut to the quick.
Alec stepped back and opened his mouth, this time with every intention to say something – anything – even if it was just to projectile vomit at them. The emotions welling up inside him were so angry and hurt and painful, he didn’t know what to do with them. He could take her hurling filth at him - not really no but he wasn't likely to ever stop he doing so - but Izzy was a step too far, no one spoke ill of his sister, he wouldn’t stand for it.
Maryse held up her hand,
“Don’t even open your disgusting mouth right now, not when you’ve had that warlock’s tongue licking around like some diseased dog,” Alec just couldn’t see how none of them had guessed that his parents had been part of The Circle, the cruelty spewing from his mother’s lips right now was phenomenal. He felt every verbal barb like a physical blow to the heart, each strike taking a piece of him that he felt wouldn’t be healed.
Robert sighed, his eyes soulful and sad but still, he said nothing to defend his first born son,
“Alec, you’d better go. We’ll call for you later. When your mother has had some time to swallow this…” he trailed off weakly, like he honestly had nothing supportive to say or add.
Alec’s fists clenched and his face burned with a mixture of humiliation and anger as he nodded, he blinked furiously to clear the angry tears desperate to escape as he stormed out the room.
At least his eyes weren’t dry and gritty anymore …. Every silver lining and that.
“Come in ….” Isabelle sounded strangely upbeat
Alec had already scrubbed any signs of his run in with the parents. The only thing he couldn’t hide was the pale waxy pallor to his skin due to exhaustion and not taking care of himself alongside the kiss swollen lips. It was a shame that Izzy was the kissing queen, there was no chance he was going to hide what he had been up to from her. If that took the attention away from his suspiciously red eyes, then he was thankful.
He peeped around the door before he stepped in, always a good shout with such a confident, comfortable sister. She liked to walked around in all states of undress, not even the least bit embarrassed that it was her brother gazing upon her body – Alec don’t be ridiculous, you’re my brother, now clip my bralet would you? – he was a little more prudish.
He understood her upbeat voice, the mere sight of the little person sat on her rugged, wooden floors had his whole spirit lifting.
“Max?”
Said ‘little person’, looked up from his rune book and smiled cheekily, “Alec! We’ve been waiting for you, where were you?” he then pulled a strange look at his eldest brother, a cross between a pout and a frown that made him look like an adorable little goblin. “I wanted to surprise you!”
Izzy laughed, and Alec’s attention turned to her,
She looked better,
Much better by the look of things. She had changed out of those ridiculous ‘sensible’ clothes she had taken up. She was in one of her spicy little numbers, hair and make-up on point and trying desperately to refrain from laughing as she spoke apparently.
“He waited in the closet for you for an hour-“ she stifled a laugh before continuing her story, “I didn’t even know he was in there to begin with, I went to the kitchen for a snack and when I came back I heard ruffling in there and assumed it was Church. When I opened it and saw him I asked what he was doing he said he was looking for you”
Izzy lost it and bent at the waist as she cackled,
“Do you get it?” she gasped between bursts of laughter, like she could barely breathe, “He was looking in the closet for you?! Shame he was just a few days too late. You’d already come out!” she accidentally snorted at her own joke. Her brothers exchanged looks and Max wound a finger around his ear signalling that his sister was clearly mad.
Alec nodded and played along,
He’s get Izzy back for that ironic joke when Max’s delicate ears weren’t around. He was more content to see her looking more herself, laughing and cracking jokes again. Max was always a sure bet at being able to make that happen even if he didn't exactly realise what he had done.
Alec moved to crouch down next to Max and take a look at the runes he was studying, he almost dreaded to ask what had sent him home this time, “So what was it this time? Did you mistake the hunger and fire rune again?” he asked cocking a teasing look at his younger brother.
Max scoffed and gave his brother the stink eye – did he think Max was an amateur ha! – “I’m on break actually, that mistake is so last month Alec, Jeeez,” Alec blinked at his younger brother, talk about sass level 100. It’s like in the space of three seconds he had gone from the coolest sibling to the loser sibling, he always thought he and Max had a deep kinship. Besides he totally had pulled that stupid trick just last month, being all sassy for no reason.
The little shit was brutal man!
“Hey er Alec, I was just wondering ….” Izzy trailed off, clearly she had recovered from her fit of the giggles at her own joke – hey if you couldn’t laugh at your own joke then how could you expect anyone else to? – he looked over at her, as Max had gone back to his reading and lost all interest in his older siblings.
Adult talk was boring anyways. They never told him anything.
She grinned and pointed at her lips before pointing at him and winking,
Alec’s jaw dropped, she was shameless!
His mouth gaped further open it was a miracle it didn't touch the floor, as her mimed actions got even more obscene.
Alec getting redder and redder as Max read on, more or less sat between them clueless.
When she began moving around and using other objects to roleplay her obscene actions, Alec cleared his voice loudly, grabbing his little brother’s attention again, “Hey, er Max, I think dad is calling you?” he said hesitantly, almost like he wasn’t too sure of what he was saying himself.
Isabella mimed slapping her head – Of all the excuses – Max looked quizzical, he was certain he hadn’t heard anything and his hearing certainly wasn’t any worse than either of his siblings. If anything it was probably better than theirs put together.
“I … don’t think he was Alec, I’m sure I would have heard him,”
“No really, I’m sure it was him,” Alec didn’t know why he was persisting with it, in for a penny, in for a pound and all that.
Max looked so confused,
“Seriously, I don’t hear anything, are you feeling okay?”
Isabella rolled her eyes, this was getting too painful for her and she wanted to ask her questions,
“Max, get out, Alec needs to tell me where he got his cooties from,” she winked when Max groaned loudly, slammed his book shut and jumped to his feet, in quick succession that spoke of his future potential to be a great Shadowhunter.
“Ewww! No thank you! Keep your diseases to yourself! People should never have naughty contact with the opposite gender until they’re adults,” when both his siblings raised their eyebrows, he glared at them both, “Bigger adults ... married even!... Like mum and dad!”
With that he turned and stomped out, Izzy cottoned onto something he had said and started laughing again, “Did … D-Did you hear what he said,” she giggled, “No naughty contact with the opposite gender, I guess you’re in luck then,”
Alec didn’t refrain from grabbing the pillow from his sister’s bed and thwacking her on the head with it.
Just bloody typical.
He really loved the two morons. |
The first sparks of morning shattered across the horizon, dancing along the still water of the isle, casting warm colored light dappling through the trees, staining snow white hair a shades of oranges and yellows. A small chocolate colored ant crawled through the crystal grass, stumbling its way over a pale ankle, causing the appendage to twitch. The cove started to stir, the first birds of the morning starting their melody, and other small creatures started to creep from their homes, their beady eyes widening at the sunrise. Azure eyes fluttered open, squinting at the light waking Jack from the clutches of sleep. Groaning loudly, Jack propped himself up, running both porcelain hands roughly through his hair, making the pure locks stick up at odd ends - nothing short of normal for the spirit - and stood. His legs ached and his back complained, but Jack ignored his body’s pleas for an actually good place to sleep. Stretching his muscles and adjusting the the straps on his legs, Jack picked his staff up off the ground, twirling it around his shoulders while walking along the surface of the pond, ice curling and doing a sweet ballet around him, his frost bitten toes hardening the ice with every step.
Bright eyes turned towards the sky, a few stray clouds floating among the Wind, “Wind; the village.” Jack requested,
A billowing gust rushed up from under him, Jack taking off into the sky, passing over trees and streams alike, sailing closer towards the slumbering town, a hushed quiet of nearby wildlife kept still as the viking continued to sleep, only the farmers on the hillside starting their work for the day. Frostbitten toes touched down on the packed dirt of the villiage plaza, as Jack readied for work. Spinning the twisted wood around his shoulders once more, the staff touched the side of a viking home, an ice painting spiraling an intricate web of art in front the spirit’s eyes. Jack knew he had other jobs to do in Berk, but procrastination held him at bay from Gothi’s and the uncomfortable feeling coiling in his chest kept from nearing the Chief’s home.
Continuing his work, frost spread over the town, a few early risers walking outside to greet him, warm smiles and some rather harsh slaps on the back of encouragement. Children started to roam and gawk at the spiraling frost. Slipping into a narrow pathway, determined to reach the outer part of the town as well.
“Jack?”
Jack stopped his work, the unfinished panel of wood staring at him expectantly. The unfamiliar voice called his name once more, but a shiver of fear and dread crawled at his spine, causing a dull hum of power zip under his nails, muscles tense in apprehension. “Yeah?” Jack turned, forcing a smile upon his face, his mask almost dropping the moment his eyes fell upon the figure in front of him.
Heather.
“You’re Jack, right?” Heather asked, edging forward, her steps cautious and even though a warm smile danced on her features, a spark of fear dwelled in her shifting eyes.
Jack stepped forward, an icy air radiating off his skin, frost sailing over the soil underfoot. Jack could feel anger and hatred start to bubble in his chest, the sprite trying desperately not to let his emotions get the better of him. The white haired spirit nodded, watching as Heather relaxed her shoulders, tucking her left foot behind her right heel, looking up into Jack’s icy eyes.
“I’m...um, sorry. I didn’t know Hiccup and you were...uh, together.” Heather mashed her fingers together, obviously ashamed of last night’s encounter. “It...it wasn’t Hiccup’s fault. I forced it onto him. Sorry.”
Jack’s mind slowed, the anger in his chest dying. She...she had never known. It made sense, neither Hiccup or Jack had spoken to anyone about their relationship. Astrid had simply guessed about them based on Jack’s reactions, but, beyond here, Berk was in the dark. Heather, who had just arrived couldn’t have known, right? Hell, Stoick still thought Jack was a human of sorts, not an immortal spirit. Heather couldn’t be all that bad once the facts had been put together, right?
“...And..” Heather continued, Jack raising an eyebrow.
“And?” Jack asked curiously, leaning on his staff as his interest was starting to be peaked.
“...I was wondering if we could perhaps start over? You know, on a clean slate? Could we possibly be friends?” Heather smiled shyly up at the taller boy, her eyes lingering on his staff before flashing to Jack’s blue eyes.
Hands tightened around the twisted wood, noticing the female’s bright eyes. It was all too sudden. Things around him started to pile around him, while Jack tried to sort out one problem, another formed. He had believed Heather to be his foe less than twelve hours ago, and now, she was a friend? What about Hiccup? Had Astrid spoken to him on her way home? Did he know Jack was in the village? In his swirling mind, Jack nodded, unsure of his answer, but continued anyways. Besides, it wouldn’t be much fun for either of them if they had the stress of a foul friendship hanging over their heads, right?
Jack jolted. Hiccup. He needed to find Hiccup. “Do you know where Hiccup is?”
“Huh?” Heather was taken aback, one second she was shining in the warmth of her new friendship with Jack, the next she was being prompted for information. “Um, yeah. He’s at the Chief’s house, why?”
Jack smirked, turned and bolted up, the Wind pushing him in the direction of the house upon the hill, overlooking the village of Berk. Dragons started to wander and smoke started to rise from chimneys, the smell of meat and vegetables wafting over the village as townsfolk started their morning meal. Far below, Astrid waved, Jack smiling in return as he passed. Looking forward, Jack stopped in his tracks, as the Chief’s home neared.
Lowering towards the ground, Jack climbed the stone steps, holding his staff in one hand, Toothless eyeing Jack carefully as Jack approached the wooden door from his perch on the roof. Opening the door, the creaking hinges announced his arrival as heat poured from the room in front of the winter spirit. A raging fire was lit in the center of the room as the harsh sound of scraping metal made Jack cringe. Buckets were set across the room, as water dripped from the second floor. Stepping forward cautiously, Jack edged his away from the heat source, climbing the steps silently as the scraping sounded closer.
The door to Hiccup’s room was left ajar, as the devastation of the previous night’s toll scarred the room. A thick layer of ice coated the walls while pieces of scattered parchment were frozen stiff. Chunks of ice had been torn off, ending with cracks and splinters in the wood. The scraping stopped, and a well-known voice felt like to music to Jack’s ears. “Jack?”
Hiccup popped up from under his workbench, a flat piece of metal in his hand, promptly dropped at the sight of the spirit. Hiccup rushed over, his mismatched steps filling Jack with familiarity as he stepped forward, scooping Hiccup in a bear hug, holding tight to one another as if it was their last day on earth. Jack staff fell to the floor, forgotten as they fought to keep their balance, not daring to let go. Jack moved his head to the crook of the brunette’s neck, long brown hair mixing with pure white. The muttering of shared apologies were whispered, background noise as their sole focus was the one in their arms. Warmth radiated from the green eyed boy as Jack’s jacket started to stick uncomfortably to his back as sweat started to form. Parting a tad, Hiccup’s freckled hands gripped Jack’s pale cheeks, roughly shoving their lips together, Jack’s arms wrapping around the freckled boy’s waist. Kissing passionately, lips working in a synchronized dance as a freckled hand trained down, resting on Jack’s hip, gripping firmly as if the spirit before him would disappear in a gust of wind. Chuckling into the kiss, Jack moved one of his hands to wind into Hiccup’s brown locks, pulling gently, as Hiccup mirrored the action, his other hand trailing to albino hair, as a warm tongue prodded at pink lips. Opening eagerly, Jack’s tongue slipped inside, exploring every crevice and nook he can find. Starting to fight back, Hiccup’s tongue starts to fight for dominance, slick muscle poking and prodding at the other, trying to get the other to surrender. After either taking no for an answer, the lover’s part, chest heaving, red tinting cheeks and lips swollen. Pecking Hiccup’s lips once more, Jack unwound his fingers from thick strands of hair, while rubbing the back of his neck, a small smile playing on his lips.
Emerald eyes widening, Hiccup stepped back, realization flooding his features. “One second..” Hiccup turned, rummaging through his workbench, overturning papers and metal parts and leather until he found what he was looking for, a relieved smile lighting up the room like the familiar sunrise Jack loved.
Stepping forward curiously, Hiccup placed the mysterious object behind his back, “Close your eyes.” He ordered, his eyes gleaming.
Doing as he was told, Jack closed his eyes, thinking the idea was rather weird, but didn’t question it since Jamie and Pippa had done similar things during their ‘high school fling’ or something like that. Apprehension swirled inside Jack, mixed with wonder, curiosity, and excitement. The feel of strong but thin arms wrapping around his neck spiked Jack’s interest, a dull weight pressing to his chest, cold and unfamiliar.
“Open.” Hiccup ordered, and Jack’s blue eyes lit up the room, immediately falling to what was now hanging from his chest. It was a necklace. The string was braided twaine and a sturdy knot kept the necklace from coming undone. But, it was the pendent which truly caught Jack’s attention. It was an Iron circle, the design of a nightfury with one red tailfin soaring through the sky.
“Hic…” Jack rubbed his fingers on the edges, perfectly smooth, a tingling feeling of familiarity creeping up his spine.
Hiccup scratched the back of his neck, “Heh...Yeah. I used the iron from the, uh, handcuffs.” He searched the spirit’s face for any sign that he had stepped over the line, “I wanted to show you that not all viking things can be bad, so…”
Jack smiled, wrapping his arms around Hiccup in a tight hug, lasting several seconds. “Thank you.” Jack mutters, before pressing a chaste kiss on a freckled jaw. Pushing the spirit away, a toothy grin lighting up the viking’s features, he shoves Jack towards the window, Jack quickly picking up his staff and jumping onto the ledge.
“Go.” Hiccup smiles, “Gothi is waiting.”
“Yeah, but-” Jack started, cut off by a peck on the lips, flushed cheeks contrasting deeply with his usual pale skin.
“I’ll meet you in the Great Hall tonight, okay?” Hiccup asked, pink dusting his cheeks.
Nodding, Jack took off, hovering in the air above the village, still able to see the small ant-like body of his boyfriend walking about his room, eventually going outside, calling Toothless down from his perch, disappearing into the distance, towards the dragon academy. Shaking his head vigorously, trying to rid of the clouding thoughts of their plans later that evening, Jack headed up the large stone pillar, setting down on the wooden dock of Gothi’s hut, the small elder not happy to see her new apprentice so late. Earning a whack on the head from her staff, Jack followed her inside. |
Harry snapped the elder wand, Ron, and Hermione by his side as they had always been. The war was over and now it was time to pick themselves up, bury their dead, and then start to rebuild. Harry felt as if he was in a haze as he moved through life. Dating Ginny, becoming an Auror. But that haze was broken as he was hit with the Killing Curse during a raid of a black market. It came from his blind spot and the only warning he got was Ron shouting out his name right before the spell hit.
Time seemed to stop as a dark figure floated out from the shadows.
“Now, now, master, getting yourself hit with that curse,” the shadowed figure tisked reprovingly.
Harry spun to face the threat head-on, wand at the ready tip glowing ominously, but the being only laughed and sat as a large chesterfield chair appeared under him along with another chair and a table with a full-service tea service.
Glancing around, still, on full alert, Harry saw Ron in the middle of screaming out, his foot raised as if he was gearing up to run to his friend’s side, horror already etched on his face. Harry felt a pang of guilt for the obvious distress he had caused his friend. Harry then looked towards his attacker. The build was obviously male but the face was obscured. He was tempted to go and deal with the man but he was keenly aware of the bigger threat here.
Harry focused on the seating being once more, studying it to see if he could find any clues as to the identity of the being. But even the voice gave nothing away. It boggled his mind. Harry cautiously made his way to the empty chair eyes locked on where the eyes of the being should be as he sat down.
“Who are you,” Harry growled out, whole body tense.
“Come now Master, you know who I am,” The being teased.
Harry didn’t say anything, just continuing to stare, eyes hard.
“How disappointing, master.” The being seemed to sigh in resignation. “I am of course your loyal servant, Death.”
For a moment Harry was completely frozen with shock, and then he slumped back into the open chair in utter disbelief, his wand hand dropping down. It took him a few moments to gather his wits before he gripped the bridge of his nose in hopes of warding off the oncoming headache.
Harry put his wand back in his holster and reached forward to pour himself some tea, not bother to ask if the being wanted a cup since there was only one and it was placed in front of his own chair. “I’m guessing this is because I was the last person to hold all the Hallows. Wait… Why didn’t Dumbledore become the Master of Death, he held all of the Hallows at one point?”
“That may have been true if not for two things. First, while anyone can use the Hallows their true power is bound to the Peverell line. And as you know from the tale, the cloak of invisibility has been passed down from Father to Son since I gifted it to Ignotus. The second reason is that while Albus Dumbledore did in fact possess each Hallow throughout his life he did not possess them all at the same time. Even though you dropped the Resurrection Stone you were still the last to own it when you gained the Elder wand, making you the Master of Death.” Death explained.
Harry just sighed in resignation. He knew this could be the only even semi-plausible explanation for what was happening. He knew he had been hit with the Killing Curse, that same feeling of being pulled from his body that he had felt when he had been hit by Voldemort’s spell. He had also been to the between before and this wasn’t it.
“What does this title entail, does it come with any responsibilities?” Harry asked, knowing that if Death was here it was more than just a meaningless title.
“Much better Master, I was beginning to dread for your intelligence.” Death chuckled. “As for responsibilities, for now, all you have to do is go about your life, get married, have lots of spawn. It’s up to you. You have already completed this life’s task.”
Harry almost screamed as the words registered. “
This life
? This life! What does that mean?!”
And even though Harry couldn’t see the being's face he could hear the smirk in their voice. “Why yes, Master, this life.”
“What does that mean?” Harry growled out.
“Well, Master, I can’t just have you dying on me, can I?” Death teased. “And after all Master, you have a grand destiny.”
Harry just glared, waiting for the being to talk.
Death gave a put-upon sigh, crossing their arms like a petulant child might. “As the Master of Death, your job is to ensure that life continues so that death does as well. You have saved this world from its demise.”
“Voldemort would have ended the world?” Harry asked, shocked now.
“Yes and no. He, himself, wouldn’t. However, his actions against the non-magicals would have caused the magical community to be discovered. In their fear, the non-magicals would have started the witch hunts again, and in turn, the pureblood bigotry would grow until there was an all-out war. It would have eventually led to the end of humanity in this universe.” Death explained.
Harry dragged his hand down his face, letting out an exasperated sigh as he did. “And since you said this universe I am guessing that when I die for the last time here you will whisk me off to another universe to stop it from ending?”
Death gave a slow clap, “Apparently there is more to you than the hard-headed Gryffindor you were as a child. Yes, this is what will happen when you decide your time in this world is finished. I even decided to be generous and help you out this first time, by allowing a muggle to have visions of the world you are going to be placed in.”
Harry had learned during the Horcrux hunt that he had been ridiculously under-prepared for the quest in front of him. If it weren’t for Hermione, he and Ron would have been captured within the week. They had spent their whole time at Hogwarts being mediocre students, and she had done everything in her ability to ensure they did enough to pass their yearly exam.
They had been exasperated by her bookworm tendencies, but she was the only reason they survived all their trials. That and pure dumb luck.
When Harry had finally realized this he had decided that he couldn’t allow this to stand any longer, the paralyzing thought of Hermione being in trouble and being unable to help her because of this failure to take his studies seriously was unacceptable. So, with all the free time they had during the hunt, he forced himself, and Ron to learn everything Hermione had to offer them, both from her herself and from the many books she had stuffed into her bag.
Ron had at first complained but Harry fixed that real fast, pulling his friend aside and explained how they currently could do nothing if Hermione was taken captive, that they would be unable to help anyone if it weren’t for her. Ron had gone silent, walking away and spending the rest of the day staring into the fire as he brood. The next day he walked up to Harry, determined look on his face, and just nodded as they got down to work.
It wasn’t until a few days later when the fact they were completely serious in their dedication to his new path that Hermione finally realized they wouldn’t be falling back onto their bad habits. And a giant weight seemed to fall from her shoulders instantly. Ron and Harry couldn’t help but feel ashamed of themselves, for how much they had forced her to take upon herself. It only made them work harder when they realized this.
So they buckled down, neither of them were stupid by any means, they had just been lazy. So it wasn’t long before they were devouring everything Hermione put before them. With their newfound knowledge the three of them made a perfect team. Hermione's pure intelligence, Ron’s strategic brilliance, and Harry’s creativity and out-of-the-box thinking made them unstoppable.
And Harry and Ron didn’t stop after the war was over, especially now they were Aurors and knew the darkness people could hide.
So now that Harry found out that he would have no peace when he died, and would have to save another world he would use this time with death to learn everything he could about his next task. “What is the name and location of this muggle?”
Harry could almost feel the smug smirk that Death must be giving him. “Ah, you ruined my fun master, oh well, I guess I will tell you. His name is George Raymond Richard Martin, and luckily for you, he will write everything down into a book that will become a bestseller. Though to still give myself some entertainment, I won’t allow them any more dreams after a time. So if I were you I would make sure to soak everything up he has to offer.”
“When will his knowledge of the world be useless to me? I doubt he will just give up writing his series after he stops having prophetic dreams.” Harry questioned.
Death crossed his arms again, pouting, “You’re no fun. Fine, his dreams will end at the beginning of 2011. After he finishes the 5th book of the 7 book series. And you are correct to expect him to finish writing the series after a long while. Though you should still take into account that by then he will know the world and people in it so well that he will be able to predict some of their actions correctly. I wouldn’t rely on it too much though, considering you will have changed the world much by that time.”
Harry pulled out the notepad and pen he kept in one of his expanded pockets, quickly writing down everything said so far so he wouldn’t forget anything, even if he had mastered Occlumency and could use a pensive if needed. It was one of Hermione’s habits that had rubbed off on him and Ron both, that and keeping a wide range of supplies on them for anything that might happen. “And when I do decide I am finished on this plane how do I move on?”
“By using the Veil of Death.” Death replied casually.
Harry’s mind came to a screeching halt, breath catching in his throat.
Sirius
. Harry couldn’t help but hope, the loss of the man was still an aching wound. Even though Harry was acting calm now he knew that as soon as he would be rushing to Hermione and Ron as soon as they were done here to break down and get all the help he could.
“Yes, what you are wondering is true. I decided I would be giving you three gifts and I knew that would be something you would be happy with.”
Harry had to take a few minutes to calm down, he would be able to see Sirius again. But it made Harry all the more determined. “What are these three gifts you will be granting me?” Harry straightened in his chair, gripping his notepad tighter, pen at the ready.
“The first you already know, your godfather will be reborn, with all his memories, as your younger twin brother, Brandon Stark, born to Rickard and Lyarra Stark. The second is that in that world I have a whole assassin guild of followers, as my Master, naturally they will follow your orders. And the last is that I will allow you to take anything on your person through the veil of death.”
Harry had a million more questions, and he didn’t know how much longer they talked for but by the time he had nothing else to ask Death finally left, allowing Harry to stand just slightly to the side of where the killing curse passed by and time finally resumed.
When Harry and Ron were finally done with their reports on the arrests Harry dragged Ron to Grimmauld place, flooing Hermione to come over for a code red. When his friend heard this they both grew serious, Hemione dropping everything to rush over. They gathered around the kitchen table, Dobby nervously twisting his shirt as he was invited to sit with them. They all knew that a code red meant something had gone wrong.
Harry relayed everything that happened, all three of his companions had pulled out their own notepads and jotting down notes and questions of their own. After they all joined in a group hug they got down to business, luckily Hermione knew of the book series A Song of Ice and Fire, and asked Dobby to go to her apartment to retrieve the first and only book released so far. They all took turns reading a chapter at a time, Hermione having taught Dobby to read.
The world he would be venturing to was so very different from the one they lived in. Even though the wizarding world was stuck in the past it was nothing compared to Planetos. And when he learned what would happen to the family he would be born into he couldn’t hold back the growl.
Having grown up without a family of his own family had always been the deepest desire of his heart. And he knew he would be doing everything in his power to keep his new family together. Hermione had pulled out new notebooks for each of them which by the time they finished the book they all had pages upon pages of notes. And since they all focused on different areas they covered more ground.
“Obviously the first thing we need to do is get the original drafts of the books, and copies of any notes George R. R. Martine made. Probably also need to use Legilimency on his as well, to catch anything the man might have missed when writing.” Hermione commented.
Ron replied,” We also need to strategize on how to make the North stronger.”
But it was Dobby who gave the best suggestion. “Death said that Master Harry could take anything on his person through the veil. I wonder if that means Master Harry could fill an expanded trunk with items and then shrink it to take everything within with him. I also wonder if an apartment trunk, such as the one Mr. Moody had would allow you to take living things with you.
They all googled at the house-elf. “Brilliant, Dobby, absolutely brilliant,” Harry said breathlessly. The elf blushed deep green, ears wiggling in pleasure.
They ended up staying up all night planning, finally heading upstairs to crash together, without even changing into pajamas in Harry’s bed, cuddling together all looking for the comfort of their best friends.
The time had finally come, Harry standing in front of the veil of death, leaning on the cane his grandson, who was a carpenter by trade, had made. He had felt the end coming for months, his body starting to shut down on him. He knew that if he wanted he could regain his youth but he had already lived a full life, with many great-great-grandchildren. The Potter line had flourished, and he knew his family had never been more expansive. He was happy with how his life had gone, and he spent the last few months spending time with all his family, being honest with the fact he was at the end of his life, and they all had gathered around him, making sure he never spent a day alone. Dobby, who he had tied to his own life at the elves' request, had helped him with all the last-minute items he had to accomplish to get ready for his next life. Buying and gathering up all the animals and plants they would be taking into this new journey, Dobby had even offered to go with Harry, some of his own grandkids, and other elves deciding to come with them.
Right now his pockets were full of shrunken trunks, his whole life to this point having been spent gathering all the things he would need in this new world, and he was finally ready. Harry took one last breath of air in, closed his eyes, and took that final step.
The first thing that great Harry was unyielding cold, fitting for the first thing a Northerner feels. But it wasn’t until he realized he was being held up by a foot and a hard slap to his bottom that he started crying. He was a baby, a fucking baby. He had expected it but he had still held hope that he would somehow only come into his full memories once he was at least one. But oh well. He was soon wrapped up with a tight blanket and placed in a large man’s hold. Harry looked up, the man was smiling down at him, long black hair and grey eyes staring at him in rapture. It was easy to look at this man and accept him as a father, he had never had one in the last life, at least not one he remembered. He had always wanted one and now he did.
Harry was lost in his Father’s eyes until he finally heard another baby crying, followed by a “What the fucking hell?!” ringing through his mind.
Harry couldn’t help the whimper that left his lips, the noise loud on his delicate hearing. But he was quick to reply to Sirius’ question. “Sirius, calm down, it’s me, Harry, I’ll explain everything.”
Since Harry had known they would be born as twins he had quizzed Fred and George about what it was like. They had confessed that magical twins had a mental connection. And Harry knew that it would be a blessing for both himself and Sirius.
“Harry? Harry! Did you fall through the veil too?!” Sirius sounded distressed. But they were soon being held by the same man, and it was a relief to be able to see his godfather, who looked like he did the baby photos of him he had found in the Black family home.
“No Sirius, I didn’t fall through the veil, I lived a long life with a huge family, and when it was my time I walked through the veil willingly,” Harry explained Rickard Stark, their father, rocking them within his arms. Harry could see Sirius looking up in bewilderment.
“Why would you do that, pup, and who is this man holding us, and why are you a baby? Why am I a baby?!” Sirius was becoming more distressed, his baby body causing him to whine in distress wince his vocal cords didn’t allow him to actually speak.
“When I defeated Voldemort I became the Master of Death, because of that I would be reborn in a new world, and since you had fallen through the veil Death granted me the gift of you being reborn with me.” Harry was slightly worried now he hadn’t thought about the fact that Sirius might not want to have to live another life. But before they could say anything they were placed into a woman’s arms. Her hair was long and brown, her eyes a startling green that looked like his own had in his past life. He wondered if he would keep his old eye color.
She was beautiful, even red and sweaty as she smiled down at both of them. “Rickard, look at how beautiful our boys are.” There Father sat down on the bed, kissing his wife’s temple before running a finger over both of their cheeks.
“They are as beautiful as you, my love.”
Harry felt his eyes drooping, as he started to fall asleep. His new parents were saying something above him but he was too tired to listen in.
Harry and Sirius’ first three years of life passed by fast. They spent most of their time planning and regaining both their physical and magical abilities. It didn’t take long for the two to start seeing each other more as brothers than godfather and godson. Which would be good for their future.
They also both fastly fell in love with Rickard and Lyarra Stark. Either of them had a good childhood but their new parents doted on them and their little brother, Eddard who was born less than a year after them.
And even though they didn’t have the same mental bond they did with each other with Eddard they loved him all the same. Since they were so close in age they were always kept together, even having a crib large enough to hold them all. And Sirius and Harry, now Brandon and Artos, when their brother started to whine in the night would surround their brother in their magic, cradling him, which surprisingly caused their little brother to start to grow his own magical core.
Once they realized this they redoubled their efforts. It helped grow their own cores and having another wizard on their side would help greatly. They were both determined to do the same for their other siblings as well. Once they could finally walk, though wobbly, they were quick to begin exploring their new world. And their ability to speak had their parents and the Maester puffed up like peacocks in pride.
And now that Eddard had magic of his own Artos and Brandon had to take a leap of faith. They made sure that it was only their parents in the room when they acted. Their mother and father were sitting on the floor, looking at the three of them as they played with the carved wooden toys. Artos reached his chubby little hands out in Brandon’s direction, whining out a “Gimme, Bran,” as if he wanted his twin's toy. Artos looked over at their parents, to make sure they were both watching before he levitated the toy to him. Both of their parents gasped, going still in shock.
“No, mine, Art!” Brandon screamed, levitating the toy back to himself. Holding the toy tight to his chest.
And bless his heart, little Eddard, only 9 months old joined in. Looking over at Brandon, the same look on his face when he was about to use the restroom before the toy rushed over to him, giggling like the child he was. Both Artos and Brandon wanted to awe at the pure cuteness.
“By the old gods!” Their father finally said, causing all three to look over at him. As Rickard gathered up all three boys within his strong arms. Artos and Brandon mentally high-fived as their parents started fawning over them.
Luckily the North followed the old gods, who saw children with any magical ability as blessed and to be protected. If they had been born to any house the followed the seven they would have been killed on the spot. Their mother soon joined the hug, both of their parents praising the old gods.
But their countenance soon grew grim. “Walys,” they both said at the same time. The Maester was born and raised in the Reach, and had never taken to the north. Even building a private sept.
“Don’t worry my dear… I’ll take care of it,” Rickard replied darkly, holding his sons closer to his chest. Artos and Brandon could hear the dark promise in their Father’s voice and loved him all the more for his willingness to kill to keep them safe. Their mother leaned back, looking Rickard in the eyes before giving them a solemn nod.
“Luwin recently finished his chain, and having grown up with you here in the North he is the best bet for someone to help us keep our boys safe,” Lyarra commented slyly. Luwin was a son of House Cassel, a few years older than Rickard, who had been like a big brother to him. They had grown up together and when Luwin confessed he wished he could go to the Citadel to become a Maester, and to eventually return to Winterfell. Rickard’s mother had rewarded the young man for all his years of loyalty to his son and house Cassels loyalty by sponsoring his time at the Citadel.
Rickard even still sent Luwin a letter at least once a month, letting him know how everything was going. Luwin had even bemoaned that he had missed the birth of Rickard’s three sons, which he considered to be his own nephews. Rickard had used most of his letters lately bragging about how perfect his children were. Luwin had admitted ever since he found out the news of Lyarra’s first pregnancy he had been working harder than ever, wanting to be the one to teach his honorary nephews.
And luckily Luwin had always been a devout follower of the old gods, bemoaning the Citadel’s lack of Godswood so Rickard knew the man would see his sons as the blessing they were.
The news of Maester’s Walys' death, having slipped down the stairs cracking his head open, reached Maester Luwin after a moon and a half. And luckily his application to take over his spot at Winterfell was accepted. So Luwin packed up his things and finally left to return home.
Artos, Brandon and Eddard were waiting anxiously within the nursery, their mother had gone into labor, Brandon slipping a wellness spell on her so that if anything went wrong they would be able to save her. This world had very limited healthcare and women all too often died in childbirth. But Artos and Brandon had grown to really like Maester Luwin so they were putting their trust in him.
Eddard, at four, was too young to really understand what was going on, but he still could feel the tension between his brothers and had heard the screaming of his mother who was only a few rooms over.
They had two nurses watching over them trying to distract them from what was going on but none of them were having it. Luckily both of the nurses were northerners to the bone so when Artos and Brandon started throwing balls of light between themself and Eddard the women didn’t even blink, just smiling at the show of power.
After a few hours, their Father came into the nursery, smiling ear to ear and tears of happiness in his eyes. He picked up all three of his sons when they ran to him, spinning them around, revealing in the high-pitched giggles as he carried them into the birthing chamber, where their mother was laying in the bed, holding a small child to her chest. Rickard set them on the bed, the whole Stark family crowding together, looking down at little Lyanna.
Maester Luwin looked down on his three young charges, children he saw as his own nephews. Artos and Brandon were brilliant beyond belief, and even though that could cause resentment between them and Eddard that didn’t happen. The twins did everything in their power to help their brother and Eddard adored them for it.
The twins were now six, and Luwin believed if they wanted they could easily go to the Citadel now to work on forging their chains. The boys had admitted that the reason they were so advanced was that they remembered everything they ever did. Maester Luwin and their parents thought it was another gift from the gods.
But they all knew they couldn’t risk the children leaving Winterfell; they were keeping their powers as secret as possible. The faith of the seven already condemned belief in the old god, and if anyone found out about the children’s magic there would be no end of assassins trying to get rid of them. Lyanna, less than a year old, already had shown she also had magic and they all expected that Lyarra’s current pregnancy would also produce another magical child. The Stark line had never been more powerful.
Even though Luwin didn’t have magic himself he did everything in his power to help the children master their powers. The sooner they had control, the sooner they would be able to keep themselves safe. All three boys were progressing at an alarming rate. And none of them could be more proud.
Artos and Brandon were finally being given a little more room, not being constantly watched. So they were finally able to search the castle using a stick and a point-me to find where his belongings had ended up. They found themselves pointed towards the crypts, deeper and deeper, but they stopped at each statue to repay their respects to their ancestors and use a cleaning spell on each along with a reparo if they needed it. The magic around the crypts responding to them, buzzing in pleasure. Finally, they approached the last statue, Brandon the Builder, sitting with a crown on his head and a sword across his lap.
Out of all the statues, this one was the worst off and took more than a few spells to fix the circular room he was in. The walls were covered with a giant mural of the war for the dawn. But it was the section right behind the statue that drew their attention. The section of the wall was humming with the same magic that came off of the hallows, something both Artos and Brandon knew well, and as Artos laid a hand on the wall the wall seemed to open up revealing a dark chamber.
Once lit up with lumos’ they could see that the chamber was full of trunks. Artos was quick to run to the large gold gilded chest in the center of the room. Throwing the lid open and sticking his head into the chest, when he leaned back an elf's head popped up from the chest, smile wide and ears wiggling in excitement.
“Master Harry!” Dobby nearly screeched, jumping out of the box and into Artos’ arms. The two began sobbing on each other, elf after elf jumping from the chest to join in the hug as well.
Brandon just leaned back and laughed at his brother. Artos had told him about how much he had missed his little friends, but that it was better that they wait until they could find where the chest was without worrying about someone following them.
“My friends, in this life my name is Artos Stark. And this-” Artos pointed over to Brandon, “Is my twin Brandon, once known as Sirius Black.” All the elves turned their attention onto Brandon, eyes wide and ears wiggling before as one they rushed over to him. Brandon found himself crushed under a mound of crying elves.
When he reached out to ask Artos why they were reaching this way his twin sheepishly replied. “They all know how much I missed you and how much I was excited to see you again. If I had to guess they are happy you are here because that meant I wasn’t alone.”
Brandon had to work his way out from under the elves to go hug his brother, holding him close to his chest. Even though they had once been godfather and godson they had both decided to give up their old names and relationship to each other to start anew. It had been easier than expected. Brandon didn’t feel the need to act parental to Artos since he knew they both had a great set of parents who would be there for them both no matter what. It was easy to embrace the role of brother to Artos. His parents in his old life had kept him away from his little brother, so he now to have three siblings, with one on the way, all of which he was close to was amazing.
And to have loving parents, who did everything in their power to protect him. Well, sometimes when it was just him and Artos he would hold his brother close and cry for how amazing this family, life was for him. Cry for the fate he knew this wonderful family would have faced if not for Artos.
But now wasn’t the time to get stuck in those thoughts, now was the time they could finally get started on their plans to improve their family’s and all those loyal to the Stark’s lives.
Rickard Stark startled awake, bolting up in his bed, panting with sweat rolling down his face. It took him a bit to gather his breath but when he did he gently shook Lyarra awake, her hair a wild mane as she peeked through her hair at him.
“Lya, Lya wake up,” He insisted.
She pulled at him hard, causing him to land next to her as she glared at him. “Rickard this better be for a good reason. I had to get up four times to pee because of your son so you better not have woke me up for nothing.
Rickard winced when he remembered how close she was to giving birth and how hard it had been lately for her to get a good amount of rest. He had tried to convince her to spend the days in bed but she had been too stubborn to do it. Still going about her duties as Lady Stark. Even though this was her fourth pregnancy this one had been harder on her than all the rest and Rickard couldn’t help but worry.
And even though he wished he hadn’t woken her it was too late to take that back now so he might as well tell her about the dream, no vision, he had. “I’m sorry for waking you dear. But this is important.”
She seemed to realize how serious he was. She brushed the hair away from her face, straightening and focusing on him.
“I had a vision,” Rickard stated, voice solemn.
Lyarra gasped softly. Even though all of their children so far had been blessed by the old gods they hadn’t expected something like this to happen.
Rickard swallowed hard, still in shock over what had happened. “Death came to me in this vision…” Lyarra almost screamed out, rushing to pace a hand over his heart making sure it was still beating as strong as ever. “They told me that I needed to take the guidance of Artos and Brandon for if I didn’t it would lead to the end of the Stark line, the downfall of the North, and the eventual end of the world.”
Lyarra’s mouth fell open in shock, tears starting to well up in her beautiful green eyes. It was so hard to believe but Rickard knew of greendreams and that it was a power that every now and then popped up within the Stark line in times of need.
All the Stark lords had kept journals of their lives, and reading them was part of being Lord Stark. Many times in the past Starks had been gifted with greendreams in times of need. Each time it happened the vision had saved the Stark line from ending. A greendream had even been the reason Torrhen Stark had bent the knee to Aegon I Targaryen.
So Rickard knew that he had to follow the dream. It helped that his eldest sons were gifted both in mind, body, and magic. Lyarra finally collected herself, and got out of bed, wrapping herself in a robe before marching out of the room. Rickard was quick to follow her, stumbling as he pulled up a set of trousers.
Lyarra pulled the door of the nursery open, rushing inside to stand at the end of her three elder son’s beds. Looking over each of her boys with careful eyes, they were all tucked in, extra furs at the end of the beds in case they got cold at night and a low fire in their fireplace. Lyarra quickly walked over to look down into Lyanna’s crib, their beautiful daughter who was sleeping with her little bow of a mouth open.
Rickard watched as his wife settled into the rocking chair by the fireplace, pulling a blanket into her lap that she had been knitting. Glancing over her at her children with a crease of worry between her eyebrows.
Rickard sighed and took the chair across from her, pulling another one of her blankets into his lap, clumsily holding the knitting needles.
“Remember dear, knit one purl two,” Lyarra commented softly, not even bothering to look up at him.
“Yes, dear,” he replied, as he had long ago been trained to.
Before they were able to talk to their sons about the vision Rickard had Lyarra had gone into labor unexpectedly.
Rickard Stark looked down at his wife, both of their faces pale, his in distress and hers in exhaustion and bloodloss. Rickard glanced back down to where Maester Luwin was helping his wife through childbirth, his arms and the birthing bed covered in blood. Luwin had a grim look on his face and when he glanced up at his old friend he gave a sorrowful shake of his head.
This had been something he had always been scared of. But they had hoped with how well all of Lyarra’s previous pregnancies had gone that this one would be no different.
Tears started rolling down his face as he looked into his wife’s eyes, he could tell that she knew this was going to be her end but she still smiled, determined that her last child would live through this.
Rickard leaned down and kissed her forehead, determined to take in every last moment he would have with her.
The door to the birthing chamber banged open, Rickard spinning to look over as his two eldest children rushed into the room. They both had dark looks on their face as they jumped up onto the bed, and before anyone could comment they each had their hands on their mother’s chest and lower abdomen. Their hands began to glow a cool mint green, magic obviously coming of his sons and soaking into his wife.
Rickard watched in awe as Lyarra’s face began to pinken up, and the stress on her face began to ease. Before he knew it there was a baby being place into his arms, Rickard looked down, suddenly entranced by how beautiful his newest child was, all squishy and pink and perfect. Rickard pulled his child in closer, looked back at his two eldest children who were being coached through healing their mother by Maester Luwin, who was no doubt in as much shock as he was but was putting Lyarra’s health before his own awe.
If Rickard wasn’t sure of his greendream he was now. If his children could already do this then there was no doubt they would be extremely powerful when they grew up. Rickard knew that under his children’s care House Stark and the North would flourish under their care.
It took another half an hour before Maester Luwin was confident that Lyarra would survive. Artos and Brandon were panting, looking exhausted with sweat rolling down their faces. As soon as Maester Luwin proclaimed Lyarra stable both boys fell down onto the bed, curling into their sleeping mother’s sides and falling into a deep sleep almost instantly.
Artos and Brandon were laying in bed with both their parents and all their siblings. Ever since Benjen’s birth a week ago the whole family had been clinging together, everyone sleeping in their parent’s bed with Lyanna and Benjen in a crib right next to the bed.
Artos had known that Lyarra Stark had died sometime after Benjen’s birth but he hadn’t known that she would die in childbirth. They had thought that they would be able to catch a sickness she got early, but when the wellness alarm they had on her started to blare in their minds they had paled and rushed out of the playroom before anyone could stop them.
They had burst into the room, minds racing as they pushed magic into their mother praying to the old gods that they would be able to save her. It was only when Maester Luwin started to direct their efforts that they started to make any real progress.
And when they hear the strong cry of their newest sibling, and the smile on their mother’s face they finally could hope.
Artos and Brandon had been especially clinging to their mother after that, all their siblings doing the same when they realized what their elder brothers were doing. Little Lyanna had screamed every time Lyarra started to put her down, the only time she was willing to be away from her mother was when their father was holding her, but even then if their mother wasn’t in her line of sight she would start throwing a fit.
Luckily for all of them, baby Benjen was just happy to be held by anyone. Artos and Brandon taking turns holding their baby brother and cooing while when Benjen was handed over to Eddard, their younger brother would just stiffen up, face going as stoic as one of the stone statues in the crypts. Every time Brandon saw this he would throw his head back and howl with laughter like a maniac.
And Eddard would just give them the most disapproving look, arms locked tightly around Benjen, at times like this Artos wished he had a camera so that he could later tease his younger siblings with the memories. Luckily Artos had a few pensieves in his many chests and could capture the memories into photographs later.
Artos and Brandon had been using light sleeping spells on all of their siblings, just enough to help them sleep through any noise they made, as they plotted. House-elves cooing over all their siblings as they waited for instructions. Artos had five of the elves watching over each member of his family, Dobby leading the charge in that. The majority of elves were going about the castle and winter town laying down rune stones that would eventually be the base of the wards that would surround the north.
The twins hoped they would eventually be able to cover the whole of the north with connected ward schemes. They would only be able to do this because of the weirwood trees that covered the north. All of the Stark kids had been drawn to the weirwood within the Winterfell godswood, the wild magic of the north seemed to radiate from each of the weirwoods. The older they were the stronger they were.
So the Stark children could be found during free time in the godswood, playing, reading, or just napping under the tree’s lush foliage. And the weirwoods seemed to respond to their presence, branches seeming to perk up and leaves rustling in nonexistent winds.
So tying the wards to the weirwoods, they hoped would anchor the wards so they could cover a much larger area than they had ever seen done before and to keep the wards powered even after their deaths.
Another thing that was working for them in this regard was the fact they wouldn’t have to place muggle repealing ward and notice-me-not ward. They were the most draining wards that went into the basic wizarding ward pack. Because of this, they would be able to focus more on wards that would help keep their people and the north as a whole safe.
The four most important wards they had decided on were one to help with the fertilization and growth of plants to ensure the north no longer had to rely on other kingdoms for food. And that there would be enough food in winter. The ward used excess ambient magic to fertilize the earth, and the longer the ward was active the more nutrients the soil had. Along with that, they would have to train people to carve runes into food storage areas to keep the food from rotting or vermins getting into it.
Next would be a ward used mainly by the wizards of Siberia and other extremely cold areas of the world. The ward made it so that a person within the limits of the ward didn’t lose excessive heat to the cold. It kicked in when your body temperature went below 97 degrees. Stopping it from falling any lower. And luckily with the excessive amount of wild magic in the north and the weirwoods they would easily be able to cover the whole of the north. The ward itself used very little ambient magic to begin with so Artos and Brandon didn’t have to worry about that. This ward had a partner ward to stop people from overheating, but they didn’t have to worry about that here.
Another ward they planned to use was a ward that helped people and animals build immunity. It didn’t stop you from getting sick, it just helped your body fight off whatever illness you were facing, and once you healed fully it made you immune to get it or similar variants again. The wizards during the Black Death made the mistake of warding an area from disease. The mistake in this was that if you ventured out of the warded area you had no protection. And since apparition and floo travel hadn’t been invented yet many wizards and witches had traveled outside of the wards to gather food and supplies only to be infected and then locked out of the wards. Many had died like this at first or had been stuck within their wards, if they were close to infected areas, to starve to death. The updated ward would help keep the northerners safe when the Starks increased trade from around the world, merchants bringing new and exotic diseases with them.
The last major ward they had planned would write down the name and location of any person with magical potential within the ward. It was a mirror of the one used by magical schools to find potential students, though they wouldn’t worry about acting on it until they had started a spy network and helped build the northern economy. Before they started teaching magic to any who would learn and take an oath.
There would be many other wards implemented but those would be the major four that would cover the entire north. For example, there would be a ward in the throne room, where Lord Stark held court to help solve problems of the smallfolk and lords like, that only activated when a Stark sat on the large weirwood throne. The ward would compel whoever was being asked a direct question from the Stark on the throne to answer honestly and completely. It would only work if a ruin on the chair was tapped so that it need not be used all the time.
There were other things they would be adding but for now, that was what the majority of the elves were working on. And the last few, under Brandon’s watch, were going about building themselves a small settlement that they would hide with magic. They would use this settlement as proof that they had always lived in the north, protecting house Stark but they hadn’t come out of hiding until magic fully returned to the Stark line.
Dobby, as the most senior house-elf, and personal elf to Artos would come forward to speak with Lord Rickard Stark about binding the house elves to the Stark line. Dobby would tell Rickard that the old gods had given them orders, through a dream, to go and serve the Stark line, to help them stay safe to defeat the Others.
This was the shakiest part of their plan, and they knew if Rickard reacted badly, thinking that the elves might harm their family, that they would have to obliviate him and try again with a different plan. Both Artos and Brandon were worried about it. They didn’t want to obliviate their father but they knew there would be no other choice if he reacted badly. They just hoped the man would trust and believe them when they said the elves could be trusted.
There was always the option to compel their father but on principle, they were against doing that to a family member for anything less than keeping them alive. And they would try every option before going that way. Worst came to Worst they would have the elves wear glamorous and work their way into Winterfell slowly.
Lord Rickard Stark sat behind his desk in the lord’s study, tapping his fingers restlessly on the ironwood desk. The last month had been hectic at best. But things had finally calmed down, Lyarra finally back to full strength, even insisting that she get back to the training grounds to work with her bow and spear. Rickard had tried to protest, still worried about her from how close to death she had come. She had just scoffed at him, come up close and wrapped a leg around his, and then pushed him, causing him to fall to the ground. He had looked up at her smirking face, falling in love with her all over again as she said, “I am a Northern woman, a warrior, don’t treat me like some wilting southern summer flower.” Then turned and sauntered off.
Rickard didn’t know how he would survive without her.
But now Rickard was waiting anxiously for his elder sons, having sent Maester Luwin to find them. Rickard had already told his dear friend about the greendream he had. And Luwin agreed immediately with him that it was indeed a true dream, and since it was that they needed to heed it. Luwin had promised to be there with him if Rickard needed it when he talked with his sons and to help make a game plan for anything the boys thought needed to be done.
Still, Rickard was worried his baby boys were only six, going on seven. And he hated to burden them more than he already had by making them his primary heirs. But before he could think about it more, Maester Luwin ushered his twin sons into the room. They both had the Stark look, dark hair, strong jaws, and already taller than most their age. The only difference being their eyes. Brandon had Rickard’s own steely grey eyes, and more of the wolf's blood in him than Rickard thought wise. While Artos had his mother’s startlingly green eyes and her calm competence. Luckily Artos helped temper his brother’s more wild habits while Brandon made sure Artos didn’t spend all his time in the library.
His boys came around to give their father a hug before sitting down, looking curious about what their father had called them here for.
Rickard took in a deep breath, savoring the fresh air coming from an open window. “My sons, tell me what you know of greendreams…”
Brandon looked over at his brother, both looking shocked at what their father had told them. “Seems like Death gave you one more gift. This will help our plans so much.” They hadn’t expected this, but it really would help more than they could express. Even if their father only implemented a tenth of the ideas they had the North would be able to set the north up fast for what was to come faster than if they had to wait for Artos to take up his spot as Lord. Which their father had already admitted he would hand over to Artos once he reached 18. Jokingly saying he wanted to enjoy his old age and to have time to dote on his, hopefully, many grandchildren.
They both swore they would ensure their parents would be there to see their grandchildren. But they also swore that they and their siblings would only marry for love, no matter the gender or class and if they didn’t want to marry at all they wouldn’t be forced to.
While the north was far more open-minded than the south, but over time the southern hatred for homosexuality had snuck in. Not enough that anyone would be killed for it like happened in the south but enough to force people to hide and be ashamed of their true selves. Both Artos and Brandon being bisexual were determined to change this. Both for themselves and for all the people of the north.
They also swore they would stamp out the stigma around bastards. It wasn’t the children’s fault and they didn’t deserve the treatment they got. How the faith of the seven treated bastards was deplorable. And with Brandon now having read the Song of Ice and Fire book series, they both were acutely aware of how their nephew would have been treated. While they didn’t know if Jon would be born this time, they knew for sure that no Stark by name or not would never be treated that way. They would steal away any family member and raise the child themselves if it came down to it.
No Stark would ever feel as if they weren’t part of the pack if they had it their way.
So with all this in mind, they gave their father what they thought was one of the most important changes for the north.
“Father, one of the major problems in the north is that we have taken what the southerners think of us seriously. We let their beliefs influence us too much. We are the blood of the first men, we have magic running through our blood, we worship the old gods and we shouldn’t bow under the ideals of the seven. If it were up to them, children like us and our siblings would all be put to the ax. I’m not saying we should kill any believers in the seven, we are better than that. But we should be promoting the old beliefs. No lord of the North should be forced to house Septas and Septons. They shouldn’t force us to build Septs with our money and resources while they sneer at our beliefs. They call us savages while they hate people for things they can’t control, bastards, homosexuals, both hated in the south while we were once the ones who took them in but look at us now. And the woman, ever since Torrhen bent the knee the woman of the north have slowly been shunned for being warriors. They can be just as strong as any man but now they are forced by their septas to be nothing more than child-producing machines. Only the women of Bear Island remain completely true to their roots. We have made women reliant on men, and you of all people should know a woman doesn’t need a man to succeed. Your mother ruined the North for years by herself after grandfather died and you were too young to rule. And no one dared question her or she would see them in the yard.” Artos started off weakly but as he went his resolve grew, this rant bursting from him after years of thinking about how much the south had ruined the culture of the north.
Rickard looked shocked at his son’s convictions but as he listened he grew grimmer. They sat there silently all taking in everything Artos had said. The silence was suddenly broken by Maester Luwin’s surprisingly loud snort.
“He speaks the truth, you know your mother would have fought the whole faith of the seven barehanded to stop their influence in the north if she didn’t have you to watch over. She always did hate how they treated her people, calling us uncivilized dirty savages. I remember when she threatened to duel the septon when he thought since your father had died it meant he and the maester should rule the north for you until you were eighteen. He nearly soiled himself. I remember him ranting for months about it.” Luwin chuckled at the memory. He himself was a homosexual, and the septon had had his suspicions about him. When he went to Lady Stark about the matter, saying they should be keeping him away from the young heir in case he influenced Rickard, the woman had threatened to behead the man for insinuating such a thing. And while she had made it seem to the septon that she was furious that he thought Luwin was gay she was in truth furious that he thought Luwin, who was like an older brother to her son, would hurt him.
She had come to him the same, just saying that she didn’t care as long as he was happy. And warning him to be careful, that while true northerners wouldn’t care outsiders might hurt him. Luwin’s mother had died in childbirth, and being a son of the master at arms meant he had grown up in Winterfell and Lady Stark had been a mother to any child in need, him included. The north had mourned, even the Boltons, for her loss.
Rickard sighed, leaning back in his chair. “I know, my friend, but I don’t know how to fix it. Mother would indeed have fought every last man and woman, but you know that won’t work. And while I have no love for the seven we both know they would throw a giant fit if we were to try and expel them from the north.”
“Father, you need not make it so complicated. All of us here know that the old gods are real and more active than they have been in a while. All we need to do is show the smallfolk and lords that following the old ways helps them. Bring back the old rites and rituals and I’m sure the old gods will provide.” Brandon stated firmly. The old rites and rituals of the north were extremely similar to those of the wizarding world. And having once been a Black, even if he was accepting of muggle-borns, he had been a pureblood from a long line, and he hated the dying out of the old ways. Unlike his family, he thought the best way to promote their use was to show muggle-borns their benefits. After all, it was hard to hate something that helped you and made you stronger.
Rickard looked shocked as if he had never thought of something so simple. As the Warden of the North, he could easily call all his lords together to perform the holiday rituals. It would show that house Stark kept faith with the old gods. And even if their sons were wrong about the old gods helping them it would still spur on more smallfolk to participate as well. If he wanted the north to change he had to be the leader for that change.
And Rickard believed the old gods would provide. After all, they had blessed his line with five powerfully magical children. And Death himself had visited him to tell him his sons would be able to fix the north and save the world. If they believed this is where the change began then so did Rickard.
With new resolve in this plan, the four men started planning their first move in this cultural war. After all planting season was in three moons, and if they hurried they would be able to throw a grand feast and celebration for Imbolc.
Brandon stood in front of the weirwood tree, carving of the face looking down at him just as grim and stoic as any Stark. He heard quiet footsteps approaching him but didn’t bother looking over already knowing that it was his father approaching. Brandon reached out, caressing the smooth bark of the weirwood face’s cheek. But as he did his whole body stiffened, eyes rolling back as visions flashed through his mind. The frozen wastes of the far north, in the lands of always winter, where nightmares were true and dead things walked.
Brandon felt his father wrenching him away from the weirwood, lifting Brandon up into his arms as if he didn’t weigh a thing, bring Brandon’s face to rest against Rickard's neck. Brandon wanted to cry for the tenderness of the action. It took him a moment to realize that he could. He could cry, that no one here would tell him to grow up, a slap to the face of a stinging hex torso. No here he had the unconditional love and support of his family.
Brandon wrapped his arms around his father’s neck, burying his cold nose into the warm neck and furs, the scent of winter and clean musk filling his nose. And while he wanted to cry all he could do was smile.
Rickard pulled him back, looking over his son with concerned eyes but Brandon wasn’t worried. The twins had found out early on that if they touch the heart tree's face visions would flash through their minds. They had determined that the visions were a warning of the current greatest danger to them. They had been using this to their advantage to make sure no one was currently out to kill them. It would help a lot once they started shaking up things.
“What happened? Are you okay?” Rickard asked frantically.
Brandon looked away, feeling bad for causing his father so much worry. And while he knew if he told his father the truth Rickard would do everything in his power to protect his children. But that wasn’t the plan for today, right now they needed to introduce the house-elves to his family, and Artos and Brandon had thought this was the best way to go about it.
Rickard Stark sat upon his horse, both of his eldest sons flanking him on ponies and a small host of trusted men. He was worried about this trip, his sons had come to him and told him about a vision they had. And though Rickard trusted his sons and the visions from the old gods he was still worried about taking his sons into an unknown situation. But Artos and Brandon had insisted, looking at him with the solemn Stark look he saw all his family's faces. Even in time, his mother learned to mimic the Stark look in time, though she only wore that mask rarely.
Rickard came to a sudden halt as his children did, dismounting his horse before lifting his sons off their ponies. His child looked up at him and Rickard's heart fluttered. His own father, Edwyle, had died when Rickard was only seven, the same age as his own two eldest sons. Rickard had always wanted a large family of his own, something Lyarra and he had always joked about. Having an army of tiny little warriors, and so far he and Lyarra were working toward that.
Even after what had happened during Benjen's birth Lyarra had been determined to have as many children as the old gods blessed them with.
So to look down now at two of his sons, already so mature but still so young with the baby fat plumping up their cheeks. Rickard would do anything to keep them all safe. Anything.
And if that meant wandering into the unknown to meet a group of beings that his sons said would be instrumental for helping deal with the oncoming threat and keeping every member of house Stark safe, he would do it. But he would be vigilant for any possible threat these beings could pose until he was sure they wouldn’t be a threat.
Rickard took a hand of each of his sons and marched towards the area they said the village lay. Though he couldn’t see how there was anything there, the valley they were making their way to was completely empty. But his sons said these beings had magic and that’s why they had never been seen before. It was scary to think there was a village of unknown beings, with magic powerful enough to hide for so long, just an hour's ride from Winterfell.
They continued to walk into the valley when a sudden shiver wracked his body, causing his spin to snap straight. He felt an all-consuming pressure pressing down on his body for it suddenly disappear, and before him suddenly appeared a settlement. The houses were small and were carved into the hills, cobblestone paths running down the middle of the small valley, and lush vegetation everywhere. There were about a hundred small beings, with long floppy pointed ears, in strange clothes all gathered in what seemed to be a town square looking at them with large blue and green eyes.
One elf, as his sons had called them, was standing before the rest, standing tall and ears wiggling almost like a happy dog’s tail.
“I, Dobby, leader of the elves, welcome the great house Stark to the Shire.” The smaller being said, looking happy to have visitors. Making a grand gesture as he bowed, nose almost touching the ground as he did.
Rickard didn’t know why but the elf’s honest enthusiasm seemed to ease the tension he held. Despite Rickard’s northern upbringing, his mother had been sure to teach him how the south went about politics. Taught him how to read people for lies and misdirection. And Dobby the elf showed none of these. Rickard looked over the crowd of elves with narrowed eyes, every single one showed no signs of deception.
He would still keep an eye out but he had a feeling that making allies with the elves would be a great investment.
Dobby had led them to his house, everyone but the kids having to bend slightly to keep their heads from hitting the ceiling. Before they finally sat down at the long wooden table, that was almost groaning with food, dishes that Rickard had never seen.
They all sat down, his two sons flanking the elf without a second thought, heaping their plates full of food. Rickard wanted to reach out to stop them, frightened at the thought of his sons being poisoned, but before he could his sons started digging in, talking animatedly to Dobby about the settlement.
Rickard sat back, watching how the three interacted. His sons were completely at ease, and Rickard trusted his son's judgment so he filed up his own plate, taking a little of everything. The food was delicious, better than anything he had ever had before.
They talked about elves at first, Dobby explaining that his race had been watching over the Stark line as they had promised Brandon the Builder. But they hadn’t been able to contact them until the Stark line they produced magical children once more. Rickard had been skeptical of that answer at first but when he asked Dobby explained that they as a race couldn’t control their own magic. That it was too powerful and wild and that they had to tie their magic to another magical being to live.
But Brandon the Builder had helped them establish a settlement where he had anchored some of his magic into the large weirwood tree and they had used it to keep themselves alive. And it wasn’t until Artos and Brandon’s magical cores had become stable enough that they were able to contact them.
Dobby’s ears wiggled in excitement as he told Rickard that they were finally able to bind themselves to house Stark to repay Brandon the Builder for what he had done to save their race.
“House Stark would be honored to make an alliance with the elves.” Brandon proclaimed, smiling at the being next to him. Rickard bristled a little about his young son making such a promise without his consent but at the same time, he felt so proud his little boy was showing such initiative.
“Yes, house Stark is willing to make an alliance with the elves. Though we would like to first talk about what this alliance would entail.” Rickard stated, giving a long look to his second-oldest son. Brandon blushed before looking away, obviously knowing he had stepped out of line.
During the long discussion, Rickard learned a lot about the elves and their culture. And how much they valued hard work and helping others made Rickard look at them as true northerners and could see why his ancestor Brandon had helped them so much.
Artos and Brandon had been working frantically, along with the elves, to prepare for Imbolc. The rest of the household was working just as hard as them if in other ways. Their mother had been frantically planning the decorations while directing the chefs on the new recipes from the elves. A few elves, disguised as slaves who had escaped Essos, were teaching the astonished chefs all of their recipes. The cooks had all been delighted, the elves and head cook writing down all the recipes, the whole kitchen bustling with activity and every day new dishes for everyone to try. And all the cooks were coming up with new combinations with all the new recipes and techniques the elves had introduced them to.
Lyarra was paying smallfolks to go out hunting for meat and skins, gathering wild fruit and flowers. She also enlisted some elder women to work on a tapestry. Everyone else in the castle and Wintertown was working on planting the next harvest.
Artos and Brandon were working to carve as many rune stones for fertility and abundance as they could, sending out elves to place them at as many farms as they could. Artos and Brandon would then power them up on Imbolc using the magical build-up that happened during festivals. During such old festivities performing the rituals slowly built the ambient magic, taking small bits from everyone who participated, until it reached its peak. A powerful magical being could channel that magic to power-up wards.
That was how the wards at Hogwarts had become so powerful. When the rituals were more popular, every magical who could, would gather at Hogwarts and take part in the festivals. Hogwarts had been built on that land because the festivals had been held there for centuries. And Winterfell, although weakened from the decline of the belief in the old gods and the rituals the land had weakened. But Artos and Brandon were sure that with some time the wards of Winterfell would be as powerful as those of Hogwarts.
Another thing the elves were doing was slowly trickling into Winterfell and setting up merchant stalls. Their father bought up all the seed the elves had, distributing them between the farmers who tilled the land around Winterfell. Asking them to trust them and use some of their land for these experimental seeds. But Rickard wasn't worried about it at all. They had visited the Shire a few more times, touring the village and learning more about elves and what they could do to help the north and help with upcoming battles. Dobby had shown him all the different crops and animals they had, and everyone had been shocked at the diversity. They had things that Rickard had never seen before and things he thought could only be grown in the south. Dobby had explained that they used carved runes on small stones placed at the corners of the plot and that the runes helped with increasing the fertility of the land and kept the crops at their ideal temperature.
As for the animals, they had sent out elves to travel the world, and Rickard had been shocked to learn about their instantaneous travel, to gather different species. Rickard had asked if they could take humans somewhere through this form of travel and been ecstatic to find out that they could. Dobby had offered to have a few elves stationed invisibly with the family, who would transport them to safety if anything happened. And they would also take Lyarra and Rickard wherever they needed to be, but would only take the children to places within Winterfell.
At this point Rickard had grown fond of Dobby, the elf easily sharing everything his people had to offer. Even going so far as to offer to teach his children how to make the rune stones, and if the stones worked as the elf said they would it would be an immense boon for the north. They would no longer need to buy food from the reach and the Riverlands. There would be less of a risk of his people starving in winter and would have a more well-rounded diet.
The elves had even offered to go around in disguises and teach farmers new techniques that would help with the yield while they went to plant the rune stones. Rickard had decided to send out a flock of ravens to have every lord within the north to inform them about a group of farmers he was sending throughout the north to teach the farmers ways to get a better yield.
The elves had started with all the farms close to home gathering them all up for a day to teach them everything, while a few others buried the stones. Rickard and his council, his twins, Luwin, and Dobby, had decided that they would keep all the new crops and animals to themselves for now. They needed to first ensure Winterfell's coffers were full before they started spreading the wealth.
Rickard didn’t like it but part of being a warden of the seven kingdoms was to ensure they held the position of strongest house in their region. Part of that was wealth, and right now House Stark was in a perilous situation with the Boltons. The Starks and Boltons had been on the outs for centuries, the Boltons furious that the Starks had been the kings of winter and then wardens of the north. They also loathed that the Starks had outlawed flaying, though it was an open secret that the Bolton family continued this practice.
Because they barely had the economic wealth to keep the wardenship, though they had almost unanimous support from the other northern houses, they currently didn’t have the money to enact change. Once they filled their coffers they would use that money to reinvest into the north, which would build loyalty among the lords and smallfolk alike. And once he started distributing the crops and animals to his lord they would gain wealth as well, which would bring in more money to Winterfell through taxes.
Artos and Brandon had also given Rickard more ideas to help out his fellow lords. Such as using the runestones to help a house start up its own winery. Rickard had been delighted with the quality of the elf-made wine that Dobby had shared with them. It had been better than any Abor gold or Dornish red he had ever tasted, Dobby had assured them that the grapes they had were better than anyone else. They had spent centuries carefully cultivating their grapes and mastering their techniques and they said they would gladly share the information with whoever the Starks wished to produce the wine. Rickard thought the Flints would be the perfect family to trust with the production of a northern wine.
The Flints were a loyal family, and Artos, who knew much more about geology than him had suggested that the Flints of Flint’s finger’s land was perfect for growing such crops. The Flints and their two cadet branches were unfortunately poor but with the production of wine, the whole family would profit.
Brandon suggested giving the crannogmen crops such as rice that grew well in marshes. It would help them immensely the crannogmen suffered greatly. They had no farmable land, dangerous animals, and deadly diseases, and yet they were one of the most loyal people. Rickard was sure to always provide for them, they were the first line of defense in the north, using guerrilla tactics to pick off any invading force, crannogmen being the only ones able to navigate the swamps and marshes of the neck safely.
There were many other ideas they all had, Luwin bringing forth information that the Citadel had kept hidden that would help. The reason they did so was that they were based in the reach and if the north became less reliant on the reach for food the order would lose money. That and Luwin was suspicious of the way the other Maesters seemed to act when are Luwin for his belief in the old gods, going so far as to try and convince him to join the faith of the seven. Tutting over how the northerners believed in false gods and the magic believed in by northerners.
Rickard had a sneaking suspicion about the order of Maesters but currently had no proof.
The whole Stark family was assembled in their finest clothes, getting ready to greet all their guests. All the lords and their closest bannerman riding in on horseback, colorful banners flying in the wind. Artos and Brandon looked over all the lords and their families, trying to memorize all their faces. It wasn’t until Artos looked at the icy blue eyes of Lord Rodrick Bolton that he almost threw up, choking back bile as the images he had seen from the man’s mind assaulted him.
Old Nan, an old northerner woman who had been a gifted healer who was enlisted by Artos’ great-grandfather to help nurse their second son Brandon back to health. She had stayed in Winterfell ever since though she was too old now to be an effective healer, but she was a great storyteller.
She told stories of the beyond the wall, the first men, and the magic of the north. Stories of wars won and lost and how the kingdoms had affected each other.
But a few stories stood out the most to Artos and Brandon, those of the Others. But Artos never expected this particular one to be true. Old Nan had told them the horrible story of the Night’s King and his Corpse Queen. Artos and Brandon had immediately suspected the Corpse Queen had been an Other based on her description and what she and the Night’s King had done.
But never in a million years had Artos expected to encounter the Night’s King and Corpse Queen’s son. Sitting upon a northern warhorse was an unholy abomination, a being who had been using the skin of his own flayed sons to continue the living unnoticed. Jumping from skin to skin when he had spent too long as one person.
The cruelty being committed on both his smallfolk and family. Twisting his sons into monsters just like him. Artos was quick to look over to the 13-year-old Roose Bolton who had supernaturally blue eyes as cold as glacier ice. But underneath the icy facade, Artos saw the makings of a strong man, one who saw what his father did and abhorred it. Who knew his father had killed his mother in the most horrible way. Who was terrified but resigned to the Bolton family initiation at 15. But there was also a brilliant tactical mind and ruthlessness towards those who would threaten those he cared for. There were even brewing plans on how he would kill his father for murdering his mother. Artos just knew that if he was able to get rid of Rodrick, Roose could become a great ally.
“Brandon, we are going to have to get rid of Rodrick Bolton. I’ll tell you why later when we have time and are alone. Whatever you do, don't look into his mind.”
Harry said across their twin bond.
The great hall of Winterfell was brimming with life and laughter, the Northern lords were drinking and enjoying the spread of new dishes. Candles dotting the hall and a large bonfire out in the Winterfell courtyard, young children running around with dolls made of oats and wheat, dancing to the bards who were playing jaunty tunes.
Rickard had never seen a happier group. Normally all the lords only meet during times of mourning, war, or strife. Rickard thought having all the lords come together during at least two of the eight traditional holidays. It would be a great unifying experience, bringing together people who hardly ever saw each other.
Rickard looked over at his children who were easily mingling with the other heirs and heiresses. He couldn’t help but puff up in pride at how well they were all doing, seeming to bring the others into their orbit, even his eldest two had gotten the cold and standoffish Roose Bolton to engage in a conversation. Rickard hoped this generation would be able to unite together under the leadership of his children, and that they would help the North flourish together.
Rickard leaned towards his wife, pressing a quick kiss to the top of her head, hiding a smile in her dark wavy hair, then ruffling little Benjen’s hair from where he sat in his mother’s lap. Benjen was looking all around, eyes wide and gummy smile on full display. Lyarra would be taking him upstairs soon, and a team of elves would be stationed in the children’s bedroom that night, with so many strangers wandering their halls Rickard wouldn’t take any risks. Even now elves were stationed around the castle and hall, some completely invisible while others disguised themselves, mingling among guests, guards, and maids alike. Rickard couldn’t wait for the day where he could see the beings he had come to consider great allies and in some cases, friends be able to live in the open. To be able to share with his lords just how much the elves had already helped improve the north, but for now, they had to, unfortunately, be kept a secret. If the faith and maesters knew about them they would stop at nothing to kill them. And the southern lords would be all too happy to go along with it.
The south had always hated the north, considering their way of life and beliefs barbaric. But at the same time, they knew the might of the north and knew that with the dragons gone from the Targaryen line if the north chose to they could secede from the kingdom and try to stop them or bring them back into the fold would be a bloody and long fight. And if winter came during the war it would wipe out most if not all of the invading force.
The north hadn’t done so because they had become reliant on the southern kingdoms for food. But with what he and his counsel had planned that would no longer be a problem. And with what his children were capable of it was likely that they would slowly cut off the other kingdoms until they finally were completely self-sufficient and able to break away. With their plans they would be able to make the north the most prosperous kingdom in Westeros, the other kingdoms would have no choice but to rely on them for trade. Trade from Essos was expensive and took a long time, and perishable goods had high chances of spoiling. Not to mention pirates and later bandits during transport.
Rickard wanted to throw his head back and cackle with glee, something his mother had done whenever she did something particularly clever. Rickard wasn’t a very forgiving man, not when it came to those who had hurt his own. And the six other kingdoms had done the north a great many wrongs. Bleeding them dry during times of strife the reach and the Riverlands slowly increasing the price of food while giving the lowest quality goods. And without a fleet of their own trade coming from Essos was rare and raids on their western coast by iron borns was common. The women of Bear Island were such good warriors from their many battles with the iron born. And when complaints were made to the crown of the iron-borns activities they were either placated or ignored completely. And with all other kingdoms having fleets of their own the north was constantly ravaged.
But this, this meeting of lords and the future generations was the beginning of something wonderful. Rickard toasted the room, not caring if anyone saw him, this was for him, welcoming in a new age.
Brandon and Artos hated to do it but they slipped subtle compulsions into the minds of the children they met. Just a little nudge to get them to trust the Starks and to make sure they stayed loyal. They would later enchant Ice so that when someone swore loyalty while touching the blade they would be unable to betray the Starks.
But they didn’t want to rely on that, they wanted to build trust in their rule, to have the lords and smallfolk alike love them. But they didn’t want to risk anything, so in came the compulsions. They couldn’t use something so subtle on adults, their mind too developed to allow such compulsions, and if they used something stronger it would surely set off alarm bells to those around them and to the person affected. Compulsions worked best when someone didn’t know they were under a compulsion, a strong enough mind could easily throw it off. But subtle compulsions on children would slowly change their patterns of thought, eventually becoming permanent.
So they went about meeting and greeting all the children, making the best impressions they could to make the compulsions seem even more natural. They also spoke of ways to improve the north, some of the older kids giving very insightful ideas. Roose Bolton had even mentioned somehow finding out how to make Myrish glass, suggesting using someone who could warg into a bird or mouse to spy on the glassmakers to learn their secrets. Artos and Brandon were quick to agree that it would be a perfect way to explain how they knew how to make glass. And they knew how to make it better than the Myrish. They also knew how to blow glass, something that would be completely original to the north. And hopefully, through trade of sand with the Dornish they would gain a powerful ally.
And they greeted all the children no matter class or family. Highborn's and bastards alike, treating them all the same. And by the end of the night Artos and Brandon, along with their siblings were completely exhausted, having to be poured into bed, elves watching over their sleep.
Despite how tired they all had been, Artos still had nightmares of the horrible images he had seen within Rodrick Bolton’s mind and knowing that monster was currently in their home.
|
In the morning, Morgana woke up early and after he was fully awake he pounced on Akira waking him up.
"Hey, you might want to get up so you won't be late for school." Morgana said.
Akira rubbed his eyes and nodded his head then he got out of bed and got dressed, after he grabbed his bookbag he headed downstairs to the kitchen with Morgana following him. Once they were in the kitchen they found another note by Akira's parents saying they left early and probably won't get back until 7 pm, Akira sighed and made himself some breakfast.
"Are they avoiding you?" Morgana asked since he also read the note.
"They just have busy schedules that's all." Akira answered.
Morgana knew Akira was lying at least a little bit but he didn't push it, throughout breakfast the two remained silent as they ate after they finished eating, Akira washed the dishes and put them away then he headed for the door with Morgana following him.
"Morgana, I need you to stay here today, I don't know how anyone will react to me being back.......even though my criminal record is gone, a small town like this doesn't forget........I couldn't forgive myself if you got hurt so please stay here." Akira said.
"That's all the more reason I should go.......you could use back up." Morgana replied, Akira chuckled and shook his head.
"I'm sorry Mona, unfortunately school isn't a palace that you'll be able to help me beat.........don't bring up Komashida's palace, that was different, so please stay here I'll be back as soon as possible." Akira said.
"Fine." Morgana replied and if Morgana could pout, Akira was sure he would be pouting.
"Thank you, I'll be back later." Akira said.
Akira put his shoes on and headed out the door, as he walked to school he kept his head down so he wouldn't have to see the glares that were thrown his way if anyone walked by him. Once he got to school, he headed for the principles office as he walked there he saw both the teachers and the few students that were already there glaring at him, when he made it to the principal's office......well he glared at him too.
"I'll get straight to the point, if you put one toe out of line you're out of here, you will not be joining any of the after school clubs, it's here then straight home, now go to your homeroom, it's the same one before your probation." The principal said.
Akira nodded his head and left the office......there were more people in the hallways now and that was when all the gossiping started.
"Do you think they were lying about him being innocent?"
"Why did they let him go back to this school?"
"He should've stayed in Tokyo."
"Do you think he carries weapons?"
"Even if he's innocent, I would stay away from him."
"Do you think he'll do something here.....like hurt a student?"
"I hope he's not allowed in the boy's locker room, I wouldn't feel comfortable with him in there."
Akira clenched his fist at that last comment, he knew those comments were going to show up at some point that's part of the reason why he didn't bring Morgana because Morgana didn't know about his sexuality. Though Akira knew the cat would find out eventually, he still wanted to avoid it as long as possible luckily his parents don't bring up the subject so Morgana won't learn it from them. Once Akira was in his classroom, he went to the very back of it and chose a window seat hoping that everyone would leave him alone, it didn't work since throughout the entire class period as well as in all his other classes people would gossip or throw things at him, and the teachers never punished any of them. By the time it was time to go home Akira was more than happy to follow what the principal said about not joining any of the after-school clubs, when he got home Morgana was waiting for him in his room.
"Finally you're back, well how did it go?" Morgana asked.
"I rather be at Shujin." Akira answered.
"That bad?" Morgana asked.
"Worse." Akira answered.
"Can I go with you tomorrow?" Morgana asked.
"Let's see how this week goes, if I don't come home with a black eye by the end of it you can come with me, deal?" Akira asked.
"Deal, but only because you're worried about me." Morgana answered.
"Thank you, now what did you do today?" Akira asked.
"Slept, but I did look around some, don't worry I didn't go into your parent's bedroom besides the door was closed." Morgana answered.
"Thanks." Akira said.
"What did you do?" Morgana asked.
"You went to school with me last year, it was the same except the questions are harder." Akira answered.
"Are you going to text Ryuji and the others?" Morgana asked.
"Yeah." Akira answered.
Akira opened up the group chat and sent a quick message asking how was their day and his day was difficult. After a few minutes of no one replying Akira shrugged his shoulders and assumed that everyone was busy or in Futaba's case asleep since today was her first day of school since becoming a shut-in. Akira put down his phone and started to work on his homework, a few hours later he heard the front door open.
"Is that your parents?" Morgana asked.
"Most likely, stay up here I'll bring your dinner up here for you." Akira answered.
"You owe me Shushi for this." Morgana said.
Akira nodded his head with a smile, then he left his room and headed downstairs he saw his parent's in front of the door taking their shoes off.
"Living room." Akira's dad ordered.
Akira nodded his head and followed his parents to the living room, as soon as they were in there, his mother slapped across the face.
"Even though you were in Tokyo, we still had to deal with the consequences of what you did do you know how difficult it was for us to walk around here knowing that everyone knew our son was a delinquent." Akira's mother whispered but she might have just yelled with how quiet it was in the living room.
"Did you date anyone while you were in Tokyo?" Akira's dad asked.
"No." Akira answered.
"Good, now go and make yourself dinner.....we don't want to see you for the rest of the night." Akira's mother said.
Akira left the living room and headed for the kitchen then began to cook him and Morgana dinner, as he cooked he thought about Arsene and how much he missed his persona. Akira sighed and finished cooking, he took the two plates up to his room and sat one down on the floor as he and Morgana ate, Akira noticed that Morgana would look up at him occasionally with a worried look.
"What's wrong, Morgana?" Akira asked.
"I heard the conversation with your parents." Morgana answered.
"Oh.....what about it?" Akira asked.
"Are you okay, they didn't sound happy?" Morgana asked.
"I'm alright..........I'll take these down in the morning, let's get some sleep." Akira answered.
Akira got ready for bed while Morgana curled up on the bed and closed his eyes, Akira got in beside him and waited until Morgana was asleep to pick up his phone. Akira saw that none of his friends replied to his message but that wasn't what he was after, he scrolled down his contact list and looked at the one contact from Tokyo that he should have deleted. It was Akechi Goro's contact info, Akira never deleted it even after Akechi's betrayal, not even after Akechi's.....death, Akira tapped on it and looked through the messages and sighed by the end of it, he missed the detective probably too much for his own good, Akira sighed again and put his phone down and fell asleep.
Two Months Later
Over the last two months, Morgana noticed that Akira was strange........like he would stare at the kitchen knives for too long or at the convenience store it would be sleeping pills or razor blades, at night he has nightmares that wake the both of them up or he doesn't sleep at all and whispers to himself sometimes even cries. It didn't help that he was getting bullied, and Akira's friends from Shibuya have barely contacted him........suffice to say, Morgana was extremely worried and was determined to get back to Shibuya to figure out why their friends have barely contacted Akira and get help. So Morgana's plan was to leave while Akira was at school and sneak onto a train and headed back to Sibuya, when it came time to execute his plan he was more affectionate than he usually was towards Akira, once Akira was nowhere in sight of the house Morgana left. Morgana somehow managed to get onto a train without being caught but he did and now he had to wait until the train got to Shibuya.
"This is going to take a while." Morgana whispered.
"Did somebody hear a cat?"
Morgana decided to stay quiet for the rest of the train ride, once he was in Shibuya, he stealthy got off the train and headed for Cafe Leblanc, after a couple of hours he managed to get there.
"Hey Boss, open the door it's important!" Morgana yelled.
"Seriously, it has something to do with Akira!" Morgana yelled.
"Please, I'm worried about him!" Morgana yelled.
"Please!" Morgana yelled.
"There's something wrong with him!" Morgana yelled.
Finally, the door opened to reveal an angry Sojiro but after he saw Morgana, his expression turned from angry to shock.
"Morgana, what are you doing here?" Sojiro asked.
"It's Akira, there's something wrong with him." Morgana answered.
"I can't understand you, but if you're here then it has something to do with the kid, here come inside luckily for you there aren't any customers here." Sojiro said.
"There barely are any customers here." Morgana replied.
"I still can't understand you.........Futaba will be here in a few hours, you'll just have to wait." Sojiro said.
Morgana nodded his head and since he couldn't sit still he walked back and forth until finally, a tired-looking Futaba walked into the Cafe.
"Sojiro I'm back, I- wait is that Morgana?" Futaba asked, running over to the cat.
"Yes, I don't know why he's here, but I bet it's about Akira." Sojiro answered.
"Well Mona, is it about Akira?" Futaba asked.
"Yes, there's something wrong with him." Morgana answered.
"What do you mean there's something wrong with him?" Futaba asked.
"What's wrong with the kid?" Sojiro asked.
"Ever since we got to his hometown he's been acting weird at first it was nothing major I thought it normal since he was being bullied at school but this is Akira we're talking about I thought he would get through it. But he started getting worse, he's staring at knives for too long, as well as sleeping pills and razor blades......he's been having nightmares that wake him up, sometimes he doesn't sleep..........sometimes he whispers to himself or he cries when it happens." Morgana answered.
Futaba was already pale but she became paler at Morgana's answer, which piqued Sojiro's curiosity.
"What did he say?" Sojiro asked.
"Akira.......he's having a very difficult time, from what Mona is saying......I think.....I think Akira is thinking about........killing himself." Futaba answered.
"What?!" Sojiro yelled.
"Why didn't he say anything to us?" Futaba asked.
"Even when he has texted you guys, all of you barely answered him." Morgana answered.
"Oh......I guess we all have been out of touch with him but........no....no wait.....no buts, I should have been there for him, we all should be there for him, and we're all going to save him before something bad happens." Futaba said.
Futaba immediately got onto her phone and started to type on it, probably to tell everyone else to drop what they're doing and meet at Leblanc, sure enough an hour later the former Phantom Thieves excluding their leader was at the Cafe, though when everyone saw Morgana without Akira they were shocked.
"Morgana, why are you here and where's Akira?" Ann asked.
"Don't worry Mona, I'll explain." Futaba said.
Futaba began to tell everyone why Morgana was there, by the time Futaba was done explaining Haru and Ann were crying, Ryuji looked pissed off and was going to punch something, Yusuke looked like he was solely to blame for Akira's situation, and Makoto looked like she was thinking really hard about something.
"If I didn't know any better, I would say Akira has a palace." Makoto said, everyone looked at her like she grew another head.
"That's impossible, the metaverse is gone." Yusuke replied.
"Even if the metaverse still existed, a persona user can't have a palace." Haru added.
"I had a palace and I'm a persona user." Futaba said.
"Whoa, hang on just here me out.......since we're technically not persona users it's not impossible for us to gain a palace." Makoto said.
"But the metaverse would have to exist for you to have a palace to begin with, and we destroyed it." Ryuji replied.
"Morgana, didn't you say something about the metaverse being the palace for everyone's distorted desires?" Ann asked.
"Yes, lady Ann." Morgana answered.
"Well, everyone still has distorted desires.........so what if the metaverse came back." Ann suggested.
"But Akira still had a persona, he wouldn't have gained a palace if it came back." Haru said.
"Unless Akira's palace formed before the metaverse came back." Yusuke replied.
"Everyone check your phones." Futaba said.
The former Phantom Thieves took out their phones and looked at their home screen to see if the metaverse app was there again.
"It's back" Ryuji said in disbelief.
"We should check to even see if Akira has a palace." Makoto replied.
"Alright, but who wants to say his name?" Ann asked.
"I'll do it.............Akira Kurusu." Futaba said.
"Candidate found." The app replied.
"This is......so.....unbelievable." Ryuji said.
"We need to get to Akira." Ann said.
"Yes, before something happens." Haru added.
"Sojiro, can we go get him......like now?" Futaba asked.
"It'll be dark by the time you get there." Sojiro said.
"It's no problem I'll just reserve a couple of rooms at a hotel nearby." Haru replied.
"Fine, but call me or text me every night including tonight........and once you get done changing that kids heart bring him back here." Sojiro said.
"Sure thing Boss." Ryuji replied.
The former Phantom Thieves including Morgana left the Cafe in a hurry, Sojiro sighed before going back to reading the newspaper, worried about Akira and the others, that was when he realized that he let them leave to go to another city during a school week.
"Fuck.......well, I'd rather them miss a few days of school than having Akira torture himself." Sojiro muttered.
Once the former thieves were on a train back to Akira's hometown, they began to whisper about what to do.
"I'm going to go back to Akira, I can tell him I just got lost and it took me a while to figure out where I was." Morgana said.
"We'll go to the hotel, during the day we'll meet you at the hotel then you'll show us to Akira's house." Makoto replied.
"That's when we'll figure out the keywords for his palace?" Ryuji asked.
"Yes, but I think I already have an idea........I'll let you know tomorrow." Morgana answered.
"Why not now?" Yusuke asked.
"Just in case I'm right......we don't want to pull everyone near us into the palace." Morgana answered.
"We'll have to do this at night so Akira doesn't see us." Ann said.
"Yes......it would be difficult to explain why we're there." Haru replied.
"I wonder if he knows about the metaverse being back?" Futaba asked.
"I hope not that could complicate things." Makoto said.
"I'll see once I get back." Morgana replied.
"Thank you." Futaba said.
The group became quiet after that, and they all began to quietly blame themselves for what was happening with Akira. A few hours later they reached Akira's hometown and while Ryuji, Makoto, Yusuke, Futaba, Ann, and Haru headed to the hotel they made reservations for, Morgana headed back to Akira's house. Akira's bedroom window was open so Morgana climbed up to the window and jumped inside, and found Akira crying.
"Are you okay?" Morgana asked.
"Morgana, where have you been?" Akira asked.
Akira quickly wiped his eyes to remove any traces that he had been crying but it was too late, Morgana already saw.
"Sorry, I got lost and it took me a while to figure out where I was and make it back here." Morgana answered.
"Figures you can handle Shibuya without getting lost but can get lost in a small town like this." Akira said with a small smile.
"Hmmph, I take offense to that." Morgana replied.
"Yeah, sure." Akira said.
"But seriously, are you okay?" Morgana asked.
Akira had several bruises on his cheeks and a black eye, on his forehead was a piece of gauze taped down and his knuckles looked scratched up.
"I'm fine, it's just been a rough day." Akira answered.
"Okay, hey can I see your phone, I want to change the screensaver?" Morgana asked.
Akira looked at Morgana surprised for a second before nodding his head and showed Morgana his phone, Morgana noticed that Akira didn't have the metaverse app then before Akira started questioning him, Morgana pawed at the gallery app. Since his paws wouldn't let him open the app Akira did it for him, then Morgana chose a picture where Akira was with all his friends from Shibuya, Akira raised his eyebrow but didn't say anything and changed the screensaver.
"Alright, let's go to bed......I know you haven't been getting much sleep lately." Morgana said.
"I'm sorry if I've been keeping you awake." Akira apologized.
"Don't apologize, I sleep half the time anyway, I've just noticed you haven't been sleeping well and I'm worried." Morgana said.
"Don't worry, I'm fine.....I promise." Akira replied.
"Still try to get some sleep." Morgana said.
"Alright." Akira replied.
Akira and Morgana laid down and fell asleep though it took Akira a long time before he could fall asleep.
At a Hotel Near Akira's Home Town
Goro Akechi sighed as he stared up at the ceiling of his hotel room, he had been moving from hotel to hotel ever since surviving what happened on Shido's palace. Akechi had thought about going to Leblanc but he thought it would be best if the Phantom Thieves continued to think he was dead. Akechi sighed and looked at his contact info list, he kept Akira's phone number and chat ID, he didn't know why.........no wait he did know......he just wasn't going to admit it though he will admit he missed the Phantom Thief leader too much. Akechi sighed again and put his phone down, and quickly fell asleep when he woke up he was in the Velvet Room, in front of him was the real Igor and Lavenza.
"What am I doing here?" Akechi asked.
"It's about the other wildcard." Igor answered.
"Akira?" Akechi asked.
"Yes, he's in danger." Lavenza answered.
"What does this have to do with me?" Akechi asked.
"You're the only one that can save him." Lavenza answered.
"What are you talking about?" Akechi asked.
"The Trickster has a palace." Igor answered.
"How is that possible, he has a persona?" Akechi asked.
"True, but for a short time the metaverse was destroyed so his persona was gone, by the time the metaverse came back his palace has formed." Lavenza answered.
"Why not get his friends to save him?" Akechi asked.
"They can't do this alone........I can sense the Tricksters palace........and well, they'll need the help to get through it." Lavenza answered.
"Why should I help them?" Akechi asked.
"You do not have to do this for them, do it for the Trickster........we both know you care about it." Igor answered.
"Fine, how long is the deadline?" Akechi asked.
"I don't know...........but it's not long." Lavenza answered.
"Can you guess how long the deadline is?" Akechi asked.
"At most two weeks........now you must wake up the Phantom Thieves are already in the Trickster's hometown but luckily for you, you're close by." Lavenza answered.
"Great." Akechi said sarcastically.
Morgana was the first to wake up and thought about waking Akira up by pouncing him, but he decided against it since Akira looked like he was in pain. Instead, Morgana gently nuzzled Akira's face, then batted his nose with a paw.
"Morgana, what are you doing?" Akira mumbled.
"Waking you up, today I decided to be gentle with you since you're hurt." Morgana answered.
"Hmm, how thoughtful of you." Akira said, opening his eyes.
"I know, but don't get used to it.......once you're all better, I'm going back to how I usually wake you up." Morgana replied.
"You've been really.........affectionate lately, is something wrong?" Akira asked.
"Nothing's wrong, but I know you've been having a rough time lately so I decided I'd comfort you to the best of my abilities." Morgana answered.
"Thanks, Mona........I guess I better get ready for school." Akira said.
After Akira got dressed they headed down to the kitchen where Akira cooked them breakfast, after Akira cleaned the dishes he left for school. Once Morgana was sure Akira wasn't in sight of the house, Morgana left and headed for the hotel the others were staying at, he saw them standing in front of the hotel with someone surprising.
"Akechi, why are you here and how are you alive!?" Morgana yelled.
The group of teens turned around to look at where Morgana was, Akechi sighed and shook his head.
"I'll tell you what I told them, I don't know how I'm alive and I'm here because Igor and Lavenza said your leader has a palace and you're going to need my help to get through it." Akechi said.
"My master said that?" Morgana asked in disbelief.
"Yes." Akechi answered.
"Did they say anything else?" Morgana asked.
"That the deadline at max is two weeks." Akechi answered.
"Come on Morgana, are you really going to believe him?" Ryuji asked.
"I don't like the idea either but if my master says that we need help.......well there must be something in Akira's palace that we won't be able to handle on our own." Morgana answered.
"At least the cat's smart." Akechi commented.
"Hey, I'm only temporarily a cat......I'll be human eventually." Morgana hissed.
"Sure, anyway what happened to your leader for him to gain a palace?" Akechi asked.
Morgana let out a soft unintentional mewl and flattened his ears against his head, the action surprised everyone including Akechi though he didn't express it.
"I don't know exactly what has caused it........but I do know that being here is rough on him, he always looks like he was on the losing end of a fight, his parents are always complaining to him about something. On Sunday's whenever we go to the park together or somewhere else, he always keeps his head down and if anyone gets near him, he flinches.......there are other things but too many to explain now......but we do think that if something doesn't happen soon, Akira could kill himself." Morgana answered.
"That could be the deadline Lavenza was talking about, but if that's the case we should still hurry since anything could change his mind and decide to do it sooner." Akechi said.
"Then lead the way to Akira's house Mona, the sooner we get this done the sooner we can save Akira." Futaba said.
Morgana led them to Akira's house, once they were there everyone except for Morgana looked at it in shock.
"What is with this cookie-cutter bullshit?" Ryuji asked.
"Yes, I've got to say it does seem to lack.........personality." Yusuke agreed.
"Come on guys, now is not the time to comment on the exterior of a house." Ann said.
"I agree, Morgana yesterday you said you might know the keyword to get into the palace, mind telling us what it is?" Makoto asked.
"I think it's circus, don't ask why I think that right now just see if I'm correct." Morgana answered.
Akechi and the others took out the phones and said the phrase that would get them in Akira's palace......luckily circus was the keyword......now they were inside the palace and to say the least they were once again shocked about what they saw.
"Oh my." Haru gasped putting her hands across her mouth.
Above them was a cloudless, blood-red sky, in front of them was a circus........though it looked abandoned, there was no crowds, no lights, no music.......nothing except for black and white tents.
"Guy's look our clothes haven't changed." Ryuji said.
"I guess it means he doesn't see us as a threat.......right now." Morgana replied.
"Yeah, come on let's go inside." Akechi said.
Before anyone could take one step towards the circus, someone stopped them........well it wasn't just anyone, it was Akira's shadow in Akira's Joker outfit though the colors were reversed and instead of his eyes being red, they were yellow.
"Sorry, I can't let you do that." Shadow Akira said.
"Why the hell not?" Ryuji asked.
"Because I'm the ringleader here and I said you can't enter." Shadow Akira answered angrily.
"Well, we've got to enter." Morgana said.
"I said no, I-"
Shadow Akira stopped talking when his eyes zeroed in on Akechi, then his eyes widened in disbelief.
"How are you here........it's impossible?" Shadow Akira asked.
"Somehow I managed to escape Shido's palace, now we need to enter that circus." Akechi answered.
"No, I don't know whether you're telling the truth or not but none of you will be entering my circus." Shadow Akira said.
"Why not?" Ann asked.
"Because you'll all leave him.....and never look back." Shadow Akira answered, his eyes somehow sorrowful.
"No, we won't." Futaba said, Shadow Akira shook his head.
"It can be that bad in there." Akechi said.
Shadow Akira turned his eyes back to Akechi and growled.
"Trust me, it's a horror fest in there, you'll all leave sooner or later." Shadow Akira replied.
"We still want to go in." Akechi said.
"Fine but don't say I didn't warn you, now since you're all thieves you might as well look like them." Shadow Akira replied.
Shadow Akira snapped his fingers and everyone's clothes turned into their Phantom Thieves.......Akechi's being Crow's outfit instead of the Black Mask outfit.
"Where are my manners, the name's Joker, and welcome to the Trickster's Circus, I hope you have a great time.......though I doubt it." Joker said.
Joker snapped his fingers again and this time the circus came to life, there were lights and flashing colors, laughter could be heard from all over, and overly cheery music was playing from speakers that were set up around the circus, then Joker disappeared.
"That doesn't sound like a horror fest." Yusuke commented.
"That's on the outside.......who knows what could be hidden within those tents." Makoto said.
"Maybe it isn't as bad as it sounds.........Akira does have a dramatic side to him......his shadow could be lying to us to make us leave." Haru replied.
"Either way we should check it out and decide for ourselves if it's true or not." Morgana said.
"Mona's right, Oracle got anything?" Ann asked.
"Hmm let's see........well for right now there are no shadows insight so we won't have to fight anything for now." Futaba answered.
"We better get a move on then, who knows how long that will last." Akechi said.
Akechi started walking towards the circus and everyone else followed, once they were inside they saw that nobody was walking around even though there was laughter coming from all around them.
"Well, this is........unnerving." Yusuke commented.
"Um, let's go to that first tent." Haru said.
Everyone walked towards the tent Haru pointed at and entered it, the place was empty even Futaba's readings of the place picked up nothing so the group picked front row seats and waited for something to happen.
"Ladies and gentleman, welcome to tonight's performance, hope you enjoy the show!"
Everyone looked around to see where the voice was coming from but they couldn't find anything or anyone, so they refocused their attention to the center of the arena where a projector screen floated in the middle of it. On the screen was a probably five-year-old Akira, he was playing in his bedroom......sitting on the floor with a toy car, moving the little toy back and forth in front of him, suddenly an angry-looking man that kind of looked like Akira walked into the room.
"Hey, daddy." Five-year-old Akira said.
Instead of saying anything, the man slapped Akira across the face so hard that not only did he fell to his side but the boy's head smacked the ground, the man waited until Akira sat back up before smacking him to the floor again. The man stomped on Akira's toy car before leaving the room, it took a couple of minutes but Akira sat back up and picked up the pieces of the car with shaking hands and put them on the desk, and began to glue the car back together, he did it but the wheels didn't work right. The screen turned black for a moment before another scene played out, this one was with a still five-year-old Akira but he was with who was probably his mom this time, she was glaring at him as he ate a tiny bag of chips.
"What's wrong mommy?" Akira asked once he noticed that his mother was glaring at him.
"You're a mistake Akira, you never should have been born........you're father and I were going places then you just had to come along and ruin it." Akira's mother answered.
"I'm sorry I-"
"Don't you dare apologize you brat, you're not sorry, now get out of my sight until dinner." Akira's mother interrupted Akira.
Akira quickly threw away the bag of chips before running out of the kitchen and out of sight, the projector screen went blank again and this time it stayed blank. Almost immediately there was clapping and whistling coming from all corners of the arena but the Phantom Thieves quickly got out of there. Once the group was out of the tent Haru and Ann started to cry, Futaba looked like she was on the verge of it but more out of anger, Makoto looked upset but contemplative, Ryuji looked like he wanted to kill something. Yusuke was furious but had it more under control than Ryuji, Morgana had a troubled look on his face, while Akechi looked shocked and his hands were balled into fists suggesting he was angry.
"What the effing hell was that........that can't be real." Ryuji said.
"Unfortunately, I think it is, I've been living with Akira for over a year......he never talked about his parents while we were in Shibuya, and the two months we've been here, his parents aren't exactly nice to him." Morgana replied.
"Why didn't he say anything?" Ann asked.
"Why would he.......besides even if he did tell someone last year, who would have believed him......he did have a criminal record." Yusuke answered.
"But we would have believed him." Haru said.
"Yes, but Akira was the leader of the Phantom Thieves.......he probably didn't want to appear weak in front of you." Akechi replied.
"Forget that bullshit, what we just saw.......if that kept up all these years.......he shouldn't have cared what we thought......if anything putting up with that since he was just a little kid makes him stronger.......he should have told someone!" Ryuji yelled.
"But Yusuke is right if Akira told someone there's a possibility that no one would believe him because of the criminal record......all the authorities would think he's lying." Makoto said.
"We should keep moving forward, we won't get any closer to the treasure by standing here." Haru said.
"There's still no shadows around but I can't sense any safe rooms nearby either so we'll just have to keep searching through tents until we find the right one." Futaba replied.
The conversation ended and the group headed for the next tent, unfortunately it wasn't a safe room but they still took a seat in the front row to see what would happen. Like last time an announcement was played then a projector screen appeared in the middle of the arena, then something appeared on the screen. This time it was a seven-year-old Akira standing in front of his mother who was once again glaring at him.
"You're not wanted Akira, no one will ever want you........now go to school." Akira's mom said.
Akira nodded his head and grabbed his bookbag before leaving the house, the screen went blank again and a couple of seconds another seven-year-old Akira was standing at the top of the stairs with his father, and his father was holding his arm.
"Wha........what are you doing?" Akira asked.
"You deserve this for ruining our lives." Akira's father said.
Afterward, Akira's father threw Akira down the stairs, by the time Akira reached the bottom of the stairs he had a broken arm and a broken ankle, he started to cry and scream in agony. The screen went blank again and there was applause, cheering, and whistling but the Phantom Thieves immediately left the tent, and the reactions were the same except nobody knew what to say......though there wasn't really anything they could say.
"I don't think I can handle anymore for today." Haru commented.
"Yeah, let's go find a safe room." Makoto said.
Nobody protested and started to walk in a random direction, after a few minutes Futaba pointed at a tent.
"Hey, I sense a safe room nearby......I think that's it." Futaba said.
The group walked towards the tent and hoped the tent was a safe room......luckily it was......and it was Leblanc's attic.
"We should talk about what we're going to do, before going back since we can't let Akira see us." Akechi said.
"We thought about going at night since Akira won't see us." Yusuke said.
"No, it would be more likely for him to see us since he'll be at home......that doesn't stop the chance of him seeing us during the day but he'll be at school so the chances are less than at night when he's home." Akechi replied.
"What about his neighbors, won't adults find it weird that a bunch of teenagers will be standing in front of the house........then tell Akira's parents about it?" Ann asked.
"But we'll also won't be spending all night in his palace......better spend our night's resting then.......here." Makoto answered.
"Speaking of here.......it's.......going to be difficult to get through........at least on an emotional level." Futaba said.
"We have to get through it if we want to save Akira." Yusuke replied.
"This is so effing messed up." Ryuji said.
"We better get out of here for now........I feel like we've been here for a while, everyone in agreement?" Morgana asked.
Everyone nodded their heads and left the palace, once they were back in the real world they checked their phones.
"It's almost time Akira gets back you guys should go back to the hotel before he sees you, I'll see you tomorrow." Morgana said.
"Alright, see you tomorrow Morgana." Ann said.
Everyone except for Morgana headed towards the hotel, Morgana sighed and headed into Akira's room around thirty minutes later Akira walked into his room.
"Akira, are you okay?" Morgana asked.
Akira looked worse than yesterday, as he walked Akira limped and when he sat down next to Morgana on the bed he winced and held his side.
"I'm okay............I'm just going to take a shower." Akira answered.
Akira grabbed some clothes and a towel and left the room, while Akira was in the bathroom Morgana looked around the room and lowered his ears against his head, remembering everything that he saw in Akira's palace......though there was a high possibility things were just going to get worse. A few minutes later Akira walked back into the room looking a little better but not by much, when Akira sat back down on the bed Morgana stood up on his hind legs and rubbed his head against Akira's cheek.
"Morgana, what's gotten into you?" Akira asked, surprised.
"I'm being affectionate, now don't question it and just accept it." Morgana answered.
"Alright..........Morgana, have you heard any rumors about me around town.......something other than what happened last year?" Akira asked.
"No.......why......is it important?" Morgana asked.
"It's.......it's.....don't worry about it.......I was just curious." Akira answered.
"Okay, but if there's anything you need or feel like talking about I'm here." Morgana said.
"Goodnight Morgana." Akira said.
"Goodnight Akira." Morgana replied.
At the Hotel
Ann, Futaba, Haru, Makato, Yusuke, and Ryuji were in Yusuke and Ryuji's room.
"What are we going to do?" Ryuji asked.
"The only thing we can do is get through this palace as quickly as possible." Makato answered.
"If it's going to be like that throughout the entirety of it, I don't think I'll be able to keep going." Ann said.
"But if we don't then Akira will.....will-"
Haru didn't finish what she was going to say but nobody needed to know the end of it because they already knew what Akira would do if they didn't change his heart soon.
"I think that's why there's no shadows so far, Akira's shadow probably thinks we won't be able to handle getting through the palace by turning around and not look back." Futaba said.
"Shouldn't we be having this conversation with Akechi too.........he's also helping us?" Yusuke asked.
"Nah, he probably has a secret plan or something.......we shouldn't tell him everything." Ryuji answered.
"We're going to have to give him some trust, he's with us whether we want him to or not." Makato said.
"Enough talking about this, we should get some rest.....we're going to have an exhausting day tomorrow." Ann said.
"I better call Sojiro first.......let him know what's going on." Futaba said.
After that, the girls left the boy's room and headed towards their own.
At the Same Hotel, In Akechi's Room
Akechi laid down on his bed and clenched his fists, he hadn't expected anything that happened in Akira's palace.
"This probably will be a horror fest.......well more so than we've already seen.........what else are you hiding?" Akechi whispered to himself.
Akechi closed his eyes and tried to fall asleep but he kept thinking about what he saw in Akira's palace and the memories that were shown of Akira being verbally abused by his mother and physically abused by his father, Akechi eventually fell asleep but it took him a while and even while he slept it was restless.
In the morning after breakfast, the Phantom Thieves.....including Akechi waited for Morgana in front of the hotel, when the cat arrived he looked a little tired.
"Are you alright, Morgana?" Ann asked.
"Yeah.......Akira woke up in the middle of the night screaming, luckily his parents didn't hear.......anyway he couldn't get back to sleep so I spent the rest of it awake with him, trying to comfort him.....I don't think he really heard me though." Morgana answered.
"Why not?" Haru asked.
"Akira was whispering to himself.......I couldn't make anything out though." Morgana answered.
"He whispers to himself?" Akechi asked.
"Yeah." Morgana answered.
"Ask him what he's whispering about the next time it happens." Akechi said.
"Alright.....don't know if he'll tell me anything." Morgana replied.
"Let's go already, we don't have much time to be messing around." Ryuji said.
"Right, let's go." Morgana said.
Morgana once again led the way to Akira's house.
"Alright, I'll take us to the first safe room." Futaba said.
The group activated the meta-nav app and entered Akira's palace, everyone looked at each other before hesitantly exiting the safe room, before they could really walk any further from the safe room, Akira's shadow appeared in front of them.
"You're back." Shadow Akira......Joker commented.
"We're not giving up on Akira." Yusuke said.
"Are you sure........that was just the beginning?" Joker asked.
"We're sure." Haru answered.
"We'll see." Joker said, then he disappeared.
"Oracle, do we got any shadows we have to deal with?" Makoto asked.
"No, we're good for the moment." Futaba answered.
"We better get going then." Akechi said.
The group walked to the nearest tent, they walked inside and sat down, like last time an announcement played then a projector screen appeared in the middle of the arena, this time it showed a nine-year-old Akira, he was in school and walking in the hallways with another boy.
"Come on Akira, let me come over after school." The boy begged.
"I'm sorry but I don't think my parents will allow it." Akira said.
"But you always say that." The boy replied.
"I'm sorry." Akira apologized.
"Alright." The boy said.
The screen went blank then a couple of seconds later the screen showed a nine-year-old Akira with the same boy but they were on a playground this time.
"My mom and dad are you allowing to come over today......if you want to." Akira said.
"Of course I'm coming over, this is finally my chance to go over to your house." The boy replied.
"Okay." Akira said.
The screen went blank again and this time it stayed blank, the Phantom Thieves and Akechi left the tent while the invisible audience applauded.
"That wasn't something terrible." Ann commented.
"Though it could be leading up to something terrible." Makato said.
"Please no." Haru replied.
"Akira said anything about having a friend from here." Yusuke said.
"They looked young they could have had a falling out." Ryuji replied.
"Did you guys realize that so far we've been skipping ahead two years in each tent?" Futaba asked.
"Yes and so far they've been showing two videos from those years though that might not last." Akechi answered.
"So if the pattern continues, Akira will be eleven." Morgana added.
Instead of saying the group walked to the next tent, when they sat down the announcement played and the projector screen appeared in the arena. An eleven-year-old Akira was sitting at the kitchen table with his mother and father glaring at him.
"Akira, your father has something he needs to talk to you about." Akira's mom said.
Akira's mom left the kitchen leaving behind Akira and his father......instead of questioning his father Akira remained silent.
"It's time we had The Talk." Akira's father said.
Suddenly the video was fast-forwarded for a couple of seconds before resuming.
"Don't ever let me or your mother catch you touching yourself, if we do you'll regret it." Akira's father said.
The screen went blank, a few seconds later and eleven-year-old Akira was in a classroom, his friend standing next to him along with a few other boys........every one of them except for Akira was staring at the girls in the room.
"Akira, do you have a crush on any of our classmates?" Akira's friend whispered into his ear.
"No, why?" Akira asked.
"What really, you don't have a crush on any one of the girls in our classroom?" Akira's friend asked.
"No, do you?" Akira asked.
"Well yes, but we're talking about you." Akira's friend answered.
"We're done talking about me, you already have my answer........now go talk to your crush." Akira said.
"What, I can't do that." Akira's friend replied.
"Why not?" Akira asked.
"I just can't." Akira's friend answered.
"If you say so." Akira said.
The screen went blank again and the applause started, while the group left.
"Man, I honestly thought we would be listening to Akira's dad's version of the Talk." Ryuji said
"I'm more worried about what the punishment would be if they caught him........um you know." Makoto replied she began to blush.
"Akira shouldn't be punished for that to begin with." Yusuke said.
"Anyway.......I can't sense any safe rooms nearby so are you guys up for looking into another tent or do you want to get out of here?" Futaba asked.
"Let's go look into another tent, we need to hurry." Akechi answered.
"Are there any shadows around Oracle?" Ann asked.
"Nope, still good." Futaba answered.
The group began to walk around in search of another tent as well as a safe room, after a couple of minutes they found another tent. They went inside and took a seat and waited for the projector screen to appear, once it did a video appeared, this time it was a thirteen-year-old Akira with his friend in the school boy's locker room.
"Hey Akira is something wrong, you've been acting weird all day?" Akira's friend asked.
"Yeah, I'm okay.........hey um there's something I want to try something with you." Akira answered though he didn't elaborate.
"Sure." Akira's friend said.
Akira took a couple of deep breaths before leaning forward and kissed his friend, for a few seconds Akira's friend didn't do anything but eventually he began to kiss back, they kept kissing until the door to the boy's locker room slammed open, revealing a kid around their age.
"What are you freaks doing?" The boy asked.
The screen went blank and a couple of seconds later another video appeared this time thirteen-year-old Akira and his friend or possibly boyfriend now were lying on the ground in the schoolyard surrounded by a bunch of boys, and the boys were kicking them wherever they could.
"Why don't you freaks just go and kill yourselves, there's no place for you here." One of the boys kicking them said.
"Stop it please!" Akira's boyfriend begged.
"Should we stop?" One of the boys asked.
"I've got to get home anyway, but let's get one last kick in." Another boy answered.
The boys kicked Akira and his boyfriend one last time before leaving them alone. The video began to fast-forward until the next day Akira was in class and his boyfriend was a couple of seats away from him, suddenly Akira's boyfriend stood up and took out a gun, everyone started to scream while Akira stared wide-eyed at his boyfriend. Instead of saying anything to the class or even Akira, Akira's boyfriend pointed the gun at himself and shot himself in the heart, the video fast-forward again until it showed a battered thirteen-year-old Akira standing in front of a grave crying. The screen went blank again and stayed that way but the Phantom Thieves and Akechi ran out of the tent before they could hear the applause, once outside Futaba sat down on the ground and began to cry, Ann, Haru, and Makoto wanted to comfort her but they weren't doing any better. Ryuji and Yusuke's cheeks were a little green like they were about to be sick, Morgana looked angry, and Akechi was trying to keep it together but his fists were shaking and he was glaring at the tent.
"We need to find a safe room now." Akechi said.
Akechi's words didn't reach any of them for a few minutes but eventually everyone calmed down and Futaba stood back up, after a couple of minutes the group found a safe room, which was the diner in Shibuya, they all sat down in the chairs around the room.
"So Akira's gay.........makes sense, since he never dated anyone last year." Ryuji commented.
"Was that the only thing you got from that?" Ann asked.
"No, his first boyfriend killed himself because of the bullying." Ryuji answered.
"Well, what do you think of him now that you know that he's gay?" Akechi asked.
"What do you mean?" Haru asked.
"Do you hate him or think he's disgusting........I noticed how you Skull and Fox looked like you were a little sick?" Akechi asked.
"That was because we saw a kid shoot himself." Yusuke answered.
"Yeah, I don't care if my best friend is gay.......what about you......Crow, does your opinion change?" Ryuji asked.
"No, I could care less about it." Akechi answered.
"Mona, did Akira give you any signs that he was gay?" Haru asked.
"No........unless you count last night when he asked if I heard any rumors about him......other than what happened last year." Morgana answered.
"Mona, tonight tell him you heard something interesting and that you want to ask him about it, see what he does." Futaba said.
"Okay." Morgana replied.
"Is everyone ready to go, because I am." Makoto said.
Everyone nodded their heads then they exited Akira's palace, like yesterday they exited it around the same time Akira would be getting out of school so the Phantom Thieves and Akechi headed back to the hotel while Morgana headed back inside Akira's home into his room. When Akira got home he looked like he did this morning so Morgana thought that everyone left him alone for today.
"I guess today was a good day?" Morgana asked.
"If you mean that everyone decided to leave me alone today then yes." Akira answered.
"Hey Akira, today I heard some rumors I want to ask you about." Morgana said.
"Morgana whatever they are, they're not true." Akira replied.
"I know I just wanted to ask." Morgana said.
"They're not true so please don't ask." Akira begged.
"Alright, Akira do I ever need to give you privacy for something?" Morgana asked.
"What is something?" Akira asked, raising an eyebrow at Morgana.
"Well I don't think you ever really did it while we were staying at Leblanc, but do I need to give you some privacy for whenever you need to um......you know?" Morgana asked while Akira twisted his hair the only way you could tell he was a little embarrassed at the moment.
"No.......I'm fine..........besides I try to do that as late as possible in the night so I don't want to keep you awake or wake you up just so I can......do that." Akira answered.
"Just let me know if you ever need me to leave you alone for a little bit." Morgana said.
"I will.......come on let's eat an early dinner so we don't have to deal with my parents when they get home." Akira replied, Morgana nodded his head in agreement.
Later that night at the hotel with Ryuji and Yusuke
"Were you telling the truth to Akechi?" Yusuke asked.
"Yeah, I feel a little betrayed by him keeping it a secret but I guess I get it......I would have trouble telling people too if that was how I was going to get treated, were you telling the truth?" Ryuji asked.
"Yes, I know we've killed a lot of shadows as our time as Phantom Thieves, but I have never actually seen a person take his or own life before.....even though what I saw was only a memory........though I think we'll see more memories that will explain why Akira hasn't told us." Yusuke answered.
"Maybe, well goodnight." Ryuji said.
"Goodnight." Yusuke said.
Akechi's room
Akechi laid down on his bed and looked at Akira's contact info on his phone.
"So Akira........you're gay, does that mean I could have a chance with you........probably not after what I did.........maybe I'll get answers in your palace." Akechi whispered.
Haru, Futaba, Ann, and Makoto's room
While Futaba talked to Sojiro on the phone Ann, Makoto, and Haru were having their own conversation.
"I can't believe it." Haru said.
"Though it does explain why he never dated anyone." Makoto replied.
"I don't think I've ever had a gay friend before." Ann said.
"I wish he would have told us sooner." Haru replied.
"After what I saw, I don't blame him for keeping it to himself but I wish he had told us too." Makoto said.
"Yes, it is completely official once we get Akira to Leblanc he is staying there Sojiro is really upset by what I've told him, I told him to hold off on doing anything until after we steal Akira's treasure, but afterward revenge is ours." Futaba said.
"You didn't tell him everything right?" Makoto asked.
"No, but he knows enough that he wants to get Akira out of here as quickly as possible." Futaba answered.
"Good, come on let's get some sleep.....we've got a long day tomorrow." Makoto said.
Everyone nodded in agreement and went to sleep.
After Akira left for school, Morgana headed for the hotel once he got there he saw that everyone was waiting for him outside.
"Are you guys ready?" Morgana asked.
"No, but let's do this anyway." Ann answered.
The group walked back to Akira's house and took out their phones and pressed on the meta-nav app, a few seconds later they were in the safe room they found yesterday, everyone hesitated before leaving but like yesterday Akira's shadow stopped them from really going anywhere.
"You're back." Joker commented, he sounded surprised.
"We've told you before, we're not giving up on him." Ryuji said.
"I remember." Joker replied, then he looked at each of them.
"So what do you think, now that you know your leader likes boys?" Joker asked.
"We don't care." Yusuke answered.
"Really, you're not worried if he ever tried to take a peek at you, looked you over a little too long?" Joker asked.
Yusuke and Ryuji began to fidget which caused Joker to smirk and everyone else looked at them in disbelief.
"Are you kidding me the only reason he would have done that is to make sure you idiots weren't mortally wounded." Akechi said.
The two frowned at the remark, but they had the decency to look guilty at thinking that about Akira.
"And considering that when we first meet Fox, you asked me to be a nude model, and Skull you can't keep your eyes off me, so if Akira glanced at you two every once in a while, then I'm going to consider it payback for what you did." Ann said.
"Well I'd like to stay and chat but the circus is almost over and there are things left to do.....left to see." Joker said.
"What do you mean the circus is almost over?" Makoto asked.
Instead of answering, Joker pointed his right hand, the phantom thieves plus Akechi looked in the direction Joker was pointing towards and saw that the lights had gone out on that side of the circus.
"What's going on, why are the lights going out?" Haru asked.
Everyone turned their heads to look back at Joker but he wasn't there in front of them anymore.
"We should get going." Futaba said.
The group headed towards the first they saw and entered it, when they sat down and the screen appeared they were surprised to see a fourteen-year-old Akira, he was standing in front of his ex-boyfriend's gravestone, which was covered in graffiti.
"Even now they don't leave you alone." Akira muttered.
Akira began to try and clean off the graffiti but nothing he did worked, after about an hour of trying to clean the gravestone Akira gave up and began to cry.
"What's wrong?"
Akira looked up and saw an old man standing above him with a worried expression written across his face.
"This town is small, you must know who I am." Akira answered.
"Amuse me." The old man said.
Akira looked the man up and down, the man looked to be in his early seventy's, he was wearing a suit and holding a walking cane.
"Akira." Akira replied.
"Alright Akira, what's wrong?" The old man asked.
"Every time I come here, it just seems like there's more graffiti on my...........my ex-boyfriend's gravestone, why can't they let him rest......I've been trying to get it off but nothing I've tried works." Akira answered.
"Here try this I made it myself." The old man said while holding out what looked like a regular cleaning wipe.
Akira slowly grabbed the wipe then bent down again and tried to get the graffiti off, this time the markers and paint that was on the gravestone came off.
"Thank you." Akira said.
"You're welcome." The old man replied.
"Where did you get that?" Akira asked, standing back up and handing the wipe back to the old man.
"I didn't get it anywhere, I made it." The old man answered.
"Why did you make it?" Akira asked.
"Follow me." The old man said.
Akira followed the old man further into the graveyard, after a couple of minutes they were standing in front of an older gravestone but it was covered in new graffiti.
"Akira meet my husband..........though we never really got married." The old man said.
"Husband?" Akira asked.
"Yes, though do you mind helping me with cleaning his gravestone?" The old man asked.
Akira nodded his head and began to clean the gravestone, when he was done he stood back up.
"Thank you." The old man said.
"You're welcome." Akira replied.
"I better get home.............maybe another time can I hear learn more about you and your husband.....if you don't mind." Akira said.
"I will if you tell me your story." The old man replied.
Akira smiled and nodded his head then he left the graveyard.
The screen went blank for a few seconds then it showed a fourteen-year-old Akira sitting on a bench in a park and it looked like he had got into a fight.
"Hello Akira, what are you doing here, don't you have school today?"
Akira looked up and saw the old man sitting down next to Akira.
"A couple of guys beat me up, the teachers believed it was my fault so I've been suspended for a couple of weeks." Akira answered.
The old man sighed and sat down next to Akira and they watched the clouds.
"Me and my husband been best friends for years before we started dating, of course we kept it a secret and since it was a secret when we moved into the same house no one batted an eye because they thought we were just saving money. Eventually we 'married' and I got two wonderful years with him before people found out, when they did they were brutal to the point someone killed him, the guy got away with it. Even after his death my husband and I weren't left alone and I've spent the last fifty years cleaning off his gravestone." The old man said.
"Me and my ex had been best friends since we were like nine, a couple of months ago we started dating but not even a minute after we got together a classmate saw us kissing. The next day the bullying started by everyone, we weren't allowed in the locker rooms, I was kicked off the gymnastics team.......it didn't take long for it to become too much for him. One day during class he stood up took out a gun and shot himself........I was the one who had to organize the funeral because his parents didn't want to have anything to do with it but I wasn't allowed at the funeral, I had to sneak out of the house at night to go see his grave." Akira said.
"Do you regret it......getting together with him?" The old man asked.
"No, we were happy.......the only thing I regret was not being able to protect him better." Akira answered.
"Let me guess you were too scared to really do anything?" The old man asked.
"Yes, this was my first relationship.......I didn't know how to protect myself and him from the hate we were going to get." Akira answered.
Akira sighed and tears were starting to well up in his eyes, the old man looked at him worriedly because he knew it wasn't just Akira's injuries that were making him upset.
"You need to get those injuries checked out." The old man said.
"The doctor won't see me." Akira replied.
"Well you're in luck because I have some medical knowledge.......unfortunately everything is back at my house." The old man said.
"It's not like anyone's going to miss me if you kill me so let's go." Akira replied.
The old man sighed and shook his head.
"Akira you need to value your life more........don't let this town be your death." The old man said.
"So you're not going to check my injuries?" Akira asked.
"No I will, you're just willing to come to a stranger's house without even knowing their name." The old man answered.
"What is your name?" Akira asked.
"Kenji.........you don't have to use any honorifics." The old man......Kenji answered.
"Okay." Akira said.
"Let's go, my home isn't too far from here." Kenji replied.
"How can I repay you?" Akira asked.
"You don't have to repay me but if you insist........I'm getting old and can't do much anymore, so how about you help me around the house, and in return I'll help you with what I'm able to do." Kenji answered.
"Okay." Akira said.
The screen went dark and nothing else appeared then the clapping started, the phantom thieves and Akechi stood up and left the tent.
"Oracle, are there any shadows around?" Makoto asked.
"Nope, nothing." Futaba answered, after a minute of scanning the surrounding area.
"Are we going to talk about what we just saw?" Ryuji asked.
"I think it's best if we start having our conversations in the safe rooms." Morgana answered.
"We better get going then." Haru said.
Everyone began walking towards the next tent, when they were inside the tent they hurried over to the front row and sat down, a few seconds later a screen appeared and a still fourteen-year-old Akira was standing in front of Kenji's husband's grave with Kenji standing next to him.
"Why didn't you find someone else?" Akira asked.
"Because I knew he was the only one for me." Kenji answered.
"Do you think I'll find someone else?" Akira asked.
"Yes.......one day you'll find someone."Kenji answered.
"It probably won't be someone from this town." Akira said.
"For one so young, you're such a pessimist." Kenji replied.
"Maybe, but tell me I'm wrong." Akira said.
Kenji shook his head and placed a hand on Akira's shoulder.
"Akira, don't turn your back to the world yet.......one day you'll have an amazing group of friends that will stick by your side no matter what, and one day a lover.....just don't give up." Kenji replied.
"Okay." Akira said.
The screen went blank then a couple of seconds later another image appeared this time Akira and Kenji were sitting on a porch and Kenji was helping Akira put his right arm in a sling.
"What happened?" Kenji asked.
"Dad pushed me down the stairs then stomped his foot on it." Akira answered.
"What was his reason this time?" Kenji asked.
Akira began to blush and it made Kenji raise an eyebrow.
"I was.....um.........masturbating and he caught me doing it........when I was given the Talk he told me that he or my mom didn't want to catch me doing it." Akira answered.
"Akira, in front of me don't call those people your parents." Kenji said.
"Okay." Akira replied.
"Now, on a lighter topic would you like to go to a circus there's going to be one a couple of towns away from here?" Kenji asked.
"Yes, I would like to go." Akira answered.
The screen fast-forwarded what looked like a couple of days, then it stopped and now showed Kenji and Akira at a circus looking through the stalls.
"What do you think Akira?" Kenji asked.
"It's so bright and colorful here." Akira answered.
"Do you like it?" Kenji asked.
"Yes." Akira answered.
"Good, now let's go see what this place has." Kenji said.
Akira and Kenji walked around looking at everything they saw, eventually they saw a stall that was selling replicas of the circus itself.
"Akira, I'm going to get you one since you like this circus so much." Kenji said.
"What, no they cost 25,000 yen.....that's too much to spend on a replica and for me." Akira replied.
"Akira, I want to get you one, you deserve it and you've done so much for me so let me get you this." Kenji said.
"Okay.....then again you wouldn't take no for an answer anyway." Akira replied.
"No, I wouldn't." Kenji said.
Kenji walked over to the stall and bought a circus replica, the girl working behind the stall put the replica in a bag, afterward Kenji walked back over to Akira and handed him the bag.
"Thank you." Akira said.
"You're welcome." Kenji replied.
The screen fast-forwarded again and this time it looked like it was a month, now it was night, and Akira and Kenji were sitting in a living room, Akira was crying and was covered from head to toe in bruises, and from the looks of it his arm was dislocated.
"Let me fix your arm first." Kenji said.
Akira let Kenji take his arm gently then as gently as he could Kenji popped Akira's arm back in place then he began to look at everything else.
"Kids at school?" Kenji asked as he looked at the foot-shaped bruises on Akira's chest and stomach.
"Yeah, though some of the teachers suggested they do it." Akira answered.
"Well, nothing looks broken so that's good, just be careful while moving around." Kenji said.
"Okay." Akira replied.
"It's getting late, you can stay the night here if you want." Kenji said.
Akira nodded his head.
"You sure, I don't have a spare bedroom you'll have to sleep in here?" Kenji asked.
"I'm sure." Akira answered.
"Okay, well before we call it a night can I give you some advice?" Kenji asked.
Akira nodded his head and looked at the man curiously.
"I won't be around forever so I want to tell you now while I can....... don't let anyone make you cry and as soon as you're able to get out of this town and don't look back, there's something about you Akira that could make you change the world but I don't want this town to be the end of you before you can achieve it. When you finally get out of here live your life the way you want whether it be adventurous or just simple.....just have a better life out there than in this town." Kenji said.
"Why are you telling me this?" Akira asked.
"Because I think of you as my grandson and I want to see you happy, now promise me you'll do as I say and get out of this town as soon as you can." Kenji answered.
"I promise." Akira answered.
"Good, now let's get some sleep." Kenji said.
Kenji grabbed a blanket from a closet in the hallway and laid it out on the couch, after Akira was settled in he walked out of the living room, it looked like Akira was having trouble sleeping since he kept tossing and turning.
"Why do I have a feeling something is wrong?" Akira whispered.
Akira got off the couch and left the living room then walked down a hallway and entered a room, in the bed was Kenji asleep, Akira was going to go back to the living room until he noticed that Kenji's chest wasn't moving. Akira ran over to Kenji and started shaking him but the man wasn't waking up, Akira ran to the living room and called for an ambulance, and remembering his promise to Kenji he didn't cry
The screen fast-forwarded again, and this time Akira was standing in front of Kenji's grave which was right next to his husband, Akira bent down and cleaned off the graffiti on Kenji's husband's gravestone, as well as Kenji's, then he went to his ex's grave and cleaned off the graffiti on his gravestone then left the graveyard.
The screen went blank and nothing else showed up and suddenly there was applause, but the phantom thieves and Akechi left the tent as quickly as they could.
"Oracle, is there a safe room nearby?" Ann asked.
"Yeah, let's go." Oracle answered.
The group headed to the safe room and once they were inside none of them knew what to say.
"I saw the replica in his room, Akira told me not to mess with it." Morgana said.
"That could be his treasure." Yusuke replied.
"It's possible unless his treasure has something to do with the phantom thieves." Akechi said.
"I'm glad he had someone from this town that he could confide in." Haru commented.
"Despite, how short of a time that was." Makoto said.
"Once I see Akira, I'm giving him a hug he won't be able to get out of." Futaba said.
"Skull, you haven't said anything.........you alright?" Ann asked.
"I can't believe the people of this town.....he shouldn't have had to rely only on an old guy to care for him." Ryuji said.
"Unfortunately, a lot of towns are like this one." Makoto replied.
"We should get out of here." Akechi said.
"Crow's right, Akira will be back soon." Morgana replied before anyone could disagree.
The rest of the phantom thieves nodded their heads and the group left Akira's palace, once they were back in the real world everyone except for Morgana headed back for the hotel, Morgana climbed through the window into Akira's room and waited for him to return. A few minutes later, Akira walked into the room and he looked like he had gotten into another fight and he had been on the losing side of it.
"Are you okay Akira?" Morgana asked.
"Yeah, I'm okay." Akira answered.
"Okay." Morgana said.
"Would you like to come with me to the graveyard, you can meet the old man that gave me that circus replica and we haven't really spent anytime together lately?" Akira asked.
"Sure." Morgana answered.
"Let's go then." Akira said.
Morgana got off the bed and got into the bag Akira usually carried him in, then he waited as Akira grabbed a wipe afterward Akira picked him up and the two left Akira's house. Once they reached the cemetery, Akira led them to the back part of the cemetery Akira stopped in front of two graves that were covered in graffiti, Akira sighed and put Morgana down then began to wipe off the gravestones.
"Why is there graffiti all over the gravestones?" Morgana asked, as he jumped out of the bag and walked over to the gravestone that said Kenji.
"People just being disrespectful, anyway the grave you're standing in front of is the old man that I was talking about." Akira answered.
"Who is laying next to him?" Morgana asked.
"Will you think of him differently, if I tell you the truth?" Akira asked after a couple of minutes of silence.
"No, I won't think of him any differently." Morgana answered.
"The person laying next to him is his husband." Akira said.
"Have you met him?" Morgana asked.
"No, he had already died by the time I met Kenji." Akira answered.
"Was Kenji a good man?" Morgana asked.
"Yeah, he was." Akira answered.
"I'm guessing he made you happy." Morgana said.
Akira nodded his head with a tiny smile.
"Well anyone that can make you happy, I can respect and like." Morgana said.
Akira picked Morgana up and hugged him, and Morgana let him considering what he knew about the phantom thief leader now.
"Thank you." Akira whispered.
"You're welcome." Morgana said.
"Come on, there's someone else I need to visit here." Akira replied.
Akira picked up the bag Morgana had been in and started to walk away, Morgana looked at Kenji's gravestone.
"Don't worry, we're going to take care of him........I know he broke a couple of promises but don't hold it against him, he's been going through a lot." Morgana whispered before running after Akira.
They stopped at another gravestone it was also covered in graffiti, Akira sighed and began to clean the gravestone.
"Who is this?" Morgana asked.
"A friend........I can't talk about it now." Akira answered.
"Okay." Morgana said.
Akira and Morgana left the cemetery afterward and headed back to Akira's house, where they had a quick dinner and went to bed.
At the hotel in Ann, Futaba, Makoto, and Haru's room
The four girls decided that as soon as they ate and Futaba talked to Sojiro they would immediately go to bed because it was a long day and it was probably going to be another long one tomorrow.
Ryuji and Yusuke's room
Neither of the boys talked while they got ready for bed, but they thought about what Akira was going through and both were extremely mad about how he was treated by the town but were happy that he had someone to confide in, once they fell asleep it was restless.
Akechi's room
Akechi laid down on his bed and looked at Akira's contact info on his phone.
"I don't think I've ever seen you that happy before.....when you were at the circus." Akechi said.
Akechi turned off his phone and went to bed.
In the morning while Akira made breakfast, Morgana noticed that Akira's hands would inch towards the cabinet that held the knives even though what he had made didn't require knives.
"Hey Akira, once you get out of school today maybe you could text Futaba, she's probably getting worried." Morgana suggested.
"You think so?" Akira asked.
"Yep." Morgana answered.
"Alright, I'll text her later." Akira said.
Morgana and Akira ate the rest of their breakfast, after they finished eating, Akira cleaned the dishes and headed to school, after a few minutes Morgana left the house and headed for the hotel when he got there Haru, Futaba, Ann, Makoto, Ryuji, Yusuke, and Akechi looked troubled.
"Did something happen?" Morgana asked.
"No, we're just really worried about what we're going to see next." Makoto answered.
"Me too, but we've got to hurry, Akira's getting worse." Morgana said.
"We better go then." Akechi replied.
The group headed to Akira's house and once they got there they pulled up the meta-nav and entered his palace in the last safe room they found.
"Is everyone ready?" Yusuke asked.
Everyone nodded their heads and exited the room, more of the circus's lights had gone out and some parts of it looked abandoned, like the last previous days Joker stopped them before they could go anywhere.
"Welcome back." Joker said.
"Are you going to stop us?" Futaba asked.
"No, this time I want you to explore my circus." Joker answered.
"Why do you want us to explore it now?" Ryuji asked.
"The rest of my circus has to do with his year as a phantom thief......I'm quite curious about how you'll react.........by the way anytime you hear Akira talk, it's actually his thoughts you're hearing since you already know what he actually says." Joker answered, then he disappeared.
"Mona, can you sense if the treasure is nearby?" Haru asked.
"Yeah, we're getting close." Mona answered.
"Oracle, are there any shadows around?" Ann asked.
"No, nothing so far." Futaba answered.
"Let's get going." Akechi said.
The group headed to the closest tent and sat down in the front row and waited for the screen to appear, when it did appear it took a few seconds for something to show on the screen. It was night and Akira was walking along the sidewalk, for once he didn't look like he hadn't gotten into a fight, as he walked he heard arguing between a man and woman, one voice the phantom thieves and Akechi recognized and the other they didn't.
(I should just ignore it.)
Akira continued to walk but as the arguing and protest from the woman and man continued Akira kept pausing and looked in the direction of the shouting.
(It sounds like she really needs help but she probably wouldn't want my help)
The woman yelled again, Akira sighed and began walking in the direction of the yelling when he found the two the man was finely dressed and obviously drunk and he was trying to force himself on the obviously unwilling woman when the drunk man said he owned the police Akira rolled his eyes.
(Well someone thinks too highly of himself......though he does look like he has some position of authority).
Akira walked over to the two and separated them, the man didn't like that all, and when he tried to get closer to him Akira gave the man a small shove normally it wouldn't make anyone fall over. Since the man was drunk he did fall over and hurt his head, Akira looked at the woman and saw the hidden disgust in her eyes he knew it wasn't for the man who attacked her.
(Of course, you would rather have to deal with the drunk guy by yourself than have me rescue you).
When the man stood up, he threatened Akira again and a couple of seconds later the police were there then almost immediately Akira was being arrested. The screen fast-forward until it stopped with Akira being declared guilty in a courtroom and that he would have a one-year probation, the screen fast forward again with Akira in front of the train station with his parents.
"You had better behave." Akira's mother said.
"And you better not date anyone while you're there......you will regret it once you get back, now get on the train." Akira's father said.
Akira turned toward the train and got on it then quickly found a seat. The screen went blank and a couple of seconds later the screen showed Akira arriving at Shibuya station.
(I think I'm going to be a little lost).
Akira walked around the station aimlessly for a few minutes before finding his way out of the station and into Shibuya's central street, Akira looked down at his phone to look at his navigation app but he found an unfamiliar app on his phone.
(I don't remember installing this).
Akira pressed on the app but nothing happened, even though nothing happened Akira got the feeling something did so he looked up and saw that nobody was moving, and in the distance there were giant flames, and in the flames looked like wicked eyes and smile. A few seconds later the flames disappeared and the people that were in central station started to move again, Akira looked at the app again and deleted it.
(That was weird.....really weird, I'll think about it later right now I need to find Yogen-Jaya station).
Akira looked at his phone and began to walk in the direction his phone was telling him to go in, eventually he found the train that would take him to Yogen-Jaya. When Akira reached Yogen-Jaya, he began to search the small backstreet of stores and apartments by himself until eventually he had to ask for help.
(So this is Leblanc)
In his search for his caretaker for the year, the mailman told him he would find Sojiro Sakura at his cafe, Akira sighed and entered the small cafe, it was mostly empty except for an elderly couple and a little above middle-aged man The middle-aged man was wearing an apron so Akira assumed he was Sojiro, once the elderly couple left Sojiro turned to him.
"So, you're the delinquent I'll be taking care of." Sojiro commented.
Akira didn't defend himself, Sojiro sighed and shook his head.
"Follow me." Sojiro said.
Sojiro led Akira to the back of the cafe and up a set of stairs, they ended up in a messy attic.
"This is where you'll be staying." Sojiro said.
After Sojiro explained the situation to him then threatened to kick Akira out if he misbehaved, he left Akira alone.
(I don't plan on breaking probation........though you'll probably kick me out if you find out I'm gay)
Akira looked around his new room and began to clean it, a few hours later the room was mostly clean.
(There, it still needs some work done but this will do for the time being)
Not long afterward Sojiro walked up the stairs and he looked around the attic in shock.
"Y....you cleaned it, I didn't think you would.....I was wondering what all the noise was about." Sojiro said.
(Why wouldn't I........then again you think I'm a delinquent and probably the only thing I'm good for is getting into trouble)
"Well, I'm locking the place up for the night, tomorrow we'll be going to your school so you'll have to wake up early, also you can use some of the ingredients in the kitchen but not everything and none of the expensive stuff if I find anything missing I'm throwing you out." Sojiro said.
Akira watched as Sojiro left the attic, when Akira heard the door open then close he got ready for bed then he laid down and took out his phone and saw that strange app again.
(I thought I deleted you, is this a virus)
Akira deleted the app again and put his phone down and stared at the ceiling for a few minutes before going to sleep.
The screen went blank for a few seconds before something showed up again, this time Akira was sitting at the counter of Leblanc.
"You better eat, we need to get to your school before traffic get's too bad." Sojiro said.
(I'm surprised you even made me breakfast)
Akira finished eating the rest of his breakfast, the screen fast-forward a little bit to when Akira and Sojiro were standing in the principle's office with the principle and Ms. Kawakami.
(I get it you don't like me, you don't want me here....look it could be much worse, I guess I better make sure they don't figure out I'm gay, they'll expel me without a second thought)
After a few more side comments from Kawakami about not wanting him in her class, and some more threats of being expelled if he stepped out of line, Akira and Sojiro left the school and on their way back they heard a report of a train crash that happened while they were at the school.
The screen went blank and when the clapping started the phantom thieves plus Akechi left the tent.
The group of teens looked at each other in silence before Futaba huffed in annoyance. “They didn’t have to treat him like that.” Futaba said. “Akira was labeled a delinquent so they treated him like one.” Akechi replied. “There isn’t any use dwelling on it now, besides we got his name cleared.” Makoto said. “Queen’s right…..we better find the next tent or a safe room.” Ann replied.Futaba took that as a sign to scan their surroundings. “There’s a tent about 10 minutes from here…..to the left, also there are no shadows to speak of.” Futaba said.The group headed in the direction Futaba said the tent was in, once they got there they hesitated before entering the tent and sitting down in the front of the stands, when the screen appeared it showed Akira sitting on his bed in his Shujin Academy uniform.(Great, first day at this school and it’s raining)The screen fast-forward to where Akira was standing at the entrance of a store where he wouldn’t get rained on.(I knew it was raining, why didn’t I bring an umbrella, I hope I won’t be late getting there)Akira looked at his phone and saw the weird app was there again but before he could delete it again, someone was standing next to him. Akira looked to see who was standing next to him, the person was female and had her jacket hood up, Akira continued to look at the girl even after she pulled the hood down.(She’s gorgeous…..hope she’s as nice as she is gorgeous, though I have the feeling she is)When the girl turned to look at him, Akira looked away and almost as soon as he did a car pulled up beside them. The window rolled down revealing a grown man and he asked if the girl needed a ride to school.(Don’t say yes, this guy looks like he should be on a list)The girl said yes, and got into the car, afterward the man asked if Akira needed a ride too but Akira declined.(I’m sorry, I would get into the car with you to make sure you weren’t going to get hurt but I could tell the guy didn’t really want me there and if I said yes, he would make me regret it later)Not long after the car left, a blonde boy ran up to him and started talking about a perverted teacher.The screen fast-forward a little bit to where Akira and Ryuji were looking for a way out of the dungeon cell they were in.(Well it looks like we’re stuck here for the time being)After a few seconds two armored beings as well as a barely dressed Kamoshida walked into the cell, then Kamoshida started to beat up Ryuji while the two guards held Akira to the wall.(Hey stop beating him up…...this isn’t fair, I need to do something but what)Suddenly Akira stopped moving, and began to hear a voice.“What’s the matter….? Are you simply going to watch?”“Are you forsaking him to save yourself?”“Death awaits him if you do nothing.”“Was your previous decision a mistake then?”(It wasn’t)“Very well….I have heeded your resolve.”“Vow to me.”“I am thou, thou art I…”“Thou who art willing to perform all sacrilegious acts for thine own justice!”“Call upon my name, and release thy strength!”“Show the strength of thy will to ascertain all on thine own, though thou be chained to Hell itself!”With Arsene’s help Akira was able to get the armored beings off of him and distract Kamoshida too, though Akira could tell his fight with the armored beings wasn’t over.“I am the pillager of twilight- ‘Arsene’!”“I am the rebel’s soul that resides within you.”“If you so desire, I shall consider granting you the power to break you through this crisis.”(Give me your power)“Hmph, very well….”“Detest the enemies before you! Change that animosity into power….and unleash it!”“Swing your blade!”“This power of mine is yours!”“Kill them however you want. Run wild to your heart’s content!”After Arsene’s speech Akira was able to get rid of the armored beings and he and Ryuji were able to escape the cell while locking Kamoshida in it.(I don’t know what happened but that was useful)The screen fast-forward a little bit until Akira and Ryuji had just let Morgana out of a cell.(I can’t believe I’m making a deal with a cat…...well human turned cat…..but this is probably the only way we’ll be getting out of here alive)The screen fast-forward again until Akira and Ryuji were in the real world and two policemen started asking them questions. (Considering all we’ve been through…..yeah I don’t mind being friends…..it’s been awhile since the last time I’ve had a friend though)The screen went blank then a second later Akira was being led down central street by Ryuji and into an alley and in the back of the alley was a store called Untouchable Airsofts.(So this is where you got the fake gun)Akira and Ryuji headed inside and the owner, while he didn’t throw them out it was clear he didn’t really want them there either.(I don’t want to be here either, I don’t like guns)Ryuji ended up just handing him some money then leaving the store.(I should go too…..then again it’s not like these are real guns, might as well look around but I better talk to the owner first)Akira walked over to the cash register and managed to convince the guy that he was a gun enthusiast, afterward Akira was able to look through the weapons.(Damn the lowest price so far is 12,000 yen…...I think I have enough to get myself and Ryuji a gun and Ann a better whip…..I’ll get upgrades or better weapons later)Akira got the weapons and luckily for him the store owner said nothing about how Akira had the money to buy the items.(I guess I can drop these off at Leblanc then go check out that clinic that’s in Yongen-Jaya, and see what the supposedly shady doctor can help with)After Akira dropped off the weapons at Leblanc he and Morgana headed for the clinic, once he got there he had to convince the doctor that he was just studying for finals and he didn't get much sleep before letting him into the back. Unfortunately for Akira the act didn’t last long but the doctor didn’t ask any questions and would help him if he played as her guinea pig for a medicine she was creating.The screen went blank again and the next image that showed up was Akira, Ann, Ryuji, and Morgana were standing in front of shadow Kamoshida, and the creep was monologuing.(Enough, I want to get out of here as soon as possible.)Once the shadow was done talking, Ann, Akira, and Ryuji began to fight the shadow while Morgana sneaked his way over to where the treasure was, it took a few minutes to beat him but they did and they quickly got out of there with the treasure.The screen fast-forward until it stopped at where an extremely upset Kamoshida was standing on the stage in the gym, and was begging for someone to arrest him.(Seems like stealing his heart was a success…...good riddance though I really thought Ann was going to kill his shadow, wouldn’t have blamed her if she did)The screen fast-forward to where Ann, Akira, Ryuji, and Morgana were at the restaurant celebrating their victory and they talked about if they should continue with stealing people’s hearts. They agreed to continue, now Ryuji and Ann were coming up with name’s for their team, they eventually decided to let Akira name their team.(I don’t know I guess it won’t hurt to go with the obvious)Akira said the Phantom Thieves, and Ann, Ryuji, and Morgana liked the idea.The screen went blank then the applause started so everyone left the tent and they just stood there at the entrance. “There’s a safe room nearby, we can go there now if you guys want.” Futaba said. “That would be the best action, I bet the school day is almost over with.” Morgana replied.The group headed for the safe room and once they were inside they sat down. “Akira didn’t have to do that.” Ann said. “Do what exactly?” Akechi asked. “Get us those weapons and become Doctor Takemi’s guinea pig to get us those healing items.” Ann answered. “Akira’s really sweet though, he thought you were gorgeous Ann and he wanted to ride with you in Kamoshida’s car to make sure you were safe even though he didn’t know you.” Haru said. “I can’t believe he thought Kamoshida should have been on a list.” Ryuji said with a chuckle. “Then again he did think that…….Shido thought too highly of himself…..though he wasn’t wrong.” Akechi replied. “How do you feel about that?” Makoto asked. “I don’t care, but how do you all feel that your leader almost didn’t help that woman?” Akechi asked. “Considering how this town treats him, I’m surprised he helped.” Morgana answered. “It just goes to show the type of person Akira is.” Yusuke said. “Do you think he heard what our persona’s said to us?” Haru asked. “Probably not, I think the only reason why we heard his is because we’re listening to what is going on inside his head.” Makoto answered. “But that speech was so cool.” Ryuji said. “It was definitely…..motivating.” Yusuke replied. “Guys, I really think we should go, Akira will be back soon.” Morgana said. “Alright, let’s go.” Akechi replied.The group stood up and left Akira’s palace through the meta-nav, when they got back to the real world, Morgana headed inside the house via Akira’s window while the others headed back to the hotel.Morgana didn’t have to wait long for Akira to walk into his room, unfortunately it was not surprising for Morgana to see Akira come back with a few bruises. But it seemed like there were a few more than there were this morning. “Mona, are you alright, you look a little upset?” Akira asked. “I’m alright, but what about you, you have a few more bruises than you did this morning?” Morgana asked. “I’m fine Mona, it’s nothing new.” Akira answered. “I know…..I just don’t like seeing you getting beat up.” Morgana said. “I’m going to be fine Morgana, now I’m going to get some homework done then we’ll have a quick dinner before my parents get back.” Akira replied. “Do you plan on texting Futaba, you promised you would this morning?” Morgana asked. “I will after dinner.” Akira answered. At the hotel in the girl’s roomAfter Futaba talked to Sojiro about what happened in Akira’s palace and to let him know that everyone was alright, the four girls decided to eat dinner. After dinner, Futaba got a text from Akira, and with the help from Ann, Makoto, and Haru. They asked how he was doing, then tried to subtly get answers from him but he avoided the question, after half an hour later Akira texted goodnight, so the girls decided to go to bed. At the hotel in Ryuji and Yusuke’s roomThe two boys were laying in their beds trying to go to sleep but neither of them could. “I wonder what Akira thinks of us?” Ryuji asked. “You’re his best friend, doesn’t that speak for itself?” Yusuke asked. “No, I meant does he have a crush on one of us?” Ryuji asked. “I don’t believe so, I think he’d be too worried about what we would think of him if we found out.” Yusuke answered. “Probably.” Ryuji said. “Let’s try to get to sleep, we have another busy day tomorrow.” Yusuke replied. At the hotel in Akechi’s roomAkechi was laying on his bed staring at his contact info for Akira. “You might not have thought it but did you know you’d get in trouble for pushing Shido…..didn’t know you could be selfish enough to ruin your own reputation just to get out of a town. Though if he wasn’t a little selfish in his actions, his persona’s speech wouldn’t make too much sense…….it reminds me a little bit of Robin Hood’s speech even though Loki was my first persona he didn’t talk to me.” Akechi whispered before setting his phone down and getting some sleep.
When Akira woke up he decided to let Morgana sleep while he cooked their breakfast, as Akira cooked he looked over at the kitchen knives and grabbed one then set it on his wrist and kept it there for a minute.
"What are you doing?" Akira whispered to himself before putting the knife back where it belonged.
Akira sighed and finished making breakfast and ate his breakfast before taking Morgana's food back to his room and Akira guessed the smell woke Morgana up because the cat stretched and yawned.
"When did you wake up?" Morgana asked.
"A few minutes ago, I've got to go now I'll see you later Morgana." Akira answered.
Before Morgana could say anything Akira left the room, Morgana sighed and ate his breakfast afterwards Morgana left the house through the window and headed to the hotel.
"Are you guys ready?" Morgana asked once he reached the hotel and saw everyone standing outside.
"Yeah let's go." Ryuji answered.
The group headed back to Akira's house, there they activated the meta-nav and entered Akira's palace, when they exited the safe room Joker didn't appear.
"Why isn't he here?" Makoto asked.
"Why does it matter?" Ryuji asked.
"It matters because......Joker has always greeted us when we arrived......it's disconcerting." Makoto answered.
"We don't have the time for this, let's worry about it later." Akechi said.
"I have to agree.....we don't have time to waste." Futaba agreed.
Since Futaba had agreed with Akechi, they decided not to argue about it, when they got to a tent they hurried inside and sat down when the screen popped up and showed Akira sitting on the bed in Leblanc's attic with Morgana sitting next to him.
(Time for school luckily so far the only rumors that are going on are the ones of me being a delinquent)
When Akira and Morgana got to school, Akira ignored everyone except for Ryuji and Ann, once school ended Akira and Morgana headed to the diner.
(Might as well study for awhile)
The screen went black for a second the next moment Joker, Panther, Skull and Mona were in Momentos and Mona was explaining what Mementos was.
(It feels like it does down pretty far we've got to be careful otherwise we'll get lost)
When Mona turned into a car, Joker stepped back a little in shock.
(That's......new)
After figuring out that someone needed to actually drive the Mona car, Joker, Panther, and Skull moved around so that Joker was behind the wheel, Joker drove the group around Momentos, a few hours of searching for treasure and defeating shadows the group headed back to the entrance of Mementos and went back to the real world.
When Akira and Morgana got back to Leblanc, after talking to Sojiro for a minute Akira and a hidden Morgana went upstairs, and Akira laid on the bed while Morgana sat next to him.
(I'm so tired)
The screen went blank again and a few seconds later Akira and Ryuji were standing in front of Ann, keeping Yusuke away from Ann.
(Why is he following Ann)
Once Yusuke finished explaining why he was following Ann and to make up for following her, he gave her and with reluctance Ryuji and Akira tickets to Madarame's art exhibit this weekend, not long after said artist arrived to pick Yusuke up.
(I don't trust that guy......Madarame, I mean......something feels off about him)
Once Sunday came the newly formed Phantom Thieves went to the art exhibit, when they got there Yusuke led Ann further into the exhibit leaving Ryuji, Morgana, and Akira alone. After agreeing they would spy on the artist the three boys quickly searched for Madarame.....they found him in the middle of the exhibit talking to some reporters and they listened to the conversation until people noticed that Madarame was there and they were pushed towards the back of the crowd.
"Should we trust what the comment on the phansite said, he doesn't seem like someone that would have a palace?" Ryuji asked.
(Considering how much Mishima wants to help the Phantom Thieves, it might be safe to say that we should trust what the comment said)
After telling Ryuji that they could trust Mishima's judgement on possible targets the boys waited for Ann, who told them that from she could gather from Yusuke something was definitely going on, so after leaving the exhibit the group headed for Madarame's place and quickly learned that the old artist had a palace.
(Guess my feeling about something being wrong with him was correct)
The screen turned blank then the clapping started so the group left and lingered in front of the tent.
"You know I thought he would have more of a reaction to you Fox." Ann commented.
"Why do you mean?" Fox asked.
"Well, we did meet you in an interesting way, I thought we would get more than 'why is he following Ann'." Ann answered.
"That was an.....I guess eventful couple of weeks, we'll probably get more reactions from Akira later." Ryuji said.
"By the way, are you okay Fox......this is probably bringing up some painful memories?" Haru asked.
"I'm fine, it's not bothering me as it would've then.....shall we go to the next tent this palace won't be beat by itself?" Yusuke asked.
"You're right let's go." Makoto said.
The group headed to the next tent and went inside when they sat down and the screen appeared, it showed Yusuke, a shocked Ann, an amused Ryuji, Akira who was trying to hide his amusement, and a mortified Morgana standing in front of Madarame's house.
(I can't believe he just asked if he could draw a nude painting of Ann)
When Yusuke left Ann and Morgana started to complain about the request while Ryuji laughed and said Ann should do it, and Akira agreed to it since it was the only way for them to get into that locked room.
(Don't worry Ann, I'm pretty sure he'll be more embarrassed than you as soon as you take your shirt off......though Morgana calm down it's only going to be a painting if they get that far and if he does try something Ann is capable of kicking his ass and you'll probably scratch him to death if Ann isn't able to stop him)
The screen went blank and a couple seconds later Joker and Skull were standing in front of the locked gate in Madarame's palace and Skull was complaining about how long was it taking for Ann and Morgana to unlock a door.
(Patience Ryuji, between Ann's bad acting skills, her nervousness of taking off her clothes in front of a boy, and from the fact it looked like she wore everything in her closet this is probably going to take a little bit and that's not mentioning anything Morgana will do)
A couple of minutes later Ann, Morgana and unexpectedly Yusuke literally fell into the Metaverse, once Ann and Morgana got his bearings and for the most part Yusuke got his bearings the group headed through the now open gate. While the group ran through the palace Yusuke kept asking questions and saying that it was hard to believe that this is what Madarame's heart deep down looked like, once Yusuke got his Persona he had even more questions.
(We'll answer or we'll try to answer all your questions later, right now we need to go before anymore shadows show up)
The screen went blank again and a couple of seconds later Akira, Ryuji, Ann, and Yusuke were fighting shadow Madarame, once he was defeated and the group had the treasure Yusuke fell to his knees, a few seconds later Akira put his hand on Yusuke's shoulder and nodded towards the exit.
(I know this is rough but we got to go now)
The group headed back to the real world and gave Yusuke their contact numbers while Yusuke gave them his.
(Now the only thing we can do is wait for a couple of days to see what happens)
A couple of days later the Phantoms Thieves which now included Yusuke watched as Madarame appeared on live tv and confessed what he had done to get his fame and fortune he was crying as he did so.
The screen went blank again and the clapping began so the group left the tent.
"Man, I'm tired." Futaba commented.
"Does everyone want to head back?" Makoto asked.
"We should, Akira will be back soon." Mona answered.
After they found a safe room they headed back to the real world and while Morgana headed into Akira's house they rest of the group headed for the hotel, Morgana decided to take a nap.
When Akira got home he went upstairs to his room and saw that Morgana was asleep, Akira silently closed his door and gently put his stuff down, then began to clean the scraps and cuts he received at school today.
(I wish I was still in Tokyo, at least at Shujin I didn't have to deal with everyone beating me up.......also I had friends, maybe I should try texting Ryuji)
When Akira finished patching himself up he noticed that Morgana was watching him.
"I'm okay Mona." Akira said.
"I think you're getting more injuries here than you did in the Metaverse." Morgana commented.
"I know Mona, there isn't much I can do though." Akira said.
"You could ask Boss to let you move back in." Morgana suggested.
"I can't Mona, I don't want to trouble him." Akira said.
"But-"
Akira interrupted Morgana by placing a finger on his mouth.
"No Morgana, now I'm going to do some homework before dinner." Akira said.
"Fine." Morgana replied.
That's exactly what happened once Akira got out his homework his worked on it until dinner and almost immediately afterward he and Morgana went to bed, and Akira held of texting Ryuji until tomorrow.
Hotel with Ann, Futaba, Makoto, and Haru
"What should we talk about?" Haru asked.
"Nothing sleep." Futaba answered.
Futaba flopped down onto the nearest bed and immediately fell asleep.
"At least she called Boss before going to sleep." Ann commented.
"We should get some sleep too." Makoto said.
"Yeah." Ann agreed.
The three girls followed Futaba's example and went to bed.
Ryuji and Yusuke's room
"I wonder what Akira thinks of our phantom thief outfits?" Ryuji asked.
"He might not be allowing himself to think about what we look like in our outfits." Yusuke answered.
"What do you mean?" Ryuji asked.
"Well, it's possible he's trying not to find us attractive so he's ignoring what we look like in our outfits." Yusuke answered.
"Yeah they're kinda......form fitting." Ryuji said.
"Though in that line of thinking does Akira find us attractive?" Yusuke asked.
"I don't know, but don't ask anymore questions like that or I'm never going to get to sleep." Ryuji answered.
"Sorry, I thought it was something that needed to be said." Yusuke said.
"Maybe, but it could have waited until tomorrow." Ryuji replied.
Ryuji and Yusuke got into their beds and while thinking of what Akira thought of them, the two fell asleep.
Akechi's room
Akechi got ready for bed and laid down.
"We'll probably enter a tent where I first meet Akira tomorrow. I wonder what he thinks of me.........maybe I'll figure out if he like's me romantically, probably not but there's still a chance, then again I could have ruined those when I shot him." Akechi whispered.
The teen sighed and quickly fell asleep.
Once again when Morgana woke up Akira had already left, so he ate what Akira left him for breakfast then he headed to the hotel where everyone else was, the group decided to stay quiet until they arrived at Akira's palace.
"This place looks more......well it's worse than it was yesterday." Makoto commented.
"Well that's rude."
Everyone turned their heads to the right and saw Joker walking towards them, Makoto nor did anyone else respond to his reply to Makoto's comment.
"But you're not wrong this place isn't in the greatest of shape even though I am trying to keep it together." Joker said.
"Is that why you didn't greet us yesterday?" Akechi asked.
"Why, did you miss me?" Joker asked.
"Hardly." Akechi answered.
"Too bad, but yes that's why I didn't greet your ragtag group of thieves." Joker said.
"Hey, not cool." Ryuji said, clearly insulted about the phantom thieves being called a ragtag group.
"They're not my group." Akechi said.
"Hmm, you'll figure it out.......anyway I'm surprised you made it this far......though I wonder after this if you'll come back." Joker replied.
Joker disappeared from their sight like all the other palace rulers they defeated before, leaving them with questions they didn't get a chance to ask.
"Let's get going." Morgana said.
The group walked to the nearest tent and sat down, the screen appeared and a few seconds later Akira, Ryuji, and Ann appeared on the screen.
Ryuji and Ann were talking about the social studies trip while Akira just listened, Ryuji was finally convinced that it would be a fun trip when Ann said that they would be going to a tv station. After the last bell rang and Akira was heading to the entrance of the building he noticed Makoto following him through the school with a magazine in front of her face.
(I'll ignore her for now)
The next day Makoto was falling him around the school and through Central Street, the next day at school before Akira left the school he confronted Makoto and she lied to him.
(You are a terrible liar......you're going to be a pain in the ass aren't you)
The screen went blank and a few seconds later Akira, Morgana, Ryuji, and Ann were standing in a little hallway at the tv station when Morgana started talking about pancakes, a second later Akechi appeared and he asked if someone was talking about pancakes.
(He can hear Morgana.......that's interesting, wonder how long he's known about the metaverse)
A few minutes later most of the phantom thieves were part of a live news special and the boy that had been wondering about pancakes was Akechi Goro, a detective, when a reporter walked up to Akira and asked him about the phantom thieves.
(Yeah wrong person to ask that question, what answer would catch the detectives attention and annoy the class president)
When the show was over and Akira was waiting for Ann and Ryuji, Akechi walked over to him and talked to him for a bit before leaving.
(He's interesting and handsome.....I wonder what else there is about him)
The screen went blank then all the phantom thieves at the time before Makoto joined were at their hideout with Makoto in front of them holding her phone out to them, all of them except for Akira had shocked expressions......Makoto had just blackmailed them.
(I knew you'd be a pain in the ass......guess we don't have a choice)
After Akira agreed that they would help Makoto, the phantom thieves began their search for the mafia boss and after a couple of days they found him but now they had a debt to pay otherwise photos would be leaked.
(I can't believe we have to deal with this, we haven't had a big lead in a while but still this wasn't how I was hoping we'd find a new target. I hope the class president realizes that if we can't stop this she's destroying herself and three other's reputations and career chances......mines already ruined with this probation thing, with this idiotic move of hers, honestly what were you thinking).
The screen went blank the next thing it showed was Makoto getting her persona and helping the group escape.
(Guess we're going to have a new member.......and I better rethink my opinion of her, she reacted badly towards what shadow Kaneshiro said, could hang out with her sometime)
A few days later Kaneshiro's palace had been dealt with and everyone's reputation was secure, now Akira was talking with Makoto in the hallway of the school and she said that she really didn't know how to have fun.
(Wait, you...don't know.....how to have......fun, well I guess that explains a lot of things, alright time to fix that)
Akira took Makoto to the arcade on Central Street and they played a shooting game for a little while, after they played one more game Makoto said it was a fun experience and experiment.
(Well that wasn't supposed to be an experiment but whatever..........though you're cool......you need to start being your own person but I think you're figuring it out)
The screen went blank for the last time so the phantom thieves left the tent where Makoto broke down crying.
"Why would he think that of me?" Makoto asked.
"Okay while that was a little bit too much, you were kind of a pain." Ryuji said.
Makoto began to cry harder, so Ann hugged her while she glared at Ryuji.
"You are not helping Skull." Ann said.
"Sorry, Sorry." Ryuji apologized.
"Hey Queen, you know Akira doesn't think you're a pain anymore remember you even heard that in there." Noir said.
"Yeah, yeah you're right." Makoto replied, calming down.
"You can always yell at him later." Morgana suggested.
"I'll think I'll do that." Makoto said.
"Akira had a point though, if you hadn't have dealt with Kaneshiro it wouldn't have been good for any of you." Akechi commented.
"But we handled it so it's all good, what I'm curious about is why didn't he tell us that you knew about the metaverse as soon as he figured it out which apparently the entire time, and why does he think you're handsome?" Ryuji asked, looking at Akechi.
"I don't know the answer to either of those." Akechi said.
"Are you sure......or do you have a guess?" Yusuke asked.
"I don't have to answer that." Akechi said.
"Ugh can we just go, I want to see what the next memory is?" Futaba asked.
"Yes, we can go." Akechi answered.
Futaba cheered and led the group to the next tent, once they sat down the screen went down and a memory started to play. Akira was in Leblanc eating curry with Sojiro standing behind the counter and Morgana was in the bag in the chair next to Akira, it was silent until the news announced that a group called Medjed had called the phantom thieves out.
(Great, now something else to worry about and I don't think it's possible to find the leader just by searching all of Tokyo)
A couple of days later during school Akira received a threatening text from someone named Alibaba, Akira tried to respond to the text but his message wasn't getting through.
(Why me)
Then next day Alibaba strikes a deal but backs out the last second.
(What am I going to do)
The day after that Akira, Ryuji, Ann, Makoto, Yusuke, and Morgana learn that Sojiro had a daughter named Futaba.
(Is that why I'm living an attic, does Sojiro think I'll hurt her, I would never do that)
A couple days later Futaba asks them to steal her heart, then after figuring out the keywords to get into Futaba's palace the phantom theives saw that Futaba didn't see them as a threat right now, and her palace was a desert though there was a pyramid in the distance, though instead of searching through the palace Akira told them they would be coming back another day so he could gather them supplies.
(Why must it be a desert, oh well I'm going to try to get through this palace as quick as possible I don't like the fact she is torturing herself......even though I don't actually know her).
The screen went blank then a couple second later Akira was watching the news and once again the news was talking about the phantom thieves vs medjed as he ate breakfast.
(After school I'll stock up on supplies so we can infiltrate Futaba's palace tomorrow).
Akira grabbed his bookbag and he and Morgana headed for school, during the day Akira didn't really pay attention to any of his classes, when school ended Akira sent a group message saying they would infiltrate Futaba's palace tomorrow. After saying goodbye to Ryuji, Akira headed to Central Street and into Untouchable to upgrade the teams weapons then he went to Yogen-Jaya so he could get medicine from the doctor there, afterwards Akira and Morgana went back to Leblanc and studied for awhile.
The next day Akira, Yusuke, Ann, Ryuji, Makoto, and Morgana headed back into Futaba's palace, and once Futaba thought them a threat it was time for them to get more serious, as they secured a route to the treasure Akira got more and more concerned about Futaba.
(Once this is over I'm going to make sure she's alright).
Once the route to the treasure was secured the phantom thieves went home for a couple of days to rest. The screen went blank again but the next thing that showed up was when Futaba got her persona and started to help the phantom thieves defeat her mother, when the battle was over the group talked to Futaba for a little bit before having to leave.
(Gonna have to protect her too, I'm worried about her).
The screen went blank and the clapping began so the phantom thieves and Akechi left the tent and stood outside the tent.
"Why didn't he complain about you being part of the phantom thieves?" Makoto asked.
"Because I'm his sister....well the sister he never had." Futaba answered.
"Maybe now but what about then?" Makoto asked.
"Does it matter or are you just jealous that you didn't get a warm welcome?" Akechi asked.
"Like you'll be getting a warm welcome, you blackmailed us too." Makoto said.
"At this point who knows if he was upset about Crow joining the team, since it seems like Akira has known about Crow knowing the metaverse and didn't tell us." Yusuke said.
"It doesn't matter right now, what matters is if we're going to another tent or finding a safe room and leaving." Akechi said.
"We'll go find a safe room for today.......we'll go to three tomorrow." Ann replied.
"Alright then." Akechi said.
With Futaba's help the group found a safe room, once they were back in the real world everyone except for Morgana headed back to the hotel. Morgana sighed and headed back into the house through Akira's window, once he was inside he waited for Akira to come back.
When Akira got back he didn't talk but he had feed them both before studying and going to bed.
Hotel, the girl's room
They also didn't say much mostly because they were thinking about the difference between how Akira first thought of Makoto then of how he thought about Futaba, after they ate they went to bed.
Hotel, Ryuji and Yusuke's room
As those two laid in their beds they thought about how Akira had reacted to Haru and Akechi joining the phantom thieves.
Hotel, Akechi's room
After Akechi got into bed he took out his phone and looked at Akira's contact.
(What did Akira think about me joining the phantom thieves......guess I'll find out soon enough).
Akechi turned off his phone and went to bed.
The next day the phantom thieves and Akechi headed back into Akira's palace where they were greeted by Akira's shadow.
"So someone is getting a little jealous they got a little shunned by their leader." Joker commented.
"Shut up." Makoto said, crossing her arms.
Joker narrowed his eyes and growled, the phantom thieves took a step back while Akechi looked at him curiously.
"Don't tell me to shut up girl, I might not be doing anything to stop your band of vigilantes, but I'm still dangerous and I won't hesitate to kill you, so don't provoke me." Joker warned.
After a minute Joker cleared his throat and fixed his gloves then walked over to Akechi.
"Are you ready to learn what he really thinks of you?" Joker asked.
"I don't care what he really thinks of me." Akechi answered.
Joker grinned and leaned forward so he and Akechi's lips were extremely close to touching.
"Liar." Joker whispered.
Joker backed away from Akechi and disappeared, once he was gone the phantom thieves looked at Akechi.
"What the hell was that?" Ryuji asked.
"Doesn't matter, let's go." Akechi answered.
Akechi started to walk but he let Futaba walk with him so she could lead the way, luckily for them the palace hadn't changed any since yesterday. So they didn't have to worry too much about Akira's mental state getting worse right now.
After a couple of minutes of walking the group found a tent so the group walked inside and sat down. It didn't take long for the screen to appear and for whatever events they would be shown now.
The phantom thieves had just finished Futaba's palace and were standing around a sleeping Futaba, and was confused as to why she was asleep. When Sojiro found them he told them that this happened on occasion and would have to wait for Futaba to wake up.
The phantom thieves left and Akira and Morgana went back to Leblanc and went to bed though instead of sleeping Akira stared at the ceiling.
(I hope she'll be alright, I'm glad she knows the truth about her mother though, she won't have to torture herself over something she didn't do)
The next day while Akira ate his breakfast he asked if Futaba was awake but Sojiro said that he would him when Futaba would wake up. After that Akira left for the train station and while he waited for his train he saw Akechi.
(Should I go talk to him but would I be bothering him, does he want to be left alone)
Akira snapped out of his thoughts when he felt somebody tap his shoulder, he turned around and saw Akechi standing behind him looking slightly amused.
"You know it's not polite to stare, if you wanted to talk you should have just walked up to me." Akechi said.
Akira blushed and apologized for staring, then began to twist a piece of his hair nervously. Then after talking about each other's schools they got onto their separate trains after saying goodbye.
(I guess it's hard being a detective celebrity and a high school student at the same time, I guess I can ask him the next time I see him)
During the train ride Morgana started to whisper to Akira about his conversation with Akechi but Akira stopped him when somebody asked if they heard a cat.
(Morgana, I might be able to understand you but nobody else can)
The screen went blank for a second before Akira was shown waiting for the train. While he was waiting he saw Akechi and decided to walk over and say hello. Akechi gave him one of his celebrity fake smiles when he walked over.
(Will I ever get a genuine smile from you)
"Looks like I didn't have walk over to you this time." Akechi commented.
Akira hummed in agreement and gave Akechi a small smile.
(Would you have walked over to me if I hesitated again)
Akira and Akechi talked about how difficult it was for Akechi to be a celebrity detective and a high school student at the same time. And how the phantom thieves, while interesting, they weren't really helping.
Once their trains arrived Akechi apologized for venting to him but Akira just smiled and said it was alright and if he needed to vent more he was willing to listen. Akechi gave him a questioning look but Akira just shrugged and smiled then got on his train before it left.
(I hope you're not hurting yourself trying to figure who the phantom thieves are. Well luckily there isn't much we can do right now without a new target. I wonder how much time you actually spend in the metaverse)
Later that day Akira texted everyone in the group chat that Futaba was still asleep but Sojiro would let him know when Futaba woke up. After school ended Morgana bothered Akira about Akechi but he quit when Akira threatened that he would get Ryuji to take him for a night so he could be alone for an evening.
(Will I ever be comfortable enough to actually do that at Leblanc)
The screen went blank and the clapping started so the phantom thieves and Akechi left the tent and just stood at the entrance while the phantom thieves stared at Akechi.
"Why was he more civil towards you?" Makoto asked.
"Stop, your jealous side is showing." Akechi said, sarcastically.
"I am not jealous." Makoto replied.
"Enough, let's go to another tent." Morgana said before an argument could start.
Makoto huffed but she left it alone while Akechi just looked around trying to see if anything had changed about the palace but so far nothing. The group followed Futaba to the next tent and sat down.
The screen showed that it had been almost a week after the phantom thieves completed Futaba's palace, during that time Akira had been hanging out with his other friends, completing quest in Mementos, as well as helping the owner of the gun shop.
Since Akira had been so busy with other things he hadn't noticed that Akechi hadn't been around lately. Akira only noticed hadn't been around until he saw him outside the train station.
(Where have you been, I mean you've probably been busy all things considered)
Akira sighed and walked over to where Akechi was before he could go, when he reached Akechi, the detective looked at him amused.
Before either boy could say anything Morgana jumped out of Akira's school bag and walked off saying that he was going to roam around for a while.
Akechi raised an eyebrow questioningly and Akira shrugged innocently which made Akechi scoff.
"I'll let it slide that you have a cat with you but don't let somebody else catch you." Akechi said.
(Thanks, it would be too quiet if I had to leave him that and he would tag along anyway)
"I have to go.....work to do, I'll talk to you another time." Akechi said.
Akira nodded his head and smiled, before Akechi left he held out his hand.
"Give me your phone, I'll give you my number.....I'd say it but just in case anyone is listening in I'd rather not have unknown numbers calling me at all times of the day." Akechi said.
Akira pulled out his phone then pulled up his contacts list and handed his phone to Akechi. The detective took his phone and after a minute gave Akira his phone back, then Akechi gave Akira his phone. Akira quickly type in his number before giving Akechi his phone back.
"Now we can talk without too much of a time limit, goodbye Kurusu." Akechi said.
Akira watched as Akechi disappeared into the train station, then he put his phone back in his pocket.
(That was an unexpected but welcome surprise, guess I better find Mona before someone picks him up and runs off with him)
The screen went blank and in the next second it was the middle of the night and while Morgana was asleep, Akira was wide awake and typing away on his phone, he was texting Akechi.
(I didn't think he would contact me the same night we exchanged numbers, I don't mind it though)
Akira spent the next ten minutes texting Akechi before putting his phone down and staring out his window.
Over the next couple of weeks Akira shifted between school, his friends, Akechi, Mementos, helping the gun shop owner Iwai. And helped the Yogen-Jaya doctor Takemi, that when Sojiro pulled him aside one day and said that Futaba was awake he was surprised.
Akira informed the rest of the phantom thieves that Futaba was awake and that they would talk to her tomorrow. The next day the phantom thieves met with Futaba at Leblanc since Sojiro knew about them now and Futaba said that she would work on their medjed problem.
After that Futaba joined the phantom thieves and it became everyone's mission to get Futaba to open up to them, which Akira immediately started after.
(She's going to be alright......I believe in her)
It took them a week but they were mostly successful so they decided to go on a day beach trip. And while they were at the beach the girls went swimming while Ryuji was determined to get them all a girlfriend.
Every girl they walked up to Akira gave them subtle hints that he wasn't interested but Ryuji and Yusuke tried their best to get girls to go out with them, by the end of the trip they were still single.
(Sorry Ryuji, Yusuke.....at least Yusuke got those lobsters and Futaba seems like she had a good time)
The screen went blank and the applause started so the phantom thieves and Akechi left the tent and it seemed like there was an unspoken agreement that they would find a safe room since that was where Futaba led them.
"What the hell was that?!" Ryuji yelled.
"What was what?" Akechi asked.
"Why did you give Akira your number?" Ryuji asked.
"Does it matter why?" Akechi asked.
"Yes, have you known that we were the phantom thieves longer than when you blackmailed us?" Ann asked.
"No, I just gave him my number." Akechi answered.
"Why?" Haru asked.
"Why are you so worried about us having each other's phone numbers a little longer than you thought. Than him risking his life over experimental medicine and helping an ex-mafia member so you guys don't die and have weapons he doesn't even like?" Akechi asked.
That shut up any arguments from anyone else, they hadn't thought about what Akira went through so they could be successful at being phantom thieves.
"Let's get out of here." Akechi said.
The phantom thieves and Akechi left Akira palace then the teens left for the hotel while Morgana went back inside Akira's room. And since it only took a few minutes for Akira to walk into his room, it seemed like they left Akira's palace just in time.
"Akira, what happened?" Morgana asked.
Akira was limping, he had a few new bruises, and it actually looked like his left arm was dislocated.
"Just on the losing side of a fight." Akira answered.
Akira dropped his school bag and sat down on his bed, and looked at a worried Morgana.
"Can you turn around Mona, I don't want you too see me relocate my arm?" Akira asked.
Morgana hesitated but he turned around to give Akira privacy to fix his arm, Morgana winced when he heard Akira groan in pain, then nearly jumped at his scream.
"You can turn back around Morgana." Akira said.
Morgana turned around and saw that Akira was close to tears, Morgana walked over to Akira and licked his cheek.
"Mona, what's going on with you?" Akira asked surprised.
"You need a little affection, and if nobody is going to do it then I will, we've been here for over two months. And ever since we got here you have been in some form of pain." Morgana answered.
"Thanks Morgana, come on let's make something to eat." Akira said.
The two headed downstairs and Akira made them something to eat, afterward they headed back upstairs where Morgana watched Akira work on his homework.
Once that was done they went to bed.....well more like Morgana pretended to sleep while he listened to Akira cry, when Morgana risked seeing what Akira was crying about he that Akira was looking at his phone.....more importantly his messages to Akechi.
Hotel girl's room
While Futaba talked to Sojiro, Ann and Haru watched as Makoto huffed and went to bed, once she was asleep Futaba, Ann, and Haru looked at each other.
"Why is she acting like this?" Futaba whispered.
"I don't know." Haru whispered back.
"Is it possible she's jealous that Akechi grabbed Akira's attention more than her.....I think she did have a crush on Akira for a little bit?" Ann added.
"What, kind of like a love triangle......not that it's much of a triangle, Akira isn't interested in girls." Futaba whispered.
"Maybe, or she now has a crush on Akechi and is actually jealous of Akira." Ann whispered back.
"Futaba, Ann we shouldn't be having this conversation much less while the topic is here and is asleep." Haru whispered.
"Fine but we're talking to her tomorrow about it." Ann said.
Futaba nodded her head then the three girls went to bed.
Hotel boy's room
"What do you think about Akira having Akechi's phone number before the rest of us?" Ryuji asked.
"I don't know, I don't see the harm in it......I mean I trust our leader enough that he would tell us if something was wrong." Yusuke answered.
"Still couldn't he have just said that he was talking to Akechi, you know in case something was wrong." Ryuji said.
"You know very well that Akira is a private person and he probably didn't want to make us worry over something like text messages and phone calls." Yusuke replied.
"Fine, fine you have a point but what is with Makoto?" Ryuji asked.
"What do you mean?" Yusuke asked.
"You saw the way she was acting, why was she acting like that?" Ryuji asked.
"Well she's been the only ill-received member of the phantom thieves so far.....even Akechi had gotten a beter response from Akira than her, she's probably hurt over that." Yusuke answered.
"Maybe, I wonder if there is something else." Ryuji commented.
"It's possible we'll find out later, right now let's go to sleep." Yusuke said.
"Right." Ryuji agreed.
Hotel Akechi's room
Akechi laid on his bed looking through his and Akira's messages, as he read through the messages he felt his eyes start to water.
"Akira, why do you make me feel like this......I shouldn't feel like this, I should hate you.....not crying and missing you......wanting to love you." Akechi whispered.
Akechi looked through some more of his and Akira's conversations before putting his phone down and tried to make his eyes stop watering so he could try and get some sleep.
In the morning Morgana felt someone petting him, Morgana opened his eyes and saw that it was Akira.
"I'm going Morgana, I'll see you later." Akira said.
"Alright......be careful." Morgana replied.
"I'll try, I placed a plate of food on the floor for you." Akira said.
"Thanks." Morgana replied.
Akira nodded his head and left his room, closing the door behind him. Morgana stretched and jumped down to the floor, then after he ate he left and headed for the hotel.
When he got there he looked at the phantom thieves and Akechi, he noticed that something was off about Makoto she looked.....well angry. Morgana looked at the rest of the group but they shrugged their shoulders, they didn't know what was wrong either.
"We should hurry up, Akira didn't have a good night." Morgana said.
"How was he this morning?" Ann asked.
"I don't know.....I couldn't really tell but he seemed alright." Morgana answered.
Nobody said anything else there wasn't anything they could say, so everyone just went back to Akira's house and entered his palace, Once they stepped out of the safe room what they saw took them by surprise.
The red sky was a darker red with black clouds gathering towards the center of the circus, the circus itself.....well over half the lights were out, some of the visible tents were lop-sided, and there were cracks in the ground.
"Guess he isn't coming." Ann said, the group decided to wait to see if Joker would show up.
"Probably too busy trying to keep this place from falling to the ground." Akechi replied.
Akechi started to walk and the rest of the phantom thieves followed though once again he let Futaba guide them to the next tent, when they got there the group sat down.
The screen showed Akira texting Akechi asking the detective if he wanted to hang out somewhere. After a couple of minutes Akechi agreed and sent a message the he knew of a good place to go and would go there around one in the afternoon on Sunday.
(This will be the first time we've actually spent together outside of our brief meetings at the train station)
When Sunday arrived Akira and Akechi met at the train station where Akechi led them to a train that was headed towards Kichijoji, then Akechi led him to a jazz club.
(A jazz club?)
"I like coming here sometimes." Akechi said.
Akira nodded his head and the two headed inside, after they got their drinks they talked about the phantom thieves and who their next target could be.
(Trying to give me ideas Akechi)
Then they started to talk about the mental shut downs and what or who could be causing them if it wasn't the phantom thieves.
(Are you the one causing them, there could be an unknown metaverse user that could be doing it but on the off chance it's you.....why are you doing it)
They stopped talking about the mental shut downs and changed to lighter topics, the main one being Shujin's field trip to Hawaii.
"Let me know when you get back, we can do this again.....I always wanted to know what Hawaii was like." Akechi said.
Akira blushed and began to twist a piece of his hair then nodded his head, Akechi chuckled and stood up.
"I'll see you later, don't worry I paid my half of the bill." Akechi said.
Akira watched as Akechi left, after a minute or two Akira placed his half of the bill on the table and left the jazz club then headed back to Yogen-Jaya.
The screen went blank then it showed Akira on a plane sitting next to a sleeping Ryuji, but once they reached their destination Ryuji practically climbed on top of him to look out the window.
Once they were at the hotel Akira realized that he would be sharing a room with another guy.
(I'm going to be uncomfortable for the next five days, I mean nothing's going to happen but what if they find out I'm gay. It's not like I can share a room with Ryuji, he's from another class)
When Mishima said they could room together, Akira started to breath a little better.
(Well he's better than someone I don't know at all.....I haven't slept in the same room with a guy, not including Morgana, since I was nine, so this it still going to be awkward)
Once he and Mishima were in their hotel room and unpacked, Mishima immediately took out his laptop and started talking about the phantom thieves and the phantom thieves website. At least until Akira closed his laptop and said that it could wait until they went back home.
(I don't want to stress about everyone's problems until we get back, this is a vacation)
That same night Ryuji and Ann slept in Akira and Mishima's room because their roommates had locked them out, when their late night conversation turned to relationships Akira froze.
(How am I going to answer that, I guess I can give them some generic answer.....Ann might think I'm shallow afterward but better than her hating me)
Akira gave them his answer which they accepted and they decided to go to sleep though poor Mishima had to stay in the bathroom since he was still sick.
The screen went blank and then it showed Akira standing in the middle of the hotel room and looking at two texts. One from Ryuji asking if he wanted to join Yusuke, Mishima, and himself in finding a quick foreign romance before they head back to Japan.
The other text was from Makoto and she was asking if he wanted to hang out with her for the day, it didn't take him long to agree with Makoto's request.
(Sorry Ryuji, it's not going to be too fun for me to watch you, Mishima, and Yusuke try and get a one night stand.....good luck though)
Akira met Makoto in front of the hotel, then the two went souvenir shopping, walked around the beach for a little while, got something to eat and decided to watch the sunset.
(I hope she doesn't find this romantic, it would be awkward if she did......this is mostly an apology for how I treated her before)
The screen went blank again and this time it showed the argument between Ryuji and Morgana causing Morgana to leave.
(What am I going to do now)
Then apparently the next thing Akira was going to do was get the phantom thieves to infiltrate a new palace, this one belonging to Kunikazu Okumura. Where they met a dead end, another persona user, and a mad Morgana who didn't want to help him.
(Please let this not be another Makoto situation, how can she have a persona but not be able to use the full extent of it)
Over the next couple of days the phantom thieves investigated Haru and managed to get Morgana to come back with an apology from both Ryuji and Morgana. And Haru insisted she help the phantom thieves saying that she would do anything to be useful.
(Great, just great, I hope she figures out how to use her persona while we deal with her father's palace)
The next scene that was shown was the phantom thieves sparing Okumura's shadow's life and grabbing the treasure. As the palace started to crumble the phantom thieves left, as Akira ran he saw something out of the corner of his eye but he ignored it.
Haru joined the phantom thieves and told them that her father was ill, then on the day of the deadline Haru's father died of a mental shut down. Since it happened on live television, the next day people started to blame the phantom thieves.
The screen went blank and the applause started so the phantom thieves and Akechi left the tent.
"Before you start venting or asking questions let's go to another tent." Akechi said.
Before anyone could protest, Akechi grabbed Futaba's arm, making her lead the way to the next tent. When they reached the next tent the group sat down and the screen appeared this time showing Akira standing in the gun shop.
(I should get them to help me pay for this stuff, I mean I have the funds and the discounts but still I don't even want these. Though I guess Haru needs to have them, she has more firepower than the others. Despite how sweet she is, she can pack a punch when it comes to fighting shadows, she somehow managed to get me into helping her with her gardening)
Akira left the gun shop and headed back to Leblanc to hide his purchases, when he got there Sojiro gave him a warning look, confused Akira walked upstairs and saw Futaba sitting on his sofa.
(That's why Sojiro looked at me weird)
After asking why Futaba was there she told him to take her to Akihabara, Akira looked at her confused and questioningly but Futaba only tugged at the sleeves of her jacket.
"Come on, I'm asking you to take me and I really want something there, think of it as me leveling up." Futaba said.
Akira chuckled, then nodded his head and headed back downstairs motioning for Futaba to follow him. After letting Sojiro know Futaba wanted Akira to take her to Akihabara, he was surprised but he let her go.
The trip there was a disaster and a success, Futaba got lost but she handled it relatively well and she decided that Akira was her key item. Since she handled the trip rather well Akira got Futaba what she originally wanted as well as something else.
The screen went blank and then it showed Akira standing at his desk at Shujin looking at his phone. He had several texts, one from Ann, one from Yusuke, one from Makoto, and another from Akechi.
All of them wanted to hang out with him, he replied yes to Akechi since he didn't want to meet up until later. Then said yes to Yusuke since it had been awhile since they had hung out, he told Ann and Makoto they could hang out another time.
While Akira walked towards the exit of the school he saw that Makoto was walking towards him so he stopped and waited for her to come to him.
"I know you said that you wouldn't be able to hang out but can you give me just a second of your time?" Makoto asked.
Akira raised an eyebrow and motioned for Makoto to continue, once she told him she wanted them to pretend date so she can spy on a friend and her boyfriend, he disagreed.
(I'm going to pretend you never asked that)
"Please Akira." Makoto said.
Akira shook his head and told her he couldn't help this time, then left the building as fast as possible. When Akira met Yusuke at the underground walkway, Akira didn't expect for them to just watch people walk by them but he wasn't going to complain.
(Better this than being in an uncomfortable situation with Makoto)
When they parted ways Akira headed back to Yogen-Jaya so he could drop off Morgana with Futaba, then he went to Inokashira Park, where Akechi decided they would meet.
"Sorry about meeting at the park but the jazz club doesn't allow minors at this time." Akechi apologized.
Akira smiled and let Akechi know it was alright, then the two began to walk around the park. When Akechi mentioned that he knew of a small cafe called Leblanc in Yogen-Jaya that he liked, Akira smiled and told Akechi he lived there.
"Why haven't I seen you there?" Akechi asked.
Akira only shrugged his shoulders indicating he didn't know.
(Maybe you can come over sometime, Sojiro has been teaching me how to make his curry and coffee, I could make you some)
"I should come over sometime, see if you make a good barista, it's no wonder why you always smell like coffee." Akechi said.
Akira looked at him surprised before smiling and nodding his head. They walked around the park for a little bit longer before leaving, when Akira got back to Leblanc he laid on his bed and smiled sadly.
(If I hadn't known better I would have considered that a date)
The screen went blank again and the next scene that appeared was Akira walking into Leblanc and smiled when he saw Akechi. When Sojiro saw this he raised an eyebrow but ignored it then said he had to get groceries and would be back in a little bit.
"Does he leave you in charge often?" Akechi asked.
Akira walked behind the counter and put on an apron before answering Akechi.
"Well since I have nowhere to go and you're here, you can me if you're a good barista or not." Akechi said.
Akira chuckled and nodded his head, then made Akechi coffee the way Sojiro showed him.
(It's a good thing Sojiro decided to spend the time helping me learn how to make coffee)
When Akira handed Akechi his coffee, Akira looked away from him.
"Hmm, you do make a good barista." Akechi said.
Akira blushed and smiled shyly and twisted a piece of his hair, Akira looked at Akechi when he chuckled and Akira gave a small laugh too. After that, they talked about almost everything, until it was time for Akechi to leave, then Akira mentioned his school's cultural festival.
Akechi raised an eyebrow but Akira only shrugged his shoulders and waved goodbye, Akechi rolled his eyes and left, a couple of seconds later Sojiro walked in with groceries.
Luckily for him Sojiro decided to not to mentioned Akira's behavior while he put away the groceries and Akira washed the dishes, after he finished he went up to his room.
(It's a good thing Morgana is with Haru, he would have spent the rest of the night questioning me)
The screen went blank then Akira showed up and he and Futaba were laying on Futaba's bed watching some anime she thought he would like.
"Akira, can I tell you my feelings about you?" Futaba asked.
Akira slowly looked at Futaba, slightly scared but nodded his head anyway.
"I think I love you in a big brother sort of way." Futaba said.
Akira began to breathe again and smiled, then told Futaba that he loved her as a sister.
"Great, now that is out of the way there is something I need to talk to you about." Futaba said.
(Of course she has an ulterior motive for telling me this)
Akira motioned for Futaba to continue and to Akira's immense surprise and horror Futaba climbed on top of him pinning him to the bed.
(Please, please don't let Sojiro walk in here right now)
"What is going on with you and Akechi?" Futaba asked.
Akira's eyes widened but he feigned innocence and looked at her questioningly.
"Don't look at me like that, I still have camera's set up in Leblanc and I'm not going to mention the things I've read before, so what I saw wasn't nothing." Futaba said.
Akira shook his head an told Futaba that nothing was going on between him and Akechi.
"Fine don't tell me but at least answer this one, I promise I won't tell." Futaba said.
Akira sighed and nodded his head.
"Are you gay?" Futaba asked.
(I want to lie but I don't think I could say no to her.....and I don't know what she reads but if she's not mentioning it, well she might be accepting of me)
Akira sighed and nodded his head again, after a few seconds of silence suddenly Futaba squealed and laid down on top of Akira trying her best to hug him.
"I knew it, well I mean I suspected but I knew it, am I the only one who knows out of the phantom thieves?" Futaba asked.
Akira nodded his head and Futaba hugged him tighter before laying back on her side but she didn't let him go.
"I promise I won't tell anyone unless you want me to." Futaba whispered.
Akira smiled and kissed Futaba on the forehead then the two went back to watching anime.
The screen went blank and the applause started, the phantom thieves and Akechi walked out of the tent and before anyone could say anything Makoto started to walk ahead of everyone. Luckily she still listened to Futaba when she said she found a safe room, once everyone was inside they all took a seat.
"Why did you walk off like that Queen?" Ann asked.
"Yeah this is still a palace, it still could be dangerous." Morgana said.
"I know, I'm sorry......I don't know why I acted like that." Makoto replied.
When Ryuji opened his mouth to say something Ann hushed him.
"We should go before Akira gets back." Haru said.
"Despite how much I would like to talk about this I have to agree, it was a close call yesterday." Morgana added.
Everyone nodded their heads and left Akira's palace, the teens headed for the hotel and Morgana went back into Akira's room. Like yesterday he walked into his room a few minutes after Morgana got back into his room.
Luckily Akira didn't have any new injuries from what Morgana could tell but Akira was really quiet.
"What's wrong?" Morgana asked.
"Nothing but um there is something I need to talk to you about." Akira answered.
"What is it?" Morgana asked.
"Remember how I told you Kenji was married to a guy?" Akira asked.
"Yes." Morgana answered.
"Well......um....I'm like him Mona......I'm um.....I'm interested in guys." Akira said.
"Okay." Morgana replied.
"Just okay?" Akira asked in disbelief.
"Well I want to know why it took so long for you to tell me but yeah okay, you're my friend Akira and I don't have a problem that you rather date boys." Morgana answered.
"Thanks Mona." Akira said, giving Morgana a real smile that Morgana hadn't seen in over two months.
"Is there a reason you're tell me this now?" Morgana asked.
"Yeah, um later tonight......I want to....um you know.....and I don't want to force you outside so you can hide under the bed if you want......I'm going to try and be as quiet as possible but if you hear me say he, well that's why." Akira answered blushing.
"Okay." Morgana said.
"Alright, it's time for dinner." Akira replied.
The two went downstairs and Akira cooked them a quick dinner, after they ate they went back upstairs and Akira began to work on his homework, much later that night Akira looked at Morgana.
"Do you want to go outside?" Akira asked.
Morgana didn't say anything as he jumped off the bed and got under it, Akira sighed and grabbed some tissues and hand lotion that he kept hidden in a drawer and laid down on his bed.
After a minute of two he took off his clothes and began to pleasure himself, biting his lip to keep the sounds coming out of his mouth. As he kept going he started to think about Akechi, and it was the thought of Akechi that brought him over the edge.
After he cleaned himself off, he put back on his clothes and threw away the tissues and hid the hand lotion again.
"You can come out now, Morgana." Akira said.
Morgana slowly crawled out from under the bed and when he saw that Akira was decent and the bed was clean he jumped onto the bed.
"Now that I know you're tired let's get some sleep." Morgana said.
Akira nodded his head and laid down next to Morgana, when Akira thought Morgana was asleep he felt tears run down his cheeks.
"Damn it Akechi why did you have to go and die, I miss you......even after everything you did." Akira whispered.
After a few more minutes of silently crying Akira finally fell asleep, so now Morgana could move closer to the leader of the phantom thieves without said leader finding out that he had been awake.
Hotel girl's room
After Futaba said goodnight to Sojiro, the girl's namely Futaba, Ann, and Haru called for a girl's meeting.
"Alright Makoto, why are you so jealous of Akechi?" Ann asked.
"I'm not jealous of Akechi, where did you get that idea?" Makoto asked.
"Well the way you have been acting the past couple of days kind of tell it." Haru answered.
"That doesn't mean I'm jealous of him." Makoto said.
"Then why are you acting jealous?" Futaba asked.
"I am not." Makoto denied.
"Yes you are, we know you have a small crush on Akira but it's not going to happen." Ann said.
"I know that, it just hurts to see his thoughts about me and how he has a crush on Akechi and Akechi wanted to kill him." Makoto replied.
"Makoto, we know it hurts but Akira cares about you, he cares about all of us. You've got to remember though that before us students and authority figures hated him and you were both, so he was a little bitter to you." Haru said.
"Akechi is a student and authority figure." Makoto replied.
"Akechi is a cute boy Akira fell for, and he wasn't stalking Akira either." Ann said.
"You've got to calm down, you know Akira is your friend and that's not going to change." Futaba added.
Makoto sighed and nodded her head.
"Now that is out of the way can we go to bed I'm tired?" Futaba asked.
"Yes, but real quick you and Akira were so cute together." Haru answered.
"Hehehe." Futaba did that weird chuckle of hers.
The girls got into bed and fell asleep, three of them were hoping that the other would listen to them.
Hotel boy's room
"I can't believe everything that I saw." Ryuji said into his pillow.
"Yes, it was all quite shocking." Yusuke agreed.
"Do you think Futaba, Ann, and Haru are going to talk to Makoto about whatever her problem is?" Ryuji asked, turning on his side.
"Most likely." Yusuke answered.
"Good luck to them." Ryuji said.
"Yes, but I think Makoto will see reason." Yusuke replied.
"What do you think about Akira having a crush on Akechi?" Ryuji asked.
"Do you really want to talk about that?" Yusuke asked.
"Nah, my brain is too full as it is." Ryuji answered.
"Very well goodnight Ryuji." Yusuke said.
"Yeah." Ryuji replied.
Hotel Akechi's room
"Would anything have changed if you had told me how you felt?" Akechi said, looking at Akira's contact number.
"Knowing me probably not.......do I still have a chance with you, I hope so." Akechi said.
As he thought about the possibility that Akira could still feel something for Akechi, he felt himself getting aroused.
Akechi groaned and quickly fixed his problem then cleaned himself with a tissue.
"I miss you, and you're such an idiot for falling for me, but then again I was an idiot for falling for you." Akechi whispered before falling asleep.
When Morgana woke up, Akira was getting dressed. When Akira saw that Morgana was awake he petted Morgana's head.
"Good morning, Mona." Akira said.
"Good morning." Morgana replied.
"I put your breakfast on the floor, I've got to go now.....I'll see you later." Akira said before leaving his room.
Morgana jumped off the bed and walked over to the plate next to the desk and ate his breakfast. After he ate, Morgana left Akira's room and headed for the hotel where the phantom thieves and Akechi were standing outside.
Morgana walked over to Akechi and stood next to him, Akechi looked at him curiously while the phantom thieves just looked at him weird but decided to ignore Morgana's action.
"How was Akira, is he okay?" Haru asked.
"This morning he seemed okay, last night he was okay......and not okay." Morgana answered.
"What do you mean he was okay and not okay?" Akechi asked.
Morgana thought about if he should mention what Akira did last night but decided to not embarrass him.
"I shouldn't talk about it but Akira did tell me he liked guys." Morgana said.
The phantom thieves looked at Morgana in confusion but it seemed like Akechi read between the lines because he looked like he understood why Morgana wasn't saying anything.
"Before we go, Makoto did you figure everything out.....Akira needs all of us, you shouldn't abandon him over something like jealousy?" Morgana asked.
Makoto blushed but she nodded her head, the group headed back to Akira's house once they were there they headed into Akira's palace.
When they were out of the safe room, Akechi looked around and saw that there were more cracks in the ground and and the cracks from yesterday looked bigger, luckily that seemed to be the only change.
Like yesterday Joker didn't greet them so Futaba led them to the nearest tent, once they were sitting down the screen appeared and showed the phantom thieves standing in the entrance of Shujin for the school cultural festival.
When Futaba grabbed hold of Akira's arm nervously, Akira patted her arm and nodded his head at her.
"I've never been to a school festival before." Futaba said.
(I haven't either Futaba, wonder how interesting it will be)
The group of friends started to walk around the school eventually Ann decided to drag them to her and Akira's classroom for food.
They ended up getting the takoyaki with one of them having a special flavor to it, and the others dared him to try it, but Akira shook his head.
(I'm brave enough to do a lot of things but not enough to figure out what that special flavor is)
Not long after, Akechi showed up and the group talked to him for a little bit before Akechi took the special takoyaki. Akira opened his mouth to warn him but Futaba elbowed him in the ribs before he could.
By the time Akira recovered from the pain Akechi had already eaten the takoyaki which ended up being spicy, Akechi left as he tried to recover from how spicy the takoyaki was.
(I'm sorry, I wanted to warn you but a certain adopted sister stopped me)
Akira subtly glared at Futaba but she only chuckled and ate her takoyaki, not long after the group left the festival. The next day was the panel and everyone watched as Makoto questioned Akechi.
After a few questions, Akira stepped further away from his friends without them realizing it then called Akechi. Akira let the phone ring until Akechi asked if he could take the call somewhere else.
Once Makoto said she would show Akechi to the student council room, Akira ended the call and he led the group to the student council room. Akechi ended up blackmailing them and joining the phantom theives before leaving, once Akira and Morgana were alone they talked about the events that just happened.
(You're keeping something to yourself, what are you hiding......not that I can say anything, I've got enough secrets)
Akira and Morgana left the school with Futaba and headed back to Leblanc.
The screen went blank and then it showed the phantom thieves including Akechi were talking about Makoto's sister's palace they just learned about. Once they decided that in two days they would visit the palace, the phantom thieves left Leblanc but Akira asked Akechi to stay.
"What is it, Kurusu-kun?" Akechi asked.
Akira told Akechi he wanted them to go to momentos to see what Akechi could do.
"Now?" Akechi asked.
Akira shook his head and said tomorrow if Akechi had the time to.
"We'll meet at the train station at one in the afternoon then." Akechi said, then he left.
The next day Akira and Akechi met at the train station.
"So where's mementos and where's Morgana?" Akechi asked.
Akira answered both questions then the two headed into momentos, when they entered momentos both boys were surprised at Akechi's outfit but Akechi quickly hid his surprise.
(It suits you......really well, but why are you surprised. You've been to the metaverse before why are you surprised by your outfit)
Akira and Akechi walked through the upper levels of momentos defeating shadows, eventually they stopped at a safe place to rest and heal themselves.
(You're really good at this, how good were you when you first found out about the metaverse)
"I think we should head back." Akechi said.
Akira nodded his head and stood up from the bench they were sitting on.
"I have the rest of the evening off, would you like to hang out a little bit longer?" Akechi asked.
Akira smiled and nodded his head, the two headed back to Leblanc where they played chess until it was twenty minutes before the station closed for the evening.
The screen went blank, then the phantom thieves were standing outside Sae Niijima's palace, and they were staring at Akechi's outfit.
After Akira picked out the leading team the phantom thieves headed into Sae's palace, they group quickly figured out that Sae's palace was going to be a lot more difficult than the others they defeated.
Once the group found a safe room, the group left Sae's palace and headed for Leblanc except for Akechi who had to head to work. Later that evening Akechi texted Akira asking if the phantom thief leader wanted to hang out at the Jazz Jin after school tomorrow, Akira agreed, Morgana rolled his eyes and asked to be left at Leblanc.
The next day after school Akira left Morgana at Leblanc, after changing his clothes, as well as ignoring the look Sojiro was giving him, Akira quickly walked to the station and headed for Kichijoji. Once he was in the city he walked over to the Jazz Jin, once Akira reached the jazz club he saw that Akechi was waiting for him outside.
"I was wondering when you would show." Akechi said.
Akira nodded his head and began to twirl a piece of his hair between his thumb and index finger. Without saying a word the two headed inside the jazz club and took a seat, then ordered their drinks.
They once again talked about anything and everything and played darts until they couldn't stay there any longer.
"It's still a little early, would you like to get something to eat?" Akechi asked.
Akira smiled and nodded his head. The two decided on going to the sushi restaurant in Ginza and would split the bill, after dinner the two walked down to the train station and got on the train.
When Akira got off the train he headed for Leblanc, when he got there he saw that Sojiro was still there and he was smirking at him, Akira raised an eyebrow questioningly.
"So how was your date?" Sojiro asked.
Akira looked at Sojiro in shock and began to blush.
(It wasn't a date, I wish it was, but it wasn't a date)
Akira asked why Sojiro why he thought he went on a date.
"Well you looked a little too excited to just be going wherever with a friend, and you usually bring the cat if you are with your friends." Sojiro answered.
Akira's face turned a brighter red then glanced down at the floor.
(I can't really deny that)
"I won't bother you about it, lock the door after me." Sojiro said.
Akira nodded his head, then he locked the door after Sojiro left the cafe, then he looked towards the attic where Morgana was.
(I bet he heard everything, I hope he doesn't ask too many questions)
The screen went blank then it showed the phantom thieves standing in a safe room in Sae's palace, and Akira was sitting in a chair watching his teammates rest up.
(We've been here for a week and we really haven't gotten anywhere, it's just we keep running into more and more shadows. Not to mention this ridiculous gambling thing we have to do)
Akira watched as Akechi walked over and sat down next to him, Akira raised an eyebrow questioningly.
"What are you thinking about Joker?" Akechi asked.
Akira told Akechi that he would tell him later, after a minute Akechi nodded his head and the two watched the others. Once Akira noticed that everyone was still tired he decided it was time to leave despite Ryuji and Ann's protest.
When they were back in the real world everyone headed home except for Akechi followed Akira, Futaba, and Morgana back to Leblanc. Akira handed Morgana to Futaba before leading Akechi to Leblanc and up to his room and the two sat on the bed much to Akira's embarrassment.
"So what were you thinking about earlier?" Akechi asked.
Akira sighed and told Akechi what he was thinking about earlier and how he was worried that they would miss the deadline. Since getting through Sae's palace was a little more difficult than he thought.
"Why haven't you told the others?" Akechi asked.
Akira shook his head and told Akechi that he didn't want the others to worry.
"So you're going to worry yourself to death instead of talking to someone." Akechi said.
Akira shook his head and said that he was talking to him about it, Akechi sighed and agreed with Akira. After that Akira and Akechi looked at each other in silence and Akira noticed that Akechi moved a little bit closer to him, Akira began to twirl a piece of his hair.
"What are you nervous about now?" Akechi whispered.
Akechi grabbed Akira's hand and put it back to his side but he didn't let it go.
(Would you hate me if you knew)
Akira noticed that he and Akechi were leaning closer to each other but after a few seconds Akechi pulled away and let go of Akira.
"I better go before the train station closes." Akechi said.
(Stay please)
Akira nodded his head and followed Akechi down to the cafe so he could re-lock the door after Akechi left.
The screen went blank and the applause started so the phantom thieves and Akechi left the tent and stood at the entrance in shock. The cracks in the ground were longer and wider, it was raining, and the thing that shocked them the most was that outside the tent the ground was shaking like an earthquake was happening.
"Why didn't we feel this inside?" Futaba asked, trying not to fall down.
"I don't know, but we need to go to another tent." Akechi said.
Futaba nodded her head and she and Akechi led the others to another tent, and quickly found a seat inside, luckily inside the tent an earthquake wasn't happening.
The screen appeared and it showed Akira and the phantom thieves standing in front of a shadow that was telling them if they wanted to pass through they would have to navigate their way in the dark to the other side.
Akira was able to successfully lead them through that but then they had to deal with a one on one fight, which Akira had to do.
(If Akechi doesn't end up killing me one of these palaces will)
Akira finished killing off his last opponent before being declared the victor and the group found a safe room where Akira collapsed into a chair.
"We're so close to the treasure." Morgana said.
"Then we should keep moving." Ryuji added.
Before anyone else could say anything Akira stopped them and told them that they need (I need) to rest so they'll come back in a few days. Once they rest up and are fully equipped again they'll return, nobody rejected idea so they returned to the real world.
The next day after school, Akira and Akechi played chess at Leblanc late into the evening and for some reason Sojiro closed the store a little earlier than normal but said Akechi could stay until he was ready to go.
Around two hours before the train station closed Akira asked if Akechi would like some dinner, and that he could make some along with some coffee.
"Sure, you're a good barista now let's see if you're a good cook." Akechi said.
Akira smiled and got to work making the curry and coffee, for the curry he didn't add too much spice to it since he knew Akechi couldn't handle too much spice if any.
Once the food was done Akira brought over their plates and sat them down on the table, the two ate their food and drank their coffee in silence and by the time they were done it was time for Akechi to leave.
"It seems like you're a good cook too.....thanks for dinner, I'll see you later." Akechi said.
The screen went blank then it showed Akira handing Makoto a calling card for her sister, then he told everyone to rest up for tomorrow. Futaba grabbed Morgana and left then everyone except for Akechi who Akira asked to stay behind.
"What's the matter, Kurusu-kun?" Akechi asked.
Akira told Akechi that he could call him by his name and Akechi didn't have to add the honorifics. Then he said that he only wanted to spend more time with him, Akechi smiled and chuckled.
"Sure." Akechi said.
The two decided to stay at Leblanc and play chess, then later in the evening they watched movies on Akira's old tv and ate curry and drank coffee. When it was time for Akechi to leave, Akira hugged him, surprising both boys, and after a few seconds Akechi returned the hug.
(I shouldn't be doing this but I don't know if I'll be able to do this again, there's still a chance I could die and if I don't, will you even want me to hug you again)
The hug ended and the two boys stepped away from each other.
"I better go, I'll see you tomorrow." Akechi said.
Akira nodded his head and followed Akechi down to the cafe so he could lock the door behind him.
(Why do I still love you even though tomorrow you'll kill me)
The screen went blank then it showed Akira running through Sae's palace trying to avoid the police.
(Did you bring the entire police force)
Akira was able to avoid them for a little bit but the police eventually caught him and knocked him out. When Akira woke up again he was in an interrogation room where two police officers began to 'interrogate' him by beating and drugging him up.
After what felt like hours later, Sae walked into the room and began interrogating him, luckily that excluded the beatings and whatever the police was drugging him with.
Akira told her almost everything except for names and anything too personal and eventually she left the room carrying the phone with her, a few seconds later Akechi walked into the room.
Akechi shot the guard then he talked to Akira for a couple of minutes then held the gun to Akira's head and pulled the trigger and left, back in the real world Akira managed to smirk.
When Sae came back she helped get him back to Leblanc without getting noticed, once they were there Sojiro helped Sae take Akira up to his room. Sae went back downstairs while Sojiro helped Akira get into more comfortable clothes.
"They really did a number on you didn't they......just get some rest I'll be downstairs if you need me." Sojiro said.
Akira nodded his head and got some rest, over the next few days the phantom thieves chose a new target, Shido Masayoshi. Also over the next few days Futaba got Akira to admit he hadn't wanted to go along with the plan but went along with it anyway since there was no other way.
Another day went by and it was time for the phantom thieves to explore Shido's palace.
The screen went blank and the applause started so the phantom thieves and Akechi left the tent. Once they were outside they were surprised that the rain was coming down faster and the earthquake was getting worse.
Another thing that surprised them was that Joker was standing in front of them and without saying a word threw them out of the palace back into the real world.
"Emergency meeting in Ryuji and Yusuke's room, you're coming along too Morgana, you can tell Akira you went for a walk if he comes back and you're not there." Makoto said.
The group headed back to the hotel and enter Ryuji and Yusuke's room, none of them bothered to sit down.
"What happened, a palace ruler was never able to kick us out before?" Haru asked.
"But a palace ruler never managed to catch us before." Yusuke answered.
"But this one is allowing us to roam through the palace. Why did he kick us out now?" Ryuji asked.
"It wouldn't have mattered we couldn't really see too far ahead and the ground was shaking too much for us to walk." Futaba said.
"That could be why he kicked us out, the palace was too unstable for us to continue any further.......like a real circus during a storm, it's not going to be open." Akechi replied.
"Why is his palace unstable?" Ann asked.
"Maybe while we're watching Akira's memories, he's thinking about them and it's affecting him." Morgana answered.
"Another thing about his memories, why can we hear Akira talk, I thought we would only hear his thoughts, not what he is actually saying?" Makoto asked.
"It could be for context like the conversations with Akechi since for most of those we weren't there to witness them. We can also compare what he says to what he actually thinks, like with you Makoto, he said one thing but what he thought was completely different." Yusuke answered.
"Speaking of context Akechi, what was going on between you and Akira?" Ann asked.
"Nothing was going on, despite what it looked like, now let me ask all of you something. Did any of you think that Akira could possible not want to go along with the plan you made up?" Akechi asked.
"Akira helped with the plan, not just us." Makoto defended the group.
"Maybe so, but did he seem like he at least one of you to argue with him about it, which I'm going to guess none of you did." Akechi said.
The guilty expressions on all of their faces said everything, Akechi sighed and only shook his head.
"Did you know about what the police did to Akira?" Ryuji asked.
"No, not to that extent at least but even if I knew they were going to be that brutal I wouldn't have been able to do anything since they were under Shido's thumb." Akechi answered.
"Guys, I've got to go, Akira is probably back from school now, Akechi lead me down." Morgana said.
Akechi rolled his eyes but he didn't protest since he didn't want to stay with they other's any longer, once outside Morgana headed back to Akira's house and when he jumped into Akira's bedroom he saw Akira working on his homework but his hands were shaking and he looked like he was about to cry.
"Akira, what's wrong" Morgana asked.
Akira turned around and saw Morgana sitting on his bed.
"Just a bad day Mona, I'll be alright." Akira answered.
"What happened?" Morgana asked.
"Same like always Mona, I'll be fine." Akira answered.
"Hey Akira, can I tell you something?" Morgana asked.
Akira nodded his head in confusion.
"I'm sorry for not protesting about the plan to stop Akechi from killing you, it was dangerous plan that could have gone in the opposite direction of what we wanted." Morgana apologized.
Akira walked over to Morgana and sat down next to him.
"Mona, there was no other plan we could've made to avoid that." Akira said.
"But our plan relied so heavily on someone else it could have ended badly. We all knew that but none of us said anything, I should have said something." Morgana replied.
"It was my plan Mona, I wouldn't have given the plan if I had thought of another way.....and yes I would have like it if someone argued with me but there was no other way." Akira said.
"We still should have said something, you really could have died." Morgana replied.
Akira sighed and began to pet Morgana.
"This place is changing you too Morgana.......unfortunately you're not changing into a human." Akira said.
Morgana chuckled and batted the hand Akira was petting him with.
"I'll be a human one day.....until then I'm.....happy being your cat." Morgana replied.
"Thanks Mona, come on, let's eat then go to bed." Akira said.
Hotel girl's room
"Akira and Akechi were practically dating." Makoto said.
"Well neither of them knew they were dating." Haru replied.
"It's actually kind of cute and sad, they were so obvious when they weren't around us." Ann said.
"Why didn't you say anything Futaba?" Makoto asked.
"Hey, I like forbidden romances.......I had a real life one in front of my eyes, well video footage of Leblanc. Besides they looked happy together even though they weren't together and I wasn't going to stop it." Futaba answered.
"That's sweet Futaba." Haru said.
"What isn't sweet is that we didn't give out any other suggestions when we came up with our plan to stop Akechi." Ann said.
"There was nothing else we could have done." Makoto replied.
"But we could have asked Akira if he really wanted to do it, or at least apologize and the only one that really did that was Futaba." Haru said.
"We'll make it up to him." Ann said.
Hotel boy's room
"I can't believe those two were together." Ryuji said.
"Technically they weren't a couple, they didn't even know they liked each other." Yusuke replied.
"I know, they acted like it, in that one memory I really thought they were going to kiss." Ryuji said.
"Yes, well love is blind and considering the two people in love, it's complicated." Yusuke replied.
"Yeah complicated......we really shoulda said something about the plan to stop Akechi. Damn it, I'm Akira's best friend I should have protested and said it was a stupid plan." Ryuji said.
"That was the only plan we had, but it's in the past and we can only make it up to him now." Yusuke said.
"Yeah." Ryuji agreed.
Hotel Akechi's room
"We really did look like we were dating." Akechi said.
"That plan of yours might have been the only option you had but it was a stupidly reckless plan, someone should have protested against it." Akechi said.
Akechi sat down on his bed and looked at his hands.
"How did my supposed death affect you, did you miss me, if so when, was it after the gunshot or days, weeks, or months later?" Akechi whispered.
In the morning Akira woke Morgana up and gave him his breakfast.
"Hey, I'm going now, I'll see you later." Akira said.
"Alright." Morgana replied.
Once Akira was gone Morgana headed for the hotel where the phantom thieves and Akechi waited outside for him.
"Is everyone ready?" Morgana asked.
Everyone nodded their heads and they headed back to Akira's house, then they headed into Akira's palace. Once they stepped out of the safe room they couldn't tell if they were surprised or not to see the palace was a mess. There were small and large cracks in the ground, over half the lights were out and it was still raining. Luckily they could see where they were going and there wasn't a constant earthquake, before the group could move further into the palace, Joker stopped them.
"The show is about to end, better hurry before your time runs out." Joker warned before disappearing.
The group decided that it would be best to follow the shadow's advice and as safely as possible headed towards the closest tent and sat down.
It took longer than a few seconds for the screen to appear and a minute or two for the phantom thieves excluding Akechi, trying to figure out what Shido's palace could be. When they figured it out they were shocked to actually see it, once they got over the shock Akira chose the leading team and they headed inside.
Soon they figured out that getting through this palace was going to be a pain and so far they only had to listen to a few shadows gossip.
(This is going to take a little bit of time)
The screen went blank and a minute later it showed the phantom thieves had gotten a little further into the palace, now they were trying to get through a restaurant that they need an invitation to get into.
They eventually found a way into the restaurant but they still ended up fighting a few shadows to get what they needed. After that they proceeded further into the palace, they got stuck in a series of hallways and some of those hallways turned them into mice.
(I hate this palace)
Once they found a way out of the confusing hallways that kept turning them into mice, they found a safe room and headed back to the real world to rest for a few days and restock on supplies.
The screen went blank then it showed the phantom thieves were in the cargo hold with Akechi, and he didn't look too pleased to see them.
After the argument with Akechi, the phantom thieves learned that Akechi was the black mask and guy that had been causing the mental shut downs and now they had to fight him.
Halfway through the fight they were stopped by the cognitive version of Akechi, after that everything seemed to fast forward for Akira, until the door trapped Akechi and his cognitive version from the phantom thieves.
Akira ran to the door trying to find a way to open it even though the switch for the door was broken, but he stopped when Akechi told him to.
When Akira heard the gunshot, the screen showed a fourteen year old Akira watching his boyfriend shoot himself in the middle of class. The screen went back to the present and Akira stared at the door in shock.
(Not again, please not again, I can't lose him too)
Akira let his hands fall to his side as his shoulders stiffen.
(No this isn't like what happened to.......him)
Akira turned to look at his friends and noticed that even they were shocked and a little upset by what happened. Akira told them they had to go so the phantom thieves slowly left the cargo hold.
The phantom thieves were able to just steal the treasure before the palace started to collapse. As they ran Ryuji decided to sacrifice himself for the team and when everyone was in the real world Ryuji wasn't with me.
Akira watched as the others started to break down after losing Ryuji, but he didn't know what to feel, if anything he felt nothing and everything seemed duller.
(I lost both Akechi and Ryuji......am I going to lose the others too)
When Ryuji walked up to them perfectly fine, Akira didn't bother trying to save him from the other's frustration instead he walked back to Leblanc trusting that Ann would get Futaba and Morgana home.
Once Akira was back in his room at Leblanc and he was sure Morgana wasn't coming back, Akira began to sob.
(I know what I told Kenji, but I can't help it I lost someone else I loved, I miss him, bring him back)
Eventually Akira cried himself to sleep.
The screen went blank and the applause started so the phantom thieves and Akechi left the tent. Outside it was raining a little harder but they still stood at the entrance and Futaba was standing in front of Akechi.
"You had better fix this Crow, you supposedly dying broke him." Futaba said.
"I didn't think it would, that's why when I found out I was still alive I left." Akechi replied.
"If you knew that Akira would be upset would you have come with us, or return once you realized you were still alive?" Haru asked.
"Only if he asked." Akechi answered.
"Now with all the information you have, will you come back from the dead to be with him?"
Everyone looked to the left and saw Joker standing next to a pole that held the tent up.
"Well cherie, what's your answer?" Joker asked when Akechi didn't answer his previous question.
"Yes, I plan on returning to him." Akechi answered.
Joker hummed then he disappeared, the group looked at each other confused before heading to another tent. Once they were inside they sat down and waited for the screen to appear, then the image to appear.
The screen showed the phantom thieves going through the very bottom of mementos, the encounter with the ruler there ended badly, with momentos combining with Tokyo, the phantom thieves disappearing, and Akira having to make a difficult choice.
The only good thing that came out of the encounter was the real Igor and Lavenza, though the two did tell him the battle wasn't over yet and that the other phantom thieves were further into the velvet room.
The screen went blank then it showed the phantom thieves fighting Yaldabaoth, though they weren't on the winning side of the battle.
Akira looked around at everyone and saw that they were exhausted, even their personas, even he had used up almost all of his personas and none of them helped. Akira sighed and summoned his original persona and broke the chains that tied Arsene to him, summoning Arsene's final form Satanael.
Just one shot from Satanael completely destroyed Yaldabaoth, and the phantom thieves found themselves back on the ground with momentos disappearing bringing everything back to normal....except Morgana was disappearing as well.
Once everything was back to normal and the abnormal events were forgotten everyone went back to there Christmas eve, even the phantom thieves went home. But Akira was approached by Sae saying that to put Shido behind bars Akira would need to help but that would lead to him also being arrested.
Akira agreed but to arrest him tomorrow, Sae agreed and Akira went back to Leblanc though instead of being alone like he thought he would, he ended up spending his Christmas eve with Sojiro and Futaba.
The screen went blank then it showed Akira in a jail cell and during the two months he was there he only thought about Akechi and Morgana and how much he missed the two, as well as the boredom and sorrow he felt everyday.
The screen went blank then it showed Sojiro picking Akira up from Juvie and driving him back to Leblanc. When they got back Akira had a surprise welcome from his friends and another surprise was Morgana walking through Leblanc's door as well.
The next day Sojiro commented on Akira's lack of date even though he's been here for a year.
(I found someone I wanted to date but for a lot of reasons couldn't and I really can't date him now since he died)
A couple of minutes later Ryuji walked into Leblanc saying that he was dateless and decided to hang out with Akira since he was dateless too. The two hung out for awhile and during that time Ryuji handed him a piece of chocolate.
"Friendship chocolate." Ryuji said.
Akira took the chocolate with a smile.
(And if I didn't know any better, this would be a way to confess to me while trying to stay in denial)
The screen went blank then it showed Akira spending the days with his friends and job trying to the ache in his chest from the absence Akechi left.
When the day came for Akira to leave to go back to his hometown he dragged his feet, as he headed downstairs to meet Sojiro.
(Is it possible for me to stay I know I'll have Morgana with me but still I hate it there.......I don't know if I'll even survive it despite Kenji's wishes)
After Akira said goodbye to Sojiro, he said his goodbyes to his other friends before heading to the train station. But the phantom thieves surprised him again with a small road trip before he actually had to get on a train to get back to his hometown.
The screen went blank and the applause started so the phantom thieves and Akechi left the tent, outside Joker greeted them.
"Follow me." Joker said.
"Why should we?" Ryuji asked.
"Do you want to get the treasure or not?" Joker asked.
"You could be leading us into a trap." Ann said.
"If I was going to do that I wouldn't have just let you explore this circus so easily, I let you decide if you wanted to come back or not, so why would I lead you into a trap now?" Joker asked.
Nobody said anything to that, Joker had a point he let them get this far why would he make things difficult for them now?
"Lead the way then." Morgana said.
Joker smirked and led the group to a gigantic tent, inside the tent was the cloud, foggy ball that was hiding the treasure. Before anyone could say anything Joker handed Akechi a calling card.
"Give that to him." Joker said.
"You're not just some normal palace ruler, none that I have met willingly gave up their palace." Akechi said.
"Then what do you think I am?" Joker asked, moving closer to Akechi until their chest was almost touching.
"I don't know but you're not normal." Akechi said.
Joker chuckled before disappearing.
"Um let's go, before something else happens." Makoto said.
Futaba led the group to a safe room which was luckily next to the tent that held the treasure, once outside in the real world Akechi handed Morgana the calling card.
"Put this on his bed but come back out, you'll sleep with one of us tonight.....Akira will probably question you or think it's a joke." Akechi said.
Morgana nodded his head and took the calling card up to Akira's room before coming back down and leaving with the phantom thieves and Akechi back to the hotel.
When Akira got 'home' that afternoon he was surprised to not see Morgana and even more surprised to see a very familiar calling card. Akira slowly picked it up and read it, surprised to see it was for him.
"Mona, where are you this isn't a very funny joke, I know you miss how things were in Yongen-Jaya, but getting the others to trick me like this isn't funny." Akira said.
After a couple of minutes of complete silence and no apologetic Morgana in sight, Akira looked at the calling card in shocked horror, realizing it wasn't a joke.
"What, how is this possible, how did this happen, and if the other's are here why haven't they come by?" Akira whispered.
Too upset to really do or comprehend anything, Akira ran out of the house and to the graveyard where he sat next to Kenji's grave.
"I'm sorry I didn't bring anything to clean off your gravestone Kenji, I didn't expect to be here......I'll do it tomorrow, promise." Akira said.
Later into the night, Akira snuck back into the house and into his room and noticed that Morgana wasn't there, Akira sighed and just laid on his bed staring at the ceiling.
Hotel girl's room
Futaba, Ann, Haru, and Makoto laid on their bed and just looked at each other.
"Tomorrow's going to be important." Makoto said.
"Yeah, we can't fail this one." Ann agreed.
"It's too important." Haru said.
"I'm going to give him a big hug after this." Futaba said.
The other girls chuckled and agreed with her, and they all tried to go to sleep.
Hotel boy's room
"We can't fail tomorrow." Ryuji said.
"It's definitely not an option." Yusuke agreed.
"I hope he forgives us for not telling him about this." Ryuji said.
"Knowing him, Akira will forgive us." Yusuke replied.
"Yeah, I just feel like we've made him believe we don't trust him." Ryuji said.
"Akira will understand." Yusuke replied.
Ryuji nodded his head in agreement then the two boys tried to go to sleep.
Hotel Akechi and Morgana's room
"Why did you want to sleep with me?" Akechi asked.
"Because I felt like it." Morgana answered.
"Whatever, just don't fall asleep on top of me." Akechi said.
"I won't." Morgana replied.
"Do you think Akira will believe the calling card or not?" Morgana asked.
"Even if he doesn't believe it, we'll still be able to get his treasure." Akechi answered.
"Does Akira make you happy? Morgana asked after a minute of silence.
"Yes, he does." Akechi answered.
"Then why didn't you come back?" Morgana asked.
"Like I said earlier, I thought he was happy without me there." Akechi answered.
"So you're going to stay for your own happiness as well?" Morgana asked.
"Yes." Akechi answered.
"Good, Akira would hate it if you only stayed for him." Morgana said.
"I know, now go to sleep we have a palace to beat tomorrow." Akechi replied.
Moragana chuckled but he complied.
In the morning the phantom thieves and Akechi headed to Akira's house, when they got there Morgana jumped into Akira's room to see if he was there, he wasn't. But he left a note saying that if Morgana needed him he could find him at Kenji's grave at the graveyard.
Afterward the phantom thieves and Akechi headed into Akira's palace and lingered in the safe room for a few minutes. Leaving the safe room they noticed there wasn't much of a circus left but it didn't matter they only had to get the treasure.
Once they were inside the tent that held the treasure, they were greeted by Joker.
"It's time for the finale, I might have let you through this palace easily but I won't say the same about letting you take the treasure." Joker said.
Suddenly Joker turned into a Messiah, once the shadow was close to defeat it changed again to a different shadow that Akira would use, and since it was a new shadow it's health returned.
What felt like hours of fighting countless shadows Akira would use as personas, with one more final blow from Robin Hood's sword Akira's shadow was defeated. But instead of falling to the ground in defeat Akira's shadow smirked.
Joker disappeared and in his place was Arsene and he bowed at the group.
"Thank you for saving him my thieves." Arsene said, looking at the phantom thieves then Arsene looked at Akechi.
"And thank you mon amour for saving him, we've missed you so much, Akira will be happy to see you again." Arsene said.
When the ground began to shake, Arsene moved out of the way so the phantom thieves and Akechi could see and get Akira's treasure......it was a replica of the replica circus Kenji got him.
"Go, I'm proud of you." Arsene said.
The group nodded their heads and left Akira's palace for the last time, when they were in the real world Ryuji smashed the treasure on the ground, and the group looked at him with raised eyebrows.
"What? Akira already has one and we don't need it." Ryuji said.
"Alright, anyway we need to hurry to Akira, Futaba call Boss tell him we'll be there by tonight, Haru get the tickets for the train ride, Ryuji, Yusuke, Akechi get everyone packed, Ann help me." Morgana ordered.
Instead of arguing with him, everyone did as they were told, when Morgana and Ann reached the graveyard. Morgana led Ann to the back of the graveyard where Kenji's grave was. When they got there they saw Akira sitting next to the grave crying.
"Akira?" Morgana asked.
Akira looked up and was a little shocked to see Ann with Morgana.
"So it really is true, I had a palace." Akira said.
"Yes, but it's all better now and Arsene is with you." Ann replied.
Akira smiled at that and nodded his head.
"We've got to go Akira, if we want to get back to Yongen-Jaya by tonight." Morgana said.
Akira looked at Morgana in confusion.
"We're not just going to let you stay here, Boss is all or you staying at Leblanc." Ann said.
Akira nodded his head and stood up but before he could move Ann hugged him.
"We were so worried about you." Ann said.
"I'm sorry." Akira apologized.
"No, we should be the one's to apologize, you need to focus on getting better." Ann said.
"Okay, well let's go." Akira replied.
The three went back to Akira's house and Akira saw that all the phantom thieves were in front of his house. And said phantom thieves decided to jump his at once so they could all hug him. Akira smiled at seeing all his thieves with him again but they were suffocating him.
"Before you suffocate him to death, do you mind letting go."
Akira stiffened at hearing that voice, when everyone moved back and Akira saw the person that matched the voice he couldn't do anything. Akechi smirked and despite the others being there, he hugged Akira.
"You're alive." Akira whispered, as he hugged back.
"I know." Akechi whispered back.
"Why didn't you come back?" Akira asked.
"I'll tell you later, now go get packed." Akechi said, letting go.
Akira nodded his head, then unlocked the front door, headed inside and with Futaba's help got packed in record time. After stopping by the hotel to get the other's things they got on the train to head back to Tokyo, then Yongen-Jaya, on the train ride the thieves apologized for everything they could think of.
When it was clear that Akira really didn't understand why his friends were apologizing, Akechi said he would explain more once they were back at Leblanc.
By they time they got back to Leblanc two things happened, one Sojiro and Akira hugged and Sojiro said Akira could move back in. The second thing that happened was Sojiro threatening Akechi, but the rest of the phantom thieves defended him which put Sojiro's mind at rest a little.
"Alright kid, while I make dinner for all of you, why don't you get unpacked." Sojiro said.
Akira nodded his head and took his stuff upstairs, when he saw his room Akira noticed that Sojiro had dusted and somehow got a bigger bed up here. Akira smiled and put his things away, when he got to the replica circus Kenji bought him, he sat that on his work bench.
"I got away from there Kenji." Akira whispered.
Akira went back downstairs and sat down next to Futaba who decided to hug the life out of him, she only let go when dinner was done and was forced to let go. Once everyone had eaten their dinner, Akira looked around at everyone.
"So I had a palace." Akira said.
"Yeah." Ann replied.
"How did you find out?" Akira asked.
"I suspected it, so I came here and told the others." Morgana answered.
"Igor and Lavenza told me." Akechi said.
"What was my palace?" Akira asked.
"It was a circus." Futaba answered.
"All things considered it was a beautiful palace." Yusuke said.
"And it was the easiest, most difficult palace that we had to complete." Ryuji added.
"What do you mean?" Akira asked, confused.
"We didn't have to fight any shadows but we did have to watch your memories." Haru answered.
"Wait, what memories?" Akira asked, beginning to freak out.
"They were scattered but we now know that you had your own problems here and in your hometown." Makoto answered.
"So you know everything." Akira said.
"More or less." Haru replied.
"So that's why you guys were apologizing for everything." Akira said.
"Yeah." Futaba replied.
"And yet you still rescued me." Akira said, confused.
"Of course we did, you're our friend and leader, the only difference now is that you can actually talk to us." Ryuji replied.
Akira chuckled and smiled at him then nodded his head.
"Alright everyone it's time for you to go home, you can come back tomorrow, I know you two need more to talk about so you can stay Akechi." Sojiro said.
Everyone left without much compliant and Futaba grabbed Morgana on her way out.
"Hey kid, let's talk upstairs for a minute." Sojiro said, looking at Akira.
Akira nodded his head and followed Sojiro upstairs.
"What did you want to talk about?" Akira asked.
"I'll get straight to the point, I figured out you were gay last year." Sojiro answered.
"How did you find out?" Akira asked.
"I began to suspect when I noticed that you didn't much attention to girls......any girl, it became more obvious when you started to hang out with Akechi, it was like you two were the only one's in the room. Now before you start freaking out I want to let you know that I don't care you're gay, just be careful and talk to me if you need or want to." Sojiro said.
"Alright." Akira said, smiling.
"Goodnight." Sojiro said.
"Goodnight." Akira replied.
Sojiro left and a few seconds later Akechi appeared, Akira waited while Akechi slowly walked towards him, then the two sat down on the bed.
"How are you still alive?" Akira asked.
"I don't know." Akechi answered.
"Why didn't you come back earlier?" Akira asked.
"I thought no one would want me back." Akechi answered.
"I did." Akira said.
"I know......now." Akechi replied.
"And I guess you know a lot of other stuff about me too." Akira said.
"I do." Akechi agreed.
Akira began to twirl a piece of his hair between his thumb and index finger until Akechi stopped him by grabbing his hand in his own.
"I return your feelings, I've had for awhile now." Akechi said.
"Really?" Akira whispered.
Akechi nodded his head, subconsciously the two boys moved closer together until there wasn't any space between them. After that they moved their heads closer until their lips were almost touching but Akira pulled back a little.
"Do you want me to kiss you?" Akechi asked.
Akira nodded his head, so Akechi leaned forward and kissed Akira, after a minute Akira began to kiss back timidly. After a couple of kisses the two agreed they were getting uncomfortable in the way they were sitting and decided to lay down.
"We won't go further than kissing unless you want to go further than that." Akechi said.
"I'm fine with going slow." Akira replied.
Akechi nodded his head and the two started to kiss each other, their kisses ended up sweet and innocent to hot and heavy. But they kept their word about going slow and toned things down when it got too intense, then decided to go to sleep.
When Akira woke up, he woke up in his cell in the velvet room, he walked out of his cell and was immediately knocked off his feet by a crying Lavenza.
"Lavenza, are you alright?" Akira asked, hugging the crying girl.
"You had me worried, you silly trickster."Lavenza said.
"I'm sorry Lavenza." Akira apologized.
"It's alright, just don't let it happen again." Lavenza said.
"I won't." Akira replied.
After that he continued to hold the girl until she calmed down and pulled away, then he looked up and saw that Igor, Akechi, Arsene, Robin Hood, and Loki were in the room and they looked a little amused.
"It's nice to see you again, trickster." Igor said.
"It's nice to see you again too." Akira replied, then he looked at Arsene.
"I'm sorry Arsene." Akira apologized.
"No need to apologize mon voleur, you did not know this would happen, I am just glad you're better." Arsene said.
"We're glad that you are too, darling." Robin Hood said, while Loki nodded his head in agreement.
"And as for my other wildcard, thank you for saving my trickster." Lavenza said, looking at Akechi.
"You're welcome." Akechi replied.
"It's time for you to go now." Lavenza said.
"I am thou, thou art I......see you later mon voleur." Arsene said.
Arsene placed a hand on Akira's right cheek, in the corner of his eye he saw Loki and Robin Hood doing the same thing to Akechi, after that Lavenza hugged them both.
The two boys woke up then decided since it was early in the morning they would go back to sleep before the others arrived
|
Max and Harlow barely allowed Ian and Mickey to dress Cian-let alone themselves-the first day they woke up in Orlando. They had spent the majority of the day yesterday after the plane landed-and everyone had gotten a little bit of sleep and an hour and fifteen minutes in an Uber-at the beach, but luckily none of the kids-or Ian-had burnt through their sunscreen. "Dad, Papa! Hurry up!" Max whined as Mickey and Ian threw their clothes on.
"Give us a second, Max." Mickey said calmly, trying to get his shorts and shoes on before Max crawled out of his own skin. "Babe, did you give Max his meds?"
"Yeah; got his instant relief pills in the diaper bag, too." Ian replied, quickly changing his shirt. "Okay. Who's ready to go to Disney World?!" The two eldest Gallagher children cheered and Cian laughed at their excitement. This would be a fun day. At least, Ian hoped.
"Dad, can we go on the Haunted Mansion ride?" Max asked as they walked into the park, all of the children in awe as they took in the sites, sounds, and smells of the colorful, kid-centric amusement park.
"If your Papa'll ride it with you so I can stay with Key and Harlow." Mickey offered, pushing the stroller holding his and Ian's youngest two children as Mandy walked next to him pushing the stroller holding her own daughter.
"Mickey!" Harlow shouted, causing Mickey to snap his head down to look at his daughter, shocked that she'd call him by his first name.
"Mickey mouse, babe." Ian laughed, unstrapping his daughter from the stroller so the girl could get a picture with the anthropomorphic Disney icon. "Stay with Papa, got it, Ladybug?" Ian asked, taking Harlow's hand and allowing Max to take his other.
"Come on, little Mouse; time to meet Mickey Mouse!" Mickey said, carrying Cian over to where his siblings were waiting to take a picture with Mickey Mouse.
"They're so damn precious." Mandy commented as Ian and Mickey both snapped pictures of their children.
"They act up sometimes, but for the most part they're good kids." Mickey replied, smiling at Cian as the baby touched Mickey Mouse's nose.
Mick (9:15 AM): [Multimedia attachment] Kids got pretty excited when they saw Mickey Mouse.
Mickey had to smile at his kids-both boys in their Mickey Mouse shirts, black shorts, black sandals, and aviator sunglasses, and Harlow in her Elsa tank top, cutoff denim shorts, glittery blue sandals, and a pair of purple sunglasses-smiling broadly at Mickey Mouse in his picture; God, he fucking loved these kids so much.
Fi (9:17 AM): I better get a damn picture of the girls with Anna and Elsa.
"Fiona wants a picture of Harlow and Arya with Anna and Elsa." Mickey relayed to his sister, husband, and Brother-in-law.
"Better go find some princesses for our girls." Lip commented, scooping his niece up when she ran at the adults, rambling about meeting Mickey Mouse. "On to the rides!" Lip boomed, lifting Harlow onto his shoulders and running off with the youngest redheaded Gallagher.
"My brother stole our daughter." Ian whispered to his husband as he walked back over to Mickey with Cian in his arms.
"Hey, they only got one kid; they can take one of ours off our hands for a few minutes." Mickey chuckled, taking Max's hand as the Gallagher's continued to explore the park.
"Tea cups, Daddy!" Harlow gasped, pulling Mickey towards the Tea cups ride.
"Okay, okay, we can go on the Tea cups." Mickey said, allowing his four-year-old to drag him around. He may still look like a Southside thug, but Mickey could admit that he was completely wrapped around his two little redheads and his baby boy's fingers, and he liked it that way.
"Cup?" Arya asked, looking up hopefully at her mother.
"Yeah, we'll ride the cups, baby girl." Mandy agreed, picking her daughter up to get in line.
"You wanna ride the Tea cups, Max?" Ian asked, knowing his son was looking forward to the scarier rides.
"Uhm... Yeah." Max said, shocking Ian slightly.
"I'll fuckin' hurl if I spin like that, so I'll watch Mouse." Lip offered, knowing he couldn't handle spinning rides.
"Thanks. He's got some cookies in his diaper bag if he gets fussy." Ian informed his brother, knowing Cian would probably get hungry, soon.
"Daddy?" Harlow whispered, gently tugging on Mickey's hand.
"Yeah, Ladybug?" Mickey asked, looking down at his daughter as she removed her sunglasses and looked up at him with wide, blue eyes.
"Are we gonna stay to see fireworks?" Harlow asked, obviously having heard the family in front of them discussing it.
"If you guys aren't too tired, tonight; if not, we'll stay another night." Mickey offered the young girl, knowing Harlow adored fireworks.
"The fireworks aren't just tonight?!" Harlow asked through a gasp, her eyes even wider.
"They have fireworks every night." The man in front of Mickey informed Harlow before turning to smile at Mickey. "Sorry to eavesdrop, but she sounded so excited about it."
"Not a problem, man." Mickey said, though he picked Harlow up and perched her on his hip; he didn't like the intensity in his stare and-even though it was directed at him and not his daughter-it made him too uncomfortable to leave his daughter on her feet.
"Mick, babe, you want me to take her?" Ian asked from behind Mickey, placing a comforting-and possessive-hand on the small of Mickey's back.
"Nah, we're good." Mickey replied, turning his head to kiss Ian's cheek. This was their fucking vacation and their kids were having fun; they weren't gonna let some creepy asshole ruin it for them.
"We're next! We're next!" Harlow shouted, bouncing in Mickey's arms as they finally boarded the ride. "Daddy! We got a purple cup!" Harlow exclaimed as they took their seats and Mickey tried to ignore Lip taking their picture. Mickey didn't care if Lip now had photographic evidence of him sitting in a purple Tea cup; his daughter-all three of his children, for that matter-were happy and that's all that matters.
|
Morning
Still further into his infernal dream sank Dracula, revisiting the nightmare and the dark remembrance of how his cursed life had come to pass.
Poisoned with a curse and the fertility of his madness, Vlad was in full retreat before the Ottoman armies; his paranoia grew upon him and snatched the last of his humanity. Believing his Saxon countrymen were collaborators with the Ottoman sultan, he laid waste to their villages and provoked a slaughter unmatched in man's history. None before were his equal in savagery. No fiend had meted out more sublime tortures or teased out such agonies. Nor had the witnesses heard shrieks more bloodcurdling than those of his victims.
Dracula's soldiers herded these doomed Saxons together, forcing them to disrobe and corralling them at spear point. At the same time, others of Dracula's soldiers hastened to the surrounding forests. There they fashioned the impaling stakes. Those prisoners who did not disrobe quickly enough were summarily hacked to death with shovels or beheaded from behind with serrated daggers. The villagers knew well their fate, but as the first prisoners were brought to the reckoning and skewered artfully onto the sharpened poles, a cry of despair filled all the spaces between heaven and earth. Some squat to let loose their paralyzed bowels. Others stood and prayed to their god, their feet wandering in steaming piles of excrement. Thus were the forests of the impaled erected.
****
But Dracula was once a modern man; he'd chosen logic over superstition, reason over religious fanaticism.
While at the university in Siena, he befriended a young Egyptian student.
Ammon told stories about treasures that existed in tombs forgotten to time. The Valley of the Kings. He talked of a map passed from father to son through his family's generations until it came to his grandfather, Habib.
For fear of the Pharoah's curse, Habib destroyed the map. But, in the act, he'd brought condemnation upon himself--or so he thought. He could not shake the map's details from his thoughts; he could not unknow them. Destroying the map had made him custodian of its furies. Specters flooded his dreams and occupied his waking hours.
Thinking to end his torture, he redrew the map from memory, placed it in a velvet-lined box, and hid it in a limestone cavern he'd discovered while herding goats. He prayed for his antagonists to accept his offering and release their hold on him. But the specters continued to haunt him. His delusions grew, and he fell prey to madness. He often visited the map's hiding place, believing himself a Pharoah, experiencing states of rapture as he held his lamp aloft and imagined ingots of gold.
As a dying old man, Habib revealed the map's location to Ammon's father, Omar, who thought it fanciful, retrieved the map, and then gave it to Ammon as a novelty.
Dracula was a discerning listener and thought Ammon's stories plausible. Imaginings of the described treasures would not leave his mind. Ammon assured Dracula that he could guide an expedition to the valley if Vlad would fund it. Dracula devised a plan, promising Ammon a share in whatever treasure they might discover. Curses are for the dammed!
But, once inside the smoldering crucible, Dracula falls victim to the curse. In the malignant underground corridors where the Litany of Re and the Book of the Gates were shadow murals in the dying light of his lantern, Dracula felt a hand fall on his shoulder. He lifted his lantern to Ammon's startled face.
"We must leave this place, brother," Ammon said, stepping backward.
But Dracula pushed on, first to the antechamber and then to the burial chamber where infinitude awaited. Worse was his arrogation of the Egyptian book of curses, through which he opened the world to shadows and summoned Desponia from on high to join in his slaughters. Only by degrees did his need for blood grow. Only by degrees did his mortality drain away and his cruelty increase. His presence at the head of a column dispirited his enemies, for here was the Impaler and his terrible message. Here was the unholy war machine, ready to dip his bread in the blood of any that opposed him.
It came to pass that Ammon took his own eyes with a dagger, and thus did he rant and foam until those who'd loved him ended his suffering with a rain of stones.
****
The sun climbed the horizon with plains of maize leaning to her light. Falcons dove through cloud breaks as a sparrow lit on a cart and snatched a seed within the curtain walls. Ehrlich watched from a rampart as village workers collected in the shadow of Dracula's fortress. He signaled the gatehouse to lower the drawbridge and started down a ladder.
The workers assembled themselves in a single file as Ehrlich counted heads and gave the tradespeople, artisans, and laborers permission to enter the yard. The stable doors flew open as a large woman drew water from a well. A blacksmith added coal to a glowing forge. A maid proceeded to the great hall with her cleaning basket.
Meanwhile, in the castle's largest bedchamber, Desponia pressed against her gypsy's body, sweeping Luminita's hair from the nape of her neck and inhaling her fragrance. The platinum clasp on Luminita's necklace shone in the window's light, and the pearls clicked as she stirred.
"I want porridge,"
"And you shall have it," replied Desponia, "but first, you must meet a friend."
"A friend?"
"You'll see. Afterward, we'll have breakfast: quail eggs, cheese, and porridge if you like."
"Where are my clothes?"
"Ha-ha, I had a servant burn them. A new wardrobe will soon be yours. In the meantime, wrap yourself in this rag."
"What is it?"
"It's called a kimono, a trendy thing in distant lands."
Luminita dressed and followed Desponia along the castle's southern corridor.
"Take my hand, Luminita."
They stepped into daylight, and Desponia let go with a slow whistle that grew in volume until its shrillness caused the gypsy to cower and cover her ears.
Onyx burst from the tree line, the salivating wolf of Luminita's bad dreams. She twirled around, lunging for the door on collapsing legs, her hands taking the shape of claws as the limpidity of her child-face recast as a punched mirror. She shrieked at the top of her lungs before fainting dead away.
When she regained consciousness, she discovered Onyx at her side.
"It seems you've won him over."
Wide-eyed, Luminita crawled back on her elbows. "I do not think so!"
"Reach a hand to him."
Luminita reached, and Onyx sniffed.
"You, see? You've fascinated him."
Luminita tugged one of his ears, then tested her courage. "Do as I tell you...you...absurd thing!" To which Onyx only panted a little.
"Take care not to overexcite him, Luminita. Let us walk in the woods together, just the three of us. Later we'll introduce Onyx to our horse team. Onyx heel!"
Onyx disappeared with this command, then goosed Luminita with his invisible nose. She flinched and giggled. "Oh! How vulgar!"
"Let him do it," encouraged Desponia. "Have you nothing to say about his vanishment?"
"Do not think me a complete fool," Luminita snapped. "You're a necromancer, as is he!" She pointed towards the castle.
Desponia smiled. "Clever girl. Let's walk then."
"Very well," said Luminita, struggling to push Onyx's nose from between her legs.
"Stop, Onyx! Oh, now you've given me goosebumps!" She wrinkled her nose. "Filthy animal."
Following a lengthy walk in the forest, the goddess and her gypsy returned to the castle.
Instinctively, Onyx faded out and followed them inside.
Desponia led Onyx to her chambers, then called for the kitchen workers, asking for venison and a large bucket of water to be left on the floor.
As soon as Desponia had Onyx situated, she called for Marie, her lead seamstress.
"How goes the materials?"
"All is in readiness. We wait only on the lady's attendance," Maria said, glancing at Luminita.
Luminita removed her kimono.
"Why does she stare so?" she whispered, pulling a blanket around her shoulders.
"She admires you. Lead the way to your workplace, Maria."
Maria led them across the yard, past the workers who glanced with adoration at Desponia and her ethereal posture. The courtyard's din returned only after the goddess had passed into Maria's workshop.
"This clothing is suitable to wear about the castle," Desponia said, pointing to a rack. "Pick something and wear it. The rest will be fitted to your figure by the day's end. We'll soon embark upon a journey."
Luminita frowned. "A journey?"
"Why, yes, Luminita," Desponia said. She reached out to toy with Luminita's pearls. "I mentioned it yesterday while we stood in the tavern."
"The tavern?"
"Oh, well, best not to trouble over details. Now hold still and let Maria take your measurements." Desponia turned to Maria.
"See that this girl's wardrobe can withstand a frost."
An hour later, the women sat at the marble table in the great hall. A roasted pig stuffed with walnuts, cranberries, pieces of bread, and pudding lay before them.
Luminita sat back, rubbing her stomach. "Oof, I can eat no more. My seams will burst."
Desponia smiled, "The amount you've eaten should sustain until lunchtime.
I'm about preparation today. Stay close, and you will learn." She walked through the hall with Luminita in tow but was checked by a harrowing wail. She held out a hand and listened.
"My child! My child!" screamed a woman.
Desponia glided to the hall's entrance and peered into the yard.
"It's murder," cried the woman, reaching out to show the blood on her hands. "Oh, unholy murder! I saw a demon as it fed upon my child, a thing from hell. My infant lies slaughtered in its cradle, and the monster vanishes."
Another scream ripped the air, and the woman ran blindly, pulling at her hair.
Desponia lingered, her brow furrowing. Then called a servant.
|
Dr. Sterling Parry-Ellis entered his last exam room of the afternoon to find a magnificent surprise.
“Holy shit,” he grinned. Affection ballooned within his heart, and he stepped over to the shelf by the door to lift the canister with dried veggies and fruit. He pulled a bit of pineapple out and stepped over, offering it to the golden conure sitting atop the bird perch. “He’s gorgeous…absolutely beautiful. We don’t often see them. Hi, Winslow.”
Winslow the parrot was much more interested in the treats in Sterling’s hand than him; he hopped to the end of the perch and leaned forward, trying to stick his beak into the still-open canister, and both his owner and Sterling laughed.
“No more right now,” Sterling chided gently. He reached out and stroked the conure’s head; the bird responded by shifting closer and burbling happily. “Not ’til we see to you. What’s going on with him?”
He directed the question to the owner, who was looking at Sterling and the bird with a pleased smile.
“He likes you,” he said, surprised. “He doesn’t usually let strangers touch him. You’re the avian vet here?”
“Well, no— I see all types of pets— but I have a soft spot for birds,” Sterling admitted. A very soft spot. “My wife had a bird just like this when we were kids.”
The man’s eyes flashed to Sterling’s left hand, as if double-checking for a ring— which there was. He never took it off. “Oh? Do you still have birds?”
“Yes,” Sterling smiled, still stroking Winslow’s bright, cheery feathers. “Definitely. We wouldn’t be without them, or at least one in particular.”
The man, contented by Winslow’s acceptance of Sterling as well as the knowledge that he was a “fellow bird owner”, soon unloaded a half-hour’s worth of concerns and questions onto Sterling. The bird was ‘acting off’, the owner said, and after a thorough examination, Sterling found a tiny lesion on the plantar region of his left foot. He was relieved it was something simple and easy to treat; he was on call tonight after a long day, and the morning had already been challenging. A win would be nice, and he wasn’t sure his heart could’ve taken bad news for this beautiful bird, whose bright yellow feathers made Sterling think of Vera and Max with so much longing that he could hardly bear it.
“Bumblefoot, but we’ve caught it very early. Grade 1. Vitamin E ointment, supplements to address any nutritional deficits, and no more rough perches.”
He provided the owner with the medication needed, gave the bird a final stroke goodbye, and then headed towards the back office to work on the stack of patient files from today. He had to enter his handwritten notes from today’s examinations into their computer system before leaving, a task that usually took him at least a half-hour if he was being thorough, and he quickly realized as he glanced at the stack that it wasn’t only his filesthere by his computer.
You’ve got to be fucking kidding me, he thought, and he quickly sorted through the folders, counting up— thirty-seven! Thirty-seven of Dr. Louw’s files from today! In addition to the forty Sterling himself had seen. This was the third time this week alone that his colleague had done this, and Sterling set the folders down and opened the desk drawer for his phone to text Vera and complain.
He got distracted, though, seeing he had loads of messages. Fourteen alone from Emyr, who was going through a rather dramatic breakup, some from friends, one from Will, one from Martin, and most importantly— four from his wife.
He read through hers (two were a rant about some shitty boyfriend of a patient she’d seen today, the third was a picture of their preferred pub’s menu for tonight, and the fourth was a message letting him know she was finally off and inquiring when he’d be able to leave), but right as he began typing a response, he felt a hand grab the back of his chair, causing it to swivel some.
“I hope you don’t mind,” Dr. Louw said. “I’ve got dinner plans with my wife.”
If Sterling had a dæmon, it’d be pecking that man’s eyes out right now.
“Actually, I do, too,” Sterling said, turning his chair to face Louw. He was the oldest veterinarian here— and the owner of the practice— and his method of training up his new vets was reminiscent of hazing. Sterling was expected to take over any on-call nights the more senior vets didn’t care to take, which meant he was nearly always on-call, and he was saddled with the most challenging patients, and now apparently everyone else’s paperwork, too. Sterling had quietly endured it for the past year, but he was getting sick of it now. He could endure being beaten (he’d had to learn that skill quickly as a child), but he was in a place now where he really just didn’t think he should even have to.
“You have dinner plans with my wife?” Louw joked. “Good luck affording her tastes!”
Sterling wasn’t in the mood. “No. I have plans with mine. She’s been working since five, and I was on call last night so I haven’t really seen her since, like, ten the night before, and we planned to meet after her shift at the Taproom—”
“Yes, well, I’m taking Marienne to La Colombe,” Louw interrupted. He was already pulling his car keys from his pocket and shifting towards the exit. “It’s much harder to get reservations there for a Friday night than a pub. Have a good night, Sterling.”
Motherfucker, Sterling thought, glaring at Louw’s back as he left. Naaier. Right then, he hoped he got food poisoning.
Fortunately, Sterling was married to someone who could infuse sunshine into even the shittiest day. She got their food to-go from the Taproom and came to the clinic to sit and eat with Sterling while he typed, and just having her nearby (seeing her smile, hearing her voice, smelling her hair, kissing her lips) eased the tension he’d been holding in his neck and shoulders all day long.
It really had been a terrible day, but as soon as she was there, that didn’t matter anymore.
“God, his handwriting is total kak,” Vera complained. She was thumbing through one of Dr. Louw’s files, reading his notes from today aloud to Sterling so Sterling could type them. They’d finished their food and were now halfway through their pints, and Vera was sitting beside him in Dr. Louw’s computer chair, her bare, pretty feet propped up on the edge of the desk and her bright, tired eyes scanning Dr. Louw’s cramped text. “Is this supposed to be ‘aboral?’”
Max—perched on Sterling’s shoulder— leaned in to look. “Has to be given the context, but what the fuck is that handwriting…”
“I know! It’s atrocious!”
“I swear he does it on purpose,” Sterling complained. “Because he knows he’s not the one who will have to make sense of it.”
“He needs to hire receptionists. This is ridiculous! Please, can I convince him to pour his wine all over his shirt or something?”
Oh, the thought was tempting and delicious. Vera could’ve made him do anything without lifting a single finger. Order every single thing on the menu so he had an exorbitant bill, row with his wife, throw bread sticks across the restaurant— any of it. All of it. And he would never know it was them.
But he knew, later, she’d feel a bit guilty for it, and it was concern for her and respect for her that kept him from saying yes.
“No, we’d better not,” he said. He brought his fingers back to the keyboard with a sigh. “What’s next?”
He finished up Louw’s files with Vera’s help, breezed through his own, and then—finally—it was time to go home. He wasn’t sure how long he’d actually get to be home (they usually had at least one emergency call each night; last night he’d had three), but he’d be grateful for whatever time he got.
He locked the clinic up and took Vera’s hand. They walked home; they lived in a small, two-bedroom house in Salt River, a fifteen minute walk from Good Hope Veterinary Clinic and twenty-four from Groote Schuur. Their parents’ opinions were that it wasn’t ideal (Martin and Anne turned their noses up at the area, prejudice to their neighbors and the fact that a textile factory was located just down the road from their home, and Lyra and Will were concerned because they’d had a break-in the first month they moved in here), but Sterling adored everything about it. The bright yellow exterior, the fenced in garden, the upstairs study with wide windows that let in so much light the wooden floorboards glowed. Its proximity to their workplaces meant they spent less time commuting and more time together, and there was a park directly across the street from them and a dog park right beside that. And they could afford it all on their own, which was a point of pride for both of them. The Ellises and the Parrys had been trying to throw money at them their entire adult life together, but they’d resisted every time, and now they had a home that was all theirs. A home for their little family, his and Vera’s. A home no one could take away or control but them. It was the best thing that had ever happened to Sterling.
She told him about her day as they walked, and he told her about his, sparing nothing. He kissed her temple when she mentioned how exhausted she was and wrapped his arm around her waist, pulling her closer, and she rested her head against his shoulder as he told her about his traumatizing morning. He’d had to euthanize a beautiful two-year-old Golden Retriever who’d been attacked by a pack of stray dogs so horrifically that any attempted surgery would have been a cruelty rather than a kindness; the family had wept so hard and so long, deeply traumatized from having witnessed the attack and then having lost their precious pet, that Sterling had to step into the bathroom to cry after it was all said and done. The dog had been so sweet— even lying there on the table, mangled and torn and bleeding out, it had wagged its tail for its owners nonstop.
He’d been cautioned and warned during vet school about the emotional toll of the profession. He and his classmates even had a course on mental health strategies, and they’d been required to make contact with a therapist prior to practicing (a new law put into place to try and counter the extreme rate of suicide within the veterinary profession) so that they had someone in case the need arose. Most days, Sterling got by just fine, and he loved his job. But on days like today, he understood the weight of it. He couldn’t have done it without Vera, and she’d told him some of the same during med school and then her two-year internship. Currently, Vera was in her specialty training program to obtain her MMed in Obstetrics and Gynecology, which she was enjoying much more than the intense slough of her internship years, but she had her days, too. Luckily, they weren’t strangers to the stress or the toil. How many nights in uni had they stayed awake until dawn, flashing cards at one another and editing each other’s papers and making each other cups of coffee? When he thought back on their six years of uni now, he remembered it as a hazy, sleep-deprived fog. There had been awful stress for both of them, yes, but it hadn’t been terrible— because they had each other. They’d lived in a studio apartment with Liefie until graduation, and then they’d moved here to their wonderful little house, and Vera started her internship while Sterling joined Louw’s practice. Nearly a year ago now, on the 11th of November (it’d be one year exactly in one month and nine days), they’d married on First Beach in Clifton. The joy of that day had never left him.
“I think we ought to go swim,” Vera decided. “Get the dogs and some drinks…we’ve got time yet ’til dark. What do you think?”
He slowed and kissed her. “I think that I love you.”
She smiled into his kiss and then kissed him a second time, and then a third, and then a fourth; by now, they’d stopped walking, and she looped her arms around his neck and hugged him tightly.
I love you, she told him in his head, and she shared the love she felt crowding her chest. Sterling was glad to know it was the same he always felt when he was with her, too.
They were greeted by their three overjoyed dogs when they arrived home, and today’s dog-sitter (Emyr), bombarded them as soon as they walked in.
“Not a single text,” Emyr complained to Sterling, brandishing his phone. “Fourteen I sent you! Some brother you are! With Elan fucked off to Oxford you’d think I’d at least have you, seeing as though you’re right here!”
“I’ve got a full-time job, Em,” Sterling reminded him. He leaned over and hugged Liefie, mindful of her tender hips, and she bathed his face in eager kisses. “I read them on the walk over. I’m really sorry this is happening to you.”
“Mum never liked Agetha, and Mum pretty much likes everyone, so that should’ve told you something from the start,” Vera said. She was kneeling and being accosted with kisses from Hartlam, their eight year old Shar Pei-Labrador mix with a checkered past who worshiped the ground Vera walked on; he’d been found locked in a hot car two years ago in the sweltering heat, and a good Samaritan had pulled him from the vehicle and rushed him to the nearest vet— which happened to be Sterling. And Sterling had fallen in love with him and his kind eyes at once. When no one stepped up to claim him, Vera and Sterling had, and now he was as much a part of their little family as Liefie. “Oh, I know, you missed us, didn’t you? Hmm? Poor Hartlam!”
Their most recent addition to the family was Mango, a two year old Corgi-Africanis mix who’d been dropped at the shelter for ‘barking too much’. In Vera and Sterling’s house, the barking wasn’t an issue for long; they’d realized quickly enough that he just needed to watch and see, and so they’d had Malcolm build him a custom dog bed with stairs that sat right in front of a window facing the front of the house, and he curled there and napped and watched through the glass during the day. He rarely barked after that. He was the sweetest dog; he’d get so happy to see people and other dogs that his entire body wiggled with joy. He was Eden’s particular favorite; she and Isla often dogsat whenever Emyr was busy (which was often), and when they couldn’t, Sterling and Vera brought the dogs to a doggy daycare a few minutes away.
“How’d you like to go swimming? Yeah? Wanna swim?” Vera cooed, stroking Mango now. All three dogs erupted into excited ‘tap-dancing’ (as Sterling and Vera called it), and Vera went to change out of her scrubs and into her bathing suit while Sterling got the harnesses and water bowls packed for the dogs.
“Come with us,” he told Emyr. He zipped their beach bag shut and looked at his brother; he was hanging upside down on the sofa, his phone held in the air above his face. His long curls brushed the carpet. “It’ll get your mind off things. Always does for me and Vera.”
He didn’t seem to hear Sterling, too involved with whatever he was looking at on his phone.
“I can’t believe she cheated on me,” he muttered, more to himself and Aly than to Sterling. Aly was sprawled on the living room carpet in her true form (a black leopard), and she was making an irritable yowling noise and glaring at the wall. Elan and Emyr’s dæmons had “settled double”, as the older adults had taken to calling it, each choosing a permanent ‘Outside World’ form and then their true form, switching between the two (but only those two) forever. At home, Aly was a black leopard and Theo was a clouded leopard, but out in public, Aly was an easily-concealed crimson-breasted shrike and Theo a spotted rat.
“I mean,” he continued, his tone baffled. “I’m me. I make seventy-two thousand rand a month on my modeling, and that’s only part time for fun. I could make thrice that if I actually did it seriously, and even more if I did nudes. And she cheated on me for this— this kakface naaier—he’s studying theology! What the fuck, seriously? Oh my God— he plays the cello! Am I having a stroke?! Look at this shit!”
Emyr flipped backwards and landed on his feet, and then he carried his phone over to Sterling. Sterling paused filling the dogs’ water bottles and took the offered phone. He was looking at a social media profile for the boy Agetha had cheated on Emyr with. He wasn’t ugly, but he definitely wasn’t Parry-level attractive, either.
“Yeah, that’s fucked up,” he agreed, passing the phone back.
Emyr tapped the screen, typing quickly, and Sterling finished gathering their items for their beach trip.
“So? You coming to the beach?” He asked Emyr, before heading towards his and Vera’s bedroom to change from his scrubs.
“Nah,” Emyr answered, still typing away. “I’m going to hang with this bloke.”
Sterling arched an eyebrow. “The…guy she cheated with?”
“Yeah. I’m gonna find out what he’s got that I don’t. We’re getting pizza.”
Sterling grimaced. “Please don’t get arrested. I’m on call tonight, and Vera’s been working since five. We’re not coming to bail you out at three AM this time.”
“You would so,” Emyr refuted. “But I’m not fighting anyone. Promise.” His phone gave a shrill ring, and he brandished the screen where Sterling could see Elan’s photo and name as it rang. “About damn time.” He answered. “Where the hell have you been, broer? Because things are happening here! Come through the window. We’re getting pizza with the boy Agetha cheated on me with— what? So? I have an anatomy paper due tonight and rugby practice tomorrow morning and you don’t see me bailing out—so do it tonight! Yeah! I promise you’ll be home by midnight. Well, one. Two at the latest. Yes. Yes. Okay. Yes, she really said that! I know, right?!”
Emyr ranted to his twin while he gathered his school books and such, and then he clapped Sterling on the shoulder in parting and left, presumably headed to get pizza or maybe back to his dorm.
Sterling prayed Elan did come home for dinner tonight, if only so he could be there to keep Emyr somewhat sane. He didn’t much want to spend his night arguing with the police.
They swam with their dogs for a good long while, and then— when the sun began to set— they retreated to the sand.
The setting sun was a deep orange, and the light warmed Vera’s skin and bathed her in radiance. Sterling looked at her, at her dark, dripping curls, her smooth shoulders, her soft breasts…he felt like his heart had taken over every centimeter of his chest. He pulled her over, dragging her atop him, and he hugged her tightly.
“I fucking love you,” he murmured.
She smiled against his neck and kissed him, trailing kisses over his neck and shoulder every few words. “Mmm. I love you…I wanted you so badly all day— I nearly walked to the clinic during my lunch break—but I knew you were in surgery—”
He rolled them over, pressing her against their beach towel and kissing her deeply. He rested his forehead against hers afterwards and stroked up her belly. He inched his fingers beneath her swimming top. “I can’t wait ’til our anniversary.”
“Oh, I’m counting down the days, liefling!”
“They can’t pass quickly enough,” he agreed.
They were taking a week off work and escaping to the island Vera had lived on as a small child, just them and their dogs. They hadn’t been back for nearly ten years now; the last time they’d been there, Sterling was seventeen, and he was turning twenty-seven this December. So much about his life (and him) was different now, but some things were the same. The most important things. Like who he loved, and who he would die for. Who he saw as his family.
“Maybe,” Vera whispered, her breath hot against his neck, “it’ll be ready by the time we go. The antidote.”
Sterling felt his heart lurch with equal-parts excitement and nervousness. “It may.”
“Mary seemed optimistic last weekend, didn’t she? And I can definitely see her dæmon more often now, and that one time we saw it when we were all playing Monopoly, it was as solid as Max.”
“It was,” Sterling agreed. But it’d flickered out of view soon after. “If there’s only enough for a couple doses initially, I want your sisters to have it, though. I can wait.”
He was so happy already. If the first successful batch was a small one, he would wait until more was made. Eden and Isla deserved it first.
“If my parents will let them,” Vera murmured, worried. He knew she was thinking about the row her parents had gotten into at family dinner last Saturday. It’d been horrifying, seeing Lyra and Will truly argue— Sterling never had before. He’d seen bickering here and there, but nothing like that. Lyra was adamant that Eden and Isla should get to decide for themselves whether they want to take the (risky, experimental) ‘antidote’ that may or may not make their dæmons manifest physically, whereas Will was insisting they couldn’t take anything until it’d been thoroughly tested and vetted. Mary had gotten ill from a previous batch— so ill she went to hospital briefly— and Will had been against her reckless experimentation ever since then. Her being so unwell had really shaken them all, Elaine and Will especially, and Sterling definitely understood Will’s caution.
He’d offered to take it next— to be a guinea pig of sorts before Eden and Isla took it— but his father-in-law had reacted with equal horror at that suggestion, and had ‘forbade’ Sterling from taking it, too, forgetting in his concern that Sterling was a grown man and could do what he liked. Though, if Will was against something, Sterling wasn’t really for it in principle; he respected his opinion that much.
“As long as Mary seems well enough, Will’ll probably come around,” Sterling reasoned. He looked up at the sherbet sky in search of Maxie, but he’d sensed Sterling’s searching and was already landing on the towel beside them. “What do you think about it, Max?”
Max shifted closer and leaned in, gently nuzzling his beak against Sterling’s cheek first and then pecking fondly at his damp hair. “I think I may finally get to kiss Noelani one day soon.”
Sterling and Vera both smiled. He hoped that were so, but as it stood presently, there was absolutely nothing he would change about his personal life. So he could be patient.
His professional life, on the other hand, he could stand to change a few things in.
He was roused a quarter past two in the morning by his ringing phone. Vera, twisted up with him beneath the covers, her naked skin plastered against his, groaned.
“Why’re all these pets so sick?” she whined against his chest.
“Could be your brother,” Sterling yawned.
“Ugh. Why is my brother so sick in the head, then?”
Sterling sighed and extracted an arm from the covers, reaching towards the shelf by the bed for his phone. He scrambled for it and narrowly grabbed it with the tips of his fingers. He didn’t recognize the number.
“Not Em.”
Vera groaned and tightened her arms around his waist, squeezing possessively. “Don’t go.”
But he’d have to if it were truly an emergency. He answered the phone, greeted at once by a frantic, weeping elderly woman whose little dog was seizing. Sterling sat up and got her calm enough to give him some more details, and then he determined he’d need to see the dog as soon as possible.
“Head to the clinic now. I’ll be there when you get there. I live nearby,” he told the woman. Vera sighed.
He reluctantly climbed from the warm covers and his wife’s arms. She sat up.
“I’ll come with you,” she offered, yawning.
He sat on the edge of the bed and leaned in to kiss her. “No. You’ve got to work tomorrow. You should sleep.”
“When will you be back?”
“I don’t know, but if it’s before you have to leave, I’ll bring breakfast home. Okay?” He kissed her again.
“Okay,” she said, leaning in to kiss him back. “I love you.”
“I love you, too.”
She snuggled back beneath the covers. Sterling patted Mango’s belly, stroked Hartlam’s ears, and kissed the top of Liefie’s head.
“You watch out for her,” he told them. Hartlam’s tail thumped the mattress in response, and Liefie shifted up the bed, moving to lay atop the duvet in the spot Sterling was previously occupying. She snuggled close to Vera.
“My sweet old girl,” Sterling cooed. He kissed her snout. “Good girl, Liefie.”
“The best girl,” Vera corrected sleepily.
“Yes,” Sterling agreed. She was their good girl, and Sterling was thankful for her, and for Hartlam and Mango. He was thankful that he wasn’t leaving Vera alone at night when he had to leave. She sometimes had terrible nightmares; it seemed the more Churchmen she met over the years and the more heads she dove into, the more things haunted her subconscious.
Vera woke drenched in sweat and trembling, her three dogs draped atop her and Hartlam nosing her awake.
“Thank you,” she whispered to him. She stroked his head, her fingers shivering as she did. Her heart was racing. “Good boy.”
Already it was slipping away— the terror from her dreams. She remembered a few pieces, pieces that were constant in most of her nightmares— black marble floor, the moon— but the other specifics trickled away before she could grasp them. She wasn’t even sure she wanted to. Every time she had this nightmare, it frightened her even more, and she hated it happening when Sterling wasn’t here. She always felt lost after it, and terribly alone, like someone had scooped her heart out. Like she’d been transported to a world where it was only her alone— no family, no husband. Just her. And that was her worst fear of all (being alone.)
When this happened, when she woke from nightmares and she couldn’t reach her husband, she usually rang her mum or dad or Mieke or Iyana. Sometimes Elan, too, but less so now that he was in Oxford; he was studying medicine (his ultimate career goal being neurology), and Vera knew firsthand how grueling being a med student was. She couldn’t get herself to ring him at unusual hours anymore because of it. She considered ringing Emyr— he was surely still awake— but he’d insist on coming over here if she did, and he had classes in a couple hours. He already didn’t take his physiotherapy degree seriously enough without Vera pulling him away from class on top of it.
“We’ll be fine,” Vera told Max. But she was still shaking.
She knew there was no way she was going to get back to sleep, so she wormed her way out from beneath the dogs, grabbed her phone, pulled her dressing gown on, and wandered out to the kitchen to make coffee.
The house was dark and silent. The street outside was empty. She made coffee, feeling deeply uneasy, and then sat on the floor in the living room to drink it, so that Hartlam, Liefie, and Mango could drape over her lap and be close to her. She didn’t have a message from Sterling yet; that meant, whatever was going on at the clinic, he wasn’t near done yet.
And nothing was truly wrong— she knew that logically— but whatever she’d seen in her dreams had elicited a physical response that she just couldn’t shake. She felt sick and terrified, and deeply depressed. She’d told herself she wasn’t going to ring anyone at this hour, but when her chest began to feel tight, she couldn’t keep from it. Her first choice when she couldn’t reach Sterling was always her parents, even now at age twenty-five, and though they all had to be at the clinic in a couple hours (Vera worked there on the weekends, providing walk-in gynecological care; she made more on one weekend doing that than she made in two weeks at Groote Schuur), she couldn’t keep from ringing them.
Her dad answered on the second ring, his voice gruff with sleepiness. “Hello?”
She felt guilt slam into her at how tired he sounded. “Dad. Sorry. It’s really early, I know, I just— Sterling’s on call and—” how stupid it felt to say I had a nightmare! She was an adult. She was a doctor. And here she was tearing up over a bad dream she couldn’t even remember.
“Nightmare?” Dad asked. She didn’t even need to say it.
She nodded and whispered: “Mmhmm.” Her eyes burned with withheld tears.
She heard her mum murmuring something in the background and the sound of the covers rustling as Dad presumably sat up.
“Come home,” Dad said. He muffled a yawn. “We’ll have omelettes and smoothies for breakfast, and you can ride with us to the clinic.”
She felt foolish and selfish for it, but she couldn’t turn down the offer.
“Okay. Thanks, Dad.”
“When will Sterling be home?” Mum asked. Vera guessed Dad had put the phone on speaker.
“Soon, I hope…I’ll text him and tell him to come through the window once he’s off.”
“Please do; we’ll get your old room ready in case he wants to rest when he gets here. And bring the dogs with you; Dad and I brought leftovers home for them last night.”
“Okay. I love you,” she told them both. “Sorry it’s so early.”
“We love you more,” Mum said back, her voice warm. “And we’re happy to see you at any hour, Sunshine.”
She texted Sterling to let him know where she was going and to come through the window, and then she dressed in a pair of his joggers and one of his hoodies. She sniffed the collar of it as she packed a pair of scrubs, her work shoes, and a stethoscope in her bag for work later, feeling her whole body grow heavy with love at just the smell of him lingering on the fabric.
I love you, she texted him. She wondered how many times a day she said those words and how many times she heard them. Within the walls of this little yellow home alone, she couldn’t even estimate a number. I hope everything’s going well.
Sometimes he came home to her with a haunted look in his eyes after emergency visits, and he’d cried in her arms on more than a few occasions. But she’d cried in his, too, more times than she could count. When she lost her first patient— during the first year of her internship— she’d cried on and off for three days. In the mornings, during her brief, 10-minute work breaks, during lunch, dinner, at bedtime. The guilt had been enormous; she hadn’t known it would feel like that. And he hadn’t left her alone to carry it for even a minute; he’d walked to Groote Schuur to be with her on her breaks, and he’d brought her tea and coffee often throughout her shifts, just to pop in on her and hug her and make her feel loved and good again, and he’d held her in his arms and stroked her hair for hours and hours each night as she wept. It’s not your fault, he’d murmured to her, and it’s what she needed to hear so much she cried even harder every time she did. I know it feels like it is. Trust me, I know. But you did everything you knew how to do. Sometimes, that won’t be enough; but it isn’t because you didn’t want it to be.
She’d fallen even deeper in love with him after that experience. She’d loved him since she was thirteen-years-old, but that first year of her internship had been the moment when she’d fully understood that he was as much a part of her as Max was. They’d grown up twisted around each other, tangled and ensnarled, like two tree trunks twisted and tied in their youth. To separate them now that they’d matured and grown around each other would mean disfigurement or utter destruction; she wasn’t even sure who she’d be without him, if she’d be able to stand without his constant embrace. Her uni friends thought her crazy; they often teased her for only having slept with one person, for indicating she had no interest in doing so with anyone else ever, and they insisted that she’d wake up at age forty a completely different person, in love with a completely different person, thinking, I’ve wasted my entire youth. I had no idea who I was before now.
But she knew then that none of that was true. They were growing every day, yes, but they were growing together.
She’d made plans to propose to him that year, ready to make him hers forever. Her friends called her a child-bride and said twenty-four was a mad age to marry someone, but to her, it felt long overdue.
In the end, though, he’d beat her to it: during an evening beach trip one Saturday night, he’d paddled them out on their paddleboard to where the burning sun touched the water, and he’d held her face in his hands and smiled at her, his green eyes misty. When I was taking that course— that mental wellness one— the lecturer said we should end each night by asking ourselves what we want. What’s the thing we value most, hope for most, carry ourselves through life for in hopes we’ll reach it? Vera…every night, what I hope for is that you’ll be with me forever. That you’ll marry me. That’s the thing I want more than anything else.
She’d beamed and she’d laughed and she’d teared up. Is there a question in there somewhere? she’d jested softly, reaching up to cradle his hands to her cheeks.
He’d asked her then— will you marry me?— and she’d tackled him with a kiss so passionate that they’d rolled right off the paddleboard and into the water.
You narrowly beat me, she’d told him later, as they walked hand-in-hand down the shore, Max perched happily on Sterling’s shoulder, because I was going to ask next weekend.
His smile was so brilliant everyone they passed stared at him, at them, and Vera could feel their jealousy and envy. It was entirely warranted, she thought. After all, how many people knew a love that twined and held like theirs?
And now, after nearly a year of blissful marriage, she felt the roots of their love and relationship growing even deeper still. What she wanted now— what she daydreamed about during lunch breaks and walks to and from work— was having a child with him. She was due to have her IUD removed and replaced soon, and she’d been toying with the idea of not replacing it for a while now. She planned to discuss it with him on their anniversary trip. She knew that he wanted kids as much as he feared having kids; he’d told her years ago now that his concern was that he’d end up being a terrible father just as his own had been. But he’d grown so much since then; he didn’t really struggle with his self-worth anymore like he once had, and they even had dinner with Martin and Anne once a month. He’d reached a place of indifference in regards to them that edged close to acceptance, and she hoped that’d give him the freedom to view himself honestly and see that he would be a good father. He’d be a great one. She knew it every time she saw him taking care of their pets or being kind to her siblings. She wanted him to know the sort of love she’d known with her parents, the kind that was rooted in a sort of belonging that felt older than time itself. Knowing someone was part of you— feeling that connection, that devotion. He might not’ve known it from his own parents, but he could know it from their child. She could give him that. He deserved it.
No matter what he said, though, they’d be happy. She’d be fine with living with him and their dogs for the rest of their lives, if that’s what they ended up deciding to do. There were things to love about that version of life. Any version was great so long as he was by her side.
“You’re lucky Sterling’s not here yet,” Vera chided her mother. She was steadily feeding all three of Vera and Sterling’s dogs greasy leftovers of fish and chips, and the dogs were over the moon. They adored Lyra and her coddling. “He doesn’t like them eating greasy people-food.”
“But they love greasy people-food!” Lyra cooed, feeding them each another bite of fried fish. “Don’t you, babies?!”
Mum needs grandkids, too, Max though thought to Vera, amused. She’d already given the dogs a new toy each when they arrived and gave them nearly half her omelette at breakfast.
“They won’t love pancreatitis,” Dad commented. He was at the table with them, but he had his laptop open and was checking the clinic’s website. “Vera, you’re going to have a full day, Sunshine. You’ve already got thirty-three patients in the queue and the online registration for today just opened a half-hour ago.”
An hour ago, that knowledge would’ve exhausted her, but she felt entirely better now, surrounded by family in her childhood home. That awful feeling she’d woken with had disappeared as soon as she had people surrounding her again, and now she felt chipper and excited for the day. She loved the challenge of the clinic; most of her patients were women with persistent gynecological issues other doctors had yet to fix or pregnant women with sudden concerns who didn’t want to wait to see their doctor. And though she was no Dr. House or William Parry, she had a knack for diagnosing all her own; because she could feel what others were feeling, she was often able to get a better idea of what was going on than other doctors. For challenging cases, she’d carefully— and with as much respect as possible— peek into their minds (just enough to understand what their symptoms actually felt like and what they were dealing with) and she’d find the answer quickly enough. The biggest hurdling block to diagnosing was the fact that pain was so subjective; what one woman would describe as twisting pain another would describe as stabbing or throbbing, and pain one person described as debilitating might be communicated as ‘fairly bad’ by another. Being able to side-step that subjectiveness and get a true view of what her patients were truly dealing with enabled Vera to land on the right diagnosis nearly one hundred percent of the time. For that reason, she often had more patients wanting to see her on weekends than she had the time to see.
“Think you’ll come on full-time after your training’s done?” Mum wondered. She wanted Vera to; she’d communicated that often enough. After the horrific, grueling hours and poor working conditions Vera had endured during her two-year internship, Mum was a bit sour on public hospitals.
“I dunno,” Vera admitted. “I haven’t decided.”
A lot of it depended on what she and Sterling decided. If they did end up having a baby, she’d probably go work at the clinic full-time, at least during her pregnancy and a couple years after it. But she’d probably eventually go back to the public system; though it could be thankless in so many ways, the women of her country needed caring, competent doctors. And she could reach more of them working at hospitals than at the clinic.
“You should,” Mum pressed. She slid her chair closer to Vera’s and reached out, wrapping her arms around her and hugging her. She pressed a kiss to the top of her head. “Then you can take over whenever Dad retires.”
“Dad’s never retiring,” Vera laughed. At fifty-one, he worked more hours than he’d worked when Vera was a child; she had a suspicion that he was channeling his paternal instincts towards work, since his children were no longer little. “He likes taking care of people too much.”
“He’s a workaholic,” Mum complained.
“I hear you, you know,” Dad muttered from the other end of the table, still preoccupied with his laptop.
“I know. Do you deny it?” Mum challenged.
“Yes. I work the exact right amount.”
“Hmph,” Mum said, rolling her eyes fondly. Vera knew for a fact Mum enjoyed being at the clinic too, though, so her complaints were likely mainly just to manipulate Vera into feeling the need to ‘rescue’ her father from the clinic. “Eventually, you’ll be too old to work, and what then?”
“And then we’ll retire and open a little cafe-bookshop and adopt some elderly cats. But not a moment before then,” Dad said firmly. He clicked something on the screen and then whistled lowly. “Make that forty patients, Sunshine. Queue’s full.”
“I’m glad I packed my comfortable shoes,” she said. She rose from the table and gathered all their breakfast plates. She leaned over and kissed her Dad’s cheek. “Thanks for breakfast, Dad. I hope omelettes and smoothies are a staple on your cafe menu.”
“They are,” Mum affirmed. “The Sunshine Special: a cheesy omelette with roasted beets and a pineapple-mango smoothie.”
Though Mum was joking, Vera beamed, flattered. “I’d eat there every day! You should really do it! But what would the themed specials be for my siblings?”
“Oh,” Mum began with relish— clearly having thought about this— and she followed Vera into the kitchen, listing off each themed meal for Vera’s siblings while Vera washed the dishes. The excitement and love in her voice were incredibly precious, and after Vera put the dishes away and washed her hands, she hugged her mother tightly.
“I’m glad I came over for breakfast,” she said against her mother’s hair.
Mum squeezed her back. “I’m glad you did, too. I wish you would every morning. You’re still my little baby whether you like it or not.”
Right then, she was happy to be. She felt small and protected her arms no matter how old she got.
Eden and Isla were finally awake when Sterling arrived. Vera was sitting in the garden with them and enjoying coffee before she left for the clinic when she spotted Sterling climbing down from the treehouse (having crossed through the window in the treehouse that connected to their Salt River home). She beamed.
“Finally,” she said, setting her coffee to the side. She’d worried she wouldn’t get to see him before she and her parents left for the clinic.
“He looks fokken exhausted,” Eden commented. “Do you let him sleep at all, Bee?”
“Ha, ha,” Vera said. She didn’t laugh at Eden’s joke, because he did look really tired, and that worried her. “He’s been on call every night for the past two weeks. It’s awful.”
Isla stood up. “I’ll make him coffee. Coffee makes everything better. Cream and a bit of sugar, right?”
“Right,” Vera affirmed, standing too. “Thanks.”
Vera crossed the garden and met her husband halfway, pulling him into a hug as soon as she met him. She took his face in her hands afterwards, studying his green eyes carefully, toeing the doorway of his mind. He invited her in, and she stroked his cheeks as he showed her all that had happened this morning at the clinic.
“Oh, liefling…” she murmured gently. She brought his face closer and rose onto her toes to kiss his lips. “I’m sorry.”
Of all things, his second emergency this morning had been an elderly Newfie who’d taken a sudden turn for the worst. Big dogs went downhill so quickly, and helping to ease the dog from this earth had made him think about when Liefie reached that point. Both he and Vera feared it.
“C’mon,” Vera said, taking his hand. “Isla’s making you coffee, and Dad made breakfast. They changed the sheets on my bed, too, so if you want to stick around after I leave for the clinic, you and the dogs can nap here…you look really tired.”
He often came to the clinic on the weekends, just so he and Vera could see each other some, but that’s not what she wanted for him today. She wanted him to nap and rest.
“Maybe,” he said, in regards to the napping. He yawned. “I wish you could stay and nap, too.”
Right then, she felt the same way. But she had people to help. Hadn’t that always been the case?
She left him sleeping in her childhood bed, their three dogs sprawled around him. She kissed him before she left, even though he was already asleep.
“I’m glad he doesn’t have nightmares like we do,” Max said.
So was she.
The topic on the ride to the clinic was the antidote; Eden had come along to ‘help at the reception desk’ (she fancied the delivery boy who always brought the post to the clinic, though their parents didn’t know that; Vera had walked up on them snogging in front of the rose bushes behind the clinic a couple weeks back) and she had no intention of letting the matter rest until their parents relented.
“Mary feels fine, and I saw her dæmon just this morning! I want to take it.”
“Not yet,” Dad said— for at least the tenth time. His voice was firm. “I’m not risking something happening to you, Eden.”
“I’m seventeen! You can’t treat me like a seven year old!”
“Yeah? Watch me. No experimental poisons nor their antidotes, and that’s final. And if you keep harping on about it, I’m turning the car around and taking you back home.”
Eden turned to look at Vera, appealing for her help, but Vera wasn’t really sure what to say. She saw it both ways.
“What has to be done for you to feel like it’s ‘safe enough’?!” Eden persisted. “When will you be content, Dad?”
It was a good question. It wasn’t as if the antidote could go through proper drug testing protocols. The only people who could really take it were Mary, Elaine, Isla, Eden, and Sterling…and Dad seemed unwilling to let any of them take it. If he could’ve kept Mary from it, he would’ve.
“Elan says it’s safe, Mum says it’s safe— what more do you need?!” she continued.
Dad was quiet. Mum reached over and took his hand.
“I don’t know, Eden,” he finally answered. “But only six months ago everyone thought it’d finally been ‘perfected’, and Mary ended up in hospital.”
Eden groaned and then flopped over, laying over Vera’s lap. She glared up at the ceiling of the car and muttered this is so fucking ridiculous in Afrikaans.
“Think what you like,” Dad said, his tone curt. “But I’d rather be ridiculous than negligent.”
“Help me,” Eden hissed at Vera.
Vera frowned down at her little sister. “I don’t know, Queenie. I’m sort of worried about Sterling taking it, too.”
“But if he wants to, you’re not going to stop him.”
“No, of course not. But he’s my husband, not my child.” She brushed Eden’s hair back, pushing a few golden ringlets out of her face. She always kept a few out of her plaits or ponytails. “I think it should come down to what’s riskier: continuing to live without a dæmon or taking the antidote. And if you and Isla are very unhappy, then, well, the antidote seems warranted. That’s just my opinion, though.”
She looked up at Mum and Dad to see how they’d react to that insight. Mum was rubbing the back of Dad’s hand with her thumb and frowning at him, and he’d tightened his grip on the steering wheel.
“Well, I am miserable, and so is Isla. We’ve been miserable. But I guess no one actually cares about that,” Eden snapped.
Vera knew she was being a bit dramatic— they were not miserable as a general rule, though the daemon issue had been difficult for them at times growing up— but she felt bad for her all the same. No one said anything the rest of the drive, and when they parked at the clinic, Eden opened the door before the rest of them had even unbuckled and stormed to the door.
Mum and Dad hesitated before getting out. Dad turned and glanced in the backseat.
“Is that true?” he wanted to know. “Them being miserable.”
She considered his question carefully.
“At times? Yes, I think so. But not always,” she finally answered. “Edie’s exaggerating a bit. But it is really important to her, Dad, and she feels like she needs to do this. So does Isla.”
“I think the harm of not letting them will be far greater than the harm it could cause,” Mum said.
Dad reached up and rubbed his face wearily. “I’m just…worried.”
“Me too,” Mum said softly, and Vera nodded in agreement. “But we’ve got a bit more time to discuss and think on it. Mary hasn’t said it’s ready yet.”
But it would be soon. They all sensed that. She’d been working on it with Malcolm and Hannah for nearly ten years now, and soon, they’d all have to make a decision.
“Do you think Sterling’s going to take it?” Mum asked Vera as they walked from the car.
“Yeah. I think so.”
“Do you want him to?”
Vera looked down at Max, who was perched on her forearm. They shared a long look.
“Yes…and no. It does frighten me,” she admitted. “But if Elan says it’s safe, then, well, I trust him. He’s never been wrong before.”
There was no opportunity for further discussion the rest of the day, as they were soon wrapped up with their patients, but it was at the back of Vera’s mind all the while.
She and Sterling were ten days out from their anniversary when Mary finally said it was ready.
The proof was irrefutable: her dæmon was as solid as Pan or Kirjava, as Max or Aly or Theo; everyone could only stare in awe.
“And you feel fine?” Alice pressed.
“I feel great,” Mary said. Vera sensed a good amount of that was due to pride.
Vera’s dad was checking Mary’s vitals carefully, and when he failed to find anything wrong, he turned and nodded at Mum. Mum was holding Isla snugly to her chest on the sofa; she pressed a kiss to the top of her head.
“Well,” Mum said. “What do you girls think?”
Isla turned and looked up at Mum. “I want to try it. I’ve wanted to all my life, Mum.”
“The alethiometer said it’s perfectly safe? You’re certain, Elan?” Dad asked, turning to look at Vera’s brother.
“Yes, Dad,” Elan affirmed. “No negative short-term or long-term repercussions. I’m certain of it.”
Vera sensed Sterling’s gaze; she looked up at him. He smiled at her, his eyes happy and hopeful, and she echoed it, shifting closer to him. They were snuggled together on the chaise lounge, full after a massive family dinner. Their family from Mum’s world had come to visit and see Mary’s dæmon (everyone except Peter and Marcel, who were on their annual bonding trip together; this year they were going to some rainforest to look for exotic reptiles, something that had Emyr howling with laughter the first time he heard. Peter had clearly picked the location. No doubt Marcel was muddy and unhappy right now, wherever he was.) Gloria was even here, and though things were not as icy as they’d once been, talking to her felt like talking to a complete stranger.
Vera knew Mum and Dad had many discussions on this topic behind-the-scenes— she could tell just from the long, meaningful look they were sharing right now— but they’d obviously already come to a decision. When Dad finally nodded, both Isla and Eden shot across the room to tackle him in a hug.
“Thank you, thank you, thank you!” Eden said.
Isla was so happy she was crying, and that made Dad tear up, and then Mum was crying…Vera felt her own throat narrow some, and she turned and hid her face in Sterling’s shirt, glad when he tightened his arms around her.
“You’re welcome,” Dad told Eden. “I was never against it because I didn’t want this— you to have your dæmons. I’ve always wanted that. I just don’t want you hurt.”
“We know,” Isla said, her voice thick and teary. “But it’s going to be just fine, Dad. I promise.”
And so, before Vera even realized what was happening, Mary was walking to her office to get the little glass vials she’d already prepared— and one of them she held out to Sterling when she returned. Vera’s heart lurched in her chest.
He took it from Mary, and Vera reached out instinctively, grabbing his forearm.
“No?” he questioned her softly, surprised.
Her heart had begun to race. “No, not no…I just…I dunno. Now? Right before our trip? What if you have some sort of reaction?”
“Mary didn’t.”
“Yes, but everyone is different…”
“I can wait if you really want me to,” he said. “But I’d sort of like to do it alongside Edie and Isla.”
Eden and Isla wanted the same thing: Vera could tell. They were watching her and Sterling’s conversation and frowning. And really, Vera wasn’t that worried about him having a bad reaction: her parents would’ve never let her sisters take it (or Sterling, either) if they thought there was any real chance of that. Her real concern was that things would be different. As much as she’d always longed for Sterling’s dæmon to be physical and here, she was realizing now that she loved everything about her life just as it was, and she was afraid to mess with it much. This sudden fear even had her second-guessing having a baby. Right now, everything was so perfect…was it stupid to change it?
It really wasn’t her decision to make, though. It was his soul— his dæmon. His life. She had to support him through it. And so, even though she was nervous, she smiled at him and nodded. She let go of his forearm.
“All right,” she whispered.
He touched her chin and angled her face up, studying her eyes. “You’re sure?”
“Yeah. If you are.”
He reached up and stroked Max’s wing fondly. He smiled. “I am.”
For something that had been building for ten years, the actual act took no time at all. Sterling, Isla, and Eden uncorked the vials and downed the contents like a shot— Emyr even joined them with an actual shot glass full of vodka, “In solidarity,” he told them— and everyone held their breath. And waited. And waited.
“How do you feel?” Mum demanded, wringing her hands and chewing on her bottom lip. Dad was already on the three of them, shining his penlight in Isla’s eyes and reaching to feel her pulse. Vera stepped in to join him, and they took the vitals of the three of them.
“Perfect,” Vera told her Dad, still holding Sterling’s wrist.
“Same here,” Dad said, dropping Eden’s.
“So…when does it happen?” Emyr demanded. “This was a bit anti-climactic.”
But something was happening, even if they couldn’t see it: Vera sensed the strange way Sterling was holding himself, and she looked up at him, concerned.
“What is it?” she asked. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing,” he said. His hand went to his chest, and Vera reached up, pressing her hand over his. “I just— I don’t know. I feel…scared.”
Well, it made sense: it would be frightening to suddenly sense your soul being pulled from your chest, becoming physical and vulnerable; Vera was so intent on watching Sterling’s expression that she didn’t think to look around them. It was Max who noticed, and he gave a sudden, overjoyed squawk and shot off Vera’s shoulder, zooming up to the ceiling fan—
Vera’s heart lurched wildly in her chest at the sight of the pretty little bird perched there, looking truly baffled and shocked to suddenly find herself here.
“Oh my God,” Vera breathed, and then she laughed, the sound wild and shaky. She tightened her grip on Sterling’s arm. “Sterling! Look!”
He looked up, following her gaze, and the smile that lit up his face— astonished, overjoyed— was one she’d never forget as long as she lived. She laughed and couldn’t stop; his dæmon, a silver cardinal with scarlet accents, was nuzzling and being nuzzled in return by Maximus, and she was singing the brightest birdsong Vera had ever heard.
And up until that moment, Vera hadn’t known what they’d been missing. The euphoria she felt as her dæmon kissed and cuddled Sterling’s was so overwhelming that it brought her to tears, and when she looked up at her husband, he was just as moved.
They were so wrapped up in each other and this newfound intimacy that they hardly noticed what was going on around them. But it was difficult to miss Eden’s dæmon: he was breathtaking and intense, huge and imposing. Regal and gorgeous.
I knew it, Max thought to Vera, gazing down at the golden tiger dæmon, deeply pleased. She’s always been golden tiger-y to me.
He’d been correct about Isla’s dæmon, too. She was cradling the red panda in her arms, hugging it and laughing tearfully, whereas Eden was lightly stroking her dæmon’s head and looking incredibly pleased with herself.
Vera was so happy for all of them and intrigued by the whole process they were all about to undergo. She’d known Maxie as long as she’d been alive; she wondered what it was like to suddenly meet your dæmon so far down the road. She felt privileged to get to witness it as Sterling and his dæmon went through it. She felt privileged to get to know her.
She’d wanted to stay for a while and spend more time with her sisters’ dæmons, but Maximus— suddenly finding himself here with Sterling’s dæmon after so long of wishing for her— was flooding her thoughts with so much lust and longing that it was absolutely unbearable. She tried to endure it at first, choosing to sit close to Sterling on the chaise lounge with her legs crossed tightly, hoping no one could tell how flushed she was or how restless. But soon, it was just too much, and she knew her husband was feeling exactly the same. And his arousal wasn’t quite so easy to hide, so escape was pertinent. They made it to the treehouse, sneaking out without even saying goodbye, and once they scaled the ladder, they were on each other in a fit of breathless passion, tugging and yanking at each other’s clothes and so needy they were practically whimpering.
Vera had absolutely no idea what their dæmons got up to while they were fucking on the treehouse floor— it was so intense and so good that she wasn’t aware of anything outside of her and Sterling— but whatever it was left her heart tender and full.
“We’re going to have a great holiday,” Sterling whispered, his tone awed and hushed.
“The best.”
And then, their dæmons flew down to them, and Sterling’s dæmon— Noelani, as Maximus had long ago decided— stepped gently onto Vera’s shoulder and then crouched down to press sweetly against her neck. Vera felt the same intense thrill she’d felt the first time Sterling had touched Max, and she reached up, stroking her beautiful feathers gently, finding herself growing teary again.
“I’m so glad you’re here,” she whispered.
His dæmon tucked her beak into Vera’s curls. “I loved you even when I wasn’t.”
“I loved you, too…so much.”
“I know. I felt it,” she said.
The four of them snuggled there, Noelani moving to perch in the crook of Sterling’s neck and Max curling against Vera’s arm, and Vera had never felt so full. She glanced over at the little cardinal dæmon often, as if to check that she was still there, and she knew she’d be doing that for a long time. It would take her a while to adjust to such an instantaneous change, but it was so welcome. She’d been silly to fear it.
She and Max pretended to fall asleep for a few minutes, and they lay there quietly and happily, listening to Sterling talk with his dæmon. Their voices sounded so beautiful together— so right— and without even meaning to, Vera actually did drift off. Sterling woke her a few minutes later, nodding towards the treehouse windows— people were calling for them, confused as to where they’d disappeared to— and they quickly darted through the window back to their home to grab two bottles of wine, pretending they’d disappeared to get some.
“We had wine here, you know,” Mum commented once they were back inside the house. She uncorked the first bottle. “You didn’t have to go get any.”
“We wanted this kind in particular,” Vera lied. “It’s divine, Mum, you’re going to love it.”
It was a nice bottle; it’d come from Zya’s vineyard, and she’d sent it to them last week for their anniversary. But this was as worthy a time for it as that.
They all ended up sprawled around the sitting room, tipsy and happy, taking turns suggesting names for Isla and Eden’s dæmons.
“Pan and Kirjava should name them,” Max kept insisting. But Pan and Kirjava felt the dæmons had the right to name themselves.
“You’re not babies,” Kirjava said, bumping her face affectionately against Eden’s dæmon and then Isla’s. “You’re nearly grown. You know who you are. You should choose names that feel right to you.”
It took Vera’s sisters all night long to decide; Vera was drunk and half asleep in Sterling’s lap on the chaise lounge when they finally settled on names. Very few people were still awake to hear it: Mum was draped over Dad’s chest, snoring lightly, and Emyr and Elan were sprawled out over the sofa.
“My name’s Leeto,” Eden’s dæmon declared. His voice was surprisingly deep; every time Vera had heard it tonight, she’d nearly laughed. It was comical paired with Eden’s very feminine appearance.
“Leeto,” Dad repeated, yawning. “Did you hear that Lyra?”
“She’s asleep,” Sterling said. “And Vera, too.”
“No,” Vera argued faintly. “I’m awake…”
Barely, but still.
“And what about you?” Dad questioned. Vera guessed he was looking at Isla’s dæmon, who was— interestingly enough— female. Vera hadn’t realized at first, and it was Max who’d pointed it out to her.
“Wilhelmina,” her dæmon answered. Her voice, in stark contrast to Leeto’s, was bright and musical, like wind chimes.
“What’s yours?” Isla questioned, and she must’ve been looking at Sterling’s dæmon, because that’s who answered.
“Noelani. Max named me ages ago,” she said, her voice drenched in fondness.
“Aww,” Isla smiled. “And do you change?”
“I don’t know. I don’t think so. I don’t really want to.”
“Then you won’t,” Kirjava said sleepily. “That’s when you’re settled: when you don’t want to be anything else but what you are.”
“I think I’ll change some,” Wilhelmina said. “Because Aly and Theo have two forms they switch between, and I think I want that, too. A red panda here at home, and a bunny elsewhere.”
Vera smiled against Sterling’s chest at that. Bunny, she thought fondly. That seemed right.
“And when I’m not home, I’m going to be a rainbow snake,” Leeto declared.
Vera, not well-versed in reptiles, had no idea if that was an actual type of snake or just something Eden and Leeto had come up with. Either way, a snake with shimmering, rainbow scales was suitable for them.
Vera thought Emyr went to sleep a long time ago, but he suddenly said: “Yeah, that seems right. A snake.” It was not a compliment.
Sudden loud snarling erupted, and Vera lifted her head, alarmed, to see Leeto and Aly absolutely tearing into each other— or so it seemed. When Kirjava leapt between them and made them stop, she was relieved to see neither had actually harmed the other.
“You got saliva on my fur!” Leeto growled irritably at Aly. He sat down on the carpet and began frantically grooming his beautiful golden fur.
“Don’t dish out what you can’t take,” Aly shot back. She leapt back up on the sofa with Emyr, curling around his body gracefully, her sleek black fur untarnished. “Amateur.”
The fight had roused them all, and soon they were saying their goodnights and heading to bed. Instead of going back to their respective homes, though, Elan and Emyr walked down the corridor to their childhood bedroom, and Vera and Sterling went to hers, Liefie, Hartlam, and Mango in tow.
It’s late, they’d all said as an excuse, but in truth, they all liked being here together again. It felt like old times.
Vera and Sterling cuddled close together in her bed, with their dogs draped over their feet and Max and Noelani nestled on the pillows, and they drifted off into a deep, dreamless sleep.
Marcel came through for a surprise visit the same day Vera and Sterling were due to leave for the island.
They’d been packing their suitcase in their bedroom, and Noelani was first to see him standing in their doorway; she zoomed from her perch atop Maxie’s head to Sterling’s shoulder.
“Marcel,” Noelani whispered.
Both Vera and Sterling looked towards the doorway. Vera set her yellow slip down, forgoing folding and packing for now, and walked over to him at once, concern and dread rising up within her.
“Marcel. Hi,” she said. She took his hands, wrinkled now, the skin soft and papery. “Has something happened?”
“How was the rainforest?” Sterling added, coming over to stand beside Vera.
“Wet. Muddy. Buggy. Vera, I thought we wouldn’t have an opportunity for you to meet the head of the Office of Inquisition until he returned from his trip abroad, but I’ve gotten word of where he is. He’s staying in Paris, in fact, and I’ve got it on good authority that he frequents a little coffee shop I’m familiar with— we could go and you could visit the shop often in hopes you come across him.”
Vera’s heart had sunk. She turned and glanced up at Sterling; he was frowning.
“Now?” she asked.
“It’s a great opportunity. Meeting him like that— just as another stranger at a coffee shop— will be a lot less risky than our other plan.”
They really didn’t have another plan. She’d spend the past ten years slowly and methodically meeting lower-ranking church members; Marcel would find out where they’d be in public— a library, a park, a restaurant, things of that nature— and Emyr would cut a window there, letting Vera step through and casually cross paths with them. The meetings were simple and quick; she usually touched their arm and sweetly inquired about directions to the closest market. That’s all it took. One brief meeting— one touch of her mind to theirs— and she could find them after that no matter where she was.
But now that they needed to begin introducing her to higher-ranking members, it was proving to be much more difficult. They didn’t go about in public as freely or openly as the lower-ranking men did, and so they’d reached a point in this long, drawn-out process where she’d have to begin infiltrating the Church from within in order to meet who she needed to meet (and who she needed to meet were the men calling the shots). But Marcel was against her doing that, was against her doing anything, really, other than bumping into men in safe public places. Even now that she had the ‘keys’ to so many lower-ranking members’ minds, she couldn’t really do anything with them, because Marcel kept insisting the time wasn’t right to make any ‘big’ moves.
So she was watching as much as she could, but even that was difficult. It took so much out of her, finding their minds from a different world. She could only check in on two or three before she felt nauseated and faint. She theorized that information came through to her from those other minds at night when she was sleeping; that must’ve been why her nightmares kept getting worse and more frequent. And when the visions cropped up— and that had started happening again on occasion, usually after she’d tried to check in on those church members and exhausted herself to the point she had little control left— she sometimes felt like her head was packed so full that it would burst.
Times like that, she felt so low and frightened. She’d once wept into Sterling’s neck and said, it’s going to kill me if I take on one more mind. I can’t carry anymore. I think I’ll die.
Since then, she’d been even more careful. She’d more-or-less turned her focus away from the Church entirely. She had her little run-ins when Marcel organized them, but she didn’t spend more than one half-hour a month peeking into the Church’s head, in fear of her own health and sanity.
Lately, she’d been thinking about going behind Marcel’s back entirely. His way was hurting her. Wouldn’t it be better, she theorized, to give it one full-on sprint rather than jogging for years on end? Wouldn’t that be less damaging to her body, to her life?
She hadn’t voiced the thought to anyone yet— not even Sterling— but she was beginning to plan something different. All this tiptoeing around, all this mental strain…it’d be so much quicker, so much simpler, to have Emyr cut her right into the heart of Geneva. Right into the chambers of the head of the Magisterium. There, she could change his mind. She could linger and change the minds of anyone around him who tried to question him, who tried to go against his new decrees. Working from the top down rather than the bottom up— it made more sense, didn’t it? She wanted it to make more sense. Because she was tired, and she wanted to move on with her life. She wanted to be free from all of this. She wanted to live in her little Salt River home with Sterling and their dogs (and maybe a baby) and be like any other person there. She wanted to be free.
She wanted her little family to be free. She wanted Sterling to have the sort of life he deserved— soft, gentle, kind. They had that here, but it was with the understanding that it was temporary. One day, things wouldn’t be soft or gentle or kind. That was why he’d been taking combat classes for the past decade, why he tensed every time Marcel showed up. He was always waiting for his next fight. But what if he didn’t have to? What if he never had to fight again? What if she could give him that?
She would’ve absorbed any risk and any toil for him. When she thought about taking down the Church in one fell swoop, giving him peace, giving him a child, loving him— her heart could’ve burst open from the joy she felt, the love. That was the thing she wanted— the thing she dreamed about and the desire she reaffirmed each night. And she was going to give it to him.
“No,” she told Marcel now. She took Sterling’s hand and brought it to her lips, kissing the back of it. “We’re going on holiday for our anniversary. The Church can wait.”
Marcel frowned so deeply that his forehead collapsed into wrinkles.
“I really don’t think we should pass up this opportunity, Vera. He’s rarely out in public. This may be our only opportunity for a while, and the Office of Inquisition is taking on a lot of things regarding dæmon-separation; your mum’s old Oxford-based organization, the Child Protection Board, has published a few things about their experiments, and the OoI has been hunting them down and silencing them and anyone else trying to whistle-blow about their plans…it’s important that we get ahead of it. Public knowledge and outrage is an important tool for us when it comes to turning the tide. If we can get the public against the Church, their power is limited.”
Vera looked over at Max. He was perched on the footboard, Noelani snuggled in the cover of his colorful wing.
We should probably do it, Max thought.
And what if we go there and spend the entire week just waiting for him to show up at that shop, and he never does? Then we’ve wasted our whole week. This’ll be our first holiday since our honeymoon. Even then we only got three days in Cittagazze. It took Sterling months to get Dr. Louw to let him take a whole week off, and we probably won’t have an opportunity to take another week again until we’re done with our training! This is our first anniversary, Max. I don’t want it to be about the Church. I want it to be about us.
Max shifted uneasily on his perch. Yeah. I feel the same way. I just worry about passing this up.
We’ll make our own opportunity, Vera said. She had given in to her stubbornness. We’re going to the island.
“I’ll visit once we’re back from our holiday,” Vera told Marcel. “We can make another plan then. It’ll all be okay; don’t worry.”
He was worried. She saw it clearly in his face as he turned to leave. And for a moment, she was, too; she nearly changed her mind. But then Sterling took her into his arms and fell back onto their bed with her, kissing her amongst their unpacked stacks of clothes, and she relaxed against the mattress and smiled. All her uncertainty melted away. She was choosing this— choosing him. Wasn’t that what she’d vowed to do on that beach a year ago?
“Ready to finish packing?”
“Fok yeah,” she whispered. She kissed him again.
It was like their honeymoon all over again. They lived and breathed love from sun up ’til sun down. It had been so long since they had so much time to just each other, and they didn’t take a single moment for granted.
They made love each morning, ate wonderful, rich meals, swam and lounged in the sun all day long, and made love again beneath the cover of the moon and the stars each night.
It was healing in every way something could be. On their final night there in the treehouse, they curled together on the sofa— the windows thrown open to the warm, moonlit breeze— and dreamed of staying.
“I understand why your parents chose this island,” Sterling murmured. He was stroking her hair, his fingernails ghosting her scalp with each stroke. “I’m jealous of them for getting to live here as long as they did.”
“It was really nice,” Vera whispered. Her heart picked up pace, understanding the topic she was about to bring up before she was even conscious of it herself. “Growing up here as a child…it was so lovely. We were so happy and so safe. Until the Church.”
He bent his head down to kiss her neck, and then her shoulder. He wrapped his arms around her and pulled her closer to his body.
“Selfishly, I’m thankful that they came here. If they hadn’t, we never would’ve met.” He stroked up her yellow slip, his fingertips dancing over her skin. “It’s funny…all the good things that’ve happened to your family, so many of them are because of the Church. Your parents met because of them, we met because of them…”
Vera laughed at that. “They’ve been trying to stamp us out for decades, us Silvertongue women, and all they’ve ever managed to do is make us scatter and expand.” Her heart quivered in her chest, and she looked up at her husband, at the little freckle beneath his ear. She inched her face up and kissed it. She left her nose tucked here in the little hollow behind his ear, her body throbbing with love and anticipation and nervousness. “Sterling…what if I wanted that?”
He didn’t understand at first. He continued stroking her hip. “Wanted what?”
“Us to expand.” She swallowed hard and then pulled her face back and looked up at him. She fell into his clear green eyes. “A baby.”
He stopped stroking her skin, and his eyes widened a bit. “Oh…”
She wanted terribly to sink into his mind and show him how wonderful it could be. She wanted him to feel what she felt, the longing, the joy.
But she understood how manipulative that would be, and she didn’t want to influence him. So she hid her face against the crook of his neck and waited, her heart thrumming fast.
“Do you? Want that?” he whispered.
She nodded. “But only if…only if you do, too.”
He was quiet for a moment or so, and then he slid his hand from her hip to her stomach. He stroked her skin lightly with his thumb.
“I’m afraid to,” he admitted.
“Because of Martin?”
“No. Because of the Church.” Ah. “The antichrist having a baby…if they found out…”
“They wouldn’t. They won’t be a problem. Because I’m going to take care of them first, Sterling.”
He pulled her back so he could look at her. He was frowning now.
“Sonneblom, the pace we’re at right now, we’ll hardly be able to have babies once they’re finally dealt with. We’ll probably be your parents’ ages.”
“Yeah,” she agreed. “At the pace we’re going now.”
He leaned back some. She could tell from his posture that he understood what she was saying.
“I don’t want our whole life to be spent on them, Sterling. I don’t want to feel like we can’t do the things we want to do because some stupid religious organization in a world we don’t even live in…I want us to be free to live our life for us, the way that we want to live it, without them hanging over our heads. Sterling, I want to do it myself. Without Marcel. Without my parents. I just want to finish it. And then…and then, I want to come home to you, to our little house, and I want us to make a family…I want us to live…” she grasped his hands and brought them to her heart. “Do you want that, too?”
She could feel the conflict warring in his heart. His emotions were intense and tangled: longing and terror, both so deep she felt them as easily as she would if they came from her.
“I want a family with you, absolutely…but I don’t want you hurt,” he finally said, and his voice shook even talking about it— about her being harmed. “Vera, it makes me sick. It frightens me. I can’t live without you.”
She twisted and rose up onto her knees on the sofa, taking his beautiful face in her hands. “Oh, you won’t have to, liefling! Not ever!”
“They could kill you. Marcel’s said it a thousand times.”
“Marcel doesn’t know everything.”
“Marcel’s been involved with the Church longer than we’ve been alive.”
“Marcel’s not powerful, though. Not like I am.”
He frowned so deeply the corners of his mouth quivered, as if he were fighting back tears, and she brought his face in and kissed him. Softly, first, then deeper; she moved to straddle his lap facing him, her legs wrapping around his waist, and she murmured assurances between passionate kisses. I’ll never leave you, she said. I know what I’m doing. I’ll be safe. I want to free us, Sterling…I want to give us both that…I can do it. I can do it. I can…
She felt so sure of it, of her own abilities. Of course she did: all her life, she’d been told she was amazing, powerful, clever, strong. As bright as the sun itself.
Later on, after it was all said and done, she’d wish she’d been raised differently. Had she grown up in a house like Sterling’s, she never would’ve had so much confidence and faith in herself. She never would’ve done what she did. She wouldn’t have had the resolve to.
But she hadn’t. She’d grown up as Sunshine. And it had never really occurred to her that even the sun would one day fizzle out.
Sterling came around to the idea of a baby quickly enough, and once he came around to that, getting him on board with her Church plan was a lot easier.
“I like these,” he said, holding up a pair of tiny canvas baby shoes with little red poppies on them. His grin was soft and excited. “Look how tiny the soles are!”
Vera couldn’t keep from bouncing on her toes; the sight of such tiny little shoes filled her with giddiness. She spotted a tiny pinafore dress with a matching pattern and pulled it from the rack so excitedly she sent three other dresses falling to the floor; Sterling laughed and bent to pick them up while Vera lay the little dress atop the package of loo paper in their trolley, setting the tiny matching shoes just beneath it.
“A whole outfit! Look! And— oh my God! A matching little cardigan! Oh, let’s get it! The whole thing!”
Sterling set the fallen dresses back on the rack and then stepped behind Vera, wrapping his arms around her waist and pulling her back against him. He pressed smiling kisses to her cheek and swayed them gently.
“You’re not even pregnant,” he murmured, laughing.
“Yet!” She was getting her IUD removed tomorrow, and they’d decided she wouldn’t replace it.
He kissed her neck. “And we don’t know if we’ll even have a daughter.”
“True, but we can just return it and switch it out for something else if we need to.” She craned her head back and looked up at him. She inflated her eyes and stuck her bottom lip out in a pout. “It may be gone when it’s actually time to buy baby clothes, and it’s so cute…”
“You’re so cute,” he said. He pulled her closer and kissed her nose. “All right, you’ve convinced me.”
Vera turned around in his arms so she was facing him. She looped her arms around his neck and rose onto her toes to press her mouth to his.
“It’s actually a clever mood financially,” she said, “because if we buy a little bit here and there, we’re not having to buy a whole bunch all in one go.”
“Hmm,” he said, fighting back a smile. “That’s true.”
“And if something awful happens and we find out we can’t have any, we can return or donate.”
“Fair point.” He stepped to the side and grabbed their trolley with one hand, reaching to hold her around the waist with his other arm; he guided them down the racks of clothes. “In that case, let’s get this.”
He stopped them at a rack of nappy bags and lifted a navy blue one with silver moons, golden suns, and copper stars printed on it. Vera hadn’t noticed it before now, and her heart exploded with affection.
“Oh my God,” she said, reaching for it. She touched the little moons and suns. It was perfect; her wedding band had a crescent moon, and Sterling’s had a sun that nestled right into the curve of the moon when the two rings were held together. Their baby could be the stars. It was so precious she could hardly bear it.
She unzipped the bag. “It’s even big enough for Maxie and Noelani to hide in if they had to, and the baby’s dæmon! Try it out!”
She set the nappy bag beside her large handbag. Noelani unzipped it from the inside, and she flew up and over into the nappy bag, Max following suit. He was significantly larger, so it was a bit of a squeeze for him, but they did fit.
“What do you think?” She asked their dæmons.
Noelani stuck a pretty wing out of the opening of the nappy bag. “I’m giving it a thumbs up. A wing-up, if you will.”
“There are loads of nice pockets in here, too,” Max added, his voice muffled from inside the bag.
Vera went to check the price tag, but Sterling covered it with his hand.
“Whatever it is, it’s the right price. It was meant for us,” he said firmly. He set it into their trolley. Vera guessed it was stupidly-priced, given how quick he’d been to cover the number, but he was right: they needed it.
They picked up a few more items, and then they ran home to drop them off before heading to dinner with Vera’s siblings. They were meeting up at a restaurant in the Waterfront; ordinarily, they would’ve invited Mum and Dad along, but they’d already made their own date night plans. And that was likely for the best: Vera needed to discuss her Church plans with her siblings, and it’d be easier to do so without her parents’ overprotectiveness.
Isla, Eden, and Elan were already seated when Vera and Sterling arrived. They sat side-by-side opposite Isla and Eden, with a free seat to Sterling’s right for Emyr. Wherever he was.
“Where’s Em?” Sterling wondered, after they’d hugged everyone in greeting.
“Well, three hours ago on his Instagram he posted this.” Elan passed his phone to Vera and Sterling, Emyr’s profile already pulled up. Emyr was pictured with a beautiful girl his age on what looked like a boat, and the girl was kissing his cheek while he chugged straight from a bottle of champagne. “So there’s no telling where he is or when he’ll show up.”
“Who even is this?” Vera questioned incredulously. She’d never seen this girl in her life, and Emyr had captioned the post with ‘lekker days with my lady @lavenderswanepoel’. She clicked the girl’s handle, pulling up her page, and then she lifted her eyebrows, taken aback and impressed. “Oh. Wow.”
“That’s…naked. Very naked,” Sterling commented.
Vera scrolled down to see more and cocked her head to the right. She angled the phone where Sterling could see better. “I mean, they’re sort of artistic, aren’t they?”
“Yeah,” Sterling agreed. He reached over and tapped one of the girl’s photos, and he and Vera whistled lowly at the same moment. “Interesting angle.”
“Exactly what I was thinking.”
“Give me that,” Eden demanded, reaching for the phone, curious at what they were looking at. Sterling quickly locked it.
“No way,” he said. He passed it back to Elan. “Not appropriate.”
“There’s nothing inherently inappropriate about the female body,” Isla corrected.
“In the position she had hers in there is.”
Eden gathered her golden curls and twisted them up into a bun, irritated and glowering at them. “I’ve probably done freakier things than all of you. Fuck off with treating me like a baby.”
“I highly doubt that,” Vera muttered under her breath. Sterling squeezed her thigh beneath the table and cleared his throat to keep from laughing.
“He’s probably just trying to show Agetha that he doesn’t care,” Isla said thoughtfully. She was chewing on the end of her paper straw; she had what looked like lemonade. Vera turned and looked around them for the waiter, feeling thirsty now. “I hope Mum can’t see that post, though.”
“Nah, he’s got Mum blocked, but she doesn’t know that,” Elan said. Dad didn’t ‘do’ social media, so Mum was the only one they really had to worry about on the internet. “You’re probably right about Agetha, Isla.”
Their waiter finally arrived, and Vera and Sterling ordered drinks and a few appetizers for the table, sensing that Emyr was likely going to keep them waiting a while. While they snacked, Isla told them all about the beach clean-up her environmental group at school had done over the weekend, and she shared the news that she’d gotten the lead in the upcoming Christmas ballet— a big deal, given how many dancers they had and how competitive the ballet scene was here. Vera was surprised this was the first she was hearing of it: usually Mum couldn’t sit on good news, but this had happened yesterday.
Vera walked around the table and threw her arms around her baby sister, pressing a proud kiss to her cheek.
“When’s opening night again? Sterling and I will ask off.”
“Sterling’s birthday,” Isla answered. “So if you want to wait and go the next night—”
“Nah, are you kidding?” Sterling demanded. He stretched his hand across the table and bumped his knuckles against Isla’s. “We wouldn’t miss it.”
Isla beamed, and Vera pressed another kiss to her cheek, her heart warm with pride and love for her sister.
“And what about you, Edie?” Vera questioned, once she’d sat down in her seat. “What’s going on in Edie-Land?”
A lot, as it turned out. Too much, even. She was snogging the delivery boy, but she “wasn’t sure he was boyfriend material, actually”, and so she’d begun talking to a boy who was on the Debating Team with her.
“But he’s been expelled a couple times,” she commented matter-of-factly, “so I haven’t told Mum and Dad.”
“Expelled for what?” Sterling questioned.
“Ag, I dunno. Theft or something,” she shrugged. She lifted the last breadstick and broke it in half, passing Isla a piece. “He’s a great debater.”
Surely not better than Eden, though, who was vaguely famous in the high school debating world. For good reason, too: she was so stubborn, demanding, and intelligent that she could reason and fuss her way out of (or into) almost anything. She was going to study Political Science in uni, something that Vera’s parents had been a bit iffy about at first, but it had quickly become clear that there was no other field for her.
“Just don’t let him get you into trouble,” Vera said firmly.
“Me? Trouble?” she asked, her blue eyes wide. She touched over her heart incredulously.
“God, all of this makes me think I ought to come back home,” Elan muttered.
“No! I’m perfectly fine! I don’t need my big brother watching over me,” Eden refuted. “Tell him, Isla. Aren’t I fine?”
Isla leaned forward and grabbed Eden’s drink (hers was empty) and took a sip. She looked at her twin for a moment and then turned to look at the rest of them.
“She stole the principal’s computer last week,” Isla said.
Eden shrieked, outraged, and several people turned and looked at their table.
“Shh!” Isla scolded.
“Erm…what?” Elan demanded, his eyebrows raised severely in a look so reminiscent of their dad’s stern look that Vera nearly laughed.
Eden looked around them to make sure no one was listening, and then she leaned in. They all leaned in, too.
“She’s making it sound worse than it actually is, and she helped, so stop looking so innocent, Bunny!”
“I never said I was innocent, but for the record, I didn’t break into the office!”
“Explain,” Vera ordered.
“Okay, well, the school’s ordering new desks for the new language building. And they were supposed to order from Tree Right, a sustainable company that’s exclusively solar powered and only uses recycled and repurposed materials. Our environmental club petitioned for it, and administration agreed— that happened a few months back. Well, we found out from the public board meeting minutes that they decided to purchase plastic furniture from some awful, sleazy company that’s been cited for improper waste disposal thrice! And that was not the deal at all!”
“So…you stole the computer and changed the order?” Sterling surmised, his voice lowered to a whisper.
“Yes. So it’s fine. We actually ended up saving them a bit of money, in fact.”
Vera sat back, stunned. She lifted her fingers to her mouth and traced her lower lip as she thought.
“Do they know you did that yet?” Elan demanded. “How’d you even get the other order canceled and get access to the funds?”
“They use the same password for everything. Silvermine2035,” Isla answered. “And they don’t know yet.”
“They’ll figure it out when the packages arrive,” Eden said. She sat up. “Oh, look. The Debauchery has arrived.”
She waved Emyr over to their table. They all made a face at him as he collapsed down into the chair beside Sterling’s, visibly tipsy— if not drunk. He grinned at them.
“Hey. Aw, I love you guys. I love your faces. Ooh, you ordered spinach dip!”
He tore into the appetizers and said nothing about Lavender Swanepoel or his late arrival, but that didn’t stop them from bringing it up.
“Who’s the naked girl?” Eden questioned. “Does she do sex work? Because honestly, Em, if you’re struggling that much I’m sure there’s a Year 10 who’d go on a pity date with you.”
He didn’t even rise to her bait, too involved in scarfing down the entire bowl of spinach dip.
“She’s a model,” he corrected around a mouthful of pita chips. “We had a thing. What’d I miss?”
“Is she your girlfriend?” Isla wondered.
“She’s my girl who’s a friend— or my friend who’s a girl— do they have a beer menu?” He twisted in his chair and looked around at the other tables.
“Hey. Focus,” Vera said, reaching around the back of Sterling’s chair to thump her brother’s shoulder. “Be here with us. You here?”
“Of course I’m here,” he said. He reached over and took Vera’s wine, taking a huge sip. “Couldn’t do that if I wasn’t here, could I?”
They heard Max sigh from beneath the table where all the other dæmons were (the tablecloth brushed the floor, one of the reasons the Parry siblings preferred this restaurant), and Aly, in her shrike form, crept from Emyr’s pocket and flew beneath the table to join them. She suddenly changed into her leopard form beneath it, causing the table to rise a few centimeters and Eden’s drink to knock over and spill.
“Aly!” Max and Noelani chided from beneath the table.
“All right,” Sterling said, reaching out to set his arm around Emyr’s shoulder. “Chill. You’re really keyed up— what all were you doing on that boat, anyway?”
“Probably better to ask what I wasn’t doing,” Emyr answered. He saw their worried looks. “Oh, no— I’m all right. Don’t look at me like that! Hey, Lany, how was your anatomy exam? That was this afternoon, right?”
Elan didn’t answer. He was looking at Vera, and Vera nodded once. She stood from her seat and approached Emyr, reaching for his face.
“Hey!” he said.
She grabbed his cheeks and forced his face up, peering hard at his eyes. His pupils were blown, the blackness eating away at the brown of his eyes. She felt her heart lurch, and she glared at him.
“Emyr Parry,” she bit. She squeezed her little brother’s face tighter. “We don’t do drugs!”
“We don’t? Because you have, and I did, so…”
She scoffed. “That was one time! And how do you even know about that?!”
“Anele told me at the wedding,” Emyr answered. He’d been a groomsman along with two of Sterling’s close uni friends, Anele, Atif, Elan, Peter, and Noah, and apparently, some of those groomsmen had loose lips.
“Well, that was weed. It’s different,” Vera dismissed. She stared hard into his eyes. “Do it again and I’ll tell Dad. I swear I will. And he’ll make you move back home.”
“Jesus,” Emyr said, looking at her with wide eyes. “You’re scary as fok!”
“I can be scarier. Don’t try me. I’ll go into your head and I’ll make you hum the Peppa Pig theme song every time someone offers you coke or molly or whatever the hell you did from this day on. Bet I won’t.”
He held his hands up defensively. “Okay, okay! Lesson learned! No fun for Emyr!”
“You have plenty of fun. You know that’s not what I’m saying,” Vera said. She released his face and lifted his wrist, feeling his pulse. “Is this something you do often?”
“Not too often,” he answered vaguely. He leaned to the side, looking across the table at his twin. “E, still waiting to hear about the exam! How’d it go?!”
“Aced it. You know I aced it. I always ace it. Stop changing the topic,” Elan answered flatly.
“I don’t do it often!” Emyr snatched his wrist from Vera. “Stop doctoring me.”
“Stop needing doctoring, then,” she shot back. She snatched his wrist back up to finish her exam. Once she’d determined he wasn’t tachycardic, she returned to her seat. “I wanted to talk to you lot about something, but now I don’t even know if I should since you’re not sober, Emyr.”
Emyr slapped his hands on the table, elated. “You’re having a baby?!”
Silence fell over the table. Vera looked at Emyr incredulously. “No…why would you jump straight to that?”
“‘Cause Elan said the alethiometer said—!”
Theo darted up Emyr’s leg and climbed to his shoulder, nipping hard at his chin to silence him, and someone at a table to the left spotted Theo and shrieked loudly in terror. Theo quickly darted back beneath the table.
“You just had to choose a rat,” Eden muttered to Elan as the other patron frantically called a waiter over, pointing and wailing about a ‘mouse’.
The waiter stepped over to their table. “Excuse me,” he said, and the four Parrys and two Parry-Ellises turned and looked at him innocently. “Did you see…vermin at your table?”
“Vermin?” Elan questioned, confused.
“Like a rat? Or a mouse?” Sterling asked.
“At our table?” Isla added, looking all around them for good measure.
Emyr shrugged. “Didn’t see shit.”
Vera cut her eyes at him over his bad manners, and then she smiled at the waiter. “Everything’s fine here. We are ready to order, though.”
They placed their orders and sat in silence until the waiter was a good ways away, and then they all burst into laughter.
“So what did the alethiometer tell you, Elan?” Eden pressed, her eyes twinkling.
“Nothing,” Elan said, his voice hard. He glared at Emyr, the anger genuine— and that worried Vera. She didn’t like knowing that he knew something about her that he’d told Emyr, but clearly didn’t want her to know. That was fucked up.
Sterling agreed. “Do you know something about Vera? Because if you do, she’s the one you should tell.”
“I don’t know anything,” he said. His voice was smooth and measured, but he was definitely lying.
“Liar! What do you know?” Vera demanded. Her heart sank to her toes. “Is it…is it something bad? Something bad about a baby?”
“So you are pregnant!” Eden gasped.
“No! I’m— look, we want to start trying, but now I’m really scared. What did you see, Bogo?” Vera begged.
Elan groaned and reached up, pushing his fingers into his thick curls. “Thanks, Emyr.”
“You’re welcome,” Emyr said cheerfully, taking a sip of wine— Vera’s wine!
“Give that back!”
“You shouldn’t drink when you’re pregnant, Vera, you of all people should know that,” he quipped.
“I’m not pregnant!”
Heads turned their way again, and they all quieted and sank down in their chairs.
“We’re going to get kicked out and banned for life,” Isla muttered.
“What did you see, Elan? You’ve got to tell us now,” Sterling pressed.
“I wasn’t— look, I wasn’t asking anything about this. I promise. I don’t go poking into anyone’s private business. But as I was asking about something else, it just sort of— well, it’s difficult to explain to someone who doesn’t read the alethiometer, but sometimes as you’re uncovering certain answers you accidentally uncover the answers to other questions.”
“And…?” Vera demanded.
“And I know that you’re going to have a baby. But I don’t know when! I don’t know anything else! So don’t ask!”
Vera and Sterling shared a surprised look, one that gave way to smiles. So they would be successful— that was very comforting to know, because Vera knew well that getting pregnant wasn’t always an easy thing for everyone. She relaxed back against her seat and reached into Sterling’s lap for his hand, feeling proud and pleased.
“Okay,” she smiled.
Elan gradually relaxed, but not before glaring again at his twin. “That’s the last time I tell you anything.”
“Please. You tell me everything,” Emyr dismissed, unconcerned.
“People shouldn’t know the future,” Elan said, still upset. “It can affect things, change things. I’m sorry I told you, Vera.”
“That’s all right. Really. It’s comforting to know, because we want to have a baby,” Vera admitted.
He smiled at them, glad they weren’t upset, and they smiled back.
“So if you weren’t going to tell me you’re pregnant, what did you want to talk about?” Emyr wondered.
Despite his intoxication, this really was the best time to discuss it, and so she began explaining everything. She talked up until their food arrived, and then she waited until the server disappeared and she continued.
“So I don’t want to do it Marcel’s way anymore,” she finished. She spooned hummus onto her falafel and then looked up to gauge everyone’s feelings on what she’d said. Isla looked worried, Eden thoughtful, Elan unsure, and Emyr thrilled. He leapt up from his seat— causing it to scream against the floor as he slid it back— and walked behind Vera’s chair, throwing his arms around her and squeezing her in a tight and painful hug.
“Fuck yeah!” he said. “I’ve been wondering when you’d get tired of Marcel’s tiptoeing! We’ve got this, Bee. So when do you want to do it? Tonight?”
“Whoa,” Sterling said, alarmed. “No. Not tonight.”
“No,” Vera affirmed, nodding at Sterling. “We need time to plan. We’ve got to be careful. And we’ll need your help, Elan.”
Elan pushed his chicken around his plate. “I dunno, Bee. I’m really busy right now. I hardly have any time to read the alethiometer.”
“Erm, I think this is a bit more important than your classes, don’t you?” Emyr said. “This is the Church. They’ve hurt Mum and Dad so many times, and they’ve tried to hurt Vera, and they’d definitely hurt us if they knew we existed.” He looked down at Vera. “If you need us, Bee, we’re there! Of course we are! I would do anything for you. You know that.”
Though she knew he was likely only saying that because his inhibitions were low, she knew he meant it, and it was very sweet. She turned and hugged him.
“I know. But I don’t want to rush into anything. Okay?”
“Okay. But we are not telling Mum and Dad,” he said firmly, a hard edge to his voice. “If you tell them, I’m not helping. At all.”
He had never forgotten what happened back on the island a decade ago, when Mum and Dad had refused to let him help with the Blue Hotel heist. Though he loved them, he still hadn’t forgiven them fully for it.
Vera wasn’t sure. “I don’t think we should lie to them.”
“Yes, we should. Because if we tell them the truth, they’ll try to stop it. You know they will. Remember what they did to me?”
“To be fair, you were ten years old then,” Vera pointed out.
“Doesn’t matter. I’m still their little baby, no matter how old I am. We all are.”
Vera glanced around the table, looking from face to face. She looked at her husband last. He looked uncertain.
“You know I don’t like lying to them. I never have,” he said.
“I know,” she said. She whispered the rest into his mind, so only he could hear it. But what if we could get this over with once and for all? What if they try to keep us from that? What if the future is just on the other side of this and we miss out because they hold us back from it?
He set his fork down and wrapped both arms around her, pulling her in for a hug.
It’s your thing, he thought to her. It’s your task. I’m only here to support you, not tell you what to do. If you think this is the right call, then it’s the right call, and I’m there.
She bowed her head and kissed his arm.
“So what’s my task?” Eden demanded. “Because I’m not just twiddling my thumbs this time, either.”
“No,” Vera agreed. “Edie, I need you to run interference.”
Eden threw her head back and groaned. “No! For Mum and Dad?”
“Yes.”
“Well what if I don’t want to do that kak job?!”
“Then I’m asking you very nicely— I’m begging you— as your sister who loves you very much—”
“UGHHHH! Fine! Oukei! But I’m not happy about it!” Eden muttered. She stabbed her lasagne aggressively.
“Bunny?” Vera wondered.
Isla was chewing on her bottom lip, wearing the same expression that their mum always wore when she was deeply worried about something.
“I dunno. If Mum and Dad think something’s a bad idea, it usually is,” she said.
“They’re blinded by their love for us. Absolutely blind,” Emyr insisted. “They can’t be objective about any of this. We saw that back on the island.”
“Well…” she chewed harder on her lip, and Vera had Max nudge Wilhelmina beneath the table to make Isla stop. “I guess I’ll help.”
“Great,” Vera said, beaming. She relaxed in her chair and let out a breath. Gazing around the table as they continued eating and laughing, she felt certain she was looking at the best team in the entire world. There wasn’t anything they couldn’t do.
They met up to plan at least twice a week for the next two months.
It was always at Vera and Sterling’s house, and it always went so late into the night that her siblings ended up sleeping over. They planned, argued, and fought, and Elan slaved over the alethiometer, trying to keep up with their rapidly changing plans to see if it was safe, if it’d work.
But everyone was so tired. Sterling from working all day long and then often all night long, too; Vera from working all week at the hospital and all weekend at the clinic; Elan from his demanding classes at Oxford, Emyr from his piles of neglected school work, bustling social life, and intense rugby schedule, and Isla and Eden from high school and all their various extra-curricular activities.
And no one could deny that Elan was a savant with the alethiometer, but there were times that Sterling looked at his tired, shadowed eyes and thought, he’s not at the top of his game right now. None of us are.
Despite that thought and worry, they pressed on. Vera paced and schemed, Elan pondered and proposed, Emyr argued and dreamed. Sterling, for the most part, listened as closely as he could. He tried to offer simpler solutions when their plans got wild and convoluted, and he tried to slow things down when they got a bit impatient and tried to cut corners. But mainly, his job was to protect his wife. He borrowed one of his dad’s handguns under the guise that he was worried about future break-ins, and he practiced with it whenever he could. He hoped he wouldn’t need it, but if he did, he needed to know how to use it.
The plan changed nearly a dozen times before they finally settled on one they were all comfortable with. Their final plan went like this: Emyr would cut Vera and Sterling straight to the heart of the Magisterium. There, Vera would first meet the guards surrounding the head of the Magisterium (a man named Father Weiss). She had to quickly sink into each of their heads, no matter how many there were, and convince them not to shoot them on sight. And then she had to convince them to follow her orders now, rather than Father Weiss’s, no matter what she ordered. No matter if it went against centuries of the Church’s teachings.
Then, with an army in tow, she’d seek out Father Weiss. They knew from Elan that on the day in question, he’d be in a conference room with multiple other Church members. She would slip in, sit down; relax them all at first, so they felt like her sudden appearance was the most natural thing there was, and then she’d get to work. Father Weiss, first: gone was the bigotry, the misogyny, the hate. The antiquated world views, the need for patriarchal control. Instead, he’d learn to love knowledge, and free-thought, and the joys of the physical world— the joys of life. Everything he would do from that point on would be in defense of those things— including changing the Church from a vehicle of hatred into a vehicle of knowledge and love.
To the other men in the room, she’d do the same thing. And then, with the entire mission of the Church rearranged and fixed, she’d go home and watch and wait. If everything went according to plan, the Church would get to work tidying up its ranks at once. If everything went according to plan, the Church would devour itself within the year and begin anew.
But…
So much of it hinged on Vera’s stamina, her strength. At night, after she’d drifted to sleep, Sterling would stroke her forehead gently and gaze upon her beautiful face, his heart in his throat. Privately, he’d wonder….can she do this?
On more than one occasion, he’d nearly begged her not to. I know you want to get on with life and have a family, but we can’t have a family if you’re dead, he thought of saying. But the thought was so petrifying that he couldn’t even voice it, as if putting it into the air might make it so.
He was relying so much on Elan. He needed to hear from Elan that the plan was foolproof, that everything would go exactly as it needed to go. But Elan couldn’t give them that.
“I’m so fucking frustrated,” he told them all the night before. He rubbed his face angrily. “I can’t— I’m just so tired. I can see that it’ll work— Vera will meet who she needs to meet to be successful— but that’s all I can see. I can’t see any specifics; there are so many dark corners— I don’t know. It’s never been like this before. It’s like— there are curtains up, blocking me from seeing what I need to see. I need more time.”
He’d asked for more time three separate times now, and both Emyr and Vera seemed unhappy about granting it a fourth time. But they did. They pushed it back, rearranged some of their plans, and gave Elan more time. Another month came and went, and he came to them with the same thing again.
“I don’t know what’s wrong with me,” he said, and this time, he grew teary. “It’s really starting to frighten me. I’ve tried asking Mum, but I obviously can’t tell her that I’m searching for something really important, so she just tells me I need to take a break and stop pushing myself so hard. It feels like there’s something in my head holding me back, like a barrier.”
“Well,” Vera said, frowning. She sat down on the edge of the sofa and rubbed her thighs, thinking hard. “You did see that it would work, correct?”
“Sort of. I saw that you’d meet Father Weiss, that you’d be able to get into the Churchmen’s heads. But I can’t see the whole picture,” Elan warned.
The plan needed to change then. Sterling didn’t want them doing anything Elan couldn’t see.
“My concern is that you’ll exhaust yourself before you even get to Father Weiss,” Sterling said. He reached into Vera’s lap and took her hand, cradling it between both of his. “That’s so much for you, Sonneblom. There could be dozens of guards, and you’ll have to get into all their minds at once immediately to keep them from attacking on sight— I think you’re capable of it, but I think after you do it, you’ll be unable to do much else.”
She shut her eyes, frustrated. “I know. I’ve been thinking that, too. But I need the guards on my side. They’re too dangerous of a wild card.”
“What if we don’t have to cross paths with them?” Emyr asked. “What if I cut you straight into the conference room. We can skip the guards, go straight to Father Weiss.”
“He could have guards inside the conference room,” Sterling said.
They all looked at Elan, and he lifted the alethiometer back up to ask. He disappeared inside his head for a couple minutes, and then shook his head.
“No. They remain outside the doors,” he said.
Good. That was good. Sterling was beginning to think the new plan might work.
“Then it’ll just be a matter of getting Father Weiss and the other men to remain quiet when you and Sterling appear,” Emyr decided. “You can do your mind-thing, and then we’ll be on our way.”
Elan was rubbing between his eyes.
“What?” Sterling asked him.
Elan shook his head. “Headache. And I just…Bee, it’s a lot to undo someone’s entire personality. That’s different than just changing how they feel about one thing. You’ll have to undo who these men are…who they’ve dedicated their entire lives to being…what if you can’t do it thoroughly enough or quickly enough?”
“Then I go to Plan B,” she said. “I turn them on each other. Anger is the easiest emotion to force— and the most senseless.”
Sterling shifted uneasily, and Emyr muttered Jesus fokken Christ.
“Just because they’re gone doesn’t mean others just as narrow-minded won’t flood to take their places,” Elan countered.
“True,” Vera agreed. “But there will be mass chaos and confusion if every single organization loses its leader in the same moment. They’ll be vastly weakened for a time. And if you recall, I’ve met most of the lower-ranking leaders. Not my ideal plan, but…if things go wrong…”
“Could you really do it, you think? It’d be murder, even if you weren’t the one physically dealing the blows,” Elan said.
“Like I said…I don’t want to do it. But if things went wrong and I had to…I would.”
Sterling knew his wife: beneath her words, there was doubt and fear. She didn’t want to. She was afraid to. She’d dedicated her life to saving lives, not taking them. She was too soft for this.
But this was the role she’d been shoved into, and she seemed determined to see it through.
They had coffee in their garden that morning, holding hands and smiling as their dogs played in the grass.
It was still outside, like a period of calm right before a storm; even the songbirds were unusually quiet. And Vera had the strangest feeling, a feeling she couldn’t really put into words; it reminded her of the feeling she had her last night at home before moving out, or the way she used to feel on Christmas morning right before getting out of bed to see the gifts beneath the tree. The feeling that things are about to change. The feeling that you need to look around and take in everything around you, because it won’t look the same after this moment.
It wasn’t necessarily a bad feeling, but it did make her hold tighter to Sterling’s hand. And it did make her a bit uneasy. But it made sense, too: after today, nothing would be the same. So much of her life had been defined by this— by her role as the antichrist, by her destiny— and soon, that would all be gone. Soon, she’d just be Vera Parry-Ellis. It was exciting and strange to think about.
They cuddled together on their sofa after breakfast, holding each other and looking at the narrow cardboard box in Vera’s lap.
“Think this is the one?” she wondered.
Her past two had been negative, but she was trying not to let it bother her. Elan’s alethiometer had told him she could carry pregnancies between worlds just fine, so it wasn’t her dabbling in mum’s world that caused it, so she reasoned it was just taking them a bit of time. It did take most couples six months on average. Still, Sterling had made a show of choosing ‘a lucky test’ in the Shoprite aisle a couple days ago, a serious endeavor that involved a lucky coin and a careful examination of any and all numbers printed on the box (he was looking for 11, 3, 20, 12, or 22). An onlooker would’ve thought he was superstitious, but Vera knew better; he was only doing it to lighten the mood and Vera’s nervousness, and so that he might jokingly blame himself for not picking the luckiest one when or if it turned up negative (rather than Vera—at the back of her mind—blaming herself).
“It’s definitely the one. Look at the expiration date,” he said, and Vera laughed. She hugged his middle and hid her face against his chest.
“Now or later?” she mumbled.
“Later,” he said. He kissed the top of her head. “Let’s have something to look forward to.”
She smiled. “Because it’s going to be positive.”
“Exactly. Because it’s going to be positive. But if it’s not, you know, it’s my fault for picking a kak test, and I promise I’ll do better next time.”
Vera lifted her face and craned her neck, kissing him softly. “Because the problem isn’t our lovemaking.”
“No,” he agreed, his smile soft. He leaned in and kissed her again. “Not at all. Not even a little bit. We’re top of the class.”
“Top of the team.”
“Top of the board.”
Vera rested her cheek against his shoulder and smiled. “Like always.”
“Yep,” he said. He rubbed her back. “Like always, Sonneblom.”
She set the pregnancy test on their bathroom counter for later, and then they washed their breakfast dishes, standing side-by-side at the sink. They took their dogs on a long walk after that. Isla was coming over to watch them while Eden stayed home and kept their parents occupied, and they wanted the dogs to be calm and well-behaved for Isla.
“You be good,” Sterling told Mango (the troublemaker of the pack) once they were home. He scratched the top of his head. “No chewing up anything except your toys.”
Mango wagged his tail happily and kissed Sterling’s hand. Liefie leaned against Sterling’s legs, gazing up at him with wide, worried eyes.
“Oh, don’t you worry, girl,” he told her softly. “We’ll go to the beach this evening and swim. That’ll more than make up for my absence, don’t you think?”
Liefie whined lowly. Vera stroked her ears and looked up at Sterling.
“You could stay with them,” she offered. Liefie looked that pitiful.
“Yeah, that’s not happening,” Sterling said. “I told you I was coming along a decade ago. I meant it.”
Elan and Emyr arrived a few minutes later, and they all sat down at the kitchen table to go over the plan one final time.
“Emyr will cut into the conference room,” Elan began. He had a typed bullet-point list on the table in front of him; he was reading down it carefully. “You’ll step through, Vera. The alethiometer said it’ll take seven minutes and thirty-three seconds from start to finish; after it’s done, you step back through. Emyr and I will be on this side of the window, making sure no one but you two crosses over.”
It sounded so simple. But Vera knew there were a hundred ways it could all go wrong. They’d planned for the problems they could foresee, but there were always things they couldn’t.
They were going to cut through at noon exactly. They had eight minutes ’til then; Emyr sat at the table idly admiring the knife’s blade, Elan studied the alethiometer, Sterling paced, and Vera stepped into the bathroom to put on her final touches. She knew appearances were important and that her looks were an asset; she’d sensed it when meeting other Churchmen over the years. They liked their women beautiful but modest, unassuming but attractive. So she covered her hair with a sleek black scarf, carefully arranged her hair so that two ringlets framed her face outside her scarf, and then rummaged in the vanity for lipstick. She lifted her go-to for casual events, an old lipstick of her mother’s, and she uncapped the golden tube. She slowly wound the lipstick up the tube, and then she paused, stuck staring at the worn-down makeup for a moment, her heart tight in her chest.
“What?” she asked Max softly, hoping that he knew why she suddenly felt so— nervous. Confused. She got the strangest feeling of deja vu.
“I dunno,” he said softly, just as uneasy as her.
She lowered the lipstick and then twisted it back up again, retracing her steps to see if any further clarity would come to her. But nothing did, and so she gently dabbed color onto her lips, spread it evenly with her finger, and put the lipstick into her pocket.
“Ready?” she asked Max.
He didn’t answer for a moment or so, but then he nodded.
“Ready,” he said softly.
She was fine up until they all gathered in the upstairs study to cut the window, and then she felt so nauseated she was certain she’d be sick right there. She held Sterling’s hand tightly while Emyr made the first cut, breathing through the urge to vomit, and by the time Emyr was done, she felt shaky but less likely to cover the floor in sick.
She could see nothing but black through the window. She thought he’d cut to a dark room, but as she leaned closer and looked, she realized it was just a room made entirely of black marble. Ceiling, walls, the floor— even the long conference table that a dozen men were currently sitting at. She instinctively recoiled.
“What?” Emyr breathed. “That’s it. That’s the room.”
It was. But she was frightened: she’d had nightmares about marble.
She started to say that, but then she stopped. How stupid that would be— to cancel the plan they’d worked months on simply because she’d seen this particular flooring in a nightmare before. Plenty of places had black marble; the Church used it in loads of buildings. She’d seen it when she dipped into the lower-ranking members heads in a variety of different locations.
She tried to take a deep breath, but it was a bit shaky. She looked up at her husband.
Ready? she asked him. He nodded. Noelani stepped closer to his neck, securing her perch on his shoulder, and Maximus flew to perch on Vera’s arm. I’ll go through first. I need to get them calm.
So, with her heart pounding and her palms sweaty, she stepped through. It was the man at the head of the table— Father Weiss— who noticed her first. His eyes widened.
“Who let you in?!” he boomed, and every single head swiveled in Vera’s direction.
And that was when she realized she knew one of the men sitting at the long, marble table. Marcel’s face fell, and Vera’s heart lurched.
It’d take her aback so much that she fumbled when she reached out for Father Weiss’s mind. She instinctively found Marcel’s first— more familiar with it— and she had to quickly scramble away from it. She found the head of the Magisterium’s, and it frightened her: an imposing block of black marble.
And there was no doorknob.
Vera stumbled. Her chest tightened. Oh God, she thought, scraping her fingers over the slick slab of marble, searching for a gap, an opening, a handle, something. Oh shit.
She hadn’t expected this. She hadn’t even known this could happen. She had never come across a mind closed to her— not once. Not ever. Most minds weren’t even doors; they were open archways, or windows, and this— this was— she didn’t know what to do! She didn’t know!
So she retreated. She scrambled for another mind, choosing the man sitting closest to Father Weiss. A wooden door already half ajar; she walked through. And then the man beside him: an accordion door. One by one, she slammed them open in quick succession: a boxy doorway; a screen-door; a window with broken glass; a French door; a cave opening; a wall with a large, jagged hole in it; a port window, a two-way glass on hinges—
In she stepped. Right as Father Weiss stood up, brimming with anger and confusion, she flooded everyone else with serenity. With calmness. With the sense that she was always supposed to be here, that there was nothing wrong with her being here, that Father Weiss’s reaction was unusual.
But…she couldn’t stop Father Weiss from feeling how he felt. From reacting as he wanted to. Right as he parted his lips to yell for the guards, she made the man sitting closest to him lunge over and slam his hand over his mouth, muffling his yell.
Father Weiss was stronger than she’d anticipated: he thrashed and shoved at the man covering his mouth, and then he bit down on his hand. Hard. The pain was so intense that it loosened Vera’s grip on the man’s mind for a moment— just a moment— and that moment was long enough for him to yank his hand back and yowl loudly in pain.
“GUARDS!” Father Weiss shrieked, as soon as his mouth was uncovered. “GUARDS!”
Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.
She turned around, glancing behind her. Sterling was already rushing towards the door of the conference room to try and block it, and Marcel, Vera noticed, had leapt up to do the same. But it was no good— it was too late. There was no way they could hold their own against the dozens of guards that were outside this room. They had to abort, they had to run; there was no salvaging the plan now, not when she couldn’t get into Father Weiss’s mind.
Go back! she thought to Sterling. She rushed towards him, shaking her head. GO BACK!
He was bracing the door now, and men were beating against it on the other side. The beating turned into ramming, and Vera took a deep breath and returned to the minds of the other men at the table, forcing them to stand up and go over to help hold the door.
“Go back!” she yelled aloud to Sterling. He hadn’t listened to her thought. “They can hold the door while you go back!”
“What’s wrong?!” he asked her.
“It’s not working! I can’t do it! Sterling, GO BACK!”
“I’m not going until you do!”
She didn’t know what to do, and it was so loud, and her head ached.
“Can you make the guards stop?!” Maxie cried.
She kept her grip on the Churchmen’s minds and sought the others, but she hadn’t met the guards before. She didn’t know where they were.
“No!” she told Max.
“We have to go,” he said. He bit her sleeve and pulled. “Let’s go! Now! Sterling, Noelani, come on!”
Vera started for the window, and once she did, Sterling pushed his way through the Churchmen guarding the door and followed. Right as they reached it, though, Emyr and Elan stepped through.
“What’s going on?!” Emyr demanded.
“Go,” Vera gasped, shoving at Sterling’s back, pushing him forward and into her brothers. “Go, go—!”
A sudden boom! shook the entire room and knocked them off their feet. The men who’d been blocking the door went flying, and the pain and shock of it forced Vera from their minds completely. And then the door burst open, and heavily armed men rushed in; Vera tried to scramble to her feet, but the air had been knocked out of her when she was thrown onto her back, and she couldn’t get her bearings.
It was smoky and confusing. The men she’d been controlling were trembling, lying on the floor surrounded by bits of wood from the door the guards had just blasted open. The guards were swarming in, their priority Father Weiss. For a moment, they didn’t even notice Vera, Sterling, and her brothers lying on their backs on the floor.
But Father Weiss did. After the Guards flanked him, he lifted his hand and he pointed. He locked eyes with Vera. And he smiled.
She knew then that he knew who she was. She knew it without a doubt, though she didn’t know how he did.
He knew who she was, and he hated her.
The window was right behind them. It was right there. Vera sat up, groaning and still out of breath, and she reached to her left and grabbed Sterling’s hand.
“C’mon,” she said. She reached out and grabbed Emyr’s, too. “Now. Now.”
They rose shakily to their feet, helping each other up.
“Grab them,” Father Weiss ordered, his voice casual and bored.
They were a step away from the window now. Just a step. And then they were grabbed by the guards and yanked roughly across the floor, guns trained on them from every side of the echoing room. Vera watched the window get further and further away.
Their dæmons were pinned down by huge, muscular dog dæmons. Vera looked helplessly at little Noelani, a huge paw pressing her body into the marble so roughly that she looked seconds away from being smashed to death against the dark tile. Vera felt a wave of dizzying terror.
Stay calm, Max told her. He was pinned down, too, but he wasn’t as fragile as Noelani, so it didn’t hurt as much. Get them to let us go. Start with the men on the perimeter with the guns. Turn them on each other. Then get these men and their dæmons to release us. The window’s right there; we only need to get away, and we’ll be home.
It was easier said than done. She was so frightened— but not because they had her. Because they had her heart. It was gripped in the guard to her left’s hands, it was pinned to the marble floor.
She had once told her family that feelings controlled everything, and she’d been right. Apparently, her own controlled her powers. She was so panicked that she found it impossible to get any real footing in the guards’ minds; she’d sink into one and then lose it once she moved to the next one. And she needed to have control over all of them at once for this to work.
She hadn’t noticed Father Weiss getting closer, so intent on studying the guards along the wall. He suddenly stepped into her line of vision. He smiled and reached in, tapping her forehead; Sterling lunged at him like a feral dog the second he touched her, and it took two guards to hold him back. Even then, it was mainly their hold on Noelani that kept him from forcing his way free from them. If she’d still been inside of him, safely tucked away and hidden, he would’ve been able to.
Vera met Father Weiss’s eyes. She kept her face impassive, determined not to flinch or show any sort of fear. Not as he smiled at her, not as he brought his hand lower. She thought for a moment that he was going to touch her breasts— the look in his eyes was perverse, and his grin unsettling— but he didn’t. His fingers stopped at the level of her collarbones; he picked up the pendant of her sun necklace and studied it.
“She comes in green and blue, having swallowed the sun,” Father Weiss said. He set the sun pendant back down at the base of her throat, and then he looked pointedly at Maximus, pinned to the floor. At his green and his blue feathers. “She rips and tears from within, a rot unseen.”
Vera refused to drop his gaze, staring at him defiantly, glad he was looking at her. Glad his hatred was aimed her way. Maybe, if he kept talking, she’d figure out how to shift that slab of marble. She’d figure out how to get in.
“We may not have an alethiometer anymore, but we’ve got witches. Has there ever been anyone with as many prophecies made about them as you? Well, perhaps your whore mother.”
Theo hissed and snarled where she was pinned, and Emyr began swearing. He fought his arm free and swung on the guard holding him, sending two more surging from the perimeters to help hold him back. Their dog dæmons had to join the ones holding Aly and Theo down; the leopards were writhing and spitting and biting, their fur on end, and it took five dogs to contain them.
“Shut the fuck up!” Emyr was yelling. He spat in the guard’s face. “KEEP MY MOTHER OUT OF YOUR FUCKING MOUTH—!”
Father Weiss lifted his brows. “Touchy. If a mere comment upsets you this much, you’re really not going to like what happens next.”
And neither are you, Vera thought. She turned her focus to the guards surrounding them again. She took a deep breath. Okay. One by one. The doorways are in a straight line; pass through one, keep walking, pass through another…keep going…you have no other choice…
While she crept slowly into their heads one-by-one, Father Weiss continued talking.
“We’ve been waiting. We knew you would show up eventually. And I must admit: it took me a moment to realize who you were. I wasn’t expecting loveliness, but in hindsight, I should have. Evil presents itself as an alluring woman with reliable frequency. Now,” he said, and he gestured toward the guards on the far wall. They set into action at once, flooding towards Vera and her loved ones, and Vera lost her grip on the minds she’d been sinking into, too focused now on watching what these new guards were doing. Three more joined the guards restraining Sterling, Elan, and Emyr, and the guard holding Vera’s arms suddenly tightened his grip.
“Move,” he ordered, pulling back on her arms, dragging her backwards towards the door.
It was then that she noticed another five guards standing in the doorway waiting for her. The men holding Sterling and her brothers hadn’t made a single step to follow. It was only her they were taking.
Her chest tightened like a closed fist. She knew, if she let them take her from this room, she would either be killed or wish that she had been. She felt the danger, both in general and the danger specific to her as the only woman in the room, and as she looked across the room at her husband and brothers, the anguish on their faces told her they’d realized just the same.
“Where are you taking her?!” Sterling demanded. He yanked hard at his arms, trying to pull free, and another guard grabbed onto him. “She’s not going anywhere without us! You’re not taking her anywhere!”
Father Weiss didn’t respond; he merely nodded at the guards grouped around Vera. She felt herself being pulled back to the door.
Do something! Max yelled in her head. Vera! Do something!
She gritted her teeth and locked her legs, trying to make herself impossible to drag, but they simply countered that by scooping her up in a cradle. It was demoralizing and petrifying; she felt something snap within her, and she lost all semblance of control. In that moment, she was as feral as a wild cat. She writhed and kicked and spat and bit; they tried to subdue her by hurting Maximus, but she and Max were so afraid that they were beyond feeling pain.
Her panic sent everyone into an uproar. From the corner of her eye, she saw tiny little Noelani squirm up and then peck the dog dæmon’s eyes so hard blood spurted all over her silver feathers. And that one small action set off a chain of events: the guard holding Sterling, feeling his dæmon’s sudden pain, let go of Sterling’s arms. Sterling rushed across the black marble floor to where Maximus was pinned, and he kicked the dog dæmon so hard in its side that it lurched off Maximus, allowing Maximus to get free. Max met up with Noelani, and they flew over to the guards restraining Emyr and began to viciously peck at their faces, their eyes in particular. They instinctively let go of Emyr to reach up and shield their faces, and then Emyr was free.
It was hectic, confusing. Vera saw everything happening in quick, vague blurs. By now, she was on the floor— having writhed and fought her way out of the guard’s grasps— and she quickly dragged herself across the marble floor and beneath the conference table.
She’d been injured by something; she left long streaks of blood on the marble as she pulled herself along the floor, but nothing hurt. She wasn’t even sure if it was her own blood. She crouched there, out of breath and trembling, and sucked in a deep breath through gritted teeth. She clawed her way back into the guards’ minds. One, two, three. Four. Five. Six, seven, eight…
She was aware of Theo and Aly viciously fighting with a variety of dog daemons, and then Sterling and Emyr were on the guard who’d been cradling her a few seconds prior. They jumped on him, two-to-one, and began to pound his face, Emyr shrieking expletives all the while.
Nine, ten. Eleven. Twelvethirteenfourteenfifteen—
Elan was on the other side of the room, whispering frantically to Marcel and pointing at the window.
Sixteen, seventeen. Eighteen. Nine.Teen. Twen.Ty…
Guards were rushing at Emyr and Sterling, reaching for them to pull them off the guard they were beating. The guards were reaching for their weapons—
Twenty-twotwenty-threetwenty-four-twenty-five-twenty-six—
There was a brief moment of calm. Every single guard froze in place, as if they’d suddenly forgotten where they were or what they were doing. And then they slowly rotated, trained their guns on each other, and fired.
Pop, pop, pop, pop! Sterling and Emyr threw themselves to the floor, out of the line of fire, and Elan crawled over to them. Vera did the same, crawling over fallen bodies and through hot slicks of blood. She met Sterling’s eyes, and he reached out for her…
Rapid footsteps, shouting; Father Weiss was back on his feet, having been spared in the slew of bullets, and he was beckoning another round of guards into the conference room.
There were too many too fast. She couldn’t do anything. Every one she’d disposed of was replaced and doubled.
She felt rough hands grab her beneath her armpits. She was lifted in the air, and guards surged forward and yanked Sterling and her brothers to their feet.
“Hold them!” Father Weiss ordered. His face and clothes were blood-splattered, his chest heaving. He turned in a complete circle, surveying the dead around them, and then he looked at Vera.
Hatred bubbled up within her chest, hot and frothing. She wormed her hand free enough to lift her middle finger.
Even if they didn’t have that gesture in this world, he understood her defiant gaze. His expression turned dark; it shadowed with rage. She tensed, bracing herself, knowing she would be punished for this. Knowing it would hurt.
And she was right about being punished, but she was wrong about who was going to be hurt.
Father Weiss turned his gaze from Vera to Sterling. He regarded Sterling for at least a minute. He studied the way Sterling was twisted and oriented in Vera’s direction, his entire body screaming out: she’s mine, don’t touch her!
He examined their eyes, never leaving each other’s face, and the intensity there.
He gazed at Sterling’s left hand, clenched into a tight fist, and then looked at Vera’s left hand, her nails pressed viciously into the forearm of the guard restraining her. At their wedding rings.
And then he looked at Noelani, who was once again pinned down by a dæmon a hundred times her size.
He faced Vera.
“Someone failed to put you in your place. Let me be of some assistance.”
Within only a second or two, four men were on Sterling. Vera cried out as they slammed him to the floor. She fought against the arms holding her back as they began to beat him, punching and kicking with so much force she could hear the breath being knocked from him. They slammed his head into the marble floor, they kicked his side so hard he balled up and writhed—
“NO! STOP! STOP IT!” Vera clawed at the face of the guard holding her, scratching crimson lines with her nails. “GET AWAY FROM HIM! GET AWAY!!”
Emyr and Elan were fighting with all they had, too. Vera distantly heard their screaming and their daemons’ snarls. Maximus bit and fought the daemon holding him down, frantically trying to get to Noelani, who was being pressed between the dog’s heavy paw and floor— she was being crushed— she was going to die—!
Vera pushed into the guards’ minds—
Sterling shrieked in pain, and she snapped back to her own mind, her terror so acute she couldn’t breathe—
Stop, she thought, stopstopstopstopstop! She flung the thought toward any mind she could reach. She was desperate.
Vera felt a sudden flash of extreme physical pain that made her scream out; something had happened to Max, and the pain of it was excruciating, and she couldn’t— she couldn’t— she couldn’t—
“GET OFF OF HIM!” Emyr boomed. He broke free and shot towards the men still kicking and beating Sterling, his hand reaching for the subtle knife—
There was a confusing tangle as Emyr went after the guards hurting Sterling and the guards went after Emyr. She heard shrieks, shouts, and then something hard clattering to the floor. The guards recoiled, stepping back from the melee.
And there was Vera’s baby brother in the middle of it all, standing on shaky knees, blood gushing from his torso where he’d been sliced from serum to belly-button. He met Vera’s eyes across the room; his hand went to his belly, and his fingers touched his intestines. His eyes widened with shock. And then his knees folded and gave way beneath him, and he crashed to the floor.
“No! NO!” Elan shrieked. He was gasping, hysterical, and he collapsed down into the puddle of his twin’s blood, reaching helplessly towards his wound. He didn’t spare a single guard a look; they might as well have been invisible to him. “VERA! VERA, HELP! HELP HIM! HELP ME! WHAT DO I DO?! VERA! VERA! NO!”
Elan’s hands, pressing down against Emyr’s gaping belly.
Sterling, reaching a trembling hand out towards Emyr, wheezing raggedly, each breath visibly excruciating.
Her baby brother’s blood, gushing from his body, soaking the three of them.
And dozens and dozens of guards surging towards them.
There was Dr. Parry-Ellis who was needed, and there was Vera. She felt the conflict, the tension; which half of her would save them? Who was she? Who was she? Who was she?
She felt herself losing grip. Hysteria was a sea within her, churning and writhing, choking her. Drowning her. She looked for Max, needing him to tell her what to do, but she couldn’t reach him: he was lying in a puddle of blood across the room, his wing hanging on by a single tendon and a bit of bone. He couldn’t move: he was lying atop Noelani, shielding her from the dog dæmons.
She watched a guard seize Elan and try to drag him away from Emyr; Theo lunged at the guard, clamping down on his leg and thrashing her head, and then three more guards stepped in to grab Elan, too. They dragged him off Emyr, him reaching helplessly towards Emyr and screaming—
“HE’S DYING! LET ME GO! YOU’RE KILLING HIM! YOU’RE KILLING HIM! VERA! VERA! HELP HIM!”
And in Vera’s hysteria, in her horror— with her mind unhooked, unhinged— she found herself doing something that she never had before. She was sinking in, drifting down, settling into the minds of the guards like a fine mist. Like Dust. For a moment, she could see it: little shimmering gold specs, softly sinking and disappearing into their heads like snow flurries.
Sterling was trying to drag himself over to Emyr now, to help him, but he couldn’t seem to move his legs; he was dragging himself by his extended hand. A guard walked over and lifted his foot, to step and shatter Sterling’s reaching arm.
Instead, though, the guard pulled out his weapon, and he shot himself in the face.
His head exploded, sending out a burst of blood and brain matter and bone. His body crumbled straight to the floor and lay there motionless.
The shock of seeing the guard do that made the man holding Vera retreat, terrified now, and as soon as her feet were set back on the ground, she ran for her brother and her husband. As she ran, she heard it. Pop! Pop! Pop! One after another, the guards shot themselves and fell to the floor, and by the time she was on her knees at Emyr’s side, the room was quiet and riddled with faceless bodies.
Elan crawled back over to them, the guards who’d been restraining him now dead. He was making the most terrible keening sound that Vera had ever heard, his hands pressing helplessly to his twin’s chest. Emyr was in shock: his entire body was trembling, and his eyes were wide and frightened.
He tried to speak, but blood bubbled up his throat, choking his words. It frothed at his lips. Vera just narrowly made out, “Bee…”
She wasn’t back in her own body yet: she was still floating above, broken into a million shimmering pieces, like sunlight atop the water.
She heard herself say, “Shhh…” She watched herself stroke his curls back. She moved her fingers to his neck, feeling his weak, erratic pulse. “Don’t try to talk, Bubi…it’s okay, I’m going to— I’m going to—fix it. It’s okay.”
From above and all around, she watched herself take off her dress and fold the material up, pressing the thick pad down over his wound with both hands. Blood drenched through the yellow fabric in seconds. She could see the anguish on her own face, the knowledge that what she was doing was pointless. Because there was nothing she could do for him.
She saw her own face plummet as she turned to check on Sterling— only to realize, at some point in the chaos, the guards’ dæmons had been set on him. He must’ve rolled over to protect his face: they’d ripped at his arms and his back. He was bleeding profusely, too, so that the crimson sea they were all lying in was a mixture of Emyr and Sterling. She made Elan move his hands to Emyr’s stomach, to keep pressing, and she slid over to her husband, pulling her ripped scarf from her hair and pressing it to the deepest wound on the back of his bicep. It was gushing blood, the muscle ripped and torn. She could see bone.
“We have to get them to hospital!” she heard herself shout to Elan. Her voice didn’t even sound like her voice; it was wild and hysterical. She’d never sounded like that before “We need something to move them—!” she looked widely around them, searching for something to use as a makeshift gurney or stretcher, knowing in her heart, even as she did, that there was no way they could transport them both through the window in time enough to save them.
They were going to die. That knowledge slammed her back into her own body, and once she was there, she began to weep in huge, soundless bursts. She didn’t know what to do. She couldn’t do anything. She was so dizzy; she could hardly see. She lay over Sterling’s back, gripping him close, feeling his hot blood drench through her bra, sobbing the same broken phrase over and over: I love you, I’m sorry. I love you, I’m sorry. I love you, I’m sorry.
I’m sorry you love me.
And then…voices. Her whole body tensed, and a wave of nausea washed over her. More guards. How were there more?! What were they going to do? Drag her husband’s body away? Her brother’s body?
She twisted to look at the conference doorway, intending to stand up and offer herself— maybe that would give Elan enough time to somehow get Emyr and Sterling to the window, then he could get them to hospital, then maybe they could live— they had to live! They had to!
But despite the voices drawing nearer, Vera saw no one at the door. She then realized the voices were coming from the window, and a second after that, people burst through, Marcel leading them in. Mum, Dad, Malcolm, Alice, Noah, Ebrahim, Naomi— Vera bowled over and wept.
“Help them,” she begged. She could barely keep her eyes open now; the exhaustion from what she’d done had set in. She watched through half-open lids as Dad and Malcolm lifted Emyr, and the look on her father’s face…she would never forget it. She would carry that wound until the day she died.
Noah and Ebrahim lifted Sterling, and Alice picked up the injured dæmons. Aly had enough life left in her to switch to her smaller form; that gave Vera a bit of hope. But the amount of blood she saw once the bodies were removed dimmed it.
Her mum’s anguished wailing and Elan’s sobs were so loud Vera could hear them in this world, through the window. Naomi picked Vera up beneath her armpits and hoisted her up, wrapping an arm around her waist. Her legs were— squishy-foldly. And as they took small steps towards the window, the brains she stepped in were, too.
She burst into another round of sobs.
“Come on,” Naomi whispered gently. She readjusted her hold on Vera’s waist, taking on more of her weight, and pushed her forward. “Is any of the blood on you yours?”
Vera didn’t know. She couldn’t speak.
“Are you hurt?” Naomi pressed, slowing them some, studying Vera closer, and then— “Oh, Vera— your leg…”
Vera glanced down. She stared for a moment at the blood gushing from the side of her thigh, not understanding. It was a dog bite, but she didn’t remember being bitten, and she didn’t feel anything. Nothing except the gaping emptiness within her chest.
“Naomi…my brother…” she couldn’t breathe. “Sterling…”
“I know.” She didn’t promise Vera it would be okay, because they both knew that it probably wouldn’t. She just held her closer. “Let’s get back to them.”
Marcel was waiting at the window, making sure they made it through safely. He was surveying the room: the blood, the bodies. So many bodies. She turned back to look at them, and she swayed on her feet.
There was sudden movement from the corner of her eye, near the conference door, and she looked over to see a singular guard, covered in blood and brain splatter, limping from the room as quickly as he could, his arm wrapped around Father Weiss.
Hatred of the likes Vera had never known before erupted within her. She’d thought he was dead. She’d thought he’d been shot, too. She’d thought she’d at least managed that.
She fought her way from Naomi’s arms. No way. No fucking way. There was no goddamn way he was walking from this room. She was going to strangle him— she was going to beat him until he asphyxiated blood— she was going to do to him all the things he’d seen done to her family! (To her heart.)
She took three long strides, tumbled forward on her weak legs and fell, stood back up. Four, five. The subtle knife was still lying in the pool of Emyr’s blood; no one had noticed it. She tilted forward and grasped it. Collapsed again. Dragged herself back up.
“Vera! No! Vera— stop!” Marcel yelled.
Naomi caught up with her, grabbing her and restraining her, and Vera writhed in her arms as the guard and Father Weiss ran down the corridor.
“NO! GET BACK HERE! LET ME GO! LET ME GO! I HAVE TO KILL HIM! I HAVE TO KILL HIM! I’M GOING TO FUCKING KILL YOU— I’M GOING TO KILL YOU, YOU STUPID MOTHERFUCKER! YOU STUPID UGLY FUCK! YOU FUCKING— I’M GOING TO—”
Her words broke off suddenly; she succumbed to a wave of dizziness. She doubled over and vomited all over the bloody marble. And then she collapsed.
She came to as she was eased into a wheelchair. The noisy, bustling sounds of the room she was pushed into were familiar. She knew she was in A&E at Groote Schuur without even opening her eyes.
“How is she?” Dad asked urgently. Vera felt his hand settle atop her head, stroking over her curls.
Naomi’s voice was shaking. “I don’t know— she vomited and collapsed— Will, look at her leg, I think she’s lost a lot of blood—”
Naomi pulled Vera’s blood-drenched slip up, exposing her leg wound, and Vera’s dad pressed around it. His hands, usually so steady, were trembling so much that he accidentally poked his finger into one of the puncture wounds. Vera was so exhausted she didn’t even have the energy to cry out.
“She needs sutures, but it’s not deep enough to cause enough blood loss to have her like this. I think it’s exhaustion. It happens when she— when—” he couldn’t finish.
“Will…are they…?”
“I don’t know,” he said, and his voice broke with a sob. “They—they’re in surgery, I don’t know. I need to— I need to go see, but I can’t leave— my daughter—”
“Go! Go, it’s okay; I’ll be here with Vera. I won’t leave. I’ll make sure she gets seen to, and I’ll tell her you’ll be right back when she wakes. Emyr and Sterling need you more right now, and Lyra— you should be waiting with her, Will.”
His sobs increased in intensity. “I don’t know what happened, Naomi! And now— my son…my sons—and Max is badly injured— we’ve rang Jade, we didn’t know what else to do; Noelani is— it’s bad, Naomi—”
“Is Jade coming here? Will, I’ve got the knife! Here— Vera found it, it was on the floor—”
Her dad could hardly breathe past his tears. “I-I can’t take it. Please. I don’t want it!”
“Okay. It’s all right; I’ll keep it safe in my bag. It’s okay. I thought— Jade’s coming, so…”
“She’s headed to Elan’s dorm; she’s going to come through the window there…” he set his hand on Vera’s shoulder, and Vera felt his anguish. His agony. It mixed with her own, to the point that she was soon crying silently, tears tracking down the sides of her face. “When Vera wakes, tell her— tell her Jade’s helping Max…tell her…tell her that Noelani is still breathing. Tell her that Lyra’s holding her, that she’s with Max, that we’re trying to stay as close to the operating theatre as we can.”
“I’ll tell her.”
“I’m going back. Please— please bring her up after she gets seen to. We’re in the trauma unit.”
“I will,” Naomi promised.
Vera didn’t black out again, but she wished she would’ve. She kept her eyes closed, unable to open them and face Naomi’s questions. Unable to look Naomi in her eyes. Would Vera ever be able to look at any of them ever again?
While they waited in the reception area for a bed to open up, Naomi stepped away for a minute to use the loo. As soon as she was gone, Vera rolled her chair over to the wall so she could grab onto the railing and hoist herself up. She surveyed the reception area: there were so many people waiting to be seen that she couldn’t count them, and she knew a dog bite would be low on the list triage-wise. She wasn’t sitting out here a moment longer.
She held onto the railing and followed the corridor to a set of double-doors with a key code. She entered the code and limped through, making her way to a storage room. She entered the code for that door, stepped in, and let it shut after her.
She gathered the items she needed, and then she slowly (and painfully) lifted herself up onto a metal counter running along the back wall. She shoved a few unopened boxes out of her way and set her materials beside her. She flushed her wound, injected each puncture wound with a local anesthetic, and then sutured it shut, having to take breaks every few stitches to rest her forehead against the cool wall and breathe through a round of nausea.
When she was done, she threw her items away and limped towards the lifts. She ducked into a linen closet on the way and grabbed a clean pair of scrubs; she took off her blood-stained slip and threw it away. Once she was clothed, she rode up to the trauma ward, but she entered through the staff door rather than walking through the family area.
Even having done that, she could still hear her mother crying.
She was dizzy and having a difficult time staying upright by the time she made it to the nurse’s station. She stepped behind it and scanned a wall of clipboards. A. Apperlo, H. Buthelezi, J. Dlamini, E. Fourie, Q. Hadebe, M. Johnson, N. Khan, A. Oosthuizen…
E. Parry, S. Parry-Ellis.
She pulled both off their hooks and collapsed down in one of the nurse’s chairs, her legs quivering. She set them on her lap and opened the file clipped to the first clipboard. She scanned her eyes down the quick intake notes, her heart pounding so hard the pressure of it made her head ache. Emyr had been rushed to surgery and was receiving blood transfusions; the nurse had notated that Dad insisted on Elan donating blood for the transfusions rather than using donor blood, with a note made that no donor blood should be given to Emyr without prior consent, and that family donors were to be used at all times. They’d even included a list of immediate family members who had compatible blood, and as Vera gazed at the list, she realized it was every one of them except for her. Her sisters, Mum, Dad— they were universal donors. Vera was A+. She’d put him on that table, and she couldn’t even help get him off it. Her tears left little round spots on the paper.
Sterling’s file contained an exhaustive account of his wounds and physical copies from his scans. She pulled the various views free and then turned facing the desk, using the lamp as a backlight. His brain she studied first and for a long while; she didn’t see any bleeding, but he had a linear fracture. As she switched to the other views, she realized that was the least of his problems: four of his ribs were fractured, there was damage to his T9 thoracic vertebra, he had a pulmonary laceration, left-sided renal injury, his right ulna was fractured, and he had an open fracture to his left humerus— the location Vera had seen the worst bite.
She sat there staring at the scan for what felt like ages. The fact that the guards’ dæmons had bitten deep enough to break bone made her feel so sick she had to lean forward and rest her forehead against the edge of the desk, breathing against a swell of nausea so intense it was debilitating. And what of his spinal injury? He’d been picked up and moved so quickly and roughly after it happened— that would’ve made the damage even worse. She should’ve stopped them, she should’ve…she should’ve…
Oh, God. The intensity of all the things she should’ve done took her breath away. She lurched forward, scrambling to grab the wastebasket beneath the desk. She vomited into it, but since she had nothing left in her to expel, she heaved. She gagged. She thought: I should’ve never been born.
That’s where she was when she heard her name.
“Vera!”
She recognized the voice: it was a nurse who worked the trauma ward. She was nice, and only a couple years older than Vera herself. They’d laughed together often during late-night shifts during Vera’s trauma ward rotations. Vera quickly set the wastebasket down, but she didn’t lift her head, still too dizzy and sick to. She rested her cheek against the edge of the desk and tried to catch her breath.
“What are you doing up here?! They’ve put in a code for you, everybody’s looking— you need to get back down to A&E! You need antibiotics, a tetanus booster, rabies PEP…Vera?” She set her hand on Vera’s back, and Vera flinched so violently that the clipboards in her lap slid and clattered to the floor. The nurse withdrew her hand quickly. “Shit. Sorry.”
Vera slid the chair back and bent over, picking the files back up. She hadn’t spoken since shrieking at Father Weiss’s retreating back, and when she tried to do so, her voice was horribly hoarse, both from the screeching and the dry heaving.
“I need to see them,” she said.
The nurse sat down in the chair beside Vera’s.
“They’re in surgery,” she said gently. “They’re trying to repair Sterling’s arm and assess the kidney damage. And your brother…” she trailed off. Vera’s eyes burned with tears. “Oh, Vera, I just can’t believe what you all have been through. It’s like something from a nightmare. I’m so sorry.”
Vera had no idea what story the staff here had been told, but it certainly wasn’t the real one. She didn’t say anything back. Even if she did know the cover story, she didn’t have the energy to talk, anyway. And the only person who should feel sorry for anything was herself.
She promised the nurse she was on her way back down to A&E, and then she walked back towards the family waiting area in the trauma ward. It was nearly empty; Martin was sat alone in one of the plastic chairs, staring unseeingly at the wall. Vera grasped onto the backs of the chairs for stability as she made her way down the row towards him.
She sank down into the seat beside him. He looked at her.
“Nearly everyone’s out looking for you. Where have you been?”
There was accusation in his voice, and she fully deserved it. She didn’t answer; she didn’t try to make excuses for herself. Anything he thought about her— he was right. She was all those things and more.
“You were right before,” she whispered. “What you said. When I was younger.”
“What?”
Her eyes burned and blurred, her nose ran. She sniffed and bowed her head, looking down at her lap. She clasped her hands together tightly. She stared through her tears at her wedding ring, at the blood leaching through the fabric of her scrub bottoms.
“When you said I wasn’t good for him.”
My fault. My fault. My fault.
She stood. Her chest was bursting with agony. All the world was blurred.
“Wait,” Martin said, and he reached out and grabbed her wrist, stopping her. “Where are you going? Your parents and sisters will be right back— they’re donating blood— and your grandmother’s looking for you, and everyone else is, too—just wait here. Just wait here with me.”
It was a list of people left to be hurt. A list of people who’d one day be punished for who she was. And soon, a list of people she’d never hurt again.
She pulled her wrist from Martin. She looked at his steely eyes. They were damp, and she realized he wanted her to stay. He needed her to stay. He needed someone to sit here with him, someone who loved Sterling, someone who was hurting, too.
But she loved Sterling so much more than he did. And she’d hurt him so much more than he had.
“I’m sorry, Martin.” She was. She was.
She limped from the family area, blood trickling down her leg, her chest collapsing beneath the weight of her sorrow.
She knew where her family would be— in the phlebotomy lab— and she walked down a maintenance corridor, coming up to a back door that led into the wide, sterile room.
It had a square window, and she could see them. She took stock of their sorrow: Mum’s wet, swollen face, tears still steadily rolling down it, her chest heaving with sobs; Dad’s damp beard and puffy eyes; Eden’s blank, haunted look; Isla’s audible weeping. Elan was quiet, still; he hardly seemed present. He looked to be in shock.
A hospital baby blanket was draped on Mum’s lap, and beneath the cheery fabric, Vera could see a bit of green, a bit of silver. Max and Noelani, curled together, suffering. Waiting for help. Would Max ever fly again? Would Sterling ever walk normally again— if he survived this at all? Would either of them ever forgive her?
And if Emyr died…if she lost her baby brother…if she took her parents’ son away, her brother’s twin…
Vera stooped down, kneeling and muffling her sobs into her knees. She could feel that she was tearing her stitches, but she didn’t care. She wept so hard it made her gag, each sob soundless, and she couldn’t stop. She fell back onto her bottom and sat there in that dim corridor, weeping on this side of the door while her family wept on the other.
All the things she’d thought she’d be— all the things she thought she was— and it turned out she was actually just a monster all along.
Down the service lift, back to the storage closets.
Five more sets of clean scrubs, bandages and saline, a blanket. She put them in a plastic bag.
Up to the pharmacy. Inside the pharmacist’s mind. The pharmacist, smiling and unaware she wasn’t in control of herself anymore, cheerfully handed over a bottle of Augmentin and a vial of Tetanus immune globulin.
Vera sat with the pharmacist at her desk and injected the contents of the vials in her arm while the pharmacist absently hummed “My Hartjie, My Liefie”.
Vera disposed of the empty vial and the used needle. She took her first dose of the Augmentin, put the bottle into her plastic bag, and then stood.
“Is that all you need?” the pharmacist questioned brightly. She smiled and touched Vera’s arm. “I don’t think that’s all you need.”
She was right. Of course she was right. Right now, she was Vera.
Vera sat and waited as the pharmacist gathered a pregnancy test, mifepristone, and misoprostol. She put those into her bag, too, wishing someone had given those to her own mother twenty-five years ago.
“Do you need counseling on these medications?”
“No.”
Vera left the pharmacy, withdrawing from the pharmacist’s mind as soon as the door shut behind her. She walked straight out of Groote Schuur, leaving Max behind, leaving Sterling and Emyr and everyone else she’d ever hurt.
She limped all the way to her and Sterling’s cheery yellow house. She stood outside of it for a moment, making sure someone was there taking care of the dogs. They were: Sterling’s best uni mate, Quinton, was there with his girlfriend. They were making something on the hob, feeding Liefie, Hartlam, and Mango bites now and then. Vera curled her fingers around a spindle on the front gate, gripping tight, her eyes burning with tears. Would she ever see Liefie again? Would she ever hear her nails clicking against the hardwood floors excitedly as Vera came home, would she ever feel her leaning her large body against Vera’s legs— trying to get as close as she possibly could to her— as Vera stroked her? Would she ever see her happy grin, her tongue lolling out, her wagging tail? Would she ever kiss her between her eyes?
When Liefie died, would she wonder where Vera had gone? Would she think she didn’t love her anymore?
She could’ve gone into her home. She could’ve taken the dogs with her. But Sterling would need them now, and she’d only end up hurting them, anyway.
She limped away from her home, numb to everything around her. She didn’t notice her wound, she didn’t care about the dangerous eyes trailing her as she walked alone at night. She took a cab to her childhood home, entered the keycode on the garden gate, walked up to the treehouse, and then stepped into the window that connected their Fish Hoek home with the island.
By the time she made it to the treehouse, the left leg of her scrubs was drenched in blood, and she was exhausted. She dropped her plastic bag to the carpet and curled on the sofa just as she was. She couldn’t bear to sleep in the bed she and Sterling had first made love in. She couldn’t bear to visit the scene of her crime.
Her mind was still damaged from what she’d done, so as soon as her head hit the cushions, she slipped towards unconsciousness. She resisted it, though, and with her chest tight and tears burning her raw cheeks, she found that window with the silver light. The window that held the moon.
It was shut tightly, and everything was quiet. The light behind it was dim. She trailed her fingers along the window frame, caressing the wood as she wept.
I love you, she said.
I’m sorry, she said.
I’m sorry for what I did to your life.
She sat on the ground, leaning against the window to her husband’s mind, apologizing up until she passed out. She slept, knowing that after tonight, she’d be sleeping in unfamiliar places. Knowing that from now on, she was alone. Knowing that’s what she deserved. |
When Adrien Agreste walked through the front doors of his house at approximately 5:27 pm (according to the grandfather clock in the entryway) and saw his father waiting for him, at the top of the stairs, he knew he was in trouble.
"Where were you?"
Well, Adrien had been gallivanting around Paris as Chat Noir, taking a breather after an especially rough akuma, but he was pretty sure that if his father knew that, he would be grounded. And banned from going to school.
Or having friends.
So Adrien had to come up with a reasonable excuse on the spot. "I was at school, working on a project with Nino."
Perfect excuse. He provided a place, a person. It was a whole alibi. And Nino would back him up, even if it wasn't the truth. Nino was always down to mess with Gabriel, as he had loudly announced, several times after the birthday party incident.
"The school library closes at four." Gabriel frowned. "And you didn't text Nathalie."
"I was going to?"
Adrien absolutely had not planned on texting Nathalie about any of his Chat Noir adventures ever. If she never found out his secret identity, it would be too soon.
"You didn't text. We were worried about you."
Worried. Adrien almost laughed. It wasn't as if his father really cared what happened to him. Gabriel Agreste only cared about Adrien's image. "The Akuma attacked when we were leaving, and Nino's house was closer. I just stayed there until we were sure it was safe."
That timeline would check out. This wasn't Adrien's first rodeo.
Gabriel folded his arms. "It was reckless and irresponsible."
"Next time, I'll text." Adrien smiled. "Promise."
"Adrien, there won't be a next time."
"You can't do that."
"You're grounded."
Fuck. That was the opposite of what Adrien was going for. If he was grounded, he couldn't be Chat Noir, and if he wasn't Chat Noir, Paris would fall and it would be all his fault and he couldn't let that happen. "Father-"
"Go to your room."
"You can't stop me from spending time with my friends."
"I'm not stopping you from spending time with friends. I'm making sure you don't waste your time with hooligans."
Adrien was about ready to throw hands on Nino's behalf. The worst Gabriel would do was take away his freedom, and even then, Chat Noir could escape. "Nino is the best friend I have."
Gabriel frowned. "You have other friends. Kagami, and Chloe. You should spend more time with friends like them."
Adrien spent plenty of time with Chloe. Too much. Chloe was his oldest friend, but she was a lot. And Adrien saw Kagami every other day at fencing practice. "What do you have against Nino?"
"I just don't think he's a good influence."
"Nino is the best influence." Adrien took a deep breath. "Around Nino, I feel like myself again. He's introduced me to new music, New people. Nino has done more for my happiness than you ever have."
As soon as he said it, it felt like it was going too far. Adrien knew that his father cared, but sometimes it didn't feel like it.
Gabriel blinked, looking taken aback. "I'm sorry you feel that way."
"Yeah." There wasn't much else to say. "I'll go to my room."
"Wait."
Adrien turned around. "I'm going to school in the morning. If you try to stop me, I will make a run for it."
"I wasn't going to stop you. I wanted to ask...."
"What?"
"Are you and Nino...." Gabriel made some vague hand gestures. "...you know?"
"Are me and Nino what?" Adrien raised an eyebrow. If he knew what Gabriel was getting at, there was no need to be so vague. "I'm not sure I understand the question."
Gabriel made a face, like he had bitten into a lemon. Like the very idea disgusted him. "Are you and Nino dating?"
They weren't. But it was as good an alibi as any. And as a bonus, Gabriel hated the idea.
Nino would love it.
Adrien was in a petty mood. He smirked at his father. "Yeah. Yeah we are."
Gabriel let out a loud sigh. "I don't know if this is teenage rebellion, or if you're lashing out, because I've been neglectful..."
That was absolutely what it was, but Adrien wasn't going to give his father the satisfaction of being right. "No dad. This is who I am."
Adrien had not put a lot of thought into that, actually. He had had a crush on Ladybug, but that didn't work out. Nino was top on the list of people Adrien wanted to date, because he was just that great of a friend.
(Technically, the top of Adrien's list of people to date was Chat Noir, but he couldn't do that)
Adrien wasn't sure if he was into guys, but he wasn't opposed to the idea. Especially if the guy was Nino. He made a mental note to do some more research on that.
"It couldn't have been Kagami? Chloe? The Ladyblogger? That nice Marinette girl?"
Adrien snorted. "Marinette is dating Alya. And I think Chloe and Kagami are-"
"Are all of your friends gay?"
"Why do you care?"
"I don't want my son to be associated with a bunch of-"
"I would suggest you not finish whatever you were going to say, because it sounded homophobic. You wouldn't want me going to the press with that, would you?" It wasn't a threat. It was a promise. Adrien was this close to dragging his father's entire reputation down the drain.
"I just asked you a simple question, Adrien. There's no need to-"
Adrien folded his arms. "I don't know why it matters. They're my friends."
"Fine." Gabriel looked at Nathalie. "If you insist on coming out of the closet, I suppose that we can put together an acceptable list of people you can date."
"You can't just assign me someone to date." Adrien's hands were shaking. "Its my life."
"You'd get a choice, of course. We can narrow it down to three or so candidates and you'd be allowed to choose from there."
"That's not really a choice then, is it?"
"Of course it is. You'll get to choose from a pool of adequate suitors. It'd be like with your closet. You'd get to choose, but only from the best options. Many people would be glad to have the chance to date you." Gabriel nodded. "Thank you for bringing this to my attention. It could be good press. Gabriel fashion has been attacked for not being accepting-"
Adrien was horrified at the concept. He also didn't like the implication that even his clothing choice wasn't really a choice. Sure, his shirt, pants and socks were all Gabriel, but he had a choice, right?
Or did he?
The way his father spoke, it was like he was a walking, talking, living advertisement for Gabriel fashion. "I'm your son, not your brand representative."
"Adrien, you're both."
"I told you. I'm dating Nino." Adrien had chosen his rock, and he was going to die on it.
Gabriel sighed. "Bring him over for dinner on friday."
"What?" That was a total change of pace. Adrien practically got whiplash from it.
"If he's going to date you, he's going to need to be good for the brand image."
"Right." Adrien scoffed. Just when he thought his father wanted him to be happy or something. "I'll let my boyfriend know that we have scheduled dates now."
"And maybe next week, you two can go on a talk show and-"
"Dad, I'll bring him over for dinner. I'm not promising that he will want to do talk shows or paparazzi. That's why we've been keeping everything so low key."
"He's dating you. He has to get used to the spotlight."
"I know." Adrien frowned. If this was to work, Nino would get a lot of spotlight. It wasn't fair to drag anyone into that. "He's shy."
"If he's your boyfriend , it won't be a secret for long. You know how the press is."
"I do."
"I'm just trying to protect you. And prepare your boyfriend for how the world will respond."
"Honestly, I don't care what the world thinks. This is between me and Nino." Adrien started walking towards his room.
"Dinner. Friday."
"Fine." With that, Adrien dramatically stomped off to his room and slammed the door.
He was playing the part of dramatic teenager perfectly.
And only some of it was acting. Adrien really was frustrated with his father. The man wanted to control him.
Adrien wanted to be free.
Adrien sent a quick text to Nino. bro can I ask u a favor?
sure dude
it will piss off my dad
im down
Adrien didn't hesitate. i kinda told my dad that we're dating
Nino's response was instant: cool
Adrien let out a breath he hadn't known he was holding. Nino was cool with fake dating. His identity was safe. he wants you to come over for dinner on friday
Of course Nino was cool with it. He was the best friend ever. He and Adrien were ride or die. God Adrien could've kissed Nino. Or given him a miraculous. Both. At the same time.
A second later , Adrien's phone chimed again. Another text from Nino.
wait what?
i panicked, Adrien frowned at his phone. It was simple enough.
how do u accidentally claim to be dating someone???????
Maybe it wasn't so simple. Adrien typed out the words "call me" before deleting them. It didn't feel right. And he didn't have enough phone power to facetime. This was a conversation that he had to have with Nino, in person.
Adrien locked the door to his bedroom, opened a window, took a running start, and-
-realized he hadn't transformed about one second before he would have jumped out of the second story window.
Sure, Adrien could be impulsive, but that was a whole new level. It was reckless. If he had jumped, he would have been seriously injured.
Adrien took a moment to breathe. He did not need to jump out of a building to get his father's attention.
Instead he was fake dating his best friend to cover up the fact that he was a superhero. It was a foolproof plan really.
Once his hands stopped shaking, Adrien opened up the mini fridge under his bed. "Plagg?"
"Emergencies only." The kwami shoved a large chunk of cheese into his mouth.
"This is an emergency."
"You just fought an akuma. Don't tell me there's another."
"Nope. This is more of a personal emergency."
"I'm out." Plagg folded his arms. "This is my time to rest."
"Please." Adrien smiled.
"I'm on strike. No more shenanigans until you have to patrol."
"I almost jumped out of a window."
"Whoa kid." Plagg flew out, and hovered in between Adrien and the window. "Do we need to talk? Are you doing okay?"
"Yeah, I'm fine."
"You almost jumped out of a window."
"I forgot that I wasn't transformed." Adrien shrugged. "I didn't want to jump out of a window. It just sorta happened."
"So you were being dumb, not -"
"Yeah plagg. I was being dumb." Adrien winced. "Sorry for scaring you."
"You know, you can talk to me, if you need to. I'm not really, emotional, but I could be."
"I'll let you know if I need it buddy." Adrien patted Plagg's head. "As for now, Plagg, claws out!"
The kwami was sucked into his ring, and after that brief, unscheduled delay, it was Chat Noir that jumped out of Adrien's window.
He then leapt across rooftops until he was across the street from Nino's house. Chat Noir passed by Nino's bedroom window three times. The first time, he made sure that no one was in the room. The second time, he checked that the window was unlocked, and slid it open, using his special cat abilities.
The third time, Chat Noir took a running start from a nearby rooftop, used all of his inertia to leap, and detransformed mid-air, landing in Nino's bedroom as Adrien.
That turned out to be a mistake, because Nino walked in the door, with a plate of crackers and cheese, as Adrien landed.
Nino dropped his plate. "Adrien?" Crackers cascaded to the floor, crumbs scattering on the carpet. Chunks of cheese bounced off the plate. It was a tragic sight.
"Chat Noir saw me and offered me a ride!" Adrien waved his arms. "I don't regularly climb up through people's windows."
Nino raised an eyebrow. "I saw you yeet yourself through the window."
"You mean, you saw Chat Noir gently place me in your room-"
Plagg flew out of Adrien's pocket to eat some of the floor cheese that Nino had conveniently dropped. "Nice to meet you, I need cheese."
"Plagg, that cheese is on the floor."
"You think germs affect me?"
Adrien sighed. "We have cheese at home."
"And? This is perfectly okay cheese." Plagg took a bite. "It's no camembert, but its... what is this? Swiss?"
"Yep." Nino nodded. "It's Swiss. And you're a kwami."
"I like him." Plagg nodded. "He's smart. Keep him."
"I thought we were trying to keep my identity a secret. You can't expose me like this, Plagg."
Plagg shrugged. "It seems like he already figured it out."
Nino blinked. "Adrien, you pole vaulted from across the street and transformed midair, in full view from my window. Plagg didn't expose anything. I saw you."
Shit. Adrien should have checked a third time before entering Nino's room. "I wanted to talk to you."
"To tell me you were a fucking superhero?" Nino blinked. "I mean, I knew you were- wow... but wow."
"No?" Adrien winced. "That actually wasn't part of the plan. I probably should have gone through the door."
"Dude." Nino shook his head. "My best friend is a superhero."
"Boyfriend." Adrien corrected with a wink.
"I must be dreaming." Nino sat on the floor. "Or this is some weird akuma."
"I'm real." Adrien stuck out his tongue.
"Yeah, you wouldn't make that face in my dreams, dork." Nino laughed. "So, what's up?"
"I texted you, remember?"
"Right. You're mad at your dad?"
"More or less." Adrien shrugged. "I came home late."
"Why were you late? We left the library at four?"
"I was busy fighting an akuma?"
"Oh right." Nino shook his head. "Duh. Okay, go on."
"I was home late, my dad was mad, I couldn't tell him I'm Chat Noir so I said I was hanging out with you." Adrien shrugged. "I mean, or wasn't, but I figured that you would cover for me if I needed."
"Yeah I got your back dude."
"Thanks. Anyways, he called you a hooligan, and I was like 'no, Nino is amazing, he's my best friend' "
"Aww bro." Nino placed a hand over his heart. "That's so sweet bro."
"Thanks bro, so I told my dad you were a good friend and then he was like 'hold up a minute, are you-"
"I cannot imagine your father saying the phrase 'hold up a minute'" Nino laughed.
"He didn't, I'm paraphrasing." Adrien took a breath, "He was like 'hold up a minute, are you dating Nino?' And he seemed mad about the whole thing, and I was feeling frustrated and I wasn't thinking, and just told him that yes we were dating."
"Damn, I can't imagine that that went over well."
"No it did not. He tried to set me up with some random models." Adrien shrugged. "But I stood my ground."
"Bro you could've been dating a model?"
"I am a model." Adrien rolled his eyes.
"So?"
"I have a complex. I have to be the pretty one in the relationship. It's why me and Ladybug never worked out."
"You don't think I'm pretty?"
Adrien did in fact think that Nino was pretty. "You're cute, but only one of us has billboards with their face all over Paris."
"You saw my face on a billboard?"
"Haha very funny."
"I'm the funny one." Nino chuckled. "I've got all the jokes."
Adrien frowned. "I wanted to be the funny one."
"You? Funny?"
"I'm a comedic genius. You should hear some of my puns as Chat Noir. They're purrfect."
"You can't be the pretty one and the funny one. You've got to make a choice."
"I think I can. I don't want to choose."
"Fine. You're pretty and funny." Nino crossed his arms. "Then what am I?"
"The love of my life, obviously."
Nino smiled. "Right, of course. How could I forget?"
"Besides, there's no one I'd rather fake date than you." Adrien took a breath. "I feel like me around you. Like I can be free, I can make mistakes and dumb jokes, and no one will judge me or get mad at me for being imperfect."
"For the record, I wouldn't fake date anyone else." Nino smiled at Adrien. "Only you. You're perfect to me, just the way you are."
Adrien tried to ignore the little flutter his heart did. "Anyways, we're dating, and my father wants you to come over for dinner on friday."
"Friday? That's tomorrow."
"Oh. Are you busy? I can try to reschedule."
"No, no I can make it. What's the plan?"
"We're fake dating and you're coming over for dinner tomorrow."
"And that required you to reveal your identity and break my window?"
"I didn't break the window. I opened it." Adrien clarified.
"It's completely gone. The window vanished. How did you open it?"
Adrien winced. "With... magic."
"Magic?" Nino raised an eyebrow.
"Cat powers." Adrien shrugged. "You know how it is?"
"Do I?"
Plagg made a swiping motion in the air, and hissed.
"You Cataclysmed my window???"
Adrien wanted to deny the truth. "What did you think happened?"
"I thought it disappeared." Nino placed his head in his hands. "Are you sure you aren't some weird fever dream akuma?"
"I can get Ladybug to fix it." Adrien wasn't sure if he could, actually, because it wasn't damage done by an akuma.
"You'd better. Otherwise, it'll get cold in here."
"Well...." for the first time that day, Adrien found himself hesitating. "If it's too cold... we could always.... cuddle?"
"Yeah that'd be good practice. For our fake dating."
"Should we practice kissing? To make it convincing?"
"Yeah, that's a great plan." Nino smiled. "Practice."
"Wait what do we tell everyone else?"
"What do you mean?"
"Like at school." Adrien frowned. "I don't want it to get back to my dad that it's fake."
"We can just tell everyone at school that we're dating." Nino smiled. "I'm sure they'll be supportive."
"Yeah. I know they will. I just don't want to lie to them."
"Have you thought about telling your father that you're Chat Noir?"
"I have." Adrien nodded. "Even in dreams it doesn't go well."
"Fair enough."
"The important thing here is that we mess with my dad."
"Yes. This is like the ultimate prank."
"And we can't catch feelings."
"What?" Nino blushed. "Why would you think I'd catch feelings ahahah?"
"I don't." Adrien shrugged. "I've just read a lot of fanfictions. They always end up falling in love."
"Always?"
"Yep. But we're different. This is for a prank."
Nino nodded. "We might as well have some fun with this."
"What do you mean?"
"Well, if Gabriel gets mad every time we kiss, maybe we should get good at kissing." Nino suggested.
Adrien smiled. "I like that idea. Kissing is good."
"And maybe we should hold hands a lot."
"Yeah that will convince them." Adrien nodded enthusiastically. Maybe a little bit too enthusiastically.
Nino closed his eyes and started to lean in.
And Adrien met him halfway.
It was a fairly long kiss. Definitely longer than a kiss between two best friends should last. But convincing enough for fake dating. Adrien's heartrate sped up and he forgot how to breathe.
When Nino finally pulled away, they both were a little breathless, and Adrien could feel himself blushing. "That was good."
"Yeah, totally convincing." Nino nodded.
"I think we should do it again."
...
Approximately two hours and an unknown amount of kisses later, Plagg was practically dragging Adrien out the window.
"Sorry Nino , but I should get to patrolling with Ladybug. I'm already-" Adrien glanced at his watch. "-20 minutes late. She's going to kill me."
"Does Ladybug care that much about the schedule?"
"No. She's going to be mad that I let my identity slip."
"It was an honest mistake. I'm sure she will understand." Nino shrugged, "and you know, at least it was me and not Hawkmoth. Or your dad."
"I don't know which one of those options is worse." Adrien shook his head. "Yeah. I trust you. It'll be fine."
"And Ladybugs trusts me. Somewhat."
"She does?"
"Yeah bro, I was Carapace, remember? I can keep a secret."
"Yeah. That's right."
"I think honesty is the best policy. Just tell her the truth and-"
"You're right." Adrien took a breath. "Plagg, Claws Out!"
"Wow." Nino shook his head. "I mean. Wow."
Chat Noir flexed. "You like it?"
"If I hadn't seen you transform, I'd have no idea it was you. You look different."
"Different?"
"Yeah, but a good different. You look confident."
"Thanks." Chat Noir winked. "Wish me luck."
"Babe, you don't need luck."
"Babe?"
"Oh!" Nino shook his head. "Sorry, I was just thinking, if we're dating, we should probably have cute nicknames for each other, bro."
"Yeah. Dude and bro aren't exactly the most romantic." Chat Noir nodded. "I'll come up with a list of names for you, and we can figure this out at school tomorrow."
"Sounds like a plan." Nino gave him two thumbs up.
Chat Noir kissed Nino on the cheek, before rushing to patrol.
On his way, he checked his cat-phone.
4 missed calls.
Yikes.
When he got to the Eiffel Tower, Ladybug was sitting on the edge, staring down at the city below.
"Hey Bug," he waved sheepishly.
"You never miss patrol." She ran over and threw her arms around him. "I thought something happened."
"sorry for scaring you, I'm here now." He hugged her back. "I'm here."
"I thought maybe I lost you, or your father finally grounded you, or that something terrible happened."
"Well," Chat shrugged, "a lot of things happened. Do we need to patrol, or can we talk for a bit?"
"We can talk. What's up?"
Chat Noir took a deep breath. "I may have accidentally revealed my identity to my boyfriend."
"You have a boyfriend?" Ladybug smiled. "That's cute, congrats."
Fake boyfriend, technically, but Ladybug didn't need to know specifics. "Thanks, he's been my best friend forever, but the dating is pretty new and-" Chat Noir tilted his head. "You aren't mad?"
"Do you trust him?"
"Yeah. I trust him as much as I trust you."
"Cool." Ladybug nodded. "Then I trust him. Sometimes these things happen. At least it's someone you trust."
"Yeah. I'm glad you're so cool with this." Chat Noir sighed. "I didn't need any body else yelling at me today."
"Yeah." Ladybug sighed. "I accidentally revealed my identity to my girlfriend last week, so it'd be pretty hypocritical of me to get mad at you."
"And you trust her?"
"Yes." Ladybug smiled. "I do."
"Then no judgement here."
"I was a little worried at first, because she's the ladyblogger, but-" Ladybug kept talking, but Chat Noir couldn't hear the words.
"You... you're dating Alya?" Marinette was dating Alya.
"Yeah." Ladybug frowned. "Do you know her?"
"Kinda?" Chat Noir shrugged. "I don't know if we should-" keep talking. Something fishy was happening and Adrien wasn't sure if he wanted to get in the middle of it. Ladybug was his best friend. She was loyal, and the kind of person to always have someone's back.
Ladybug wouldn't be dating Alya, if she knew about Marinette. But Marinette wouldn't date Alya if she knew about Ladybug.
And Alya really didn't seem like the type to cheat on anyone.
"Right." Ladybug nodded. "I shouldn't know who you are. And you shouldn't know me. It's not safe."
"Right." Chat Noir repeated weakly. He had no idea who Ladybug was, but he needed to talk to Marinette.
"Who yelled at you?" Ladybug put her hands on her hips. "Do i need to fight them?"
"No. My Dad yelled at me because he's a dick, but I've got a plan."
"A plan?" Ladybug raised an eyebrow.
Chat shook his head. "Don't worry. It'll make him mad, but he won't do anything."
"I wasn't worried. What's the plan?"
The plan was fake dating Nino, but the whole point of fake dating someone was convincing other people that you're dating. "The entire plan is that I'm coming out. My father isn't... supportive."
"Are you sure he won't do anything? Chat are you safe at home?"
"I'm fine. Promise. And if I'm not, I guess I'll just live with my boyfriend."
Adrien knew that Nino's house didn't have enough space. Most likely, if Adrien got kicked out, he would end up living at the hotel with Chloe. Chloe was a lot, but she was his friend. And she lived in a hotel. Things would work out.
Hopefully.
Ladybug growled. "I will fight your dad for you."
"Join the club." Chat Noir shrugged. "At this point I have like six people who have offered to fight him."
"You should make us a group chat. I'm sure we can organize something."
"Ha, right."
"It wouldn't be the first group chat I have that is specifically targeted around fighting a friend's father. I mean, we haven't actually done anything.... yet."
"That seems pretty specific." Now, Adrien wanted to know if his friends had a groupchat like that. Probably not, but he wouldn't be surprised.
"You know, my girlfriend and I would both be happy to fight him for you-"
Chat Noir did not want to hear about Ladybug and Alya. The idea felt insulting to Marinette, so he changed the subject. "My boyfriend yelled because I accidentally cataclysmed his window."
"How do you accidentally-"
"I don't know." Chat Noir shook his head. "I wasn't thinking. Can you fix it?"
"Probably?"
Ladybug did the miraculous cure, and Chat Noir returned back to Nino's. This time, he knocked, and Nino slid the window open.
No cataclysm involved.
"You're back." Nino yawned. "It's late."
"I just wanted to make sure that I fixed the window."
"Yep, all good."
"Can... can I come inside?"
"Always." Nino took a step back.
Adrien climbed through the window. "So I've been thinking, and I think I know how to really convince people that we're dating."
"How?"
"Can I borrow one of your hoodies?"
"Sure, why?" Nino dug through his closet a bit before throwing a green hoodie at Chat Noir.
"Because," Adrien slipped the hoodie on, over his supersuit, "I'm going to wear it to school tomorrow. Like we're dating."
"That's genius." Nino whistled. "You have no right to look that cute in my hoodie."
"I'm always cute, Nino."
"Yeah, you are."
"And, we're going to sit together, because we're dating."
Nino tilted his head. "We already sit together."
"It's a work in progress. We can hold hands?" Adrien suggested.
"Yeah, that's cute."
"Should we get some more practice kissing in before tomorrow?"
"Its almost midnight." Nino yawned. "And we have school in the morning."
Adrien sighed, "you're the first person I've kissed, unless you count when I was controlled by Akuma-"
"It doesn't count unless you want it to."
"- and I'm just not sure if I can kiss convincingly."
"Adrien, believe me, it was convincing." Nino licked his lips. "But I wouldnt be opposed to practicing a few times."
...
Adrien met Nino outside school a solid 15 minutes before it started. He was wearing Nino's hoodie and Nino had his jacket. After a brief peptalk, and some practice kissing in the locker room, Adrien and Nino walked into class, holding hands.
It was subtle. It was classy.
Alya started cheering as soon as they entered the classroom. "My ship is finally sailing. Adrino."
"Finally?" Adrien glanced at Nino. "What does she mean?"
Nino pointedly ignored the question. "Alya, I thought your ship was Ladynoir."
Adrien didn't know why Nino would bring that up. It was awkward, because he was Chat Noir. Being the awkward person he was, Adrien chimed in, "I really think Ladynoir is just friends."
"So you're on Marinette's side?" Alya asked.
"What?"
"Marinette ships platonic ladynoir."
"Yeah." Adrien nodded. "I think Ladybug and Chat Noir are better off as friends. They're good partners. Why ruin that with all the complications of a relationship?"
"Why indeed." Nino mumbled.
"What?"
"Nothing."
Alya nodded. "Yeah. I get what you're saying. I don't really ship Ladynoir anymore. I mean, it'd be cute, but I get the feeling that Ladybug is more into women."
Adrien knew that. Well, technically Chat Noir knew that. And of course Alya would know that. Which reminded him. "Hey, where is Marinette? I wanted to ask her something."
"Running late." Alya chuckled, "I love her, but she cannot keep a schedule to save her life."
Eventually, Marinette arrived, but it was as the bell was ringing, so Adrien didn't have a chance to talk to her.
...
After class, Adrien gave Nino a quick kiss, before waving at Marinette. "Hey Mari, can we talk?"
"Sure," she frowned, "but chem starts in ten minutes, so it has to be fast."
"Follow me, this is a private conversation." Adrien started walking down the hallway.
"And this is the boy's locker room."Marinette folded her arms. "I am not going in there."
"But-"
"Adrien, whatever you want to talk about, we can talk about in the hallway. Unless you know Hawkmoth's identity, or other equally sensitive information."
"Fine, but I think you may want to sit down."
"Why do I feel like you're going to tell me my hamster died." Marinette shook her head. "I don't even have a hamster."
"Marinette, you're one of my best friends, so I don't know how to tell you this. I wish it wasn't true. I don't want to see you get hurt."
"Tell me... what?"
He took a deep breath. "I think that Alya is seeing Ladybug on the side."
Marinette forgot how to breathe. She slowly sank to the floor her face red.
Her shoulders started shaking, silently, and her eyes teared up.
Adrien sat next to her. "It's okay if you need to cry. I've got you."
Finally, Marinette took a deep breath... And burst out laughing.
"Are you okay?" Adrien gingerly patted the top of Marinette's head.
"I thought someone died," she chuckled, "but you wanted to let me know that Ladybug is with my girlfriend."
"Did you know?"
"Of course I knew." Marinette shook her head. "Alya wouldn't cheat on me. Or Ladybug."
"I'm sorry for assuming-"
"No, thanks for telling me. I appreciate it. If it wasn't how it is, I'd like to know." Marinette smiled. "But you have to admit that it's a bit funny."
"Funny?"
"You thought that my girlfriend was cheating on me with me-y my other girlfriend." Marinette stuttered.
"Yeah," Adrien chuckled, "I can see how that would be funny."
"How did you find out anyways? Alya and Ladybug have been pretty subtle."
"Oh you know," Adrien shrugged vaguely, "a friend told me."
Marinette blinked. "Huh. What friend?"
"She's a mutual friend of ours, apparently."
"That doesn't add up."
"What?" Adrien shrugged very casually. "I just, you know, heard about it, and just wanted to make sure that you were aware."
Marinette tilted her head. "You're Chat Noir, aren't you?"
"What?" Adrien chuckled, scratching the back of his neck, "where did you get that idea?"
"So, are you?"
"I-" Adrien froze.
"You totally are."
"Legally, I can't answer that."
"Oh my god." Marinette face palmed. "I can't believe I didn't realize."
"Oh would you look at the time? Gotta get to class!" Adrien sprinted away from Marinette, who was still on the floor.
"Adrien we have the same class, you said we wouldn't be late-" Marinette shouted at him, but he was already halfway down the hallway.
Now, that was a close call. First Nino, then Marinette He couldn't reveal his identity to all of his friends. He would definitely have to tell Ladybug to keep an eye on Marinette during the next patrol.
He couldn't confirm or deny her suspicions.
...
Adrien went out of his way to avoid Marinette for the rest of the schoolday, until she stopped questioning him.
She did sit behind him in every class, and she and Alya kept whispering and giggling, so something was up. Marinette was probably telling Alya all about how Adrien had thought that Ladybug was Alya's side bitch.
In Adrien's defense, Ladybug did not mention Marinette.
...
After school, Nino and Adrien met in the locker room. They shared a few practice kisses, until they realized they had an audience, and then proceeded to leave school as quickly as possible.
Adrien and Nino were carpooling to his home, to work on homework and stuff before dinner. It just made more sense than making Nino walk. Or bike.
Or run around in a banana costume.
Adrien wasn't sure how most people traveled around Paris.
Eventually they reached his home, which was quiet, and Adrien led Nino upstairs, to his room.
...
"Welcome," Adrien opened the door, "to my humble abode."
"Man, I've been here before, but your room is amazing."
"Thanks. What do you want to do?"
"I mean, we probably should work on homework, right?" Nino set his backpack on the ground. "You could help me edit my essay?"
"Or," Adrien suggested, with a light kiss to Nino's wrist, "we could get some more practice in before the big show."
"Yeah, this is all a show." Nino shook his head. "Do you really want to aggressively make out in front of your father?"
"I think you mean agreste-ivly."
"Nope." Nino stepped back. "You've ruined the moment."
"We were having a moment?"
"Almost." Nino chuckled, "until you started making name puns."
Adrien smirked. "I think I could make it up to you."
Nino raised an eyebrow. "Oh? I like the sound of that."
They were passionately making out when Nathalie knocked on the door.
Adrien practically threw himself to the floor, so that they were apart when she walked into his room.
"Dinner will be ready in ten minutes." Nathalie looked down at Adrien, who was sitting on the floor. "Fix your hair, it's a mess. And you got makeup on Nino."
"Am. Am I blushing?" Adrien took a few breaths, "or is it just smudged makeup?"
"You are definitely blushing, Chaton." Nino smiled.
The nickname made Adrien's cheeks feel warmer.
....
Dinner was an awkward affair. Gabriel seemed unhappy the entire time, and seemed to get more disappointed as it went on.
They had small talk, and Gabriel audibly sighed when Nino shared that he wanted to be a music producer.
At one point, Gabriel had taken a big bite of chicken, and Adrien strategically planted a kiss on Nino's cheek.
Gabriel started coughing, but the look on his face made both Adrien and Nino snicker.
So, dinner was awkward, but at least for Adrien, having Nino there made it tolerable.
....
After dinner, Adrien offered to walk Nino home.
"I think that went really well." Adrien held out his fist. "I mean did you see my dad's face?"
"Yeah." Nino fist bumped him. "He was totally pissed."
"Thank you so much bro."
"Bro." Nino paused. "Yeah. Of course. Anytime."
"I mean, honestly we can keep it up for a week or so-"
"A week?"
"Yeah, how long did you think this was going to last?"
"I-" Nino looked at the ground. "I think this was a mistake."
"Oh." Adrien frowned. "I thought we should just say that we had a mutual breakup and wanted to remain friends, right?"
"Right. Friends."
"Best friends." Adrien smiled.
Nino chuckled. "I don't know if we should automatically be best friends again after our breakup."
"Fake breakup." Adrien reminded him.
"Fake breakup for our fake relationship."
"Do you want me to walk you to school tomorrow?"
"Tomorrow is Saturday."
"Oh." Adrien smiled. "Can I come over and play some video games? Maybe practice kissing?"
"I thought you said we were going to break up in a week or so?"
"Yeah, but we can still practice, right?"
"Why would we need to kiss if we are going to break up?"
"Because-" Adrien did actually have a reason. It wasn't the best reason, but it w as nt entirely false. "For fun?"
"Fun?"
"Well, yeah. This whole thing has been fun, hasn't it?"
Nino let go of Adrien's hand. "Adrien, I love you bro, but I think I need some space."
"I can do that."
"I mean, it's not you. It's me."
"I totally get it." Adrien took a step back. "I get how this whole thing could make friendship... confusing. I mean, you make my heart beat a little faster-"
Nino froze in his tracks. "Dude, you have got to stop saying things like that."
"But you're my best friend, of course I love you."
"Of course, because that's exactly how best friends are supposed to work."
"Well, you and Ladybug are my best friends-"
"Remember how you used to feel about Ladybug. Do you feel like that about me?"
"Maybe?" Adrien shrugged. "Why can't we just be friends who kiss sometimes."
"Sometimes? Adrien I've kissed you more in the past 24 hours than I have kissed anyone in my entire life."
"Yeah, because you're such a good friend."
Nino scoffed. "I think you need to figure out where the line is between friend and boyfriend. When you find it, let me know where we stand."
"What?"
"Adrien, you've been giving me mixed signals for days."
"We're fake dating, I thought we discussed this."
"If it was fake, why did you kiss me when we were alone in your room?"
"Because I wanted to-" Adrien stopped talking, when he realized that he didn't have a reason.
"And you want to keep 'practicing' kissing? Why? The big prank is over. We messed with your dad. And yeah, the look on his face was funny, but the look on yours felt real. Too real."
"I don't-"
"You don't know what you've been doing to me. The flirting, the teasing. Adrien I just want to kiss you stupid. I want to take you out, like on a real date, for us, and not just to piss off your dad. I want this to be real." Nino shook his head. "And you don't know what you want."
"Nino, I had no idea that you felt that way." Adrien looked at the ground. "I didn't want to make things awkward between us."
"I think it's a little bit too late for that. I just- I shouldn't have said anything."
"Sorry."
"I'll see you on Monday." Nino opened his front door. "Let me know when you figure out what you want."
Adrien stood on Nino's doorstep for longer than he should have. It started to rain, and as he trudged back home, he felt cold and miserable, even though he was wearing Nino's hoodie.
Something twisted in Adrien's chest, and he couldn't figure out why.
...
He couldn't bear the thought of going home alone, so he transformed.
Normally, Adrien would go to Nino for advice, but he didn't imagine that that would go over well. Last time Chat Noir tried to talk to Nino, he cataclysmed his window.
Also, Nino knew that Adrien was Chat Noir, and Nino was upset with Adrien.
Which was understandable. Adrien hadn't meant to mess with Nino's feelings like that. If he had known from the beginning, he wouldn't have-
-wouldn't have played such a dumb prank. It wasn't worth losing friends over.
It wasn't worth losing Nino over.
And Adrien did want to kiss Nino, he just didn't know how to say it. He hadn't understood until the break up, but Adrien wanted to be with Nino, romantically. He wanted to hold his hand, and kiss him, and go on dates.
Nino was his best friend, but he was so much more than that.
Adrien just didn't know how to put it into words.
So he pulled out his catphone and called the only person other than Nino that he would go to for advice.
She didn't pick up. Instead, Chat Noir was met with a classic, "please leave a message after the beep."
The beep happened, and he couldn't keep his mouth shut.
"Hey, Ladybug?" The receiver on the other end was silent. "I think I fucked up. Like.. majorly. Don't worry, I'm not in any danger, I just really need someone to talk to. I think me and my boyfriend just broke up. So, you know, if you could call me back when you get this..." his voice trailed off, and he sent the message.
He thought about texting Marinette, because she usually had good advice, but didn't.
She was in a happy, honest relationship with Alya and Ladybug. Their situations were nothing alike.
Adrien had just screwed up the best chance he had.
With nowhere else to go, Adrien detransformed and went home. Once inside, he went directly to his room and cried for an hour. He wiped his eyes, and accidentally got snot on Nino's hoodie, which made him cry more.
Adrien pulled off the hoodie, putting it in his laundry basket to be washed. It wasnt his hoodie. He wasn't dating Nino. He didn't deserve to wear it.
Without the hoodie his room felt cold.
Adrien was still crying when Ladybug slammed into his window. The center window pane was open, but Ladybug went for the left one, smacking against it loudly. It made for quite the entrance.
Adrien looked up, and watched as she peeled herself off the glass, and swung through the adjacent window. "Sorry," Ladybug cracked her neck, "I thought the other one was open."
"Its fine." Adrien mumbled. "Are you hurt?"
"Nah." Ladybug shook her head. "I've got this suit to protect me."
"Right. So, what brings you here?"
"I got your messages. I figured you could use a friend."
"But, I'm Adrien, not Chat-" Adrien tilted his head. "-Oh, did Marinette tell you, or something."
"Yeah, or something. I figured it out in my own."
"Huh."
"So do you want to talk about it?" Ladybug pulled a comically large box of popcorn out of her yo-yo, "or do you want to do a movie marathon cry sesh?"
"Ladybug, you're the best."
"I know."
"I think I want to talk." Adrien inhaled, "but I'd eat some of that popcorn."
"Good call." She handed him the bucket. "So, you and Nino broke up?"
"Yeah. After dinner."
"And, who broke up with who?"
"Nino broke up with me." His bottom lip started to tremble. "I mean, we had planned a mutual breakup, but he ended things early."
"Aww Adrien, I'm sorry." Ladybug frowned. "Planned breakup?"
"It's complicated."
"Can I ask why Nino ended things?"
"He thought that we didn't feel the same. Nino said that he loved me, but I was giving mixed signals."
"And how do you feel?"
"I was definitely giving mixed signals." Adrien sighed, "but only because I didn't realize how I felt about him."
"So why didn't you tell him that?"
"Because I didn't realize. I thought that wanting to kiss and hold hands were normal friendly feelings."
"Right." Ladybug chuckled. "I'm sure you two were being very good friends."
"Nino is the best friend."
"Did I ever tell you how Alya and I got together?"
"No, I don't think you have."
"Well, I thought it was just a normal sleepover. We were watching a movie and cuddling, when Alya kissed me." Ladybug smiled. "And I panicked."
"You? Panic?" He laughed, "you're like the most calm person I know."
"Adrien, I'm constantly panicking" Ladybug shook her head, "anyways, Alya apologized for reading the mood wrong, but I realized how I felt and was like 'no, you read the mood exactly right,' and I kissed her back."
"That's cute."
"Yeah, what about you and Nino?"
"Well, I visited his house, accidentally transformed in front of him and one thing led to another and we started making out."
"Bold start."
"Apparently we both had a lot of pent up emotion."
"Yeah. The whole class has been placing bets on when you two would get together."
"The only problem was, it was all fake. We pretended to date to mess with my father."
Ladybug gasped. "You two were faking?"
"Yeah." Adrien frowned. "My dad accused me of dating Nino, and instead of denying, I went along with it, to mess with him."
"I can't believe Nino agreed to that."
"What can I say? He's a great friend. Nino would agree to anything that would piss off my dad."
"I am still down to fight him, by the way."
"So is Nino."
"A fake relationship with someone I like...." Ladybug shook her head. "I couldn't do it. It would hurt, to know that the entire time, every action, every kiss and name was fake."
"But apparently, it wasn't fake. To either of us. Things got complicated." Adrien frowned. "I think Nino ended it so that he wouldn't get hurt, but it was too late. He hurt both of us."
"So, what do you want to do?"
"I have to apologize. Tell him how I feel. But it has to be good. I need to write a letter, or a song, or something. Something thought out and perfect."
"Well, you can always ask me for help editing."
"I think I'm good." Adrien shrugged. "Besides, I'd have to transform to contact you, so-"
"You could just text me."
"I don't think I have your phone number."
"I'm pretty sure you do." Ladybug frowned. "I texted you about the chem homework earlier?"
"No, Marinette texted me about the-"
"Adrien, I am Marinette."
"What?"
Ladybug shrugged. "I mean, I figured you out. You might as well know who I am."
Adrien slumped to the floor, where he curled up into a little ball. "This is too much for me to process." He buried his head in his hands.
"Do you want me to stay, or should I go?"
"You can go." Adrien shook his head. "Ladybug and Marinette are going to exist as two separate entities until I have a better grip on reality and my emotions."
"Fair enough. Prioritize your problems." Ladybug gave a wave. "And feel free to ask for advice. I'm here to support you, both of you."
...
Adrien wrote drafts for three letters, two poems, seven songs and one fan fiction, but none of it really said what he wanted it to. In the end, Adrien decided to start over, to repeat his actions, but erase his mistakes.
He sent Nino a bunch of text messages.
Nino, I think I do like you like that.
No
I know that I like you like that
Like, I want to kiss you and hold your hand and date you
Because I like you, not because we're friends
And I'm sorry for the mixed signals
I didn't know what I was thinking
.... Nino is Typing
I'm sorry, I hope you can forgive me
And I hope we can start over
This time, I'm going to process my feelings
And I know that best friends don't kiss
But boyfriends do
...Nino is Typing
And you don't have to respond right away
I'm trying
What?
You just keep sending more messages
I'm still trying to respond to the first
Oh sorry about that
You're good.
I just have a lot to say
I'm sorry too
I kinda snapped
It was unfair
I should've been honest with you from the beginning
About how I felt.
I just don't think this is a conversation to have over text
Do you want me to come over?
Can I?
So we can actually talk?
Yeah.
Can you?
I have my ways (^._.^)
Just don't Cataclysm my Window.
Adrien let out a little laugh at the message.
No promises. (^._.^)ﾉ☆[]
Ladybug won't fix my window twice in one week
Ehh
I probably could convince her to fix it
I've already opened it.
So you don't have to worry
Adrien transformed into Chat Noir, and climbed out his window.
He had no idea what Nino was going to say, but things were looking up.
And no matter what happened, it would happen for them. Because they wanted it to happen.
Not because they wanted to piss off Gabriel.
Because they loved each other.
|
The Cabin of Artemis was painted silver. Dark pink amaranth hung in pots by the front door, with banners hung from the bases emblazoned with the cycle of the moon. Inside, when Hera first arrived, there had been bunks aplenty, each labelled according to whom among the Hunters had claimed them.
Herakles, of course, found a spare bed for her own use soon enough—but the next morning, a new room had appeared with a door bearing her name. Inside was a bedroom suited for long-term living, filled with high-quality furniture and a distinctly presented gift laying on the dresser. Herakles had opened it discover a leather jacket that looked like it had been spray-painted silver—she could sense a distinct theme, there—with her name in Greek sewn onto the collar.
A letter that came with the jacket from her mother described several properties of the jacket, which could apparently shift form to suit her needs, offer her protection against projectiles and hopefully, Artemis said, absorb the properties of Thanatos’ gift to her. Hera had been sceptical over that last bit for some time, until Thanatos visited her.
‘It will work,’ he said, wings flaring as he grimaced at the sight of the Cabin walls. Hera frowned at his behaviour, which he answered quickly. ‘Artemis can sense me here. This is her domain. I am…grudgingly welcomed, but only into your quarters. Nowhere else.’
‘At least you can visit,’ Hera said, before questioning him on the jacket, tugging it on. ‘Is she right, then? They’re compatible?’
‘She designed it that way.’ Thanatos described, summoning her Cloak and draping it across her shoulders. As he pressed his hands against her shoulders, it began to fade, her jacket shining brightly. ‘Gods don’t usually leave vulnerabilities in their creations. As she may have suspected I would, I have bound your Cloak to the essence of it. Our powers are intertwined.’
‘Have you fixed that vulnerability, then?’
Thanatos smiled at her and Hera took that to mean yes, he had. She experimented with the power she could feel running through her jacket—she supposed she had to call it the Jacket, now, capital letter included—and in a moment, her body vanished from existence.
The God of Death hummed pleasantly. ‘Those who you wish to bring under your power shall also vanish,’ he told her. ‘I’ve taken the liberty of manipulating how the Cloak interacts with the anti-projectile defences. They usually redirect things around the wearer, however, while you are invisible, they shall pass through you, instead.’
Hera raised her eyebrows high. ‘Through me?’
Thanatos shrugged. ‘You’re immune to death anyway. I might as well make existence pleasant for you.’
Grateful for the consideration, Hera gave him her thanks, then got on with her life.
‘You’ve not been publicly claimed,’ said Dionysus after Chiron admonished her for exiting Artemis’ Cabin the following morning. Hera had stared at him blankly until the pale-faced centaur stormed away, upset. ‘Us from upstairs don’t usually take it well when our domains are invaded.’
‘She’s my…my mother,’ Hera replied, still not used to it all. Her circlet was tucked away into her mokeskin pouch the moment she left Olympus last night. ‘Has he not been told?’
‘You aren’t a demigod,’ Dionysus said, somewhat wryly. ‘And this is Camp Half-Blood.’
‘There’s no-one else like me?’
‘Maybe,’ he shrugged, sipping his Diet Coke. ‘Knowing what I do, now, I’d say Chiron will let you stay out of courtesy. Until your scent dissipates enough you can leave without being swarmed, he won’t even discourage you from becoming a year-rounder.’
Hera made a face. No offence to literally any child in existence, but she abhorred children. Her only exceptions were the Weasley children and her godson—and even they knew that their Aunt Hera could never stay long. That last part may have been out of practicality, but it was excuse enough for Hera’s visits to be short and sweet.
‘Let’s not talk about that,’ she said shortly. Dionysus laughed in her face.
‘You’re going to be something else,’ he pointed at her, waggling his finger. Hera thwacked it away. The God of Wine put down his drink and snapped his finger, summoning a checkers board. ‘You play?’
‘I know the rules,’ Hera said, shifting her seat and setting up her side of the board. Dionysus graciously allowed her to be white. As they got the game off to a start, she asked, curious, ‘How long until I can leave, do you think?’
He grunted, concentrating on the board. ‘Age?’
‘Twenty-nine next week,’ said Hera.
‘Your essence is divine,’ he explained lowly, not meeting her eyes as he took three of her checkers in a row. ‘Being a legacy and a Champion on top of that doesn’t make for good odds, girlie. If you learn to manipulate the Mist, so monsters learn to think you’re less than you are—or on the flipside, become more, so they leave you alone out of fear—then you might have a chance on the outside. Your best bet is living on Olympus itself for the next hundred years. Even then, they’ll be chomping at the bit to get their claws on you, for prestige, if nothing else.’
‘I still have a family, despite everything. I can’t leave them like that.’
‘Better for them for you to stay away.’
Hera chewed on her lip, spending the rest of the game—which Dionysus won—and the next four—of which he only won two—in silence. Everything he said was correct and that stupid, heartbroken part of her that had already lived ten years of hell as Master of Death, told her it was inevitable that she’d have to disappear completely, one day. In the Wizarding World, she might have been able to get away with it for another two hundred years, if only she could control her appearance. Witches and wizards lived longer than muggles, after all.
After her ninth game of checkers, Hera begged off another, deciding to go check on Arts and Crafts. The building across Camp was full to the brim with all sorts of supplies, unnaturally large on the inside with a plethora of workshops designed for different things. The children of Hephaestus had a whole smithy next door, plus an expanded, underground cellar full of their creations and other gadgets from across the last century that they called the Warehouse.
When Hera had magically expanded the living quarters of Cabin Eleven, many of the demigods who had come to help out had volunteered to make the campers who lived there new furniture and a surplus of beds for the rest of Camp, while they were at it. It had been a young girl from Cabin Nine—a daughter of Hephaestus—who offered use of the Warehouse to store their creations, not realising she’d revealed a secret her elder siblings had yet to share with their fellow demigods.
Now, due to a petition passed around by the Stoll brothers, the demigods were eagerly diving into the Warehouse itself, sorting, cataloguing and in certain cases, claiming some of the various creations held inside. They just so happened to be using the Arts and Crafts building as a sorting area.
‘-clearly can’t use it!’ exclaimed a teenage boy, maybe about fifteen. His hands were clamped around a crossbow with a strange nozzle near the handle, while a glaring Clarisse La Rue attempted to loom over him menacingly.
‘It’s a weapon and children of Ares can use any weapon!’ she snapped in turn. Hera watched the exchange from the shadow of the doorway, using her Jacket to turn invisible a moment later so she can move forwards, ready to break up any fight that might be instigated over what Hera imagines is some kind of enchanted weapon.
The boy—a son of Hephaestus?—rolled his eyes and gestured using the crossbow at her. ‘You aren’t a pyro, so you can’t make it work. This thing is meant for pyrotechnics, so they can set their bolts on fire!’
Clarisse sneered. ‘Then I’ll have one of you brats much around with it so I can.’ And then she reached out to grab the thing, the boy keeping his grip firmly on the crossbow. It was only when Clarisse went to kick him that Hera intervened.
‘Oi,’ she caught their attention, sticking the young girl’s feet to the ground with a flick of her wand. Clarisse made a noise of protest, which Hera ignored. ‘No fighting over this stuff. Remember, all of it belongs to Cabin Nine, so if they protest it being taken away, then they get the last word.’
‘But I want it!’ shouted Clarisse, eyes flashing. ‘Stupid Percy Jackson broke my spear I got from my dad!’
‘Then why aren’t you going after a spear?’ Hera asked her, baffled. Mutinous, Clarisse took her hands off the crossbow to fold them across her chest, Hera removing the sticking charm in return. ‘Come on,’ she said, a bit awkwardly, ‘Do you still have it? I might be able to fix it up, if you like.’
‘It’s enchanted,’ Clarisse said shortly. ‘So it can’t be fixed properly.’
‘How was it enchanted?’
‘Electric, right?’ The boy with the crossbow asks her, sounding faintly enthusiastic. ‘Beckendorf couldn’t figure out how to get the runes working again.’
Clarisse gave him a sullen nod. Strangely, the look reminded Hera of her godson.
‘Show me,’ she said determinedly, Clarisse glancing at her in confusion. Hera continued, ‘I don’t know if I’ll be able to fix it, but I can always call in a favour if I can’t.’
‘…okay,’ Clarisse said, frowning at her for a minute before stomping off out of the building, passing Hera quickly. The witch followed her without complaint all the way to Ares’ Cabin, waiting on the doorstep.
Am I really your Champion? Hera wondered, staring up at the barbed wire across the edges of the roof. She had seen a few platforms up there and it made her question whether the children of Ares had a ladder on the inside, leading up. It wouldn’t surprise her if they could survive a siege from in there—it seemed like the sort of thing a child of the God of War would do.
No answer came to her, but Clarisse reappeared with what looked like a perfectly polished spear, her hand gripped around the centre. With a jerk, she held it out to Hera, who took it from her slowly, not having ever held a spear before.
‘I’ll take a look,’ Hera said unnecessarily, before sitting down on the steps just behind her, Clarisse watching her like a hawk as she inspected the weapon from top to bottom. She found what she was looking for just below the spear-head, a cluster of runes etched in a circle around the base of it. Like the boy with the crossbow said, they were meant to run a current of electricity through the spear, non-stop, with no harm to the user.
Nothing is broken, she thought after her inspection finished.
Running her finger tentatively over the top of the runes, wary of discharge, Hera frowned at the absence of power, twisting the spear round and round, trying to find a gap in the runes themselves. Unfortunately, it seemed as if there wasn’t one, the runes running in an unbroken link. Hera guessed that likely, as beings of divine power, it would take a God to recharge the enchantment short of an easy insertion point. Rune Masters knew never to leave a circle looping endlessly, unless they had a way to open it up when needed—that ‘need’ often being to recharge or otherwise change the sequence itself, without backlash.
‘I’m going to have to call in a favour,’ Hera told Clarisse, explaining the issue. ‘Nothing is wrong with the enchantment itself, it just needs new power.’
‘So, you can’t do anything?’ the girl said, disappointed.
‘I said I’m going to have to call in a favour,’ Hera corrected her, standing. Leaning the spear over her shoulder, she told her, ‘I’ll get this back to you when it’s fully boosted up.’
A new light in her eyes, Clarisse suddenly grinned at her with crooked teeth. ‘Thanks,’ she said, before reaching across to punch her in the shoulder. ‘You’re not too bad, for an unclaimed.’
‘I’m not unclaimed,’ said Hera with her own smile, nervous. When Clarisse made a confused face, nose scrunching up, Hera told her first real person her newly-discovered identity. ‘My parents—my human parents, that is—got a hold of my mother’s divine essence by accident. I absorbed it as a baby, before I was born.’
‘That’s weird,’ Clarisse said flatly.
‘Artemis was surprised, too,’ said Hera, watching Clarisse’s eyes go wide. Hera told her, ‘I’m living in her Cabin, now. No kids of Hermes’ around to steal my stuff, there.’
‘There’s never been a child of Artemis before.’ Clarisse looked uneasy, then. ‘Do you have powers?’
‘Not that I know of,’ Hera said, remembering what her uncle said. What powers might she have had, if she hadn’t been born under a dark moon? Good archery? Hera isn’t sure—she’ll have to revise her Greek Mythology.
Feeling the weight of the spear on her shoulder, she promised Clarisse, ‘I’ll get this fixed for you, I swear. Just have to find a divine being willing for me to owe them something.’ Tipping her chin, Hera walked off, heading to the Big House first.
Dionysus would at least have some idea on who to ask, if he said no.
‘I’ll do it,’ he said.
Immediately suspicious, Hera narrowed her eyes at him. ‘That was quick.’
Dionysus smirked briefly, then plastered a faux-innocent expression onto his face. ‘What are you on about? The brats are my responsibility.’
‘You don’t give a fuck about the campers,’ Hera said correctly, but dumped the spear on the table anyway. She watched him pick it up, eyes glowing a deep gold as he pressed his thumb to the runes. Something about him became strange to look at, that made her heart pound inside her chest and Thanatos’ presence drift across her brain in warning, but soon the feeling passed and lightning crackled around the spear-head.
‘Done,’ Dionysus said, rolling the weapon across the table. Hera caught it before it could fall off and roll further. Dionysus pointed at her, bursting with energy. ‘I hereby pronounce you Junior Deputy Director of Camp Half-Blood!’
It took a second for that to click. The moment it did, Hera gasped in horror.
‘You’re putting me in charge of those little monsters? How could you!’
Dionysus, gleeful, cackled, ‘That’s my favour, Harriet!’
‘Ooh!’ Hera pointed her finger at him, shaking in anger. ‘You evil, evil god.’
Still cackling, the God of Wine waved her off, saying, ‘You have a spear to deliver, while I start splitting mine and Chiron’s duties up again, so you get all the worst ones. I think my first decision will be to give you the Pre-Dawn Harpy Round-Up!’
Hera felt ready to commit treason. ‘I hate you.’
‘Spear, girlie—chop, chop!’
Chiron was very unamused by the whole affair.
‘She is already courting danger with the Lady Huntress,’ he said, lips pressed in a firm line, ‘and now you wish to put her in the line of fire of your father himself.’
Dionysus tilted his drink at Hera. ‘Oh, she’s fine. You really need to read up the Council Meeting transcripts already, you fussy little horse.’
‘Isn’t he older than you?’ Hera asked, having read in a letter from Hermione that Chiron was a son of Zeus.
‘Blasphemy,’ Dionysus said, rolling his eyes. Hera took that as a yes.
Chiron, however, was much more interested in his previous sentence. ‘What happened during the Council Meeting? I admit, I was more concerned about Percy…’
Hera threw him a bone. ‘I met my mother. She’s an Olympian.’
The centaur stared at her for the longest of moments, before his eyes finally bulged in recognition. He stuttered, ‘The- the Lady Artemis would not- she- this cannot be!’ he said, appalled.
Dionysus filled him in on all the saliant details, then reminded Chiron, ‘You hate Lake Activities.’
‘I dislike being out on the water,’ Chiron agreed reluctantly, peering at Hera with a wary sort of hopeful expression. ‘You wouldn’t be interested in supervising all the Lake Activities? Canoeing, kayaking, trireme practice?’
Hera stared at him, absolutely boggled. ‘What’s a trireme?’
‘She’s the Junior Deputy Director,’ Dionysus pointed out in a remarkably childish way, pointing at her. Hera once again slapped it away, having a funny feeling it would become a trend.
Chiron stroked his beard with one hand, looking thoughtful. ‘I can just give her duties. No arguing over who gets what job…’
What in Merlin’s name have I gotten myself into? Hera thought in horror. All this for a kid’s broken spear.
‘Miss Potter, you have said you worked in a swimming pool, prior to your arrival,’ said Chiron, unamused no more, instead looking positively delighted.
Hera groaned. It seemed her fate was set.
Children are monsters.
She blamed Clarisse.
That evening, her new position was officially announced to the Campers and rather than let her sit at Artemis’ empty table, Chiron had her sit at the staff table at the head of the pavilion. Unluckily for Hera, that did not stop over half of the children gathered for dinner shouting out, asking who her godly parent is.
‘Is it true?’ Clarisse demands Chiron. ‘What she said? Is she even a demigod?’
Chiron looked over at Hera uneasily. ‘Miss Potter is…unique,’ he said delicately. However, his next word decidedly ruined that impression. ‘She is older than she looks.’
‘How old?’ one of the Stoll boys cried out.
Hera, so used to people like them already knowing exactly how old she was and staring at her because of her youth instead of her scar, felt rather odd at being so honest about her situation. When Chiron looked again to her, this time in silent question, Hera gathered up her courage—for what kind of Gryffindor was she, if she couldn't answer a simple question?
‘Twenty-eight,’ she said succinctly. The brief quiet at her words was long enough for her to add, ‘I’m also a daughter of Artemis.’
‘Bullshit!’
‘Language, Stevens,’ Dionysus drawled at a boy who was not named Stevens. ‘My sister got very teary-eyed over her miraculous existence, so I’m sure she’d take offence to your blatant disbelief.’
As if her mother was watching the whole affair, Hera then felt a familiar presence drift over her, causing her skin to shine as a flickering symbol appeared above her head. Hera looked up, studying the arrow that shot through a crescent moon until it faded from existence.
But then everyone in the pavilion stood, Chiron included, only to kneel as he proclaimed, ‘Artemis, Mistress of Beasts, Rider of the Moon Chariot, Twin Archer and Sworn Maiden. Hail, Herakles Potter, daughter of the Goddess of the Hunt.’
‘Hail!’ The Campers called out. The whole affair caused Hera to go bright red, something which didn’t fade as a man with a cherubic grin appeared out of nowhere, walking across the pavilion to deliver a package to her.
‘Hermes Instant Express,’ he proclaimed with a wink, glancing mischievously at the table full of children from Cabin Eleven. ‘Direct delivery to Herakles Potter from my baby sister, Artemis herself. Your mother was quite insistent I come after the whole claiming business.’ He gestured to the empty air above her head.
Chiron bowed his head low. ‘Lord Hermes.’
Hermes saluted him with two fingers, before holding out a clipboard and pen to Hera. ‘You need to sign for it,’ he said.
Flushed and embarrassed, Hera snatched it from him, scribbling her signature on the blank line. Hermes took the clipboard back and tucked it in his pocket, somehow, before rubbing his hands together.
‘I saw the designs,’ he said. ‘But Hephaestus was in a mood, due to the whole failed deal with the water-park. Care to open it up?’
Not knowing what to say to that, Hera silently opened the box, attempting to ignore how literally everyone craned their necks to see. Tearing at the tape, she flipped open the lid and immediately stopped on seeing a faintly glowing, white engraved circlet, laid on a red cushion. Perfectly curved, the circlet itself wasn’t wholly round, a good chunk of the back non-existent so it was more of lower-case Upsilon than an Omicron. The outside was detailed with carvings, like her original tiara, but unlike the first, it held tiny depictions of monsters and beasts alike. As Hera peered at it, she could see the carvings moving, rearing and snuffling like the enchanted portraits at Hogwarts.
Incongruously, a tiny paper label with a maker’s mark was tied off around the centrepiece—a waning gibbous moon, the opposite phase of the symbol that appeared above her head—and Hera remembered her mother’s remark about getting her an enchanted version of the circlet she made with her own essence, so she reached out to untie it, flipping it over to read the description.
HEPHAESTUS CRAFTS
Description: Adamantine and Imperial Gold Enchanted Circlet (Original Design)
Commissioned by: Artemis
SUBTOTAL: 29,330 DR
Sales Tax: 2640 DR
Delivery: 500 DR (Hermes Instant Express)
GRAND TOTAL: 32,470 DR
-
List of Enchantments:
Keyed to owner*
Enhancement of long-range aiming capabilities
Enhancement of forestry-based geography skills
Moon phase identification sigil
Engraving animation
Protection against indecent assault
Alert spell upon identifying indecent assault (Alert to forward to: Artemis)
Shape-change to one (1) other desired form by keyed owner(s)
-
*To key to owner, must first be worn. When keyed to owner, the item cannot be removed nor altered without the owner’s permission.
-
Personal note to Herakles Potter from Hephaestus, God of Forges:
This was a nice commission. Call me up if you want a discount on a weapon order, niece of mine. Your mother is a friend. -Uncle H.
After reading the receipt, Hera made an internal note to contact her mother and ask why she asked to be alerted if Hera was ever ‘indecently assaulted’, then tucked it into her pocket. Hermes, curious, pouted as she put it away, looking utterly charming and also, too much like Cormac McLaggen for comfort.
‘Thanks,’ she said, closing the box.
‘Aren’t you going to put it on?’ the God of Messengers asked, pointing out, ‘Your mother might be offended.’
‘I get stared at enough,’ Hera replied, moving the box onto the floor beside her chair. Catching sight of the table full of his children, she asked him, ‘Do you want to stay for dinner?’
‘Miss Potter,’ Chiron muttered in concern, but Dionysus groaned.
‘He’s not sitting next to me!’
‘Oh, don’t worry, brother-mine,’ said Hermes, already smiling fondly at his rugrats. He dug into his pockets, making his way over to them as he brought out over a dozen perfectly-wrapped gifts. ‘You guys are all a bit crowded here, aren’t you?’
With an awkward wave of his hand, the table began to lengthen, several of his children and unclaimed guests falling off in shock. The whole pavilion seemed to be on the cusp of something that Hera didn’t understand, the tension racketing up as he sat down between two of his young daughters and grinned, handing them presents and calling them by their name.
Discretely, Hera asked, ‘Why is everyone staring?’
‘It’s not every day they get to see a God interact with his children,’ said Chiron, though his eyes drifted to Dionysus, who was watching the whole affair—or rather, watching two boys at the table beyond Cabin Eleven’s, who after a moment Hera identified as his two sons. They lived alone in Cabin Twelve, much like Hera herself.
Soon, though, as the dryads began to bring in the various plates and other implements, chatter rose again around the dining area and Hera requested a medium-rare steak and a glass of wine, just so she could toast Dionysus to his sour face.
‘To you,’ she said mockingly, sipping smugly. Dionysus sighed, glaring in a pained manner at his Diet Coke. Unfortunately for Hera, her wine became sour the next she sipped it, spluttering all over the table.
Dionysus smirked.
Hera just glared and summoned it afresh. That time, her wine didn’t sour—but Dionysus’ gaze didn’t leave her for the rest of dinner.
‘You’re playing with fire,’ Chiron warned her, when night fell and she had begun making her way back to her Cabin.
Hera raised an eyebrow. ‘How?’ she asked, genuinely confused.
Chiron only looked on her grimly, before departing.
A sense of foreboding grew in her, leaving Hera with all the hairs on her neck standing on end and it only faded when she stepped foot in her mother’s domain, the feeling of safety and home enveloping her.
‘Who?’ Hera muttered to herself, feeling punch-drunk from the wine and curious from Chiron’s warning as she readied herself for bed. Something niggled her—but she couldn’t figure out what. Hera assured herself she would figure it out.
The smell of amaranth lulled her to sleep.
Her new duties took up about half the day, usually, Chiron going through the paperwork with her in the evenings for their Delphi Strawberry Farm business—the cover, but still genuinely legitimate company, that the mortal world understood owned all the land that Camp Half-Blood used. Chiron explained that he sometimes took trips outside Camp to assist in identifying demigods and Dionysus disliked the paperwork that strawberry business generated, so he’d be handing it over to her to deal with.
Hera took it in stride, at first. However, she began to write home to her family less often, understanding that owls couldn’t cross the Atlantic at speed. It quickly took a toll, only exacerbated by the unfamiliarity of her new job, letters being one of the few ways she could communicate openly with her friends. The lack hurt her in ways she didn’t expect and the constant deluge of children throughout her day didn’t help. Even in her old job, she didn’t have to see them for more than four hours on an average day.
‘It will get easier when the children go home for the new school year,’ Chiron comforted her, encouraging Hera to keep on going.
‘I just really don’t like it,’ she said, sighing. ‘Do you know that one of them tried asking me on a date today? I know I look young, but Merlin, they know I’m an adult.’
Chiron grimaced. ‘My apologies. They’ll learn not to, in time.’
‘Don’t bet on it.’
The centaur tilted his head towards her. ‘If you wore your circlet, they might be more wary. It has a certain…ethereal quality, that the Campers are unused to.’
Hera snorted. It had been less than a month and she’d only worn it once, so far—as apparently, ‘indecent assault’ meant that any young boy who tripped into her by accident was turned into a jackalope. Her mother had received an impromptu letter from her daughter, marking their second ever communique, where Hera raged at her for asking Hephaestus to put an enchantment like that on her circlet. She had yet to receive a reply.
‘No chance,’ she replied. Chiron badgered her for a little while longer and Hera reluctantly agreed to wear her first circlet, made of Artemis’ divine essence, in a faint, cynical hope that it would deter those that remembered the jackalope incident.
Dionysus commented on it soon enough. ‘That’s not your gift.’
‘You have to admit, it was a bit over the top,’ Hera replied. Dionysus smiled somewhat, a scheming look to his eyes, and afterwards, when Hera asked for alcoholic beverages at dinner, they were the best she’d ever tasted.
When Hera was younger, still a teenager, with Voldemort’s existence weighing on her like a sack of bricks, she was never much interested in romance. Her date to the Yule Ball was Neville, of all people, because McGonagall paired them up to learn to dance and they commiserated together long enough to come to a mutually beneficial arrangement. Likewise, her date with Cho Chang in fifth year? An utter disaster. Hera still didn’t know why it ended the way it did.
Then, when it became clear she wasn’t aging, dating was the last thing on her mind. She dropped out of her official Ancient Runes self-study program to get away from her tutors and let raising Teddy with Andromeda become her main focus in life, doing odd jobs in the muggle world until she finally left the Wizarding World completely. The moment Teddy turned eleven, that was it.
So no, Hera wasn’t well-versed in romance. She’d had sex before, just to find out what it was like—but romance? Hell no. She just didn’t understand it. When Dionysus started being nice to her, Hera was obviously suspicious, but as the behaviour continued, she slowly dropped her guard.
Her mistake.
Pressed up against the Big House, his lips attached to her neck, Hera at first didn’t do anything. She was confused and in shock. Only when his hands drifted to the band of her jeans did she finally act, pushing against his chest with her hands. He barely budged.
‘Tease,’ he grunted and Hera’s anger burst out of her chest. Her magic followed. Like last time he invaded her sense of self, Dionysus went flying backwards, rolling along the grass until he came to a stop. Hera brought her wand out in an instant.
‘Don’t touch me!’ She spat, glaring with all her might. Dionysus got to his feet, purple eyes furious. Hera felt something about her mind begin to twist, but then her mother’s circlet warmed against her head, protecting her from the divinity of his power. She raised her wand against the God. ‘Stay out of my head!’
Dionysus sneered. ‘Your mother can’t protect you forever, Herakles. There’s no moon out tonight for her to see.’ He started to walk back towards her, undeterred and Hera apparated along her line of sight, down onto the volley-ball court at the bottom of the shadowed hill.
Like he said: there was no moon that night.
Sand giving way beneath her feet, Hera nearly stumbled, sensing his familiar presence follow her down. In an instant she was running, apparating again and again, feeling his hand brush her elbow more than once. Her heartbeat pounded in her ears and Hera cursed herself for ever taking her circlet off. This—and only this—was the kind of situation an indecent assault transfiguration was needed in.
Somehow, in her haste to escape the God of Wine, Hera forgot that she had a Cabin of her own until she saw it glowing silver in the night. A part of her was drawn to it immediately, recognising her mother’s power, but another, rebellious part of her knew that if she went there, she would be acknowledging that Artemis was right—that the letter she sent to her about the unneeded enchantment on her circlet was legitimately wrong.
Dionysus grabbed onto her braid.
‘Got you,’ he hissed and it was all Hera could do not to cut her own hair off. As she fell backwards into his grasp, she yelled a curse into the night, aiming her wand over her shoulder. Dionysus snarled as the purple light hit him square in the face, cursed fire spreading across his skin like a lash.
‘Let me go!’ Hera shouted, yanking her braid out of his grasp. She turned, raising her holly wand up—only for him to grab it, snapping the slender wood in less than a moment. Her breath caught.
Not again!
Brimming with satisfaction, Dionysus reached out to grab her shoulder, but then came a yell and both Dionysus and Hera turned to see Percy Jackson himself wielding his sword, glaring hatefully at the God.
‘She said to let her go,’ the boy snarled. It was then that Hera realised they were fighting outside Cabin Three, Long Island Sound roiling in the background, waves crashing up against the shore angrily. Percy tilted his sword towards Dionysus, challenging him, ‘You remember how I beat up Ares himself, right? Step back.’
The fingers ready to curl around her shoulder retreated slowly and Dionysus rumbled, ‘You’ll regret that, Perseus.’ In a flash of light that had Percy squeezing his eyes shut with a flinch, the God disappeared and Hera was left outside Poseidon’s Cabin, her holly wand in pieces on the ground.
Slowly, she bent down to retrieve them, not realising she was trembling until Percy reached out to put his hand tentatively on her wrist.
‘Are you alright? I- I knew the Gods got around, but…’ he trailed off and Hera nodded slightly.
‘I’m okay. Running on adrenaline,’ she confirmed distantly, feeling the shock creeping up on her. Percy’s hand on her wrist kept her grounded, but still, Hera felt as if she might drift away.
You aren’t safe yet, she reminded herself, before the young demigod spoke to her again.
‘Come with me,’ he said, ‘You can stay in my Cabin.’ With that said, Percy began pulling her towards his summer home, the scent of salt overtaking her nose as he dragged her inside.
Unlike Cabin Eight, Percy’s Cabin was painted in teals and greens, with trident motifs in every corner. His bunkbeds weren’t freestanding, instead built into the walls like on a boat, a seemingly empty aquarium lighting up the room opposite them. Percy didn’t seem to have any sort of living space like in Artemis’ Cabin, no sofas or beanbags lying around, only a large hammock hanging high in the open rafters. Everything was open-plan, even the bathroom—though there was a sliding panel lying half-shut against the wall.
‘Cool hammock,’ Hera said, before Percy led her over to a bunk. He didn’t seem to know what to do after that, so Hera took pity on him and tucked herself into the surprisingly large space, dragging the blanket over her shoulders as she shucked off her shoes.
He hesitated beside her bunk. ‘My mom- my mom didn’t like being alone,’ he told her, sounding fragile and wounded, as if what he’d seen tonight had reminded him of things he’d rather have forgotten. Hera looked at him standing there in the dim blue light and felt her heart pound in her chest, reminding too much of her godson.
‘Get in,’ she told him and it took mere seconds before he was bundled up against her chest, his magical sword shrunk into pen-form and clutched tightly in his sword-hand. Hera took a deep breath, feeling the panic and adrenaline fading quickly, a deeper sort of anxiety settling in her chest—a fear or paranoia, maybe, that tells her this isn’t over.
Chiron told her not to play with fire, but for all her detective ingenue, Hera never could have predicted this.
Percy’s small body was warm enough to keep her from falling into a mental pit and Hera offered a silent thank-you to Poseidon for having such a wonderful son, before her thoughts drifted to his mother, instead. Percy said she didn’t like being alone, presumably after something similar happened to her. Percy was there to witness the aftermath, clearly, every time.
Hearing Percy sniffle against her shirt, Hera tucked the blankets tighter around them both and shut her eyes to sleep. She dreamt of Dionysus’ hands on her waist and the lips like a knife at her neck and when she woke, all she could see were his violet, maddened eyes.
Hera took a day off. Chiron was put-out at the suddenness of it, but she insisted, abandoning Camp to apparate to central New York, getting as close as she could to the Empire State Building before twisting on her heel with thoughts of Olympus in mind.
In the daytime, past the solstice events, the city was brighter and hummed with a different sort of energy. It reminded Hera of a European market in the spring, where the venders knew all their customers and they didn’t bargain, simply purchasing goods and getting on with their day. Muses played instruments on park benches and young gods chatted away merrily to their friends on street-corners.
It was one of those groups that Hera approached, her appearance gaining several startled looks. One even began to say her mothers name before halting, jaw snapping shut.
‘I’m looking for Hephaestus,’ she told them, before awkwardly adding, ‘Or just someone from Hephaestus Crafts.’
The young gods exchanged several looks with each other, before a dark-haired goddess with eyes like the sun stepped forwards, offering her arm. ‘Here, I’ll guide you,’ she offered with a smile.
‘Thank-you,’ she said, tucking her hand around the goddess’ elbow. They swiftly departed and Hera said, ‘I’m Herakles. The campers call me Klees, though.’
‘And you call yourself Hera,’ said the goddess, teasing. ‘I read the council meeting transcripts. I am Asclepius, God of Healing.’
It gave Hera only a second’s pause. She knew already that gods could change their physical forms and Teddy spent most of his childhood switching between genders. ‘Cool,’ she said, without judging. ‘May I ask you a question?’
‘Surely as the sun shines, cousin-mine.’ Asclepius smiled. ‘What is your query?’
‘I want an additional enchantment on the circlet my mother gave me,’ Hera told her, ‘and to set the shape-change schemata. How do I ask for those things without sounding like a total arse?’
‘Hephaestus is like fire,’ the goddess explained, ‘and he burns hot always. Whether it is passion or anger or joy, his will is the heat of the forges he bends his back over every day. Little changes that. Simply tell him what you wish and he shall comply, but for a price.’
‘There’s no such thing as a free lunch,’ Hera mused over the phrase Percy Jackson had shared with her, just that morning. Asclepius laughed at her, then led her around yet another corner and down into a large cave, where a great, hulking god with dark skin and fire-bloom eyes stood against the wall, seemingly waiting for her.
‘Off with you,’ he ordered Asclepius, who curtseyed lowly and murmured her goodbyes to Hera before abandoning her. Hephaestus, God of Forges, held out his hand to her expectantly.
From the depths of her mokeskin pouch, Hera withdrew her circlet and gave it to him.
‘Shape?’ He asked, sitting down on a nearby stool and bringing it up to his eyelevel, a tiny scalpel in hand. It looked comical in his giant fist, but he handled it gently, with care, just as he did the circlet.
Hera swallowed slowly. ‘Something discreet, that no-one will notice when it’s on my head; and I want the enchantments to work in that form, except for-’
‘I heard of Dionysus’ chase,’ Hephaestus interrupted her, already scraping runes into the metal. ‘He’s a fool for doing so. Artemis is Zeus’ favourite daughter, everyone knows it and she has never had a child to treasure before. Dionysus was banished to Camp Half-Blood for pursuing someone he shouldn’t have and now, he courts an even worse punishment.’
‘Zeus will serve justice?’ Hera questioned, feeling dizzy. Just like that—he would be punished?
‘The moment an accusation is made and justice is sought,’ said Hephaestus, before the circlet began to glow faintly, twisting into itself until only the waning crescent centrepiece remained. Hephaestus handed it over. Hera discovered it was a hair-clip. ‘At your will, the circlet shall appear on your head. The other enchantments still work as expected, but I had already prepared for your request regarding the defence mechanism.’
Hera grimaced. ‘A boy was transformed accidentally.’
‘Artemis wished for it to be that way,’ he said. ‘And now, it is not. Choose a phrase and choose it wisely, for you shall only need to think it to activate it. Even spite will set it off.’
‘Thank-you,’ Hera said genuinely, before attaching it to the end of her braid. It weighed the end down and she closed her eyes, thinking, I solemnly swear I want them to become a jackalope. She felt the faint power of it shift, accepting the phrase, before she opened her eyes and asked Hephaestus, ‘What would you take in return, sir?’
‘Nothing,’ he shook his head. ‘If you wish to commission your own piece, I shall gladly charge you, but the warranty on that was a separate purchase. Artemis insured it for several cosmetic changes, ten major enchantment adjustments and five minor. You’ve used up two minor.’
‘Oh.’
Hephaestus smiled and it made his eyes crinkle fondly. ‘Go to Zeus, niece. Pray at the steps of his temple and get your justice. Then, if it makes you happy, visit your mother. She is at her own temple here on Olympus, this ere day.’
‘Thank-you,’ Hera said again, profusely. She offered him a low bow, mimicking Asclepius, which he returned with a nod, then left in a hurry, eyes darting from building to building, trying to find her grandfather’s temple.
To be honest, it didn’t take long. It was very ostentatious. When Hera approached, the few gods hanging around the entrance stepped away, watching her as she knelt on the steps. Through the door, she could see the shadow of a great statue and attendants inside, cleaning and sorting through various offerings to lay at its feet.
Hera closed her eyes as she thought on how to pray. With Thanatos, all she had to do was think in his direction, but he could speak back to her. There was a connection between them. That was not so with Zeus, except the tenuous connection of grandfather and granddaughter. Hera had never had grandparents, before.
Zeus, King of the Gods, she thought nervously, remembering Dionysus’ weight against her body. I was attacked by Dionysus last night. He tried and failed to assault me, but I want justice anyway. Hephaestus told me to come here and ask. I’ve never really been able to report things like this before—I was never believed or the political climate was too harsh. Please, help me. I don’t want to go back to Camp while he’s free to touch me. Please. Only because Percy told him to stop-
To Hera’s shame, she felt like crying. Tears burned in her eyes and she rubbed them furiously, getting to her feet. That was all she would say, she decided. If Zeus wanted to serve justice to Dionysus, he would and in the meantime, Hera would use her day off trying to think of ways to defend herself from a wily god that didn’t involve turning him into a jackalope.
Asclepius appeared again miraculously at her side, wrapping an arm around her waist and guiding her away as her eyesight blurred. The dryness of her face disappeared, cheeks suddenly drowning as she sobbed, hearing the God of Healing murmur in her ears comfortingly. When she next properly looked up, the goddess was passing her into the care of a young girl with red blossoms in her hair, who led her into a silver temple that looked like her cabin at Camp Half-Blood.
‘Call the Lady,’ said the girl to another. Hera wanted to know her name, but her voice wouldn’t cooperate, a gasp escaping her as her mother’s presence enveloped her, power settling around her like a thick blanket. The girl must have sensed it, because she stepped back just in time for another to take her place—Artemis, in her older form, with wrinkles by her furious, glistening eyes.
‘My daughter,’ she whispered, clutching Hera’s shoulders with two hands. Hera practically collapsed into her, seeking that warm familiarity that made them both shine bright when their skin touched. Moonlight shone around them, brightly enough that the temple handmaidens shied away, putting their hands over their eyes.
Hera didn’t know how to feel about what had happened. It was awful and terrible. A small part of her was even trying to defend him—calling what Dionysus did paltry in comparison to what he might have done, if Percy hadn’t intervened. But the rest of her knew exactly how dangerous a situation she had escaped and she hated him for that. They weren’t friends, but they were friendly and Hera had trusted him enough to ignore him, treated him like an equal or at least something she didn’t have to be wary of.
All her feelings bubbled inside her chest and this time, her magic reared in reaction. The air around her shuddered, loose pots rattling and falling down to smash on the marble floor, candles flickering and flowerpots falling from their chains. Artemis pulled her closer against her chest and Hera sobbed.
‘Mum,’ she rasped, ‘Mum, he tried to-’
‘Shh,’ Artemis brushed her hand over her head, down her braid to the circlet-turned-hairclip. ‘So long as you wear this, you shall never be attacked like that again. They won’t get that far.’
‘I know,’ Hera said, apologising, ‘I’m sorry. I thought it was stupid, but-’
Artemis interrupted her. ‘You aren’t from my world. You don’t know how callous we can be, how much they see you as a prize instead of as a person. It is a flaw in many gods, to see mortals as nothing but chattel. You are mine. You are special. It makes you desirable and the moment Dionysus made you a deputy, I should have warned you. Oh, Herakles, I’m so sorry,’ she kissed her head and held her even more tightly than before.
‘It’s not your fault.’
‘It’s not yours either,’ said her mother. They stood there, in the temple, indistinguishable from each other in the heart of their moonshine and slowly—oh so slowly—Hera let go of her upset. It was still there, resting in her chest like an anvil, but she didn’t let it sway her any longer. The same could not be said for Artemis.
‘Did you ask for justice?’ She questioned, clearly knowing of what Hera had done before arriving there.
‘I did,’ Hera confirmed, before finally, reluctantly, stepping back. The glow surrounding them faded to a level allowing the handmaidens to see again, their eyes like knives, but Hera ignored them. She was used to stares. ‘How long will it take?’
Above them, thunder began to rumble ominously, slowly gaining momentum until finally, there was a loud crack of lightning. Outside, the world darkened as clouds began to cover the skies. Artemis smiled and there was something wild to her, then, that might have terrified another. Hera was not frightened.
‘Not long,’ Artemis promised, leaning their heads together until they touched. ‘He will never touch you again.’
‘You swear?’ Hera asked and if her voice was quieter than before, it wasn’t intentional. Her mother nodded. ‘Okay.’
‘Okay,’ she repeated.
Hera returned her mother’s smile, tremulously and falteringly. She believed her mother, but she knew that the memories would never leave her.
Hera thought of purple eyes and found herself afraid.
|
“Is it weird that I am really excited about tomorrow?”
Felicity chuckled. Shooting Oliver a glance, she saw that he was frowning, honestly thinking about the answer to his question. He didn’t just ask because he wanted her to tell him that it was natural for him to be excited. He wanted an honest answer because he really wondered if that was a normal reaction.
Smiling softly, Felicity squeezed his hand to call his attention, and Oliver turned his head towards her instantly. He was smiling back at her quietly, already appreciating the answer. She could see in his eyes that he already knew that she wasn’t going to make him feel stupid for feeling the way he did. She never had.
“Of course you are excited,” Felicity told him, “the man who used to be your best friend for half of your life is finally getting married to the love of his life. After everything he has been through with his mother’s murder and everything that his father did in response, he is finally allowing him the same kind of happiness that you found when you got married. Not that I am biased on that.”
Smiling, Oliver let go of Felicity’s hand and put his arm around her shoulders. He pulled her as close to her side as possible, pressing his lips against the crown of her head. Felicity leaned into his side. Wrapping her arms around his waist, she rested her chin on his shoulder and watched his face.
Oliver looked incredibly content tonight. Tommy and Laurel’s upcoming wedding tomorrow really seemed to put him in a good mood. Just like she had just said, he had all right to feel good about this big event in his friend’s life.
When Hawk, whom they were taking on his usual last walk right before they would head to bed, barked, they both looked at him. Hawk was standing in front of a hedge, barking at something he seemed to have found in there. His barking was accompanied by low growls.
“Hawk,” Oliver called out, trying not to be too loud to not wake their neighbors that might have already gone to bed, “come here.”
Hawk hesitated briefly. He looked back and forth between Oliver and whatever was in the hedge. With one last growl at what Felicity assumed was either a cat or squirrel, Hawk hurried towards Oliver and Felicity.
“Good boy,” Felicity said, giving him a treat and petting his head.
Felicity watched Hawk while he was walking by their side, looking at them again and again. She knew that he was trying to earn himself another treat, but the pocket of her jacket was already empty. Hawk seemed to get to the same conclusion rather quickly because he soon left their side to run ahead once more.
“Do you-“
Turning her head to look at Oliver, she found his eyes already on hers. He was watching her closely. If it was anyone else looking at her like that, she would have probably taken a quick look into the mirror to see if her make-up was smeared. With Oliver, she didn’t have to.
“What?” she asked. “Why are you looking at me like that?”
“I just remembered that you owe me a wedding,” he said, “I proposed, you said yes, and now you gotta get married to me. Again.”
Smiling, Felicity leaned her cheek against his shoulder and leaned even more against his arm at the memory. During their last wedding anniversary, Oliver had indeed proposed to her, so the kids could record a video of it and show it to Tommy. It had been supposed to help him with his proposal to Laurel, and Felicity guessed that it had managed to do that indeed.
“Maybe we should focus on Laurel and Tommy’s wedding before we think about our next one,” she replied, smiling at him, “first-time weddings are usually a little more important than the third renewal of vows in almost ten years.”
“Not for me.” Oliver winked at her, squeezing her hand. “But if you-“
When Hawk turned into their driveway, he suddenly stopped dead in his tracks. His posture tensed as he tried to make himself as tall as possible. His raised his hackles and showed his teeth. A dark growl escaped him before he ran up to the house.
Felicity shot Oliver a brief glance, but his eyes were utterly focused on where Hawk had disappeared. Their neighbors’ hedge and fence blocked their view, and that only seemed to unsettle Oliver more. They quickened up their steps.
“It’s just Laurel,” Oliver said with a sigh of relief when they turned around the corner, “Hawk must have been confused by the hood of her jacket.”
Felicity nodded her head, feeling a wave of relief flooding through her too. With the crazy lives they live, they felt dangers were always impending. They had become a lot more relaxed than they had been years ago because their house was very much secured, but the criminals of the city were quite skilled. They knew they couldn’t allow themselves to be reckless when it came to the safety of their home.
Frowning slightly, Felicity watched Laurel. Wrapped up in her warm jacket with the hood of it pulled over her head to keep away the cold, Hawk must have indeed failed to recognize her. Otherwise, his reaction to her would have suddenly been the one he was showing now from the start. He was snuggling around her legs like a cat, the way he always did to welcome people he liked, and he released those sounds that made him sound like he was either turning into a dinosaur or would start talking to her any second.
It was almost midnight and with the wedding ceremony starting at eleven, she would certainly have to be up early for the hair and make-up designer. Taking a walk in the middle of the night didn’t seem like the thing a happy bride-to-be did in the night before her wedding. The closer Felicity got, the more she realized that Laurel really didn’t look like a happy bride-to-be. Tears were welling in her eyes, and she looked out of herself.
“Hey,” Felicity said softly when they approached her, “too nervous to sleep?”
“No, it’s-“ Laurel stopped, glancing at Oliver briefly, before she put on a smile that didn’t reach her eyes. “It’s nothing. I should go and-“
Felicity squeezed Oliver’s hand before she let go of it. Although her eyes stayed focused on Laurel, he got the hint. Years of marriage just allowed them to communicate without many words being spoken.
Clearing his throat, he pointed his finger at the door. “I will go in there and check if the kids are already in bed.”
With that, he went inside quickly to leave them alone. Felicity was sure that when she and Laurel talked alone, it was easier for her to open up.
“I really don’t want to-“
“What is going on?” Felicity asked Laurel, not letting her talk herself out of seeking help. “You certainly had your reasons to come here.”
Laurel still seemed to hesitate. She glanced back to her and Tommy’s house like she considered to just go back and let whatever had driven her to come here eat her alive. There was no way Felicity would let that happen though, so she grabbed Laurel’s hand and sat down on the stairs in front of the house, pulling at Laurel’s hand until she did the same.
For a long moment, they just sat there in quiet. Felicity gave Laurel the time she certainly needed to say that was really on her mind. Hawk certainly felt that there was something going on with her too because he stepped between Laurel’s legs, sat down there and just looked at her. Laurel petted him, and it certainly helped her to calm down the way it always helped Oliver when he was talking to Dr. Rosario. It was why he always took him to the solo-sessions with their therapist.
“Tommy and I got into a fight.”
Laurel’s voice was low, but Felicity could still hear the slight tremble in it. She stroked her hand over the back of Laurel’s comfortingly, giving her the time that she needed.
Felicity was sure that, if Thea ever heard about this fight, she would see her opinion on the night before the wedding confirmed. In her mind, a couple should spend the night before their wedding apart, especially to prevent something like this. That short before the wedding, everyone’s nerves were just fragile the day before the wedding. As much as you wanted it, it was a big step after all.
Laurel and Tommy had decided against it though. After all, they had spent too much time apart already. There shouldn’t have been anything to bring bad luck to them.
“He just casually mentioned that he doesn’t want kids,” she added, and her voice broke, “I mean just like that, like it wasn’t a big thing.”
Felicity squeezed Laurel’s hand, and she used the comfort to suck in a deep breath.
“I asked him if he was serious and that was non-debatable for him, and he just shrugged his shoulders and says after everything he has been through with his parents, he is too afraid that he will fail his kids the same way his father failed him.”
Again, Felicity just squeezed Laurel’s hand. She wasn’t yet sure what she should say to this, especially since she didn’t know what exactly Laurel’s thoughts were on this matter. So far, Felicity hadn’t necessarily thought that Laurel wanted to be a mother. Of everyone on Team Arrow, if Felicity remembered correctly, Laurel had been the last to ever hold Emmy. She had been too scared of it, and Felicity had had to basically push the baby into her arms.
Of course Felicity knew that that didn’t mean that Laurel had ever ruled out the possibility of having kids of her own. Before Tommy had found his way back to Starling City, she had been with Liam, who already had been a father. She had certainly spent some time with his daughter Rosalie, so maybe she had always been up for that task.
“And you want kids?” Felicity asked when Laurel didn’t continue.
“I don’t know.” Laurel shrugged her shoulder, new tears welling in her eyes. “I want the possibility to choose whether or not I want to have kids though. I don’t want to be presented with a fait accompli.”
Felicity got that. She and Oliver often disagreed on things, not so much anymore maybe, but they had certainly disagreed on a lot of things when they had just gotten together. At the beginning of their relationship, it had been a lot harder because they hadn’t known how to deal with disagreements. Through the years, they had discovered that they were the strongest when they were just honest with each other and talked things out together. For them, that always worked.
“Maybe-“
When the door opened, Felicity fell silent. Turning her head back over her shoulder, she saw Tommy. Barefoot and dressed only in his pajamas, he made the first step outside.
“Tommy, please go back inside and put on your jacket and shoes.”
“Mommy, I-“
“I know you can’t sleep,” Felicity said softly, “and you can come outside to Aunt Laurel and me, so we can cuddle a little. First, you have to put on your jacket and your shoes though. It’s very cold. I don’t want you to get sick.”
Tommy nodded his head and went back inside to did as Felicity had asked of him. Smiling, she watched him put everything on all on his own. Sometimes, it still amazed her how independent her kids had already become. It felt like yesterday that all of them had still been babies that needed to be dressed, fed and carried around.
Shooting Laurel a glance, Felicity saw that her friend was watching Tommy too. Quiet tears were still running down her cheeks.
“I’m all dressed,” Tommy said proudly when he stepped outside. “Can we cuddle now?”
“Of course,” Felicity replied with a smile and spread her arms for her son, “come here, Buddy.”
Tommy didn’t have to be told twice. He walked around his mother and climbed into her lap. With his legs wrapped as far around her hips as he could and his arms embracing her ribcage, he snuggled his face against her body and just relaxed. Felicity wouldn’t be surprised if he just fell asleep instantly to the gentle touch of one hand rubbing over his back and the other moving through his hair.
“Aunt Laurel, why are you crying?”
Felicity rested her cheek against the top of Tommy’s head and looked at Laurel. She seemed to be touched about the question. There were certainly other six-year-olds or even older kids that weren’t that compassionate, but empathy was one of the most important values Felicity and Oliver tried to teach their kids.
“Tommy, my Tommy,” she added with a smile, “and I got into a little fight.”
“Why?”
“He doesn’t want kids. I might want a kid one day though.” Laurel shrugged her shoulders. “It’s a big thing, you know? When people get married, they should be on the same side when it comes to having babies.”
“You have to compromise.”
Felicity puckered her lips, glancing at Tommy’s face. She felt a wide smile tugging at the corners of her lips, amazed by how Tommy tried to find a solution for Laurel’s problem. Growing up with three sisters, Felicity guessed that he had to console rather often.
“It’s hard to find a compromise though,” Laurel replied. “I mean you can’t have half a baby.”
“You can borrow a child sometimes,” Tommy suggested. “I can he your child sometimes.”
Felicity had trouble biting back a chuckle now. As much as she loved her kids, sometimes they had beyond weird ideas that made her wonder what was going on in their heads. Emmy was stealing a baby in the supermarket. Tommy was giving himself up for adoption, at least halftime. Would Millie decide to just join William at college next year?
“That’s… very nice of you,” Laurel said, a smile tugging at the corners of her lips too, and she tapped the tip of her finger against the tip of his nose playfully, “but I think your mom and dad wouldn’t be too happy with that.”
“Tommy,” Felicity said quickly, knowing he would turn around to her and start a discussion about why she didn’t want to share her kids when she always said that the kids should share, “why don’t you go inside and get some ice cream?”
Tommy didn’t have to be told twice. He quickly got up and walked to the door that he had left ajar. After a brief glance at Laurel, Hawk hurried to his side. He probably knew that if Tommy was getting ice cream, he would get a little too.
“Aunt Laurel?” Tommy asked, the door handle already in his hand.
“Yes?”
“You and Uncle Tommy should get married.” Tommy shrugged his shoulders. “You love each other.”
Before anything else could be said, he disappeared inside. Felicity looked at him, frowning and shaking his head slightly. Sometimes, not too rarely, her kids just left her speechless.
“How old is he again?” Laurel asked.
“I just asked myself the same question.” Felicity chuckled, looking at her friend. “I mean I know that he is six years old, but sometimes he has these moments where he seems like he’s sixty at least.”
“He’s adorable.”
“Oliver and I do make very pretty, absolutely adorable and incredibly smart babies,” Felicity said, nodding her head. “Impeccable genetics and all.”
Laurel chuckled, but she nodded her head. She had spent enough time with the Queen children to know that, although Felicity was certainly biased when it came to her kids, she was also right. Their kids had all turned out to be responsible and great in all ways possible.
“Felicity, you know that I love Tommy, right?”
Felicity nodded her head. “Of course, I know that.”
There had been a lot of things that Felicity had been uncertain of when it came to Laurel. They just hadn’t become friends as easily as she and John had become or as she and Roy had become. When Laurel had joined Team Arrow, Felicity had been the first to support her, and still their relationship had been somewhat strange. Felicity couldn’t say how or why though she suspected that maybe the fact that Oliver was Laurel’s ex-boyfriend might have something to do with it.
Anyway, if there was one thing clear, it was that Laurel had loved Tommy for very long. For most of their friendship, Felicity had watched Laurel beating herself up for being too indecisive when they had first started dating. Oliver’s return had just messed with everything because too many loose ends just popped back up in her life again, tangling with the threads she had holding in her hands.
Back in 2013, she had messed up. This was her new chance, and Felicity was sure that the last she wanted was to mess it up again.
“If Oliver had told you before the wedding that he didn’t want children, would you have still gotten married to him?”
“Yes,” Felicity replied without further thinking about the answer, “I would have absolutely gotten married to him no matter what.”
Laurel looked at Felicity blankly for a second. “Couldn’t you have hesitated at least?”
Felicity chuckled, moving closer to Laurel and linking their arms. Laurel sighed, resting her head on Felicity’s shoulder and leaning on her.
“The situation was quite different for me and Oliver.” Felicity thought back to the beginning of their relationship which felt like forever ago, so that she could barely remember her time before Oliver. “Until the moment that I suspect being pregnant with Emmy, I didn’t even know if I wanted kids. Even if I had wanted one, I wouldn’t have been entirely sure if this life would have allowed it. Oliver and I only had John and Lyla as a good role model for what vigilante-parents could look like.”
Back when Baby Sara had been born, Felicity had immediately thought that vigilantes could really have it all. John and Lyla had proved that it was possible. Still, when she had gotten married to Oliver and the possibility had been there, she hadn’t been as sure that having a baby was safe as she had thought she would be. Watching someone else take this risk was just not the same as making this decision herself.
Oliver had seen Tommy die. His mother had been killed right in front of him. His sister had been drugged by her own father, causing her to kill a friend. Oliver himself had been tortured and almost killed uncountable times. They had watched people do unspeakably terrible things to others.
Bring a child into this world had not been an easy decision. Until the very end, Felicity hadn’t been entirely sure, so she and Oliver had just let fate decide whether they should have a baby. Five kids later, Felicity guessed that fate had made quiet clear what it thought.
“Having a kid in this world and with the lives that we lead is not easy,” Felicity said honestly, “I wouldn’t give up on my kids for anything in the world, but it’s really not easy. You live with the knowledge that, it they ever get targeted or lose one of their parents, it’s on you.”
Felicity would never forget the fear she had gone through when Cupid had tried to abduct her from the hospital the night that she had given birth to Emmy, planning to cut the baby out of her and raise her as her own. She wouldn’t forget when she and Emmy had been abducted by her stalker, while Cupid had abducted Tommy. The way her kids had looked at her when she had thought that Oliver was dead still haunted her in her dreams.
If she wasn’t that happy with her life and didn’t have Oliver’s support as well as the support of all their friends and family, she would have questioned her decision to have kids already she guessed.
“Tommy would be such a great daddy,” Laurel said almost reverently, “I mean he’s so great with yours. Can you imagine what he would be like with a little mini version of him?”
“You mean like my Tommy?”
Laurel chuckled. “Yeah, exactly.”
Tommy had inherited Felicity’s naturally dark hair. His blue eyes were a shade darker than his siblings’. Mixed with some of Oliver’s genes, Tommy did indeed look like the child-version of his uncle. Laurel and Tommy could easily be mistaken for his parents.
Felicity smiled, nodding her head. “Tommy would certainly be a good dad, but I also understand why he doesn’t want to be one.”
“After everything he has been through with his mother’s death and his father…” Laurel nodded her head. “It’s not like I don’t get why he doesn’t want to be a dad, but I don’t know. I thought he would at least give this idea some consideration.”
Felicity pressed her lips together and rolled them into her mouth. There was something else on her mind, something she had suspected the moment she had seen that Laurel had been crying. Truth was that she had expected something like this to happen. She hadn’t been sure what exactly Laurel and Tommy would fight about, but she had assumed that something would make them fight tonight.
“What?” Laurel asked, obviously noticing that Felicity was holding back a thought here. “What don’t you tell me?”
“I am not sure if I am allowed to say anything,” Felicity said, “because what I have to say is quite… personal, and you might feel it’s not my place to say anything.”
Laurel frowned, suspicious after what Felicity had just said. “I think we passed that state a long time ago. Our parents have been together for, I don’t know, eight years now. That kind of makes us sisters, doesn’t it?”
Sisters. That hit the issue right into the bull’s eye.
“Okay, in that case I have to ask you if it’s possible that you are torpedoing your wedding with Tommy?”
Laurel frowned. “Why would I do that?”
“Maybe because you are scared about how happy you are,” Felicity suggested, “and because the last time you have been really happy, everything fell to pieces. Maybe even a little bit because in an ideal world, you would have Sara to stand at your side when you say your vows tomorrow, and because you feel guilty because you get to have this dream come true, getting married to the love of your life, when Sara is dead.”
Laurel looked at Felicity for a long moment before new tears were welling in her eyes. When they were streaming down her cheeks, a deep sob escaped her. Felicity didn’t hesitate. She pulled Laurel into her arms and held her while she was crying.
The reason this fight between her and Tommy had been evoked wasn’t that Laurel wanted to have children. She wasn’t even mad that Tommy had just made this decision for himself without consulting her first. Laurel was just a breath of air away from her greatest happiness and that reminded her of how many times that happiness had been threatened and on how her sister would never have that herself and never get to see her have this either.
Felicity knew that something like this usually happened when something big and great was happening. She was married to Oliver, and it happened to him almost always. It had become less because there were just too many occasions of happiness to be sad.
“It’s okay to be happy,” Felicity whispered, “I am sure it’s what Sara would have wanted for you. It’s what you deserve. Don’t damage the chance you have to something fulfilling in your life because you blame yourself of surviving when Sara didn’t. It’s not your fault, and it’s not fair to you.”
Laurel held onto Felicity even more tightly as she continued crying. Deep down, she had really needed to hear these words today.
When Felicity noticed a movement from the corner of her eye, she turned her head to see Tommy. He was standing at the foot of the driveway, his hands pushed into the pockets of his leather jacket and his shoulders hunched. Obviously, the fight hadn’t been easy on him either, but he had probably figured that Laurel needed some time before she was ready to talk to him. If he had pointed out the same thing Felicity had just told Laurel, it just wouldn’t have had the same effect.
“I think there is someone else for you to lean on.”
At Felicity’s words, Laurel leaned out of the hug to turn her head. Her eyes beamed from the love she felt for the man, and a quiet smile spread on her lips.
Taking Felicity’s hands, Laurel turned around to her once more and took in a sniffling breath to say, “Thank you for everything, Felicity.”
Felicity smiled, winking at her. “Don’t worry. That’s what family is for.”
Laurel hugged Felicity briefly one last time before she strolled down the driveway towards Tommy. Felicity watched the two exchanging a few words before Laurel fell around Tommy’s neck with another sob. He pulled her as close as possible immediately, comforting her in the way she needed.
Felicity released a breath of relief. It would have been a terrible loss for both of them if they had let anything tear them apart on the finishing line. They were just meant to be with each other, and, after all this time they had spent apart, the deserved to finally settle down.
When Tommy and Laurel turned to walk back to their house, Felicity got up and went inside too. She took off her coat, rested it over the banister of the stairs and slipped out of her shoes. Turning around towards the kitchen where she could hear Tommy talking to Hawk, she found Oliver already in the frame of the door.
“Hey,” he said softly, smiling at her quietly, “is Laurel alright?”
Felicity nodded her head. “Yeah, Tommy is comforting her now.”
“Hm.”
Just from the way Oliver hummed and smiled at her, Felicity knew there was more to it. Cocking her head, she narrowed her eyes at him.
“You called Tommy, didn’t you?”
Oliver chuckled, leaving his spot in the frame of the door and approaching her. He framed her face with his hands and brushed his lips against hers in a gentle kiss.
“I love how well you know me.”
Smiling, Felicity wrapped her arms around his waist and leaned against him. They really knew each other better than anyone else did, and they worked together perfectly.
“We really make a great team,” Felicity said, “always.”
“Always,” Oliver agreed and kissed the tip of her nose. “Now it’s time for us to go to bed or I am going to fall asleep during the ceremony.”
“We can’t have that.” Felicity chuckled when Oliver simply lifted her into his arms and carried her upstairs. “I need all my energy too. I am planning to let the best man lay me after the wedding.”
Oliver grinned. “What a lucky guy.” |
There was pressure. Steve couldn't deny the fact that there was pressure on everything they did, now that he knew Bucky would be across the country from him in a matter of weeks. Days after she'd finally told him, he still had some lingering anger but most of all he just felt sad. They'd only just started dating, and that was important. He had no doubt that their friendship would stand up to the test of distance, but would their relationship? As it was, they were rarely away from each other. And of course, he still worried that there would be Someone Else who could love her better than he could.
He gave his everything to Bucky. There was no part of him that wasn't claimed by her, whether or not she realized that. Even with everything that he was being hers, he worried. She was a beautiful, vibrant, charming person -- there were a lot of people who had gone to high school with them that would love to have slept with her.
And then there was him.
Bucky was attractive, probably the most attractive person he could think of. He practically had her features memorized for all that he stared at her and tried to draw her. There were parts of her that sent his weak heart hammering in his chest. The way she tilted her head, the soft skin of her throat. The inside of her wrists... the movement of her hips when she decided to dance in the middle of her room, smiling and inviting. He was attracted to her, he decided, absolutely. But that attraction didn't come with the impulse that he believed it should.
He looked at Bucky and all of her beauty, and a list of wants popped into his head. He wanted to draw her. He wanted to kiss her until she laughed and pushed him away. He wanted to run his fingers up and down her back and hold her while she snored softly in his arms. He even wanted to kiss her neck and make her blush. Why couldn't he just go the extra step? Why couldn't he want her?
Steve tried to approach the thought of that kind of want. Of course, he had masturbated and had enjoyed it. But it didn't seem to be the kind of enjoyment that Bucky got out of it -- he knew that she anticipated being able to touch herself, that she sought it out. They'd had the briefest of conversations about it and he learned that she had a routine. It was something she did regularly enough to have a routine. For Steve, it was more in the realm of peeling his skin off his shoulder after getting a sun burn. He'd do it if he noticed it and it felt good at the time, but it wasn't something he was going to actively seek out or probably even think of if he was asked about things that made him feel good.
He couldn't apply the feeling he got when he masturbated to Bucky. After learning that Bucky wanted to have sex with him, he had tried. He'd woken up in the middle of the night and had noticed that he was hard, so he had taken himself in hand and had tried to think of Bucky. What he'd do to her, if...
Steve started out thinking about something he had read about. He imagined Bucky on her knees between his legs, kissing her way up his thigh. Then, she wrapped her fingers around him, started to lick. And he wondered if he was going to get along with his roommate in the dorms, and whether or not college was actually going to be as hard as his high school teachers had made it out to be. He came thinking about whether or not he was going to regret being on the meal plan that they were forced to pay as part of his housing agreement, his thoughts completely divorced from what he was doing with his hand.
After he cleaned himself up, he sat on the edge of his bed and mulled about his inability to hold onto a sexual thought. Was he really asexual or was his ADD that bad that he couldn't even focus while masturbating? He was pretty sure he knew the answer. It had nothing to do with how hard it was to pretend he had his shit together and could focus on something he had no interest in when his brain had other ideas. When Bucky and he finally did have sex, would it be the same thing? Would he be with her, and thinking about how he had no idea how to do taxes?
He laid down on his bed with what he had to admit was an over dramatic sigh. Bucky had promised that she wouldn't give up on him, but it was all too easy for him to think of her being fine with someone else. Someone who wasn't sick all the time, half deaf, crooked backed, wheezy and uninterested in what was commonly believed to be the standard of intimacy between a couple. He had tried so hard to convince her that they had all the things sexually active couples had in regards to intimacy. He'd tried so hard because he was trying to convince himself. They were so thoroughly entwined in each other's lives, how could anyone say that they weren't intimate?
Steve looked at his phone for the time and wondered if he needed a therapist. Bucky had started seeing one, since her mom had insisted. She'd seen the lady twice and said that she felt alright about it, that the therapist apparently specialized in LGBTQA+ issues. Bucky told Steve that the therapist had a handful of other patients who were "trans youth" and that they occasionally had meet ups to foster a sense of community. Steve had encouraged Bucky to consider going to one of the meet ups, even though she said she wasn't sure she'd fit in.
And what would going to a therapist accomplish for him? He didn't have the belief that he was broken in any way. He just was how he was. He wouldn't even actually be upset about it at all if it didn't seem like there was the possibility that he could lose Bucky (despite her reassurance to the contrary) because of his sexuality. He was insecure, he thought, because it was easier to imagine someone else having sex with Bucky than it was to imagine himself having sex with her. It was infinitely easier to hold onto the mental image of some faceless guy settled between her long, muscular, legs than it was to hold onto the image of her lips on his skin.
And wasn't that a kicker. When he thought of this essentially featureless guy fucking Bucky, he got a lot of mental detail. He imagined the throaty sounds Bucky would make, and how their bodies would look curled into each other. Imagining this kind of thing never inspired him towards arousal, it more inspiried him towards jealousy. Which was utterly ridiculous because he was getting jealous of something he was imagining. He didn't think Bucky would cheat on him, exactly. She was a loyal to a fault. He just worried she'd leave to be able to scratch that itch with someone else.
He groaned at himself and opened up his messages.
Steve: Thinking of you.
Bucky: thinking of u 2 ;)
Steve: Didn't know you liked Bono that much.
Bucky: lmao fuck you
Steve was surprised that she was up and texting him back, but quietly grateful for it. He didn't want to be alone with his thoughts anymore. He deliberated telling her about what he'd done, how he'd tried.
Steve: Can I call you?
Bucky: 1 sec
Bucky: now u can
Steve stuck his headphones in his ears and hit the call button. The phone only rang once before he was greeted with Bucky's deep, silky, voice.
"Well, hello, baby cakes."
"Hey, Buck," he tucked his pillow under his head, "sorry if I woke you up."
"You didn't. Everything alright? You sound off."
"Yeah, I just. You know, I was just worrying."
"You are worry in human form. What has you worrying?"
"Don't get weirded out?" Steve dropped his face, putting his hand over his face and trying to steel himself to talk about what he'd done.
"...Probably wouldn't have, if you didn't say that. Are you ok? What happened?"
"I woke up hard." Way to go, Rogers, that sounded lame.
"Oh," Bucky sounded like she wasn't sure how to approach that, "I'm sorry?"
"S'fine. It happens, of course it happens. I just thought, maybe. Maybe I could take care of it and think of you."
Bucky was silent on the other end and Steve worried he'd fucked up. She cleared her throat, "How'd that go?"
"Started off fine then I started thinking about college. That's what usually happens."
"You think about college."
"Or things that happened throughout the day, or I'm worried about. I don't know. What I'm thinking has nothing to do with my dick."
Bucky was chuckling on the other end of the line, "I like it when you say things like that. I'm sorry, sweety, I wish I knew how to help. Did it feel good at least?"
"Yeah," Steve muttered, somewhat taken aback by just how easy it was to have this kind of conversation with Bucky. He'd been gearing himself up for some kind of repulsion. He was slowly relaxing. Even if Bucky was chuckling at him, she wasn't calling him out on anything or hanging up on him.
"Then that's a success. I mean, the whole point of jerking it is to feel good, right? So what if you have a hard on for academia."
"Oh, fuck you," that pulled a tired chuckle from Steve, "I do not get aroused by school. That's an unkind rumor intended to make me look like a nerd."
"You are a nerd. A giant nerd. Who's aroused by college. Oh, baby, hand me that $500 text book. Yeah, that's the stuff," Bucky's voice turned husky and Steve laughed helplessly while she continued, "yeah...yeah, you take that loan out. Ohhh..."
"Bucky, stop!" Steve puffed out, putting a hand over his mouth to keep himself from laughing too loudly.
"Heh," it was easy to tell Bucky was smiling on the other end of the phone, "just trying to fulfill your fantasies, babe."
"Of financial strain? Asshole," Steve grinned, then paused, "...What do you fantasize about? When you're, uh."
"Jerking it?"
"Bucky."
"Rubbing one out?"
"Bucky!"
"I've got more, if you've got time."
"I don't, I asked you a question. Jerk," Steve hissed into the phone and was again greeted with Bucky's low laugh. God, her voice could start butterflies in his stomach like nothing else.
"Well, the answer to your question is kinda complicated, I guess," she finally started to answer him, "I don't fantasize about college, I'll tell you that. Sometimes, it isn't really like a narrative or anything, it is just like... I get focused on a thought or a picture, and kind of build up around that. Or I start thinking of a story, but I usually lose it most of the way through and like...repeat parts of it to myself."
So, she lost focus like he did, but her thoughts trailed back over whatever it was that had aroused her in the first place instead of mundane things. That was interesting, at least, and helped him feel less foreign in how his brain switched gears.
"Steve, you there?"
"Yeah. Sorry. I was just thinking, that sounds kind of like what happens to me? I was thinking of you, then I was just in this loop of other thoughts."
"Yeah, I think it is probably actually pretty hard to hold together an actual thought while you're spanking the monkey."
"Jesus, Buck."
"You love me," her tone was sing song and he affirmed that yes, he loved her. Despite the fact that she was a jerk.
"Can you tell me about, uh. The last thing you...jerked off to?" Steve got the words out and belatedly wished he'd used spanking the monkey, just to get an even better laugh out of Bucky in response. She was laughing quietly and muffled, probably under her blanket.
"If you really want me to."
"Yeah."
"It might get me a little worked up. That ok?"
"...Yeah," there was something interesting about that thought, about actually hearing Bucky get breathy, "yeah, that'd be fine."
"You almost sound like you want me to crank the love pump on the phone, Stevie."
"Where the fuck do you even get these euphemisms? I have never, ever heard that one," Steve was snapped out of the moment by Bucky's phrasing, again trying to stifle a laugh. She was laughing with him until he said, "And maybe. Uh. Maybe I do."
"We can do that. Hold on." Bucky set the phone down and Steve could hear her rustling around her room. He imagined that she got up and checked her door. More rustling and she was back, "Alright. You sure about this?"
"Yeah. Yeah, I am."
"Ok, just... tell me to stop if you need me to."
"I will."
Silence on the phone. Neither of them really had any idea of how to start something like this. Bucky finally cleared her throat and started to speak.
"So, the last time was this morning, after I showered. Well, I started in the shower, but finished up out of it -- that's not important. I was thinking about you. Uh, are you sure you're alright with this, Stevie?"
"I want to know," Steve couldn't help the fact that his voice sounded a little tight, "please, tell me."
"Ok. Ok, so. When I was in the shower, I was thinking about you being in there with me, and giving me little kisses on my neck that felt...just right. And you had your arms around me. One of your hands was on my chest and the other was on my belly. Your hand on my chest... uh, you were running your fingers lightly, um. Along the underside of my breast and it felt. So good."
Steve was fascinated by the change in Bucky's voice as she eased into talking about how she thought about him touching her body. His mind supplied the image that she was painting. He could think about himself holding her in the shower. He could think about touching the breasts she didn't actually have. They'd be small, just enough to fit in his hand and perfect because they were hers. Her voice was getting a little husky as she continued.
"You were being so slow, touching me. Your fingers, uh... were really light, against my nipple and it got hard. You liked that, and teased me more, pinching it until I was squirming. And your other hand was getting lower on my stomach. I got out of the shower and dried off, and went to my bed. Is this ok?"
"Yeah," Steve's voice was a little breathier than he anticipated. He wanted to hear more, he wanted to hear her breathing change more.
"Ok...ok. So, I went to my bed and laid down, and I thought... I thought about you leaning over me. Kissing my neck again, I really. Really. Like that. And you kissed down my chest, kissed over my nipples. It felt really good. Um. I like to think about having breasts and what you'd look like. Nuzzling them, kissing them. Telling me how beautiful you think I am. I thought about that for awhile, and you petting my legs. Then. Uh...mm. Then I was sucking you off. There really wasn't any kind of transition, or anything. I just -- I stuck my fingers in my mouth and imagined. What'd it would feel like to suck you."
Steve imagined it and it was...strange. It had been what he was trying to imagine when he'd masturbated earlier, but it was different to hear it from Bucky, especially when it was accompanied by a little suck of breath that told him she was actually touching herself while talking to him. He could picture her lips wrapped around him, but it was almost an unbidden image. Picturing her on the other side of the phone, touching herself, came clearer.
"It felt good, having you in my mouth. You were...making little sounds in your throat, and holding my hair, telling me how much you liked it, how pretty I was. That you wanted me. You made me pull off of you, and I wanted to keep going but you were nudging me onto my back. Touching me...just right. Your fingers were...just right, on me. Mm. In...in me. Steve..."
Her voice had gotten breathy, and Steve could hear the slight friction of skin against skin. He found himself imagining her squirming on her sheets. He chewed his lip, shifting a little and belatedly realizing that listening to her was arousing him. Huh. He idly touched himself, murmuring, "I'm here, I'm listening."
"You...you stroked me and stroked and...and then you were inside me...so full," she really was losing her ability to string a sentence together, almost panting but also straining to keep her voice down, "moving, hard. Taking me so hard. Fuck...Steve."
The moan that came out of Bucky surprised Steve. It was deep, partially choked back, and it went straight to his groin. That was his Bucky, that was his Bucky thinking about him while she (he assumed) came. The fact that knowing that felt good was a complete surprise. She panted on the other end of the phone, occasionally making quiet whimpering sounds before she eventually got out, "...Sorry...fuck."
"Don't be sorry," Steve was quick to reassure her, "that was...amazing. Feel good?"
"Really good," she murmured back to him, "really, really good. I didn't think talking about it would be that good. Fuck. Was it... are you ok?"
"I think I'm turned on."
"You think?"
"Yeah. I. Yeah, I am, but it still," Steve stopped moving his hand, "I'm not thinking about it, uh. Now that I can't hear you? Shit, that sounds weird, doesn't it?"
"You liked listening to me?" Bucky's voice did that husky thing again that Steve was finding he really liked, "Really?"
"I did," Steve couldn't deny the fact that listening to her had made him hard. He looked down at himself and frowned in thought. Now that she wasn't talking about what she was imagining and he wasn't touching himself, his erection was flagging.
"Maybe we can do this again?"
Steve nodded, then realized he was nodding, "Yeah. Yeah, I'd like that."
They talked for a little while before saying good night and hanging up. Steve stared at the ceiling thoughtfully. He'd actually enjoyed listening to her, and could imagine getting himself off if he hadn't already shortly before calling her. Thinking about doing that in the moment seemed fine, but he still couldn't independently imagine the things that she was talking about and feel anything about them beyond a vague sort of interest.
It was different when it was vocalized by her, accompanied by low sounds and breath. He didn't think he would be even remotely capable of physically doing anything with her, but for now, maybe they had found a compromise?
He curled up on his side and chewed his thumb while he worried about whether or not this new revelation of enjoying something like this with Bucky meant that he wasn't actually asexual. It had felt good to find a word that described what he had been feeling (or rather, what he hadn't). He shoved his pillow over his face and groaned at himself, vowing to get online and try and find some answers for himself in the morning. |
"MC?" he said, walking towards you. He looked at you and took a deep breath, still smiling "I can't believe you're real. I… kinda had this theory you were a program seven wrote into the app to trick all of us."
"I… I guess I am real" you managed to say with a trembling voice. "But I can't believe you're real" you said, your hands aching to touch him.
"Why would you think I am not real?" Zen said, smiling "You could see my DVDs and magazines. Or did you think I was someone else pretending to be me? Maybe I am just too handsome for your eyes"
"You might be" you said, trying to breathe normally. Breathe. Breathe. I want to touch him.
"So where do I take you MC" Zen said, tapping his helmet.
"Your place?" you blurted out, blushing immediately after when you saw him raise his eyebrows in surprise. "I- I don't know where Rika's apartment is but maybe we can hang out until I can get a hold of seven?"
"Are you sure that's why you want to go to my place?" he said with the luscious tone you always imagined him to have.
You stared at him and smiled, knowing your face was still pretty flushed, but refusing to answer his lewd suggestion. Perhaps not answering was answer enough. But you knew all along what you wanted to do before this dream was over. You took his helmet and added "Let's go".
He had an extra helmet on his bike but he had to wear it - you had put his on and you could smell his cologne - a mix of fresh citrus with a oaky undertone. You breathed it in and ingrained it in your brain. You'd never forget this smell. This was him. He got on the bike and signaled you to get on. You did and you wrapped your arms around him. Your jaw dropped when you felt the firmness and creases of his abdomen through his shirt where his leather jacket opened. This is unreal. You were glad you were wearing the helmet because your expression was likely incredibly embarrassing. Still, you had to bit your upper lip to keep from shuddering from excitement. He started the motorcycle and accelerated, going rather fast. You weren't used to riding motorcycles and despite trying to keep your cool you tighten your hold on him, pressing your chest against his back. You could have swore you felt him gasp but it was probably just your imagination.
When you reached his apartment you just looked around, without saying much.
"Honey~ did you eat breakfast?" he said, once he walked into his place and closed the put his helmet on his table, turned around, and found him standing right behind you. You just couldn't take it anymore. This dream could be over any second now and you hadn't even kissed him. You had waited enough. All at once, you raised yourself to the tip of your toes, pressed your body against his, and put your hands around his neck, pulling him towards you to press your lips against his.
His lips were unbelievably soft, softer than you could have ever imagined. Your arms slipped up to wrap behind his neck, settling there to hold him. You felt him relax and sink into your body, leaning down to reach you. His arms enveloped your waist. His lips moved, ever so slightly to part yours and you taste him. A taste of fresh mint and something sweet you can't quite place. A taste of Zen. You feel insatiable and push for more. You part his lips and invade his mouth with your tongue, swirling to explore him. His hands trail down to your buttocks and before you notice it he's grabbed a handful and he's lifting you up, allowing your legs to wrap around his torso. You do it instinctively but now you feel his rippling abdomen against you and it makes you want to devour him. Your hands move and settle on the neck of his leather jacket, pulling at the edges. You break the kiss to catch your breath and stare at him, if only for a moment. It is the most exhilarating second of your life. His cheeks are tinted with a rosy hue, his eyes are glossy, and his breath is raggedy. He is a vision of silvery hair and scarlet eyes. This was the best dream you ever had and you never wanted to wake up.
"MC... " he whispers, barely moving his lips.
"I love you" you whispered back to him. You take a deep breath and rest your forehead against his. Even though you were in his arms and close enough to feel the warmth of his breaths, you still felt an emptiness in your heart. You knew this wouldn't last. You knew that you'd wake up. And now, having met him, tasted him, felt the softness of his skin, of his lips… It would make it all that much more unbearable to wake up and not have him.
"I love you MC…" he says, this time putting you back on the floor so you stand in front of him. His expression beautifully puzzled "MC… what is wrong? You're… crying" he says, running his finger through your cheek to wipe away a tear. You had not realized a tear had escaped your eyes but once you blinked you felt two more slide down your cheeks. You wiped them out on your own,
"I'm sorry, I… didn't mean to cry." She didn't want to burden him with the dread of their temporary meeting. "I'm just so happy" you said, trying to smile the pain away. You were happy, you were here. You were unbelievably happy. "I must be tired. I got lost jogging last night and slept on a hill" you said, trying to make light of the situation.
"What?" Zen said, with concern in his eyes. "You must be so tired, why don't you take a nap, relax, and I'll make you some breakfast MC"
"No" you said, quickly crossing out his suggestion. "I don't want to sleep". You murmured. You were afraid sleeping might wake you up from this dream. This wonderful dream. I never want to leave your side. You thought to yourself, wrapping your arms around his torso and burying your head on his chest.. What he nervous around you? Fresh citrus with a sharp oaky undertone. He smelled so good. You could hear his heart beating. It was rather fast.
"Well… at least let me make us some breakfast. We can't skip meals MC" he said, you weren't looking at his face but you could hear the smile on his words. You kinda chuckled at the thought. He really does care about eating proper meals. You nodded your head yes and he kissed the top of your head, separating from your embrace and walking towards the kitchen. He took off the leather jacket and tossed it over a chair casually. He rubbed his neck deep in thought, likely thinking about what to cook. You noticed the sharp biceps on his arms when he reached for his neck and wanted to gasp. You were ogling him again.
"Where's the restroom?" You asked. You had to get some control over yourself.
"Right around the corner babe. There's clean towels there if you want to shower." he said. Shower?
You walked over to the restroom and took a look at yourself. You really had gotten most of the dirt out at the gas station but with the better lighting in Zen's bathroom you could tell the back of your tank top and your shorts were dirty. There was still even some dirt on your skin around the back of your shoulders and behind your neck. Gross. This dream was awfully realistic. You closed the door, stripped off, and jumped in the shower. You were pleasantly surprised to find conditioner and body wash - citrus smell. You somehow always figured men probably used one of those shampoo/soap combos they sell at grocery stores, but Zen took care of himself. You washed, you rinsed, you got out of the shower. You wrapped a towel around yourself and with minimal search you found a hair blow dryer. You dried your hair as quickly as possible and noticed some body lotion - citrus. You smiled. He liked his citrus.
You took a look at your clothes and noticed they were filthy. They looked a lot worse once they were off. Well… This wasn't one of those dreams where you found yourself naked in front of an audience but you couldn't very well put those back on. You opened the bathroom door and smelled food. You took a look around and noticed Zen's bedroom was the door in front so you sneaked into his bedroom to look for some clothes. Uhm. Men's clothes. Surely he wouldn't mind you wearing his clothes but what to pick. Underwear? Better not. You looked through a few drawers and found a tank top that was too long but it could make do. The arm holes certainly showed some sideboob. In another drawer you found some sport shorts and threw those on as well. You looked at yourself in the mirror and it was terrible. You laughed. You meet the man of your dreams in your dreams and you are not wearing anything nice. You took a couple of steps and the shorts reached your thighs before you had to catch them. They were too big. You took the whole outfit off, wrapped yourself in the towel again, and looked through his closet. You noticed a collection of turtle neck sweaters and coats. You could wear a coat but they not only seemed like they would be huge on you but also it seemed rather naughty to wear nothing but a coat. You spotted some button down shirts and threw one of those on. It was long enough to cover everything and it looked better. Even then, you went through his underwear and grabbed a pair of boxer briefs. You thanked your lucky stars they stayed on relatively well. This would have to do.
You stepped back outside and walked over to the kitchen, where he was just about to put the food on the table. He turned and saw you wearing one of his button down shirts and it stopped him right in his tracks. He almost dropped the plate he was holding.
"I hope you don't mind" you said, trying to look coy. You knew men found this look attractive and from the look he gave you he seemed to like it. "My clothes were too dirty after I showered so I took something yours."
"Seeing you like that... " he said, taking in the sight of you in his clothes. "I don't mind. I don't mind at all" he added, placing the plates on the table. |
We live on the edge on campus in an apartment that primarily houses graduate students. I know that Aaron, ever the investigative journalist, will want a play-by-play account. I hope I don’t have to go into depth beyond what was said during the interview.
“Jonghyun!” Aaron says, wiping the back of his hand over his mouth. He’s eating a bowl of fire chicken noodles and the snot is running down his nose in a clear stream. It’s more endearing than gross. “Welcome back. How did it go? Thought you were going to come back before work today.”
“Decided to go straight there,” I said, not mentioning how I was almost late for my class. “Sorry to keep you waiting. I can send you the file now that I’m back on WiFi.”
“Sure,” Aaron says, and dials up his phone to accept my file transfer. As it loads, he fixes a curious gaze on me. “So, how did it go? Was he cooperative?”
What could I say? “As cooperative as anyone is who is in a position like his,” I say. “He was kind of scary.”
“Aww, Jonghyun.”
“He’s younger than you and he could probably buy up half of the university. I wish I’d been a little more prepared today. I don’t know if I got all the answers you wanted.”
“I’m sure you did fine,” Aaron rubs his face. “I’m sorry I had to push you in there without much prep.”
“It’s okay.” I forgive him. “He was courteous. Formal. Somewhat pretentious.”
“Pretentious?”
I realize I’m thinking about the poetry again. I change the subject. “How was the ramyeon? I decided to buy you a new flavor. You usually get the spicy kind, but I don’t think that was good for someone who is sick.”
“It was delicious,” Aaron pats his belly. “I’m feeling much better, too.” He smiles at me in gratitude.
“I have to go,” I say. “Gotta make my shift at the store.”
“Don’t work too hard,” Aaron says. He looks worried.
“I’ll be fine. See you later.”
#
I’ve worked at Yoon’s since I started at S University. It’s an electronics shop around the university campus. The discounts have come in handy for my robotics projects. Not to mention I get discounts on the parts I need for my gaming PC which, I can attest, is state-of-the-art.
It’s only when I arrive that I realize that at least half of our store is stocked with parts from Hwang Enterprises company. At least it’s busy—focusing on the customers gives me something to do other than think about Hwang Minhyun. The semester has just begun and classes are in full swing, and engineering and material sciences students are swinging by to buy gear for their projects as well. New phones were released right before Christmas and people have had enough time to decide what they want.
“Jonghyun!” It’s the owner, Yoon Jisung. He’s always all smiles and that’s part of the reason why the shop is so popular. “I thought you weren’t going to make it today.”
“I can do a few hours today, hyung.”
“Well, I’m glad to see you.”
He sends me to the storeroom to take inventory, and I soon lose myself in the task.
#
I get back home after dinner. Aaron has donned a pair of big headphones and is typing away at his laptop. His nose is still red and runny but he seems to be fully absorbed in a story. I’m pretty beat at this point—normally I just hang around on campus. The journey downtown at rush hour, the grueling interview, being swamped at Jisung’s have all added up today. I slump face first into the couch and think about the lab I have to finish and all the studying I haven’t done today because I was holed up... with him.
“There’s some good stuff here, Jonghyun. Wish you had taken him up on his offer to show you around. Guess you guys hit it off.” He raises an eyebrow at me.
I feel my ears get hot and my heart jumps. No, we didn’t hit it off. Mr. President just wanted to show me what he lorded over. Thankfully Aaron doesn’t seem to notice my embarrassment, as he’s facing his computer again.
“He’s definitely a formal person. Hey, forgot to ask you earlier—did you take any notes?”
“No... I didn’t.”
“That’s okay. Got everything you guys talked about here. Wish I’d asked you to take a picture of him. Your phone’s definitely got a good enough camera. We could have had an original photo.”
Oh no. Now I’m thinking about having a picture of Hwang Minhyun on my phone. His face, within finger-tapping distance. I blush even harder. “Guess so,” I mumble cooly into the couch cushion, trying to sound like whatever.
“Jonghyun—are you—” Aaron scoots over and lifts the couch cushion which has been covering my face. “Are you blushing?”
“Uh,” I say. I need to distract him. “I’m just embarrassed that I didn’t do a better job. You could have gotten more out of him, honestly.”
“I don’t think so, Jonghyun. He practically offered you a job. Given that I roped you into this last-minute, I think you did pretty well.” Aaron narrows his eyes at me, and I beat a hasty retreat to the kitchen.
“So—what did you think of him?” Damn it, Aaron. Why can’t you just let it go? Think of something, Kim Jonghyun.
“He’s very driven,” I say lightly. “Intimidating, like I said earlier. Obviously charismatic. He runs the whole place. It’s obvious why he’s such a catch.”
“A catch?” Aaron’s eyebrows go sky north.
I swing open the refrigerator door and resist the urge to lock myself in. “I mean, I imagine he’s pretty popular with women.”
“Sure,” Aaron scoffs. I rummage around in the fridge. Open up a container of kimchi and grab a slice of cheese. Kimchi toast, that’s what this situation needs. A little less Hwang Minhyun and a little more kimchi toast. “Except for all he’s been photographed, he’s never been seen out in public with a date.”
“They probably have him set up with a someone from a good family,” I say lightly. “Behind the scenes.”
“You went after the marriage question like a shark.” Aaron tilts his head to the side. “And he didn’t throw you out of his office for such an off-script question. I think he must have liked you.“
Liked me? Aaron’s an idiot.
“You want some kimchi toast?” I change the subject.
“Yes please.”
#
We speak no more of Hwang Minhyun for the rest of the night. Once we’ve had our snack, I’m able to sit at the dining table with Aaron. While he works on the article, I grade problem sets. By the time I finish, it’s close to 1am and Aaron has long since gone to bed.
I curl up in my bed, wrap my blankets around me, and I’m instantly asleep.
I dream of flying above the city and black eyes that look at me wherever I go.
|
Barristan wasn’t sure what to make of Domeric Bolton when the young knight first arrived at King’s Landing. Though he said Ned had sent him to be a companion for his bastard, it was clear he was intended to guard the boy after his injury at the River Gate. Barristan could understand being concerned about his son, but he was a squire set to become a knight, he would be injured. Ned knew this, so why would Eddard Stark send a guard for his bastard?
Thankfully the Bolton heir was a good hand to have around. He helped Jon come to ride even better than already he did. At times it was as though they were centaurs, both of a par at the lance while Loras wielded it with natural ease. When he’d first arrived Jon had clearly focused on learning the sword but had grown skilled beyond it, wielding lances, daggers, spears, axes all with similar skill.
Soon their number grew again as word began to spread of the Flayed Knight who arrived at King’s Landing to join the Flower and Bastard Squires. Though Mace trusted Loras’ assurances of Eddard Stark’s bastard being a true knight, he couldn’t do the same once he heard the Bolton had arrived. Even in the south there were tales of the Boltons who wore their enemies skins as cloaks, with rumors that they still flayed their enemies despite claiming to abandon it millennia earlier.
They were shocked to find the companion Mace Tyrell sent for his squired son was a pale eyed rotund boy with the collar of his surcoat lost beneath his chins, the scarlet huntsmen embroidered across it marking him a Tarly. Jon maintained an even expression while Domeric observed him carefully and Loras bit back a more biting smile as three other men-at-arms followed the boy in dismounting.
“Welcome,” Loras said he extended a hand which the boy hesitantly shook. “I’m Loras Tyrell, squire to Lord Renly Baratheon.”
“Samwell Tarly,” he said with a quick nod, “son of Lord Randyll Tarly of Horn Hill.”
“My father spoke well of yours,” Loras assured before looking to his companions. “These are my friends, Ser Domeric Bolton, heir to the Dreadfort, and Jon Snow, bastard to Lord Eddard Stark of Winterfell.”
Sam smiled sheepishly to the two beside Loras. “I look forward to knowing you.”
Loras nodded to the huntsman on his surcoat. “Do you enjoy hunting?”
Sam shuddered but looked reluctant before admitting, “I hate it.”
Domeric offered a smile, “And I dislike flaying people.” Seeing Sam’s eyes go wide with fear, Jon chuckled and elbowed Domeric. “I’m joking, of course, Lord Tarly. I quite enjoy it.”
Loras laughed as Sam’s face paled, Jon noticing the men behind him looking equally concerned. “Don’t mind him,” Jon assured Sam, “Domeric would rather sit and play his harp all day than wield a blade.”
That seemed to wash away Sam’s fear, gaining his interest. “You play the harp?”
Domeric’s brow arched. “Do you as well?”
“Oh no,” Sam said shaking his head. “I enjoy listening and making up songs but I can’t play any more than I can wield a blade. Give me a book though and I’ll tear through it like Arthur Dayne.”
The boys chuckled while Domeric nodded. “Aye, me as well. I’ve found the library of the Red Keep more than adequate. I could show you once you’ve settled in.”
Samwell was to be a companion for Loras since he couldn’t well squire to a squire. Instead Lord Arryn secured him staff quarters near Jon and Domeric. While Domeric found light work in the stables Sam found his maintaining the library. The boy was shy and awkward, making it hard to get to know him at first.
Their first time in the yard had been a disaster when Domeric him him twice in a row and Samwell fell to his knees holding his head. “I yield,” he pleaded, “don’t hit me!”
The knight and squires frowned seeing him shiver in fear. Jon hopped off the rail and hurried over, kneeling down to grab the man’s arm and help him stand again. “It’s fine, we’re not going to hurt you, Sam. We want to help.”
“It’s no use,” Sam said with a sniff as he wiped his eyes. “A dozen have tried and failed. My father he-” Samwell froze suddenly, glancing at Loras before lowing his gaze and shaking his head. “It’s no use.”
Jon and Domeric shared a glance while Loras frowned. “Your father what?” Domeric asked, crossing his arms.
Samwell’s large throat shivered as he gulped and shook his head. “He’s tried before and it never works… I’ve been forced to sleep in chainmail, paraded through the bailey in my mother’s clothes to shame me into valor, bathed in aurochs blood by warlocks from Qarth, none of it worked.”
Jon had known Loras thought poorly of Sam. He imagined it was less to do with his build, which Mace Tyrell supposedly shared, and more to do with his awkwardness and ineptitude. Yet Jon watched as all those things fell away as anger painted Loras’s concerned expression.
“That’s awful,” Loras said shaking his head. He had been lucky that his place in his family meant what he was could be ignored, but Sam had been tortured because he wasn’t what his father wanted. That had been Loras’ nightmare as he came to realize what he was, who he was. To see what it did to someone made Loras thankful for his family and his place as third born son.
After that Loras was more patient with his companion, the three of them doing what they could to train him in the yard, but more often than not he sat aside while they sparred. He would join them for rides, though rarely joined them in practicing with a lance.
Instead it was Domeric and Samwell who managed to make Jon take an interest in reading and history.
They had been sat in the yard one day while Loras was off with Renly and Ser Barristan guarded the queen. Domeric and Samwell were discussing books they’d suggested to each other while Jon listened to them and picked at the remnants of the food Sam had brought them. His interest shifted when he spotted a Mandon Moore trailing the princess and her uncle. Once she spotted them she glanced at Tyrion and diverted her path.
Spotting the princess walking over to them Samwell gasped and sat up, making Domeric glance to Jon, the squire’s smile telling him who it was before he turned. “Good afternoon, Princess Myrcella, Lord Tyrion.”
“Ser Domeric,” she said with a curtsy. “And Ser…”
“Samwell Tarly, your grace,” he said with a bow. “No ser.”
With a polite smile she looked to Jon. “I take it Ser Barristan guards my mother?”
Jon chuckled. “That he does, princess.”
“Tarly,” Tyrion said with a smirk to the fat man. “I’d heard Tyrell sent his son a companion as well, though I’m surprised he didn’t send a knight. Are you sure you’re able to keep up with the bastard and his companions?”
Sam put on a smile as he looked to the little lord. “It was either this or risk an accident on a hunt.”
While Myrcella looked confused, Tyrion’s brow rose as he saw Domeric and Jon’s faces darken. Loras has been furious when Sam told them of his father’s ultimatum, partially because he blamed himself for it.
After receiving a letter from Mace Tyrell asking for have Randyll send his son to King’s Landing and be a companion to his son, the Lord of Horn Hill called his son into his room with two men-at-arms bringing him to his solar. He had a scroll on the desk before him as he stood and looked to his eldest son.
“You’re nearly a man and my heir,” he said carefully. “You’ve given me no reason to disown you, but I will not allow you to take the title and lands that should be Dickon’s. Heartsbane must go to someone able to wield her and you are not worthy to touch her hilt.” His hand pushed the scroll forward. “You’ve decided to make a name for yourself and relinquish your place as heir to Horn Hill. To achieve that I’ve done you a final favor as a father and secured you a place as companion to Loras Tyrell in King’s Landing. If you fail at that and return we shall have a hunt and somewhere in these woods your horse will stumble and you will be thrown from the saddle and die,” he said meeting his son’s terrified eyes, “or so I will tell your mother.”
Sam had spoken it to them calmly but Loras was worked into a rage that left bruises on Jon when they went to the yard that day.
“He’s no knight but he is a scholar,” Domeric offered, reaching over to pat Sam’s shoulder.
“Do you seek to be a maester?” Tyrion asked. The way Sam’s face paled as he shook his head left Tyrion confused and saddened, wondering what the boy had suffered.
“No,” he said with a shaky laugh, “I simply prefer to read. Ser Domeric and I were just discussing a book I’d finished last night. Lost Children, Tales of the First Men by Maester Cregan.”
Myrcella’s brow raised with a smile. “I’ve read that!”
“You have?” asked Domeric.
Myrcella nodded. “I wanted to know about the Old Gods so Maester Pycelle told me of it. It talked of how it’s believed the First Men inherited the Old Gods as a part of their Pact with the Children of the Forest. I’m not sure I believe them about the First Men being from the Essos. That they were basically Dothraki.”
“Perhaps the North changed us,” Domeric said with a smile. “Maybe back then men of the North truly were savages and the pact helped us settle.”
“Then I wonder why the Dothraki haven’t sailed since if the First Men found Westeros,” Myrcella said with a laugh. “Perhaps only the craven stayed behind and that fear of crossing the sea became a part of their culture?”
Samwell smiled. “I’ve also read another theory in Maester Mikal’s Traces of Valyria that the First Men could be from Valyria.”
“I read that last week,” Myrcella began with a nod.
Tyrion found himself feeling pride as he watched his niece hold her own in a discussion with the two older lordlings. Then he found amusement in looking to Jon Snow who seemed a bit lost from not having read the books they discussed. He also found the hint of jealousy he saw interesting as well.
Tyrion thought Myrcella had all her mother’s beauty and none of her nature, and he was never more certain of that than when she spoke of Jon Snow, who kept appearing in more of Myrcella’s stories whenever Tyrion asked how she’d been while he was away. Whenever she mentioned the dark haired squire her eyes softened in a way Cersei’s never did. Her smile held such delicate hope even beneath a solemn veil of knowledge that because of what he was they could never be. It was in those moments a part of him wished Jon Snow the kind of bastard who would do as Rhaegar had years ago and steal his own Lyanna Stark, but he knew the boy enough to know that would never happen.
Worst was Tyrion had an inkling the boy would be good for her. When he’d first looked into Myrcella’s garden and noticed the winter roses he’d been shocked to hear who gave them to her. Then he’d heard the tale of his injury at the River Gate and understood her adoration of the boy. He cared for her enough to go out of his way to get her a gift no one else would and nearly lost his life doing so. No wonder she was smitten.
He’d taken a chance to look into the boy after that, asking around the court and finding that that the worst people had nothing good to say of him but nothing bad either. The worst Cersei had said was that he was a bastard, which the boy knew clearly thanks to his time with Joffrey, who considered him a dullard because he never rose to Joffrey’s insults or even seemed to bristle at them anymore. The Small Council considered him a quiet, simple lad, but Renly said Loras spoke of the boy as though he were his own brother. When he asked him of Jon he found the Tyrell answered simply, “Jon is the best person I know.”
Most shocking had been Jaime, who said, “Snow was wasted in the North.”
“Is that so?” Tyrion asked tilting his head.
Jaime thought back to the boy he saw in the yard of Winterfell venting his frustration on a straw soldier. “Before this he intended to go to the Wall,” Jaime told his brother. “They made him think that was the best he could do, go spend the rest of his life sworn to a brotherhood of thieves, rapist and turncoats. All because Catelyn Tully was terrified he would be the Daemon Blackfyre of the North.”
“And you don’t think him capable of that?” Tyrion asked arching his brow.
“Oh he’s absolutely capable,” Jaime said with a laugh. “I’ve no doubt he could ride to Winterfell now and slay every man there, but he wouldn’t. He loves his siblings, still writes to them from what I understand. When we spar he sometimes mentions things they wrote.”
“You spar with him?” Tyrion sat up, finding that just as telling.
“From time to time.” Jaime shrugged. “No need to be clever or second guess words.”
Tyrion’s jaw shifted as he held back a smirk and took a risk saying, “Perhaps that’s why Myrcella cares for him.”
He watched Jaime’s lips sink slightly. He knew. He’d known for a while, and felt similar to how Tyrion did. “It’s possible. Jon won’t try anything though. He knows better.”
“You know this?”
Jaime seemed to shift uncomfortably before glancing to the door and nodding. “He’s said as much.”
Tyrion’s eyes widened. “He has?”
Jaime chuckled. “I asked him about it. Poor fool looked like he was going to piss himself, expecting me to gut him. Then he told me why he got her the flowers for her garden.”
“Why?”
“He saw how much she liked your nameday gift and realized no one else in court was making a fuss like they had for Joffrey so wanted to cheer her up.” The fondness in Jaime’s somber smile surprised Tyrion. “But he knows his place. He knows the king and queen would never allow her to marry him, even if he rose to be a great knight or founded his own house. Even with Robert showing the boy some favor, being a bastard is a stain he can’t wash away.”
The somber tone when Jaime spoke of Jon’s bastard stain stuck with Tyrion as he saw Jon recognize his jealousy and look down frowning. With a slight shake of his head he seemed to squash what he was feeling listening to Myrcella speak with his friends and looked up with his usual even expression. He flashed a small smile when Myrcella finished and said farewell before leading Tyrion toward the library to pick up a book Samwell had mentioned.
It was after that conversation that Jon had taken to visiting the library and spending his nights reading in his room once he was done with his duties for the day. After that Barristan found that Jon devoted himself nearly as much to studying history as he did training.
“More to learn from,” Jon said when Barristan asked him why he took a sudden interest in reading. “I don’t have experience in battles like you do, but I can read about them and learn from that. I can try to understand things and people more by reading about them. It could help.”
Barristan was glad to see the boy expand his interests. He’d been so focused on training it seemed all he ever did, but he retained that intense, single-minded focus with everything he did. It seemed he was determined to better himself, but never let his duties dwindle. When he was guarding with Barristan he was focused, when he was training he pushed himself, and when he was at the library it was hard to pull him away once he was deep in a book. Barristan was sure he could give the squire a spoon and tell him to tear down the castle and in a month he would return to find piles of bricks laid before him.
His sudden interest in history was nothing compared to the surprise Barristan felt when he finished a shift guarding the queen and found Jon sat across from Domeric and Sam, his long fingers strumming at a harp set against his shoulder. Barristan felt something flicking at the back of his mind with each string struck. Jon wore a wary expression, looking from his fingers to the kingsguard stood off to the side.
“Ser Barristan,” Domeric said with a tone of relief as he looked from the kingsguard to Jon, “would you tell Jon that playing an instrument wouldn’t make him less of a knight.”
Barristan nodded. “Plenty of knights play an instrument or two.”
Domeric looked to Jon. “Surely you’ve heard of the Tourney of Harrenhal?”
A frown took Barristan’s lips as Jon nodded. “Of course.”
“Ser Barristan,” Domeric said turning to the kingsguard. “You faced Rhaegar that day in the finals, you knew him before King Robert killed him. Surely he was a fine warrior if he beat you that day.”
Barristan nodded, putting together the point the lad was trying to make. “Aye, he was, but even finer at the harp.”
“I’m not some silver haired prince,” Jon said sourly.
“Though I’m sure you’d like to steal a princess,” Domeric teased.
Jon shook his head as Sam snickered. Looking down at the harp Jon strummed an off key melody which somehow made Barristan’s stomach stir as he watched the sullen boy play the strings before looking to Domeric. “Why do you want to teach me?”
“Because it’s more fun playing together,” Domeric answered. Sam offered an almost apologetic look as if his lack of skill was to blame. Seeing Jon still hesitate Domeric tilted his head in thought. “Maybe I should offer to teach Loras.”
“Gods,” Jon sighed, “could you imagine the women if their Flower Knight serenaded them?” The boys shared a laugh before Jon looked at the instrument and nodded. “Fine, I’ll let you try and teach me.”
After that whenever Barristan saw Domeric giving the squire lessons on the harp he felt oddly unsettled. It must have been Domeric’s comment about Rhaegar, but all he could think of was the dragon prince going from reading in the library to training in the yard and then serenading the court with his silver stringed harp, crafting melodies that drove women to tears.
Seeing his squire grow so quickly gave the man a swell of pride, enough to make him doubt not knighting him after seeing how somber Jon was after watching Loras be knighted. The Tyrell had been Jon’s first friend in Kind’s Landing and his rival. Seeing Loras surpass him, leaving Jon as the only squire of their group, might have disheartened him, yet he remained happy for Loras.
It didn’t help that not long after Loras was knighted word spread of a tourney to be held on Joffrey’s thirteenth nameday. Lords and knights gathered to King’s Landing, including Tywin Lannister and even Walder Frey. Loras would have pages to bring him lances, so suggested that Sam act as squire for Domeric during the joust rather than sit in the stands.
“Will you need me for the tourney?” Jon asked Barristan one morning as he helped the knight prepare for his shift.
“What do you mean?”
“You’ll ride, won’t you?”
Barristan nodded. “I had considered it.”
“I was hoping you could go without me,” Jon said carefully.
Barristan looked to his sullen squire and smiled solemnly. “There’s no need to be ashamed because you’re behind them, Jon. They’re older.”
The boy looked down as if he’d been caught. “I know.”
“I’ll find another to hand me lances should I decide to tilt,” Barristan assured.
“Thank you, Ser.”
“Now go,” Barristan said with a laugh. “I’ve a queen to guard so I release my shadow upon the world.”
Jon smiled as he followed Barristan out of the room, though that fell as he turned and made his trek to the Street of Steel in Flea Bottom. Jon had been with Loras when the newly knighted Tyrell purchased his armor from the shop of Tobho Mott, so made his way there with the purse King Robert had given him for the cut on his leg. Barely lighter from the toy he bought for Tommen’s nameday, he knew from how much Loras and Domeric’s armor had cost that he could afford a set of his own.
Stepping into the largest house on the Street of Steel, he found the owner walking around examining the works until one of the serving girls spoke to Jon and he made his way toward him. “I’m afraid we’ve not finished the armor yet.”
“I assumed as much, but I’ve come hoping to buy my own set this time,” Jon said with a glance to the door before adding quietly, “without my friends knowing.”
Tobho nodded and said quietly, “Ah. Hope to play the mystery knight? Will you want a full set or shall you piece together my spares?”
Jon looked around before spotting an unfinished bull head helm sat in the corner. “I’d like a helmet like that.”
The apprentice near it looked up and shook his head. “You can’t have it.”
Tobho turned back to his apprentice. “Gendry!”
“He can’t,” he repeated firmly. “It’s mine. I made it for myself.”
“Could you make me one like it?” asked Jon. “Maybe shaped different?”
Tobho turned back with a nod. “He could if that’s what you wish.”
“I’d like the helmet custom, but the rest could be off your racks if it’s easier for you. For the shield, would you paint that as well?”
“We could,” Tobho nodded. “What did you have in mind for the sigil and helm?”
Jon thought about it, trying to think of what he could choose. Domeric had told him of the Knight of the Laughing Tree and he’d considered asking for a sullen tree, but it might have been too obvious. Instead, Jon thought back on what had led him here. He’d wanted to go to the Wall and become a crow yet ended up leaving Winterfell to squire for the Lord Commander of the kingsguard.
“A white crow,” Jon said looking to the smith, smiling as he added, “with green eyes.”
Tobho nodded. “The back?”
“Black. A crow for the helm as well, if you can, though it need not be white. Better to match the armor.”
“We’ll give you a mighty beak, Ser White Crow. Now let’s pick out the rest.”
When Joffrey’s nameday came knights gathered and Barristan found himself disappointed Jon had chosen to take the day to practice the harp and study on his own. He’d hoped the squire would at least come to see his friends ride, but maybe he had underestimated how down on himself he’d been. He still remembered how Jon had apologized for failing to stop the gate captain’s murder, blaming himself for it. Part of him wished the boy could take some of the arrogance from Jaime or Loras, else he may drown in self doubt or end up as skittish as the Tarly boy.
During the procession of knights Barristan noted among them a man in a pieced together set of armor with a crow’s head helm and a black shield housing a white crow with green eyes. The moment the smallfolk saw him the whispers began as they always did when a mystery knight took their ranks.
Barristan found himself smiling, thinking back to when he rode as a mystery knight and Prince Duncan Targaryen dubbed him Bold.
The king chuckled upon spotting him. “Fuckin’ mystery knights.”
“Who do you think it is?” Joffrey asked tilting his head back and forth as if that would help determine the knight’s identity.
“I think that’s the mystery,” Myrcella said looking at the Knight of White Crows.
Joffrey shot her a glare until the king laughed, “It’s probably some noble’s son come to find his glory.”
Loras stood out more than most knights thanks to his resplendent armor littered with gem encrusted flowers and a stallion draped in a blanket of roses. His first went to the queen, and his second to the princess, who took it with a polite smile and nod. He rode down the first of the Frey men, knocking the bulbous knight from his horse with grace that left the women swooning.
That was soon followed by a hush as Domeric Bolton rode onto the field atop a red stallion. He wore dark armor with crimson slits invoking the sinew of bared muscles, as though he were his house’s signature flayed man. Even his helmet had a similar pattern, with red steamers down the back like a horse’s mane.
The quiet of the crowd broke when they saw him speed across the field and break lances with a knight. As they came around for a second tilt, he seemed to push his horse even faster before shattering his lance against the knight, knocking him from his saddle without being hit. The crowd cheered when Domeric raised his hand and pat his stallion’s neck as they rode back.
Jaime Lannister rode next, garnering smiles from Tywin in the stands, who only grew more smug as he watched his son unhorse a knight of the Vale. Ser Barristan managed to unhorse Gregor Clegane, who glared at him before storming off, knowing better than to challenge the Lord Commander. His brother Sandor broke two lances against a man from Dorne before taking the victory.
When it came time for the mystery knight to tilt he rode atop a gray horse with a bare black caparison. He seemed to ignore the crowd who cheered while he stared down the lane toward the Westerland knight. The knight wore thick armor with a half green and brown shield housing the badger of House Lydden. The Knight of White Crows’ armor was light in comparison, the only color apart from black or dark gray that may as well have been black was the white and green on his shield. He wore no streamers, no flourishes. The only thing that made him stand out were his beak-like helm and the question of who wore it.
Barristan knew on the first tilt it was Jon. He’d seen the boy ride for years now, so recognized how he rose slightly in anticipation of the impact, dug his boots into the stirrups and thrust the lance forward as hard as he could, throwing the Lydden rider back hard enough the man flipped, making his horse turn in a moment of panic. The gasp from Sam when Domeric leaned down to tell him something made it clear Barristan wasn’t the only one to recognize him.
He was tempted to ride out and box his squire’s ears, not for entering the tourney but for playing Barristan. He’d been concerned the boy was going to end up as sullen as most thought him, wallowing in self pity, but instead here he was proving his place among the knights of Westeros.
When the knight returned he moved to the back of the group, away from the others so Barristan guided his horse to him. Knowing none would overhear them, Barristan raised the visor of his helm to reveal a smile. “I don’t know whether to be proud or tell you do laps of the keep.”
The Knight of White Crows chuckled. “I’d hope proud.”
“I am,” Barristan nodded, glancing back at the others. “But why?”
“I didn’t want anyone to know,” Jon shrugged.
Barristan arched his brow. “Even if you win?”
“Especially if I win,” Jon said with a laugh as he gripped his rein. “I can’t let Queen Cersei know a bastard crowned her daughter queen of love and beauty.”
Barristan found himself thinking back to the tourney at Harrenhal. Though he knew nothing could come of it he had still wanted to win and name Ashara Dayne queen of love and beauty. Of course Rhaegar Targaryen would go on to win and crown his own which led to tragedy.
“Come, Ser White Crow,” Barristan said with a smile. “I wish you the best of luck.”
“Thank you, Ser Barristan,” Jon said with a nod as he followed the man back.
“Ser Crow,” Domeric begun as he spotted them returning. “I wonder why your sigil bears green eyes. For the lady who holds your heart perhaps?”
Jon could practically see Domeric’s smile through his helm. “They are green for the wildfire that burns in my heart.” Sam chuckled and Domeric shook his head while Jon quickly added, “Or so I told them when I signed up.”
Domeric snickered. “Good. I’m glad you’ve come, Ser Crow. I hope to meet you in the finals.”
“Assuming you make it that far,” Jon teased.
Loras came next, returning from his second tilt, coming to a stop beside him. “I hope you didn’t pay much for that armor,” he said looking him over. “I plan to claim it for ransom when I unhorse you, and I know squires don’t have heavy purses, much less bastard ones.”
“I’ll have plenty once I ransom your armor,” Jon said with a smirk as he glanced at the Flower Knight. “Of course even if you refuse I’ll have a fortune from the gems alone.”
“Good luck, friend,” Loras said holding out his arm.
“You as well,” Jon said, raising his to tap the back of his forearm against Loras’.
Domeric sat mounted beside Loras as Samwell frowned watching Jon ride out to find himself looking down the lane to Jaime Lannister sat in gilded armor. “Do you think he’ll win?” Sam asked with a concerned frown.
“I hope so,” said Loras. “I want to face him.”
“You face him all the time,” Sam said glancing up at the knights.
Loras shook his head. “It’s not the same. It’s different here. It matters more. The only truer test is on the field with live steel.”
Domeric nodded. “I hope we never have to face that test.” A light laugh came from Loras, ever surprised by how softhearted a flayed man could be.
Staring down the Kingsguard, Jon felt his stomach twisting into itself. He didn’t want the glory of victory, he wanted to know he could win. To know he had a place here, not just in King’s Landing, but in Westeros. He couldn’t just stand among the rest, he needed to be better, to prove that everyone who ever looked down on him for being a bastard was a fool. That someone like him could win and name a princess queen and not have people question it. He didn’t care about the women that he could take to bed, not if it meant fathering another bastard. If being the bastard of the Lord of Winterfell could be such a shroud upon his life, what would it mean to be the bastard of a bastard?
He could win this, name Myrcella queen of love and beauty and then dump the armor somewhere like the Knight of the Laughing Tree. Let the Knight of White Crows remain a mystery while Jon Snow earned his own knighthood. Let them wonder who he could have been, who would dare name the princess queen and leave without a word. He would miss the melee, but it would be worth it. He’d even consider turning down the winner’s purse if claiming it would risk outing his identity. If he did he could hand it to the small folk, build the legend even more and keep enough so he could buy the others a meal and get a sword for Arya so he’d have it whenever he returned to Winterfell.
Gripping the lance and reins, Jon dug his spurs into the horse and leaned forward, his jaw set firm as he rose from his seat and thrust the lance forward with such force his hand numbed as it shattered. So did his shoulder where Jaime’s lance snapped against his pauldron.
Dumping his lance he took another, his knuckles white beneath his gloves as he rode forward again. He tilted his head slightly, keeping his eyes on the gilded kingsguard as the crowd hushed before their lances shattered. He turned again and rode back, his head down, staring at the head of his horse until he took a new lance and turned to face Jaime again.
“Crow!” Sam cheered. “Crow!”
“Crow!” A man in the crowd cheered.
“Crow!” Others repeated, chanting it as he rode forward.
He rose from his saddle slightly as he moved to drive the lance into Jaime’s pauldron, but when he did found the kingsguard tilted his body while thrusting his lance into the overlap of pauldron and chest plate. It felt like Jon was locked in place as his horse rode out from beneath him, leaving him to fall to earth as the crowd gasped.
Jaime tossed his lance aside with a laugh as he turned his horse and rode back to the fallen knight, who groaned and pushed off the ground to stand.
“I’ll claim the helmet first,” Jaime said raising the visor of his lion head helm to reveal a smirk.
The crowd went quiet as as the Knight of White Crows stared at him for a moment before reaching up and removing his helm.
“Fuck my giddy aunt,” Robert said sitting forward, clutching the arms of his chair.
“I knew it,” Jon Arryn said shaking his head despite his smile.
Myrcella gasped, putting her hands to her mouth as she suddenly felt tears prickling her eyes. She’d spent the match cheering for her uncle, but if she’d known…
Tommen bounced his chair, grabbing Myrcella’s arm. “Jon, it’s Jon!”
Joffrey scoffed, crossing his arms while Cersei raised her chin with a haughty smile, glad her brother showed the bastard his place.
Sam peeked out from behind the hand he raised to cover his eyes when he saw Jon fall and frowned as Domeric and Loras sighed. The crowd broke into a murmur with those who recognized him telling others he was Ser Barristan’s squire.
Sat atop his horse Ser Barristan Selmy knew. Maybe it was because Jon was older and had grown into his looks, but he recognized the nose, his chin, even his hair and eyes though they were the wrong colors. In that moment stood upon the field in dark armor it was like all the little things he’d noticed came together to form a melancholic specter stood behind the sullen squire.
Jon Snow was not Eddard Stark’s son. Jon Snow was a dragon. |
It has been a week since Seb's triplets came back and things were starting to cool off a little...
Except that they weren't.
Ford still hated Sebastian, Dipper gave him the cold shoulder and didn't seem to be thinking of forgiving him any time soon.
It hurt, but Seb knew he had to give the boy time. Dipper had been possessed by Bill. He had the right to think he was evil, which he wasn't, but he had to realize it himself.
'He'll never forgive you, you are a monster and he knows it~"
He was really grateful Stan and Soos were on his side, and Shooting Star was slowly warming up to him again. Seb almost cried when the girl briefly hugged him...
It was a bit hard getting used to the fact that his brothers were here. After working all day, Seb still found himself going to the vending machine at night and typing down the code. Only when it beeped wrong, the blond remembered Ford changed the code. Ford changed it. Because the Stans were back.
When the first Monday after the Stans came back, Wendy almost had a seizure when she saw her boss at three different places doing three different things. One, in the kitchen making coffee; two, counting the money on the cash register; and three, playing with Mabel and Dipper outside.
Did Seb have clone power now?
It took her a while to put two and two together and Soos' LONG gossip suddenly made much more sense.
Right… Sebastian's triplets...A weird portal...A demon?
She sat down on a barrel and watched Sebastian, yes, this was Sebastian, the blond one, count the money as he hummed.
"So...You are a demon, huh?" The redhead girl asked and Sebastian almost broke the bill he was holding.
"Who told you that?"
"Soos?"
Sebastian groaned. Of course it was Soos... "I can explain, Wendy..."
'Explain it, Sebastian. Tell her how you are a demon, tell her how you are a monster. She will tell everyone. You are going to get killed. No one will save you, no one will help you!' Bill2 screamed.
"Dude, chill." Wendy chuckled when she saw the man sniffle and let out of a sob as he hyperventilated. "I don't care, as long as you still pay me" She shrugged with a teasing grin. He was still the same anyway. Now that she knew he used to be a demon, she understood better why Sebas was so weird and crazy. "Besides, my boss used to be a weird demon, how cool is that?!"
"Nothing...It is not cool at all..." Seb mumbled and put the bills aside. "The twins are scared of Bill...They are scared of me, they think I am him"
'We are him.'
The red head hummed and shrugged. "Well...You just have to make them remember they liked you before knowing about this."
Seb smiled slightly. Wendy was definitely Ice...
"You don't hate me?" The blond pouted and Wendy laughed. "Nah...you are still Sebastian for me" He had never done anything to make her hate him, well, maybe that time he made her clean the portable toilet, but Sebastian had been nice to her when she was a child.
Wendy didn't know Sebastian's past self, so she figured that was why it was easier for her to trust him. The twins apparently knew the demon though, and that was why they were having their doubts. She would try to talk to the twins. It was really uncomfortable to see the gloomy environment of the Shack. She was so used to seeing the Pines joking around it was really sad to see them separated like this.
-.-
Seb spent the next days trying to earn his niblings' trust over again.
He offered to take them to the lake, to go eat ice-creams, to break some stuff, to play with them, to hunt down a magical creature...
While Mabel accepted going out, claiming that it would be fun to go all of them, Dipper refused, and no matter how much Stan and Soos insisted, the boy didn't want to be with the blond longer than necessary. He didn't trust him yet, and he wasn't doing much to try either.
Soos couldn't understand why Dipper refused to trust his uncle. Was it because Dr. Pines said so?
Dr. Pines didn't seem really clever if he didn't trust his own triplet...The same triplet who spent more than a decade of his life trying AND succeeding in saving him and the other Mr. Pines from a doom portal!
Seb had been so busy sulking and trying to get the twins to like him again that he totally forgot the due date to deliver Mrs. Northwest's dress was close. He had woken up at 5am with a gasp and realized he only had a day to finish the exquisite dress the woman wanted for their party! Fuck! Fuck!
As he was sleeping with his older brother these days, he startled him when he woke up scared and scrambled out of bed.
"What the heck is going on with you? You are acting like mom after her tenth cup of coffee…" He mumbled groggily as he rubbed his eyes. Stan looked at the clock next to the bed and glared at his brother. "It is 5 in the morning, William Pines!" The cranky, sleepy man snarled.
"I have to finish a dress I haven't done. You can continue sleeping with you want, but make the twins breakfast when they wake up, and don't give them too much sugar, Fez…please" He added before grabbing his new eyepatch and going to his office.
Stan blinked sleepily in his direction and went back to sleep. He was going to worry about that later…
-.-
When Stanford walked into the kitchen, preparing his deadpan face in case he saw Sebastian there, he blinked surprised when he only saw Stanley.
"Hey, Poindexter…" He waved and looked back at the newspaper he was reading as he sipped his coffee. Earth coffee will always be the best coffee. The paper had the date of a months ago but Stan had been reading to get up to date with the time. "Can you believe the new president supports same sex marriage?!" Stan laughed. He humbly admitted he had been a little close minded, but the years he spent going through dimensions and seeing stuff he never thought he would see or do made him reconsider a lot of things.
"Right…That's…uh-great…" The six-fingered man adjusted his glasses. "Where's Sebastian?"
"Well, I am glad you are worrying about our triplet!" Stanley grinned widely and Ford scowled. He-He was not worried! He just wanted to know what happened in his house! "He is working. He says he needs to finish a dress. He makes dresses, that's neat, don't you think?"
"Excellent. He's a tailor. Good for him."
Stan's smile easily disappeared. "Urgh, you know what?! I can't stand you, you are insufferable, Stanford!" He stood up and grabbed his cup.
"What?!" Ford groaned. "But I didn't say anything!"
"But you used that voice!"
"What voice?! I don't have another voice!" The older man glared and Stan glared back. "You know what I am talking about! The condescending and bratty voice you always use when you talk about Sebastian, and you know really well I don't like it." Stan spat.
Ford clenched his fists but he couldn't reply as the twins suddenly came in. "Uncle Ford!" Dipper squealed as Mabel waved "Hi, Uncle Stan!"
The identical men sheepishly stood up straight and forced a smile for the twins' sake. "Uh, greeting, uh, kids!" Fords nodded.
"Just in time, squirts. I was about to make breakfast! What do you two like? Can I give you ice cream sandwiches as breakfast and you won't tell Shermie? He'd kill me" Stan laughed and the children squealed as they chanted "Ice cream! Ice cream! Ice cream!"
Ford looked down for a moment before pouring himself coffee and walking out of the kitchen. He felt someone tugging his coat and saw Dipper smiling up at him. "Aren't you going to stay for breakfast?"
"Eh…" The man sighed. He needed to continue with the portal… "I'm sorry, Dipper. I'm working on something downstairs…I'll be back for lunch…or dinner." He grinned awkwardly and the boy and patted his head.
"I-I can help!" Dipper insisted, but Ford managed to free his coat and was already walking in direction of the vending machine.
"N-No…Eat your breakfast with your sister…" He nodded before leaving the boy. He was being a good caretaker right? Eating breakfast was important for children. Yes, that's right. He totally missed his nephew's disappointed face.
Dipper would hate comparing the Author with Sebastian, who used to be an evil and crazy monster and liked to bother him, but neither of them let him help…The two of them were keeping stuff from him and he didn't like that…
Mabel sat at the table and looked around. Stan lied and handed her a jam sandwich with a juice box instead of an ice cream sandwich and she sighed. She decided not to comment, but she wondered where her blond uncle was. Did-Did he leave?
She would feel bad if he left and she didn't have the chance to say good bye. He might have been Bill but…he was still Dad's brother, he was her uncle, and she didn't know how to feel about this. She felt like she still loved him…but she was also scared and upset about his past! She didn't like feeling like this. She needed to talk, but in a house full of dumb boys, the only solution would be calling her friends. Yeah, that would work!
Dipper didn't ask about Seb either, but judging by his expression, the girl could tell he wanted to know as well. If it wasn't for worry, at least for curiosity.
"Uncle Stan."
Mabel and Stan turned to look at the boy. "I'll be watching a Marathon of "Ghost Harassers tonight…If-If you want, we can watch it…?" He offered sheepishly.
"Will there be food involved?" Stan raised an eyebrow and the boy smiled. "Lot of it, and sodas"
"Ok, you bought me" The man laughed and took a bite of his sandwich.
Mabel invited her friends after breakfast, but they could only come later, so she had almost all day to get bored and wait for them to come. She knitted a sweater, but she was so distracted that she made a sleeve higher than the other. The girl sighed. Ok. She hadn't seen Sebastian all day and she was starting to get a little nervous. He…He never left for so long…Was he ok? What if he was angry that they were scared? What if Seb didn't want to be Mabel's uncle anymore?
That would mean he really didn't like them and the brunette girl refused to believe that. It was the only thing keeping her trying to trust him again.
She made a sandwich with delicious jelly and glitter and knocked on his office's closed door. When she didn't get a reply, she pushed it opened and sighed in relief. Ok, here he was, still in PJ's, his stubble unshaved and looking stressed as he searched around the room.
"Uncle Sebastian...What are you doing?" Mabel's voice startled the blond and he threw the scissors he found to the air.
He was so glad he controlled himself and didn't throw it at her.
'Should have! Would have been fun! Imagine the blood!'
Seb looked at Mabel in surprise. "I-I am making a dress for Mrs. Northwest..." The woman changed her mind at the last minute about the dress he already did and made him do another one in less time than the first one.
He could have finished it by now, but he procrastinated so it wasn't TOTALLY her fault...
"Oh..." She looked her hands. "Um, you didn't eat breakfast…I made you this…" She showed him the plate and smiled. "I even put glitter to make it prettier!"
Seb picked up his scissors and smiled gratefully at the little girl. "Thank you, pumpkin." He really hadn't eaten or drunk anything since he woke up, but he only had a few more hours to finish this. Despite that, he took his time to grab the colorful sandwich his niece made for him and took a bite, grateful he bought her edible glitter this time.
'She's poisoning you, she hates you. You are a monster!'
Shut up, you are ruining this for me!
'Um, that's the plan?'
Mabel admired the pretty dress Sebastian was doing and hummed. Well, Dipper told Uncle Stanley to watch TV with him tonight, it was only fair if she got to do something with an uncle too, and because Uncle Ford was always doing science stuff downstairs…"Maybe, um, if you want, I can help, Uncle Sebas?"
Seb felt his throat closing, probably because of the glitter, and nodded slowly, blinking his tears away, both from happiness and the glitter.
She called him Sebas...After a week of calling him Sebastian… "Of course, Sho-pumpkin. I'd love to have your help."
Mabel couldn't deny she had fun. She loved making clothes and being with her uncle Sebas felt so...normal again. As he dutifully explained to her what he was doing, how to do it and what to use, it was so easy to forget about his arrest, about his past, about the lies he said. Right now, Mabel was making a pretty dress with her uncle Seb, designer, tailor, and artist.
The man Mabel...admired...
As soon as Seb carefully finished sewing the last rhinestones, the doorbell rang. The two Pines shared a look and smiled.
"We did it!" Mabel squealed.
"Haha yes, Shooting Star, we did it!" Seb lifted her up with his mind excitedly. "High six!"
The girl gasped softly and the blond realized what he did. No, no! They had been so good today! Why did he have to be so stupid?! Why did he have to ruin everything?!
He was about to put his niece on her feet once again, regretting his entire life, but Mabel high sixed him. She smiled slightly at Seb's shocked face.
"It-It's ok, Uncle Sebas...Go give them this pretty dress!"
Sebastian lowered her to the ground and quickly put the dress in a garment bag before running to the front door.
Mabel went to the living room and found Dipper and Uncle Stan...wearing clothes. Normal ones! He had brown pants and darker shoes, a light blue shirt that had way too many buttons opened to show off his hairy chest and a golden chain.
"Where are you going?" She asked.
"We are going to the store to buy food for tonight, we checked the pantry and there aren't snacks anymore." Dipper informed her.
Stan grabbed the keys to Seb's car, still grieving the loss of his own baby, and motioned Dipper to follow him. "Want to come too, pumpkin?"
"Um...No...But I want gummy bears! Lots and lots of gummy bears!" She smiled and the two male Pines rolled their eyes. "Fine~" They said before walking towards the door in the Gift Shop.
Meanwhile, Sebastian received the other half of his payment from the Northwest's butler and waved goodbye. "Tell Mrs. Northwest I LOVED making this dress for her!" Seb smiled sarcastically.
"I will." The man said, taking the sarcasm seriously, before getting in the limo and driving away.
Seb hummed. He had been making dresses and suits for the Northwest for years, but he had never gone to their fancy party. It would be nice to go at least once. He wanted to see if those stuffed shirts had a good fashion taste.
He turned around and bumped into his middle triplet who was followed by Pinetree. "Hey, look at you! You are finally wearing clothes!" Seb smiled teasingly. "Fez, please button up your shirt we don't need to see your chest hair" He pouted. Stan didn't care and just ruffled his little brother's hair patronizingly.
"I'm going out with this champ, and I'm taking your car!"
Seb looked at Dipper who looked up at him briefly. "Hi, Pi-um, Dipper!" The boy nodded and said a soft "Hi" before looking away.
Stan pouted and patted the boy's head.
"Wait. Why are you taking my car?" Seb pouted.
"Because you CRASHED MY BABY, SEBASTIAN!" Stan glared and Seb winced with a sheepish smile.
"Right…Ok, have fun…Buy detergent, we don't have any, and sugar."
"Got it. Come on, boy." Stan motioned Dipper to follow him and the kid quietly followed his uncle outside.
Seb waved at them and sat down on the porch, thoughtful. What could he do to get Dipper to like him again? He was being good, he was not bothering and teasing him like he used to…He surely knew that he was doing this for him, right? That he cared what he thought of him. That he missed talking to him and answering his questions about the Journal…
Journal Stanford took away from him. Why wasn't he upset with Stanford? Dipper had loved that journal, now Sixer came, took it away for himself, refused to tell him what happened while they were in other dimensions…And he was angry at him because he had a messy past life?!
Before his hands could burst into flames, the blond was knocked out to the floor as two screaming girls rushed inside the house. "HI, MR. PINES!" Candy and Grenda shouted as they giggled and ran around to find Mabel.
Sebastian sighed and stayed on the floor for a while.
-.-
"-And, well, that's what happened last week…" Mabel sighed tiredly and leaned back against her bed. Her friends nodded slowly, trying to understand the new information.
"So Mr. Sebastian has two more brothers?" Candy asked with a grin after a while.
"Are they hot like him?"
"Grenda, ew!" Mabel whined, and her friends laughed. "Yes, my uncles are adorable but that is not the point!" The brunette sat down cross-legged between the other girls. "The problem is that I am super confused!" She saw Waddles approaching her and she squeezed him like a stuffed toy. "He was an evil…person before, but he looks different now. But Dipper says that he still acts like Bill, and thinks like him…" She petted her pig's ears with her gaze down. "Would that make him a different person?" Mabel asked softly.
Candy and Grenda shared a look as Mabel continued. "I-I spent all morning with him making a pretty dress…and I liked it…I missed doing stuff with him like before…" She let Waddles go and laid down on the floor to stare at the ceiling. "I know my uncle loves me…but…I don't know! I am not sure!"
"You are not sure of what?" Grenda asked confused. "Didn't you say just say Mr. Pines still loves you? What is the problem then?"
"That…That he was Bill and he calls me by the same nicknames this Bill does and-and he has all his memories!" Mabel pouted.
"Why would it matter if he was 'Bill' if he still loves you and loves Dipper?" Candy asked, also confused. She couldn't see the problem, she really couldn't. "He was him before you learnt the truth" The Korean girl shrugged. "You trusted him before, Mabel, why would you change?"
Mabel played with the hem oh her sleeve. "Be-Because…I don't want him to be evil like Dipper said." She sniffed. Dipper had said that just like he lied about everything, he could be lying about liking them too…
"But…he isn't!" Grenda smiled. She didn't know Sebastian that well, but he had always been nice. "He made you that party where we met!" The taller girl exclaimed happily.
"Oh, oh! Mr. Seb fought the Summerween monster to save us!" Candy added and Mabel wiped her tears.
"You told us he punched a pterodactyl to save Waddles!" Grenda said and the pink oinked in response.
"And…He didn't get too angry when we left him temporarily blind…" Candy mumbled, remembering the 'color emergency'.
Mabel looked at her friends with her brown eyes wide. They…they were right! Uncle Sebas had done lots of nice things before and he was still Bill…He was Bill, but he still loved them…Was that even possible? That Dorito didn't seem like the type to love his family…But Uncle Sebas spent 13 years working on a really difficult portal just to bring her other uncles back! Even when Uncle Ford was really, really angry and mean at him…
Then it really must mean that, despite having Bill's memories and attitudes, he was still her uncle, her Grunkle, and he loved her and her brother.
"Girls…You are the bestest friends ever…" Mabel smiled and her friends crushed her into a tight group hug.
And, even if he was Bill, a huge meanie who liked possessing people and stabbing forks in people's arms…then it meant uncle Sebas was great! Because he was NOT doing all of those things! And he was being a nicer demon, he was fighting all that because he loved them!
Mabel smiled and hugged her friends back. They were right…She was just been a meanie to Uncle Sebas. She trusted him before…She had to continue trusting him now. She also had to tell her brother this! She was sure he would understand it if she put it that way!
"Ok, now that we agreed Mr. Pines is good…Can we meet his brothers?"
"Grenda, stop!" Mabel scolded her laughing and Candy giggled. Suddenly, the black-haired girl gasped. She turned Mabel around to face her and put her hands on her shoulders. "Mabel. We need a TV! Now!"
"What? Why?" The brunette asked confused, but Grenda gasped too. She had totally forgotten!
"It is the Northwest family's annual high-society-shindig-ball-soiree tonight! It is the best party ever and it will be shown on TV!" Candy cried, shaking up Mabel.
Grenda picked up both Candy and Mabel and shook them. "WE HAVE TO SEE IT!"
Mabel's eyes lit up. "A party?!"
"A fancy party! The best party! They say each gift basket has a live quail inside! And it is amazing! Please!" Candy begged and Mabel smiled widely. She loved parties! "Then what are we waiting for?! Let's go steal the TV!"
The girls ran downstairs laughing.
-.—
When the pizza was ordered and the snacks were installed all around them, Dipper happily put a pillow on the couch and sat down. Stan grinned and picked up his nephew from the couch and sat down there himself. "Hey, man! Not fair!" The boy pouted. "I got here first!"
"Who told you to be so easy to pick up?" The man with long hair joked and threw him the pillow. "To the floor! To the floor!"
Dipper glared half-heartedly at Stan and took a handful of chips to his mouth before sitting down on the soft carpet shoeless. He would just climb to the armchair of the couch and sit down there…But he was just getting to know this uncle…
And he used to do that with Sebastian…
"Do you think uncle Ford would like to watch the marathon with us?" Dipper looked up at Stan hopefully and Stan grimaced. "I am not sure, kiddo…But it is going to start already, so…" He waved the remote control and Dipper smiled.
"Ok, you're right." The boy nodded and Stan turned on the TV.
Dipper sipped on his soda. You asked for it, you got it! An entire 48-hour marathon of Ghost Harassers on the "Used to Be About History Channel!"
"Be strong, bladder." He patted his stomach. "We're not gonna move till sunset."
"That's the spirit, kid!" Stan laughed and sipped on his soda himself.
The two male Pines eagerly leaned closer to the show that was starting, but it was suddenly changed. "We interrupt this program to bring you breaking news!"
"Aww, what?" Dipper frowned.
"Are you kidding me?!" Stan complained.
Mabel and her friends ran into the living room excitedly. Mabel threw herself to Dipper's right. "It's starting!"
"Turn it up!" Candy demanded, sitting down next to Dipper's right and Grenda threw herself in front of the three of them. "Make room for Grenda!"
The girls quickly looked up at Stan who was watching them confused and smiled. "Hello, Mr. Sebastian!" They saluted quickly before turning back to the TV.
Stan snorted, and looked at the news instead of correcting them. He saw a man with a hat, glasses and a mustache smiling at the camera with a mic. "Well tonight's the night, but I've been out here for days!" The camera zoomed out to reveal the man was completely filthy and covered in mud. Ew. "The Northwest family's annual high-society-shindig-ball-soiree is here! And even though common folk aren't let in, that doesn't stop us from camping out for a peek at the fanciness!" The camera showed a group of people camping outside a huge house.
"Oooooooooh!" The girls cooed.
"Wait, wait, what's happening?" Stan asked confused as Dipper groaned and ignored his uncle. "Okay, can someone please explain why people care about this?"
"It's pretty much the best party of all time. Rich food, richer boys!" Grenda smirked.
"They say each gift basket has a live quail inside!"
Candy pawed at the TV screen dreamily. "Give me your life, Pacifica…" She whispered.
Stan pouted. "Who is Pacifica? Who are you?" He laughed sheepishly. Mabel's friends blinked confused, and before they could say something, they saw the same man but with half of his hair blond stomping towards them. "Fez, I told you to buy detergent!"
The man with long hair frowned. "I bought it!"
"No, you bought Fabric softener, Stan!" Seb pouted.
"It is the same!"
"No it isn't!"
"Guys!" Mabel shouted and the brothers turned to look at her. Candy and Grenda gaped and looked between the blond and the long-haired man. Wait…
"You are Mr. Pines' brother!" Candy exclaimed and Grenda squeezed her cheeks giggling. They looked the saaameee!
"Hey…I didn't see you since you stepped on me in the morning. Hi." Seb smiled at the girls.
Dipper pouted as Stan looked even more confused. "Ok, can someone tell me who these girls are?"
Mabel smiled and looked at Stan. "Uncle Stan, this are Candy and Grenda." She presented her friends, pointing at each one. "Girls, this is my Uncle Stanley! Uncle Stan for short! And he is my Grunkle Seb's older triplet." Mabel presented the long haired man to the girls, especially choosing her words.
She looked up at the blond whose brown eye was already welling up with tears.
"Oh, Mabel..." Seb smiled widely at her.
'What? You think she likes you now just because she decided to shorten your name?! She hates you! No one could like a monster like us! That's why everything close to us suffer...' Bill2 whispered angrily.
Dipper looked at his sister. Did she really-? Well, he actually expected it. Mabel was too nice and trustful, but he knew better than to trust or believe Bill, and Uncle Ford, the Author, had said that demon was not to be trusted.
"Hello, I am Candy Chiu!" The black haired girl smiled at Stan. "My name is Grenda!" The taller girl exclaimed and Stan raised an eyebrow.
"You got a cold, honey? Something wrong with your voice there?"
Sebastian gaped. Stan just didn't...
"What do you mean? Why would you say that?" Grenda asked with her ruff voice.
"Oh, and we were talking about the Northwest's huge party. Pacifica is their daughter and she has the perfect life..." Candy sighed dreamily.
Seb kept his mouth shut, because that was really false, and Dipper scoffed. "Guys, in case you've already forgotten, Pacifica Northwest is the worst!"
They heard someone knocking at the door and Dipper stood up to answer it. "And that's not just jealousy talking. I'd say that to her face!" He opened the door and saw Pacifica all dressed up as if she were in an undercover mission.
"I need your help."
Dipper blinked. "You're the worst." He slammed the door in her face. The girls gasped while the triplets burst into loud laughter.
Stan liked the boy already, he had galls! And Seb smiled proudly at the kid.
'He still doesn't like you. Why are you so happy?!' Bill2 spat.
Dipper shrugged. "See?"
Pacifica knocked again and Dipper opened it up groaning. "What?!"
The blonde huffed and hugged herself. "Look. You think it's easy for me to come here? I don't want to be seen in this hovel!"
Seb frowned. But she didn't have a problem to do just that to order him to make her purple dress...
"-But there's something haunting Northwest Manor!" She took off her sunglasses and everyone could see her worried expression. "If you don't help me, the party could be ruined"
"And why should I trust you? All you've ever done is try to humiliate me and Mabel!"
"Just name your price, okay? I'll give you anything!"
Mabel's businesswoman part of her activated and she ran towards her brother as the triplets watched amused.
"Hi, Pacifica! Excuse us!" She grabbed Dipper and dragged him away from the blonde girl.
"Dipper! Don't you see what this means? If you help Pacifica, you could get us invites to the greatest party of all time!"
Sebas squealed mentally. Going to the Northwest party?! That would be so awesome! He had a suit he HAD to use!
Stan yelped in pain when his brother excitedly bit his arm. "Damn it, Sebastian!"
"What? Mabel, this is Pacifica we're talking about!" Dipper argued back but Mabel pouted adorably.
"But look! It's Candy and Grenda's dream!" The girl pointed at her friends and they stared them them starry-eyed miming rainbows. "Dreeeaaaaaaam."
Dipper glanced at his other uncles briefly.
Seb stared at him pleadingly. "Please, Dipper..."
Dipper thought carefully. He didn't want to go just with Sebastian so he'd have to make Uncle Stan come too...But! If he was going to hunt down a monster, who knew better of ghosts than the Author?! He could ask Uncle Ford to hunt down the ghost with him!
Dipper nodded determined. "Ugh. Fine!" He turned to look at Pacifica. "We'll bust your ghost. But, in exchange, I'll need...five tickets to the party."
Pacifica huffed, not really getting why he needed so many if his family was just 3. She hadn't seen Stan yet. "Hrrn! You're just lucky I'm desperate."
Mabel, Candy, and Grenda cheered and started chanting. "Des-perate! Des-perate! Des-perate!"
Mabel turned to look at Grenda. "Grenda, get the glue gun. We're making dresses!" She looked at Seb and smiled. "Can we use your office to make ourselves dresses? Please!"
Seb, who had always been really easy to manipulate, especially it was people who he wanted to like, smiled. "Of course! Of course, pumpkin! You can use it all you want!"
The girls ran away squealing excitedly and Dipper closed the door when Pacifica left. "We have a few hours until her car comes for us. I'll tell Uncle Ford!" His smile decreased a bit. "Where is he?"
Stan sighed. "I'll get him."
Sebas crouched in front of Dipper and smiled. "I am sure we can find you a nice suit, Dipper! How about a purple bowtie?!"
The boy grimaced, but he actually tried to force a smile. "No, I am not wearing a suit...Uncle Stan, wait! I'm going with you!" Dipper ran after the older man and Seb sighed.
It-It was ok. Dipper didn't want to wear a suit, it was fine. He shouldn't force him to do so...
'He hates you, he doesn't want to see you.' Seb shook his head. No need to dwell on that right now. He had to look for his clothes and his brothers'. Ford will probably reject them but Stan will definitely make him wear it.
-.-
Dipper squealed when his Uncle Stan managed to open the vending machine. Ford didn't seem to be too happy to be interrupted but Stan gently pushed Dipper forward. "The kid wants to tell you something."
"Um...Um..." Dipper stared at his uncle in awe as he confusedly scratched his head with his six-fingered hand.
He looked so much like Sebastian, but it only bothered him just a little. It wasn't Uncle Ford's fault this cosmic entity used his DNA to make Bill a body.
"Yes, Dipper?"
"Um. Ok!" He took a deep breath. "Pacifica Northwest says a ghost is haunting her mansion so she asked me to hunt it but I was wondering if I could lend your Journal, but I was also wondering if you would like to help me because you know a lot about ghosts and I read everything you put in the journal! And I think we could hunt this ghost better if we worked as team because I think the journals are amazing and you are amazing!"
"I have never seen someone who could talk for so long without passing out." Stan blinked. Well, except that guy in college. Damn, no one could make him shut up. We get it, Carlos! You know a fucking lot! Now shut the fuck up!
Ford hummed. A ghost in the Northwest Mansion? He grabbed Journal 3 and flipped it to the page he wanted. It was titled The Great secret of the Great Flood. Maybe the lumber folk who died in the flood had to do with it?
"Very well, Dipper." Ford closed his Journal with a smile "I'm going too. This might be a great chance to prove a theory of mine!" Of course Stanford didn't know how smart Dipper was, and he was actually thinking of hunting the ghost himself, but he appreciated the boy got him the chance to go!
Stan caught Dipper when the boy passed out.
The Author was coming with him!
-.-
Seb hummed a song distractedly as he looked for his clothes. Perfect ironed white shirt, yellow vest, black bowtie, black pants and a long tuxedo jacket that had the lapels yellow and reached past his knees.
He had been dying to wear this for so long! He glanced at the black top hat resting on his bed. Maybe...Maybe he shouldn't wear it. Ford and Dipper would-
The curly blond pouted. No. He was a grown up man and he could wear whatever the fuck he wanted! He was in Gravity Falls, weirdness was part of this town, he was weird, this was his town, and if he liked it he was wearing it.
His likes in clothes came from Bill, alright, he will admit that, but it didn't mean he WAS Bill. He just had excellent taste in clothes! What was the problem with that?
'You are really overthinking this, kid.' Bill2 sighed. 'Just kill them and no one would bother about your clothes!' "Haha. Very funny!" Seb smiled. He left his room to get two suits and two ties, one blue tie and one red bowtie. The Stans should be glad to wear these. These were one of the bests he had made.
He froze when he saw his brothers and Dipper coming out of the vending machine. He locked gazes with Ford and the man wearing glasses hardened his expression.
"Um. Hi…You-You should probably wear this...It is a nice party..." He gave the neat suits to his middle triplet and ran away from the man glaring at him.
Seb went back to his room, locked the door behind him. After breathing hard a few times, he was calmed enough to enter to the bathroom. He really needed a bath and- 'Filthy human. Ew.' -He needed to shave and get dressed.
He took a while in his shower, he liked the warm water falling over his head and he wanted his White Grapefruit and Mosa Mint shampoo and conditioner to take effect. He loved when his hair was all fluffy, soft and smelling like heavens.
Music blasted from his phone as he got ready, shaved, combed his hair, applied styling cream over his curly locks, gel, and applied his makeup diligently. He was getting so excited! He liked wearing pretty clothes, (especially if he designed them himself).
He carefully put on his eyepatch and he looked at his top hat. He put it over his head, but like always, it started floating. Ugh. Right. He had forgotten about that. He searched in his drawers for hair clips and he managed to keep the hat on. Perfect! He put on black gloves, grabbed his yellow cane and smiled. He was ready.
The man proudly left his, well, Stan and his, bedroom and frowned angrily when he saw Stanley half dressed in the living room. "Fez!" He whined. Seb recognized he took a while, so Stan should be ready by now!
Stan looked up at his brother and gaped at his brother's clothes. He looked incredible! "Woah, bro…"
"Don't bro me, Stan…You should be ready…" He pouted and Stan rolled his eyes tiredly. He put on his shoes, tucked his shirt in, put on his black jacket and turned to look at his younger triplet. He only needed to tie his tie and he would be ready "You see? I'm ready. I don't need three hours to get ready like-cofcofsomeonecofcof!" Stan teased his brother.
Seb pouted offended. "And what about your hair?" It was obvious he took a shower because it was kind of wet, but it was until disheveled.
"I'll just tie it up."
"No!" Seb whined. Stan's hair needed help. He left his cane against the couch and left to bring his gel, styling hair, hairbrush and a hairband. When he came back, he glared at Stan. "Ok. Sit down on the floor, I'll fix your hair."
Stan gaped incredulously. "Are you actually serious? I am not a kid, Sebastian"
"Well, you surely are acting like one, Fez. Do you know how exclusive this party is? I am not letting my big brother go around looking like…you."
Stan rolled his eyes and moved from the couch to the floor. If this made Seb happy, then he would do it. When they were little kids, Sebas really liked girly games, like having tea parties and playing with mom's makeup. As they weren't allowed to play that at kindergarten, Seb dragged him to play with the "borrowed" things he got from class. He couldn't refuse, it always made his little brother happy.
Seb softly passed the brush over his long hair, moisturizing it with a special cream. "Ow!" Stan grumbled when the brush passed over a really tangled part of his hair.
"It's not my fault you keep your hair like this. We should go to the hairdresser one of these days! You could get your dry hair tips cut and they would make your hair super soft!" The blond man smiled happily.
Stan rolled his eyes and Seb continued combing. When his hair was ready, he starting braiding a small part so he could join everything in a low ponytail. Stan couldn't help but think back to William. This other Bill also liked keeping his hair combed and braided. Was this a…nice Bill thing? He didn't know the evil Bills, but guessing how much he fucked up Stanford, Stanley didn't picture them as guys who would like to brush someone else's hair.
Unless the head was not attached to the body anymore. Maybe then they would do it…
When Seb finished tying up his hair, they heard steps and someone grumbling annoyed. "Stanley, have you seen-" Ford, followed by Dipper, stopped when he saw his triplets in the living room. Seb awkwardly stood up and looked at Ford. He was wearing the suit he gave them, but he didn't have his tie. He was probably searching for it. "-the tie…"
Ford took a deep breathe. Cane, top hat, bow tie, yellow and black. Why did Sebastian had to act so much like Bill?! Wasn't he insisting he wasn't that demon?! Then why the heck did it seem he was endeavoring on looking like him?! He was doing it on purpose!
"If-If you want a tie, you can choose one from the store, Sixer…" Seb offered, but Ford ignored him as if he hadn't even talked. Stan sighed tiredly and shook his head. "Nope. But Sebas said you could grab another one from his store."
Seb grabbed his cane once again and narrowed his eye when he something on Ford's uncovered neck. "What is that on your neck?" He asked innocently. It looked like a…star…?
Ford immediately covered that part of his neck with a six-fingered. Stan snorted before exploding with laughter. He even started hitting the couch with his fists. Ford's tattoo! Stan had totally forgotten! HOLY MOSES! "HAHAHAHAHAHA!" He couldn't breathe! He couldn't breathe! "For fuck's sake, Stanford! Hahahahahaha!"
Ford grumbled and left the room with his face burning red. Nope. He was regretting life. He needed to change. He didn't care. He was putting on a turtleneck right now…
This was somehow Seb's fault too! If he hadn't pointed it out!
Seb pouted as Ford angrily left. "I didn't do anything…" He said as Stan wiped his tears. "Nah, it is just him and his awful, terrible decisions…" Stan looked at Dipper who was holding Ford's journal and watching them with a confused look. "Why can he wear comfortable clothes?"
Seb looked at Dipper and sighed, he was wearing his normal clothes. "You really aren't going to wear a suit, are you?"
"Uncle Ford says I don't have to listen to what you say, and I also don't like suits" He shrugged and Stan groaned loudly as Seb looked down. "Kid. Seriously. Don't listen to what my brother says. You just need to look at his tattoo and you will see Ford doesn't always think straight…" That day had been hilarious. There was no one to blame but himself. He shouldn't have drunk if he knew he was a total light head.
"His tattoo?" Seb asked with a shy grin and Stan pulled down his shirt neck to show him his neck. "A huge smiling star that says Hey now, I'm an all-star" He whispered to Seb and the blond started laughing so much he felt he was going to pee his pants.
'Ew. Control your bladder and sphincters.'
Dipper luckily didn't hear what Stan whispered and he was ready to fight him. Really, the Author?! Not thinking straight?! Yeah, right! Suddenly, Mabel and her friends entered to the room giggling excitedly.
"We are ready!"
Seb stopped laughing as soon as his eye landed on Mabel and his gasp got caught in his throat.
'No…fucking…way…'
What the heck were they wearing?! He was going to hyperventilate!
Too many feathers! What was that hat!? Those shoes DIDN'T GO WITH THAT DRESS! That dress was too long for her!
Seb felt dizzy and he leaned against his brother's shoulder as his eye twitched. He felt he was going to have a stroke.
"How do we look?! We look awesome no?!" Mabel gave the three male Pines a huge smile, and Dipper and Stan turned to look at Seb.
"Uh…"
Don't tell them, don't tell them, don't tell them, don't tell them!
"Your…hair looks pretty…" That was true. He liked their hairstyles. Especially Mabel's and Grenda's.
"What about our dresses?"
Seb took a deep breathe. He was a good person. Good people didn't tell little girls he didn't like their dresses. "You…like them?"
The three nodded with adorable smiles.
"Ok…Then-Then I like it too!"
The girls squealed excitedly and giggled among them. Mabel hugged her uncle's legs tightly. "Thanks, Uncle Seb!"
Seb froze and looked at Stan, who smiled happily. His niece liked his brother again!
"Where is Uncle Ford? We are ready!" Mabel asked and as if on cue, Ford grumpily entered to his living room. He was still wearing his suit but instead of a shirt and tie, he was wearing a nice gray turtleneck.
Candy and Grenda gaped at the man wearing glasses. So that's the other brother of Mr. Sebastian…Woah.
Seb nodded to himself in approval. Turtleneck and suit was nice. Ford looked fine and formal.
"Yay! We can go now!" Mabel squealed. The three girls ran outside, and as soon as they were out of sight, Seb wailed.
"Oh god! I am really going to let them go to a party dressed up like that!" He exclaimed. "I should have seen what they were doing!"
Ford frowned at his youngest triplet. His niece seemed like a nice kid, but he didn't care much about the girls' dresses. What he didn't like was how Sebastian acted as if he was so important and his word was law. Who even was he to judge someone's clothes?
"And who do you think you are to judge my niece like that? You don't even have a title so your word is not really important." He shrugged and walked out with his hands on his back. That should serve that demon right.
Seb looked down embarrassed and Dipper put his hands behind his back too. "Yeah! My sister can wear whatever she wants, Sebastian!" He went after Ford and only Stan and Seb stayed in the room.
"I-I am sorry…" Seb apologized softly, digging his nails into his wrist. Ford was right. He was a nobody. He shouldn't criticize her like that. Why couldn't he do anything well?! Why was he so stupid?!
'Stupid, idiot'
Stan glared at the door and turned to look at his younger brother. "Hey, don't take him too seriously, Sebastian…You don't need a paper to be an expert on clothes! You look amazing ok?!" He patted his back. "Now, let's go."
Stan knew Ford had nothing against their niblings, but he didn't really care for Mabel's clothes…or Dipper and Mabel. If he did, he would spend time with them, or at least allow them to help him downstairs with whatever he was doing.
He just wanted to hurt Sebastian because he could. And he couldn't stand his older triplet when he was like that.
Seb carefully wiped his tears from his eye and nodded. "Ok…"
-.-
The limo arrived to the mansion. The limo drove through the crowd of people outside and a butler pulled up a lever to open the main gates and let them through. The triplets rolled their eyes at unison.
Rich people…
Pacifica, who was wearing the purple dress Seb made, and two servants received the Pines with a bored expression until the blond saw two more men coming out. "I think I am seeing triple…" She frowned and rubbed her blue eyes. The three looked like the tailor, but at the same time they were all different.
And…was it the light or something, or the one wearing glasses was hot?
She shrugged it off. Not important. She didn't care who got rid of the ghost as long as they did the job.
The servants opened the doors to the house to let the Pines, Candy and Grenda, in. "Welcome to Northwest Manor, dorks. Try not to touch anything."
"Woah…" The girls looked around in wonder.
The Pines and Mabel's friends looked around impressed. There was a Cider Fountain next to the huge stairs, a man was finishing an ice sculpture of Pacifica as a mermaid. There was a whale skeleton hanging from the roof"
"Everything's so fancy!" Mabel exclaimed and started touching everything, earning and eye roll from her twin. "Fancy floors, fancy plants-" She gasped when she saw a butler. "Fancy man!" She giggled as she rubbed the man's face.
"Mm, yes. Very good miss."
"Mabel, let the man go." Seb scolded.
Candy showed Mabel a gift bag. "The rumors were true!" A live quail popped out and walked away, followed by three quail chicks.
The girls ran off giggling and followed the birds, earning a confused look from Pacifica's parents. They forced a smile on their faces though when Pacifica walked next to Dipper and the triplets.
"Ah, if it isn't the man of the hour! Hopefully you can help us with our little... situation, before the guests arrive in an hour." He looked at the blond and at the taller men who looked like him.
Dipper nodded seriously. "We'll do our best"
"Tailor…" Preston acknowledged.
"Preston…Cofcoffraudcofcof" Seb grinned.
The rich man looked at the triplet wearing glasses with a little frown. "Do I know you?"
"Well, actually-" Ford started, but the man interrupted him.
"No, I don't really care." He looked at Dipper and his daughter. "Pacifica, take our guest to the "problem room," and, uh... he's not wearing that, is he?" He pointed at Dipper who was cleaning his teeth with his finger and had his shirt partially in his pants.
Seb facepalmed.
Pacifica crossed her arms with a serious expression. "I'm on it." She walked towards Dipper and grabbed his wrist to drag him away. "Come here, you are not wearing that in this party" The blonde dragged the boy away, ignoring his "Wa-Wait! My-My uncle! He-"
Ford frowned a bit and looked at Preston. Why would he send Dipper to catch a ghost? He was just a kid. Besides, he was much more experienced and he was definitely going to finish the job more efficiently. However, Preston and his wife were already gone.
"I was supposed to hunt that ghost…" Ford whispered and Seb laughed. "What is so funny?!" Ford demanded. He patted his pockets and realized Dipper took his Journal.
"Oh boy…" Stan groaned.
"Well, no one called you to do the job. They called Dipper." Seb leaned on his cane with a cheeky grin. He shouldn't be bothering his brother…But Ford was just so funny when he got angry! "This is his mission, not yours. Dipper and I had been solving lots of mysteries this summer, and the Northwest know he is an expert in paranormal activity!"
"He is just a boy!"
"If you decided to take a little more time on getting to know them, maybe you'd know Dipper and Mabel are incredible kids…And then I am the bad person, no?!"
Ford deadpanned and childishly kicked the cane, making Seb yelp when he fell to the floor face first. "What IS your problem?!" He shrieked.
"Guys! Guys!" Stan easily lifted up Seb by his suit's collar and hugged his triplets tightly. They glared at each other. "We are in a cool party! This should be fun, I wanna have fun! Can you behave at least tonight?" Stan choked the other two men who cried as they were strangled.
"Let go, Stan!" They shouted.
-.—
While Dipper was sassing Pacifica about her family lying about the founding of the town, the triplets separated. Seb went to look for his niece and her friends while Stan stayed with Ford. Poor Stan was bored, listening to Ford telling him about how he always thought the Northwest family was a fraud. He started telling him about the Great Flood too and how he was almost sure the ghost he was supposed to be hunting had to do something with the deaths.
Stan groaned into his hand.
Grenda found a huge book and called her friends. "Oh wow, guys, it's the guest list!" Mabel grabbed her uncle's hand and they approached Grenda with Candy.
The girl flipped through the book and Seb scanned the pictures. He didn't like the women very much but he saw a few men that were really, really handsome!
"Whoa, check out this hottie!" Grenda pointed to a thirteen year old boy and Seb rolled his eyes.
"Marius von Fundshauser! He's a baron from Austria!" Candy squealed.
"Forget the quail, I'm putting him in my guest basket!" Mabel exclaimed and her uncle chuckle. "What? You don't think I can, Uncle Seb?" She raised an eyebrow challengingly and Seb grinned at her. This felt so normal…He felt as if nothing had happened between them. "Of course I know you can. You kidnapped those clones after all"
Mabel gasped. "You knew?!"
"Sweetheart, I know everything that happens in the house!"
After staring at the picture for a little while, Grenda lifted a hand. "Hold up, ladies. I can't believe I'm gonna say this, but I think this boy is out of our league…"
"Grenda is right. He's a white whale. Hunting him will destroy us." Candy narrowed her eyes.
'Dramatic girl!'
"There are tons of cute boys coming!" Mabel assured her friends. "Let's swear a sisters' truce not to waste time on Marius!" She mocked his name and extended her hand. The three girls placed their hands together with a "Deal!"
The laughed nervously among each other and Seb rolled his eye. Why did he have the feeling that they would end up fighting for him…?
"Hey, Uncle Seb! Why don't we look someone for you?" Mabel shoved the book in his direction with a smile and Seb grimaced. "You can talk to a nice lady or a nice gentleman!"
Now that Mabel trusted her uncle again, her idea of wanting an aunt or an uncle returned with full force.
"Eh…Not now…" He said and she pouted, puffing her cheeks up.
"And well, when I faced Preston that day, he escorted me out! I know they are hiding something!" Ford exclaimed and his middle triplet whimpered.
"Ford, you know what? I am really considering hunting down that ghost myself if that makes you shut up."
Stanford's brown eyes widened and he grinned at Stan. "You are right! We can find it!" He didn't need his Journal for that! He knew what he wrote! Besides, it would be irresponsible to let Dipper hunt down a ghost when he could do it, prove his theory, and keep the boy safe! It was a win-win!
"Come on, Stan! We need to find it!" Ford's adventurous nature was showing, and Stan's reasonable one groaned.
"But-But …" Stanley looked around for an excuse. "We don't know anything about the ghost…and we can't go around without knowing what we are facing."
Ford hummed. Yeah. Stan was right. But it couldn't be that bad right? Maybe a category 1 or 2…
As Preston opened the door to receive his guests which included dukes and duchesses, sultans, and sportsmen, even the reclusive 102-year-old mayor of Gravity Falls, Mayor Befufflefumpter, the girls and Seb went to the snacks table. There were so many fancy and expensive snacks that they could try…Nah, fuck it, there was chocolate here!
Seb popped a chocolate in his mouth and watched Candy as she changed from fondue fountains. "Cheese, chocolate, cheese, chocolate-"
"Um, kid?" Seb pouted when she saw the snacks between the fountains getting dirty.
Mabel stared at her friend and put her hands on her shoulders. "Candy, listen to me carefully… You're caught in a sweet-savory loop. Put the fondue fork down."
"I want to, but I can't." Candy said entranced.
Seb looked around the room for his brothers. They were nowhere to be seen. Where had they gone?
'They want to get away from you. They hate you. They don't want to see you'
Seb sighed and closed his eye. Speaking of not knowing where his family was, he didn't even know where Dipper was. Was he ok? What if he got hurt? Even if Dipper was angry at him, it didn't mean he stopped worrying about his niblings.
He used his yellow eye to look for him and eventually found him. He was running through the hallways with Pacifica…And a blue spirit was chasing them.
"Dipper!" Seb suddenly exclaimed. "Mabel, stay with your friends ok?! I have to go!" Seb told his frozen niece and ran away. She was too distracted admiring Marius that she didn't hear his uncle was leaving.
"Guys!" Seb shouted as he looked for his brothers. "Stan! Stanford!" He sighed relieved when he saw them talking next to the stairs going to the second floor and he ran towards them.
"Guys!" He cried and the Stans looked at him with different expressions.
"Are you ok?" Stan asked worriedly.
"Dipper is being chased by the ghost!" He screamed. "We have to find them!"
The Stans frowned and nodded. Saving their little brother's son was their priority now. They could continue fighting and arguing later. The triplets ran away from the guests and towards the rooms of the Manor. Dipper had been in a hallway so that meant he had to be inside the mansion.
"Ok, I saw him in the hallways!"
"You saw him?!" Stanford asked as they ran and Seb grinned sheepishly. "My powers?"
Ford huffed. "Of course…"
"Shut up, you two!" Stan groaned.
The triplets looked around the hallways carefully, but they couldn't see the kids or the ghost. They slowly walked outside to the courtyards and studied the place.
Seb crouched. "Look! There are footprints in the mud! They were here!" They followed them inside through different hallways but the footprints suddenly stopped in front of a room with a silver mirror on the wall.
"What?" Ford muttered as Seb pulled at his hair. "The ghost kidnapped them!" He cried, already panicking.
"Ghosts don't kidnap people" Ford rolled his eyes as he looked around. "There must be an explanation for this…"
Stan looked around. Wait. "Seb, how does that power of yours work? How can you see?" He asked and his brother pouted.
Seb took a deep breathe. "Well, I use my eye to look through triangles and I can find…" Seb realized it and facepalmed. "Right. I should use that."
He made sure no one was around and lifted his eyepatch to change it from eye. "Before you say anything, Stanford. No. I cannot see through this eye." Seb turned his head in the direction he remembered Ford was. "I can only use it to see through my powers."
"So that is your demon eye." Ford raised an eyebrow, not really amused.
"Yeah…Something-Something like that…It is like, my all seeing eye." He confessed and Ford was about to say something else when Stan coughed loudly.
"Right. Finding Dipper." The older men saw how the yellow eye's slit pupil started moving quickly as their brother jumped from triangle to triangle. It was fun how there were so many triangles in the Manor and yet he couldn't find-
"I got it!" Seb smiled and changed his eyepatch once again. "They are falling from a short hill to the yard! Come on!"
The three men ran outside just in time to see the kids sat up and groan. They fell to the very bottom of the hill. Where was the ghost? Could ghost follow people to the yards?
Pacifica looked at Dipper. "Did you get him?" They looked at the mirror which was still held by Dipper and they cheered happily when the ghost screamed and pounded from the inside of the mirror. "NO! FREE ME!"
"Haha! Yes!" The two exclaimed and Pacifica hugged Dipper tightly. "We did it!" She smiled and Dipper flushed a little bit.
Seb grinned widely from his hiding spot and squealed mentally. They looked so cute!
Ford gaped at his nephew holding the silver mirror. He captured the ghost! And judging by how he used a silver mirror, he must have dealt with a category 10!
He was impressed…
The kids' hug didn't last much longer because Pacifica suddenly pulled away from the hug awkwardly. She cleared her throat and Dipper sheepishly rubbed his arm. The blonde held out a dollar. "Can I pay you to pretend that never happened?" She said as she avoided eye contact with the boy with the disheveled hair.
Well, like this she had to admit he looked kind of ok…Wait what?! No!
"Wa-Wait here…I'll bring my parents to tell them you got the ghost…"
Dipper smiled and watched the girl run away, when suddenly his three identical uncles popped out from behind some trees. "AH!"
"Dipper! You are fine and you look so adorable in that suit!" Seb hugged his nephew briefly before remembering he shouldn't and let him go. Stan and Ford grinned down at him and Ford said. "Dipper, you really caught a category 10?! That is amazing!"
"Um, um yeah! I did! Haha!" The boy squealed at the praise.
"I don't know what a category 10 is but good job!" Stan patted his head.
Ford was about to ask for the mirror to see when Pacifica returned and said her parents were waiting for him at the front garden of the Manor. The men followed Dipper, Ford couldn't stop staring at the mirror his nephew was holding, and met once again with Preston and Priscilla Northwest. There was a butler standing next to them.
"Well, Pacifica, you really found the right man for the job." He snapped his fingers and the butler started shaking Dipper's hand.
"We can't thank you enough…" The woman said, before pausing and saying again. "That's enough" The butler then stopped shaking Dipper's hand.
"Hey, just holding up my end of the deal…" He looked at his Uncle Ford and waved the mirror in his direction as if silently saying 'Let's get rid of this together!'
"Wait, leaving already? You're at the world's best party, dummy…" She said and put a strand of loose hair behind her ear.
Stan and Seb shared a look. They knew what they had to do.
"Heh, I'd love to stay, but I've got a Category 10 ghost to dispose of…" He walked into one of the garden pillars and the triplets winced. "Aah! Heh heh... Category 10." He laughed and Pacifica laughed too.
"Wait! In fact! We can get rid of that ghost, Dipper!" Seb grinned widely. "Right, guys? Let's do the hard work so Dipper can go inside and have fun!"
Ford looked at Seb suspiciously but when he saw Stan nodding too, he raised an eyebrow. What were they planning? This dumb genius was so blind sometimes.
"Yeah! We are like, experts on getting rid of ghosts!" Stan grinned. "Right, Ford?" He looked at Ford who stroked his chin in thought before grinning and nodding. Yeah. At least this way he could know what they wanted to do and he got to get rid of the ghost himself!
"Yes, yes! I'd need the mirror and my Journal, Dipper" Ford extended a hand to receive said items.
Dipper looked at his uncle and looked down at the floor for a bit before nodding. He had wanted to work with his Uncle the entire night but if the Author said he could do it…He sadly gave him the book and the mirror. "Alright, Uncle Ford."
"Now you two go have fun!" Seb said cheerfully before pushing his brothers away from them.
Dipper watched his uncles go and turned to look back at Pacifica who asked him if he wanted to go eat some snacks.
Call me crazy, but, maybe she's not that bad after all… The boy thought before agreeing and running inside with her
When the triplets were out of sight, Ford pushed Sebastian away. "Stop pushing me!" He glared before looked at Stan. "What was all that about? Why did you want Dipper to stay inside?"
"Um, duh?! We want him to go with that girl?!" Stan grinned and knocked on Ford's head with his knuckles.
"Because Dipper deserves to have fun too, and to make friends, he looked quite happy with Llama and I want to see my nephew happy." Seb crossed his arms. "Besides, we can get rid of this ghost ourselves."
"Um, yeah. You aren't coming." Ford challenged and Seb growled. He was a bit hurt he couldn't get rid of the ghost too but he wouldn't let Ford hurt him more than he deserved.
"Perfect for me! I didn't even want to see your stupid face anyway!" He spat, not caring he was technically insulting his own face too.
Stan face palmed. Why!? They were so fine just minutes ago! The ghost in the mirror started laughing and the long-haired man glared at it. "Can you shut up?! I can't shout at my brothers with you laughing!"
"Your boy had been fooled…He reminded me of me a hundred and fifty years ago..." The ghost with a beard made of fire said and the three men looked at him.
Seb narrowed his eye. "What do you mean?"
"One hundred and fifty years ago this day, the Northwests asked us lumber-folk to build them a mansion atop the hill. We were told t'would be a service to the town, that once a year they would throw a grand party, and all would share in the bounty. It took years of backbreaking labor and sacrifice, but when it was time for the grand party they promised the common folk of the town, they refused to let us in."
"Sounds like something a Northwest would do." Seb shrugged after hearing the ghost's words. The spirit continued talking.
"With the trees gone, the mudslides began. While they partied and laughed, I was swept away by the storm! An ax embedded itself in my head and so I said with final breath, "One-fifty years I'll return from death, and if the gate's still closed to town, wealthy blood will stain the ground!" A curse passed down until this day.
"So I was right about the Great Flood! And one of those corpses in my property must have been yours…" Ford hummed, apparently not disturbed at all by said fact. His triplets shivered.
"So, wait a minute…The Northwests knew this haunting was coming, and they tricked Dipper into helping them to avoid ghostly justice?!"
"Yeah, that would be it" Stan nodded and Seb growled.
"And what about them being a fraud?" Ford asked the ghost who seemed confused for a second before shrugging.
"Total scam!" Seb said as he snatched the mirror from Ford's hand to walk back inside. "The real founder was Quentin Trembley, eighth-and-a-half president of the United States. Mabel discovered in in the Pioneer Day earlier in the summer."
The older men by 45 and 37 minutes followed Sebastian back inside. "Eight and a what?!" Stanford cried. "You are not making any sense!" He frowned angrily.
"Did I miss someone in History Class?" Stan muttered under his breathe.
"It is not important right now…But I am tired of these rich guys…" Seb mumbled. He opened the main door with his mind and shouted. "Northwest!" He pointed at him accusingly.
Preston turned to look at the angry blond and his brothers. "You've got some explaining to do!"
Pacifica and Dipper ran towards them after they heard the noise. "Guys? What's wrong?"
"Dipper. The Northwest have lied to you." Ford told his nephew with a serious expression. "All they had to do was let the townsfolk into the party and they could've broken the curse." He glared at Preston.
"Yeah! And they wanted you to make their dirty work instead!" Stanley added.
Dipper turned to look at Pacifica with a betrayed expression and the girl grimaced sadly. Preston approached Sebastian and looked down at him threateningly, but Seb glared at him unfazed. "Look at who you're talking to, tailor. I'm hosting a party for the most powerful people in the world. You think they'd come here if they had to rub elbows with your kind?"
"Our kind?" The triplets asked and Dipper glared at the blonde. "You lied to me! I was right about you all along. You're just as bad as your parents. Another link in the world's worst chain!"
"I'm sorry, they made me!" Pacifica apologized, looking clearly upset that Dipper was angry at her. "I should've told you, but-" Her dad rang a bell and she stepped back with a blush.
"Enjoy the party! It's the last time you and your kind will ever come…" Preston chuckled. "Six-fingered freaks…" He mumbled but the triplets heard.
Ford awkwardly hid his hands in his pockets and Seb clenched his fists.
"What the fuck did you say about my brothers, fancy pants?! Come say that to my face!" Stan roared, ready to fight, but Seb held him back. "Let's just go, Fez" He looked at Dipper.
"Come Dipper, we are going home." Seb looked at his nephew but then looked at Ford for help, knowing the boy wouldn't listen to him.
"Dipper, we are leaving." Ford said with a sigh.
"I'm going to find the girls…" Dipper muttered before walking away. A chimp servant offered them a tray but Preston raised his hand. "No,no! Those aren't for him."
Stan pettily grabbed the food anyway and shoved it to his mouth challengingly.
The triplets went outside to prepare the exorcism, they already told Dipper to meet them there when he found Mabel. They were upset, but the ghost was already captured anyway. They better free him.
"Stupid Northwest, making us do their exorcism for them…" Seb growled, his hands catching up on fire for a few seconds before disappearing. The process repeated itself a few times.
Ford was angry too, and embarrassed. But especially angry. So he didn't have the energy to argue with Sebastian right now. He looked for the exorcism he wrote in his journal and when the candles were correctly put, he started chanting while the mirror was on a tree stump. "Exodus demonus, spookus scarus, aintafraidus noghostus-"
"Stanford, Sebastian, Stanley! Please let me get my vengeance on the Northwest! You hate them as much as I." The ghost said.
"Hey, I feel you…" Seb shrugged. The Stans couldn't say they didn't. "It's just, my niblings are in there, and you seem a little unstable…So, yeah, no"
The ghost sighed. "Very well…Then... before you banish my soul, may these tired lumber eyes gaze upon the trees one final time?"
Ford hummed before grabbing the mirror. "Uh…I guess I could?" He held up the mirror up to the forest.
'Ghosts can make the silver war burn…' Bill2 sing songed, deciding to give that little bit of information just now.
Seb's brown eye widened. "Stanford, wait!"
It was too late. The ghost started cackling madly and the mirror became red-hot. Ford dropped the mirror with a yell as it burnt his hand.
The mirror shattered as it hit the ground, and the ghost was released.
"AHHHH!" The triplets screamed.
"Yes! VENGEANCE!" The ghost laughed and flew back towards the Manor.
Seb pulled his hair panicked. "NO, NO, NO! THE KIDS!" The three brothers stood up and ran back inside, hoping to get there on time.
While the triplets panicked, Mabel and Candy continued with their plan to flirt together.
Mabel approached Marius with a huge smile. "Hi! I'm Mabel. So, Australia, huh? Do you guys eat kangaroo meat over there, or... are they... strictly pets?"
"I am from Austria." The boy said and Mabel laughed nervously before tapping Candy's shoulder. "Tag! Tag!"
"I am Candy! I love the tiny hats you wear on your shoulders!" She touched the baron's shoulder pads.
"Hi! If you were a boat, do you know what kind you'd be? A dream boat. That's what kind!" Mabel smiled and Candy angrily elbowed Mabel. "You are tagged out!" She reminded.
"I tagged back in!" Mabel pushed her.
"You can't do that!" Candy accused but Mabel continued arguing. "I can tag myself! It's allowed!"
As the two fought, Marius nervously walked away to get away from the fighting girls.
"AHEM!"
They turned to look at Grenda who was glaring at them. "What exactly was all that? You were flirting with Marius without me!" She shouted.
"We are sorry, Grenda, it's just..." Candy trailed off and Mabel continued. "Your flirting style can come off as a bit... intense..." She smiled sheepishly.
Grenda blushed a bit but continued speaking "Oh, I see! You think I shouldn't be myself just because I'm in this stupid mansion! I thought you liked my style!"
"We do! But these boys might not!" Candy defended herself. She didn't mean to upset Grenda.
"Oh, then I guess they wouldn't like this, either! Hey, Marius!" She called the boy and he happily walked towards the taller girl.
"Ja?"
"You've got something... on your shirt!" She said. Marius looked down at his shirt and Grenda smacked his nose. The baron yelped and Candy and Mabel gasped angrily before walking away in different directions.
No one noticed how Marius stared at Grenda with a faint blush.
Preston rang a glass softly and started talking. Dipper didn't hear what he was saying. He just wanted to find Mabel and her friends to leave. He missed his marathon because of Pacifica! "Mabel?! Where are you? We have to go now!"
The boy jumped when he heard laughter. The guest's glasses started shattering, and from the fireplace, he watched the ghost emerge. Weren't his uncles going to get rid of it?!
"GENERATIONS LOCKED AWAY, MY REVENGE SHALL HAVE ITS DAY!" The angry ghost rose from the fire and shot a glowing beam towards the guests.
"Ah, the grim reaper! I'd been wondering when you would arri-Aaah!" The beam hit the mayor who quickly turned into wood. The guests screamed in panic and ran away in different directions. The ghost fired beams at everyone he could see and the dead taxidermy animals came alive and started attacking the scared guests.
"Oh no! Mabel!" Dipper screamed and searched frantically for his twin. "Mabel!"
As vines started crawling up the walls, Priscilla looked at her husband scared. "Preston, what are we going to do?"
Preston punched the undead squirrel off his shoulder. "Prepare the panic room!"
The front doors flew open with a flash of lighting and thunder and the triplets ran inside, soaked from the rain that suddenly started.
"AH! I CAN NEVER KEEP MY SUITS CLEAN!" Seb shouted loudly. They were always torn or completely covered in mud from adventures. He should start wearing something else…
Stan and Ford gaped at the chaos inside. One of the guests reached out towards them as he was slowly turned into wood.
"Please, help me!" He pleaded before he froze and turned into wood.
Stan and Ford jumped back creeped out. "Whoa! That is messed up!" Stan pointed at the man.
"Guys!" Dipper ran towards them in a panic. "I can't find Mabel!" He cried.
"JUST ONE WAY TO CHANGE YOUR FATES: A NORTHWEST MUST OPEN THE PARTY GATES!" The ghost shouted.
"A Northwest…" Ford muttered under his breathe before crouching in front of Dipper. "Dipper, we will find Mabel, you need to find Pacifica! She is the only one who would agree! Go!" He ordered and Dipper ran away, remembering the secret room they found.
Seb's hand burst into flames and he grew his extra pair of arms. His suit was already damaged anyway. His brothers gaped. Ford didn't even know how to feel. It was awesome, but at the same time it was something Bill could do, so it was wrong!
"Hey ghost! Want to turn me into wood?! You'll have to catch me first!" Seb blew a raspberry at the angry ghost and ran away. "Find Mabel!" He shouted at his brothers as he led the ghost away from them.
Stan and Ford ran away in the opposite direction to find their niece. The vines and trees were starting to cover the ballroom and Stan almost tripped with a root.
They gasped in horror when they found Mabel, but she was already wood, frozen in an angry stance as she argued with her friends.
"Oh no!" Stan shouted. "Mabel!" Ford grimaced.
"GUYS!" Sebastian's panicked scream was the last thing they heard before the beam shot them.
Sebastian was on the floor, crushed the huge taxidermy animals, and closed his eye when the ghost shot at him.
They everything turned black.
-.-
Sebastian inhaled sharply as he felt he was in controlled of his body once again. He touched his chest. Did he die? What happened?! The ghost shot his brothers, he shot him…But-He looked at the unfreezing guests-But everyone was returning to normal…How?
"Pacifica" The ghost started glowing a bit brighter and Seb stared at him from his spot on the floor.
Llama?! Pacifica saved them all?
"-you are not like the other Northwest. I feel... lumber justice…" The ghost faded to a skeleton and then nothing and the ax in his head fell to the floor and sank into the ground.
There was a rumbling noise and the doors of the manor were burst open as the people of the town entered to the party. They started eating the snacks, dancing, even Manly Dan jumped into the cider fountain!
Seb smirked as Preston panicked and ran everywhere, getting anxious as the townsfolk had fun. He stood up and ran towards the Stans who were groaning and sitting up from the floor.
"Guys!" He smiled and threw himself over them. He knocked them back to the floor and hugged them tightly. "You are fine!" Stan hugged Sebas back chuckling and Ford froze at the embrace.
He took a deep breath and relaxed just a little bit, before giving the other man a brief hug.
Demon or not…He was his brother, and a small part of him had been worried. He quickly let go though, so Seb was left wondering if Ford really hugged him or was trying to push him back.
As the triplets shared that little bonding moment, Mabel and Candy groaned and stood up from the floor. "Oh, man, what happened?" Mabel asked.
"Ahem!" Grenda put her hands on her hips and the other girls looked down ashamed.
"Grenda! We are so sorry!" Candy apologized and Mabel nodded. "We shouldn't have left you behind!" She agreed. Neither of them wanted to lose Grenda. She was their friend!
"It's okay. Maybe I do need to work on my flirting. Come on, let's go dunk our heads in some cheese and chocolate. Friends?" Grenda offered and Candy and Mabel smiled. "FRIENDS!" They hugged each other with a content smile.
"Wait!" The girls turned around and saw Marius descending from the stairs. "Don't go! Grenda, was it? I must speak with you. There is something about you, I can't get you out of my head. You're so bold and confident! I know you are probably out of my league, but, might I give you mein phone number?
"I don't have a phone! Write it on my face!" Grenda shouted happily while the other two girls smiled.
"Whoa-ho-ho! Go Grenda!" Mabel chuckled.
"I guess we shouldn't have sold her short… I call bridesmaid!" Candy squealed and Mabel pushed her gently. "What? I call co-bridesmaid!" She said back.
After making sure his uncles and sister were ok, Dipper approached Pacifica with a smile, looking around at the happy chatting people. "Man, if your family hates you for this, they're idiots. This is great."
"Enjoy it while it lasts. Next year I'm sure they're just gonna lock everyone out again…" She crossed her arms and Dipper tilted his head to the side adorably and smiled.
"Hey. Guess what we're standing on."
Pacifica gasped, seeing they were stepping on her parent's favorite white carpet pattern. She laughed though and just spread the mud on her shoes even more. Dipper and she even laughed as they knocked more things onto the carpet.
"Take that!" She laughed. "Ah… Haha. But seriously, I'd better go and find someone to clean this up…" She waved at Dipper and walked away, missing the silly smile the brunet boy gave her.
"Woo! Scobbity-doo! Hornswaggle m' goat knees!" Dipper turned around and smiled at McGucket.
"Whoa-ho-ho, what's up, McGucket? Hey-!" He was grabbed and dragged away from the crowd. He gasped for air as McGucket put on his green glasses.
"Dipper! I've been lookin' for ya. I fixed the tablet and something horrible appeared a week ago! I think something terrible is comin'! The apocalypse! The End Times!" He exclaimed and Dipper frowned confused. Suddenly it hit him.
A week ago his uncles returned from the Portal! The tablet must have showed McGucket the countdown! He had to show him!
Dipper smiled widely and shook his head. "McGucket, you won't believe this! You have to follow me! Come on!" This time, Dipper grabbed the man's hand and took him to where he last saw his uncles.
They were now eating snacks on the table. Uncle Stan was separating Sebastian and Uncle Ford for obvious reasons but things seemed to be calm as they weren't trying to kill each other…
"Uncle Ford! Look who I found!"
At first, the scientist didn't recognize the man with a long white beard, but when he did, he spat the apple cider he was drinking. "Fi-Fiddleford?!"
Poor Fiddleford looked between the three gaping man. He recognized the blond one and while the other two looked so similar to him, he just…couldn't remember…
"What the heck happened to Fiddleford?!" Stan had met another Fiddleford in another parallel dimension, but this poor guy looked horrible and nothing like the blond guy he remembered!
"I-I think I am seeing triple…" The man took off his glasses and rubbed his eyes with his fists. Dipper frowned at the other scientist. "McGucket, he is the Author! Stanford! The tablet must have shown the portal activating! Stanford and his brother Stanley came out of it. You worked on it with Stanford…You…You don't remember?" The boy asked softly.
"I…I am sorry, Dipper…But I can't…" Fiddleford sighed and hugged the tablet to his chest. "I-I think I will go now…Maybe I will remember later…" He gave the men and the boy a sheepish smile before walking away.
Ford opened his Journal and looked for the page where he wrote about the Memory Gun. He must have used it…Even when he warned him it could damage his head! That must be why Dipper had one when they first met…
And now his college friend didn't know who he was…
The party lasted a few more hours but the Pines left a little earlier. The kids were falling asleep and the triplets were exhausted for the day's events. Getting turned into wood really took a toll on you.
They had to take Candy and Grenda home and went they reached the Shack, Mabel and Dipper were already asleep.
Seb wanted to take his niblings to bed, but the Stans won and each one of them carried a kid and took them to the attic. He sighed, and went to the bathroom to start the long process of taking off his makeup.
Ugh.
When he got out of the bathroom he had already put on his PJ's and Stan was sleepily climbing into bed. Personally, Seb didn't mind sharing a bed with his triplet, but he wondered if he actually liked sharing the bed with him.
'Why would he want to stay with you? He just pities you. He doesn't like you'
Seb threw himself to the bed. Too tired to have a crisis right now…
-.-
Ford gazed at the forest, sitting on the window seat of his room. He was breathing heavily to keep the tears from falling from his eyes.
He felt alone…
He couldn't say he missed escaping from monsters and the authorities in other dimensions, because he didn't, he was glad they were finally safe…But he missed being with Stan…He was his best friend…He had been alone for years in Gravity Falls, with no one to trust but himself, and we went through hell and back with Stan by his side…Now, he was sitting alone in his room, because Stan was with Sebastian. He left him, he changed him for him…
And Fiddleford, the only friend he made in college, his roommate, his partner, his friend, couldn't remember him because he made the stupid mistake of making a deal with Bill Cipher! Because he fell for his tricks, because he trusted him!
And Bill Cipher was stealing his brother away, and Bill Cipher messed up with his head, and Bill Cipher made Fiddleford go insane!
The man stared at his six-fingered hands before clenching them into tight fists. If he hadn't talked to him…If he hadn't made the portal…Two single tears finally streamed down the man's sharp cheeks silently, and he wiped them quickly.
Men didn't cry…Men didn't cry…
He pulled out Journal 3 and under the moon's light he continued making his drawing about the Rift that the portal created. He couldn't tell anyone about this, he just couldn't. He couldn't risk anyone knowing about this. If the rift ended up in the wrong hands…
.
.
.
"The world is safe from Bill Cipher as long as the rift remains contained. But I fear my device will not be strong enough to hold these cosmic forces at bay forever. I must remain vigilant and stand watch, lest trouble arise again. And if I've learned anything form a life of misfortune, it's that this is a burden I must shoulder alone.
When I tried to share my burdens with Fiddleford, it destroyed our friendship and took its toll on his mental health.
When I tried to share my burden with my brother, he was condemned to be knocked into the portal as well, separating him from his son for 13 years.
There are precious few beings that I feel comfortable calling a "friend". What are the odds that in this one dimension, I can find someone who understands me or what I've been through?
No. The life before me is one of constant solitary vigilance against the unimaginable insanity that is Bill Cipher. I brought him into this dimension, and I'll take him out. If it's the last thing I do.
|
Jimin fidgets with his coffee cup, the liquid inside was actually hot chocolate, well it was mainly marshmallows, since Jimin had asked for extra, and then stolen Yoongi's as well.
“Quit fidgeting, I knew I shouldn't have given you my extra marshmallows. You're all hopped up on sugar now,” Yoongi tries to joke to ease the tension in Jimin.
They were currently sat inside a small coffee shop within the city, waiting for Wonho's mother to arrive for their meeting. This was make it or break it for them since Jimin didn't really want a stranger as his midwife. If he was going to have to give birth in the hospital, with strange smells and new people, he wanted as many familiar faces there as possible.
Jimin glares at Yoongi, while the alpha smiles at him and tries to shove a bit of muffin they had purchased with their drinks, into Jimin's mouth.
Jimin glares at Yoongi harder, a pout forming as he reluctantly takes the offered muffin.
“She's late, this means she doesn't want to be my midwife, she hates us Yoongi!”
“She isn't late, we are early, there's still another five minutes left. And she doesn't hate us, she hasn't even met me yet,” Yoongi soothes.
Jimin had been a bundle of nerves all morning, snapping at Yoongi over small things, until the alpha had suggested that they head to the cafe. It had eased some of Jimin's worries over being late, but now he was equally wound up over simply meeting the woman.
----------
The bell chimes over the door and a portly older lady enters the cafe, heading to the counter to make her order. She glances around, looking at all of the patrons, hoping to find the person she's looking for.
She spots the omega she's looking for, he's a little rounder than the last time she had met him. He is sat with another, glaring and pouting at the man, obviously distressed. She watches as the man tries to feed him a spoonful of something out of his own cup and she frowns when she sees the black liquid.
This isn't going well. She doesn't like it and has a bad feeling about this. Watching as the omega takes the liquid into his mouth, wincing, face distorting into disgust.
She gets her drink from the counter, carefully making her way across the room towards the pair.
She clears her throat and watches as the alpha jumps, turning to face her.
“Shizuka-ssi?” The alpha jumps to his feet bowing deeply.
“Yes, and you are?” It's harsh sounding, something she knows she shouldn't do.
“Yoongi. I'm Yoongi, thank you for meeting with us today,” the alpha Yoongi as she now knows reaches out to grasp her hand firmly.
“Please, take a seat, have you- oh I see you have. Would you like something to eat then?” Yoongi asks.
“No thank you. Jimin it's good to see you again,” Jimin hums, shoulders still stiff, and scent sour.
Yoongi tires to offer his drink again, along with a small section of a muffin to Jimin, the omega glares at the drink before taking a sip.
Shizuka tries to control her contempt for the alpha in front of her, nostrils flaring in anger.
“So. Let's get down to the brass tax of it all, shall we.”
“Wait…. So you'll be our midwife?” Yoongi asks.
She watches as Jimin's gaze flicks to her, full of hope.
“I haven't decided yet, and I'll be Jimin's midwife. You're not pregnant Yoongi-ssi.”
“Oh right. I was always taught midwives had to make a relationship with both parents,” Yoongi grins sheepishly.
"I see," it's clipped in tone, she had had alphas think that they can walk all over their omega's before and that behaviour had extended out to midwives.
“Well, what would you like to know? I have the ultrasound pictures on my phone if you want to see,” Yoongi offers, already getting his phone out.
“Jimin how are you feeling?” She decides to ask, ignoring Yoongi.
“I'm okay.”
“He's been all upset and nervous about today, right Jimin?” Yoongi answers.
“I guess. I mean I'm a little nervous.”
Shizuka sighs, “And how about your pups? You said on the phone that you had a case of superfetation? How has that happened? Are you ok with that? With how everything has worked out?”
“It happened in two separate events? One pup is five weeks and the other, one week,” Jimin starts.
“They'll be six and two on Monday,” Yoongi interjects.
"Yes. I'm not really sure how it all works, I…. I, um wasn't paying attention to the doctor when he explained it. And I'm ok I guess, still shell shocked since it's still so new. But I know once I realise that this is really real, and it's actually happening. Properly. Then I guess I'll be ok. But I am worried about the littler of the two. Like what if he doesn't make it?" Jimin rambles.
“Pregnancy can be something difficult to accept, especially if it isn't planned. However, as long as you want to fight for the two pups, that is a big deciding factor.”
“We do!” Yoongi almost yells.
Shizuka sighs once more, “Yoongi, I am feeling a little peckish, perhaps you could go and get me something to eat, please? A pastry would be nice.”
"Right, pastry, I can do that. I'll be back shortly," Yoongi stands up, placing a kiss to Jimin's head and walking in the direction of the counter.
“Now, Jimin, we can finally talk in peace. Are you really ok with this? I can scent the distress rolling off you,” Shizuka rushes out quietly, “And please don't drink from his cup anymore, it's not good for the pups.”
"What? No! I mean... I'm just nervous. I want our pups! I want them to be healthy, and cute and smell like Yoongi and I. I really want this to go well because I really want you as my midwife. Please?" Jimin mumbles out the last bit of his rant.
“But Yoongi? He's very…. Persistent.”
Jimin laughs, “He's excited. He has memorised everything the doctor has said or written to us. He has made a scrapbook of the ultrasound photos, and he talks to the pups each night. Yoongi, he's a big fluffball, who waddles like a duck.”
"Yah! Stop telling everyone I'm a duck!" Yoongi says as he puts a pastry down in front of Shizuka, along with another muffin, several pastries, and cake in front of Jimin.
“You don't need to worry about my duck of a mate. And, as for the drink,” Jimin holds out the drink for Shizuka to hold, “It's mine. Here smell it.”
Shizuka takes a whiff of the cup in front of her, it smells strongly of ginger, along with several other herbs and spices. It was prenatal tea that was often given to expecting omegas.
“But, why?”
“He hates ginger, but mum said it'd be good for him to drink it, so I'm making him drink at least one cup, once a week.”
“Your mother?”
“Oh yeah. We have a bet on, to see if you know her, Min Eunyoung? She used to be a midwife,” Yoongi chirps, trying to make Jimin drink more of the tea again.
"You're Eun-ah's boy? The one who won first place in the countrywide spelling contest?"
“No, that was me,” Jimin states with a laugh.
“Oh, then you were the one who danced? And did 'the most beautiful ballet you have ever seen.’ Her words,” Shizuka asks.
“No, that was also me. And I wasn't that good.”
“Soccer then, you won against the whole school, including the teachers?”
“No, that's me again, she wasn't even there for that. And it wasn't against the whole school, just our year groups.”
“Kendo?”
“Me.”
“Lead tree in the school play?”
"Most likely me, Yoongi wasn't into theatre. Unless he was backstage building the set."
“Athletics?”
“Me, but Yoonie played basketball for a bit. He was really good and made team captain.”
“I didn't hear about that sorry.”
Yoongi laughs, “It's ok, according to my mum, I have three great achievements; being born, meeting Jimin, and my latest achievement is giving her grandpups.”
“Still, I'm sure you have done more than that,” Shizuka tries to console.
“Oh no. I totally agree, my greatest achievements are; meeting Jimin, that basketball thing, asking Jimin to be my boyfriend, mating Jimin, and now the pups. The last one isn't really my achievement though, but I played a part in it.”
Shizuka laughs at that, “Jimin, what do you count as your greatest achievements?”
“Oh, um, I guess: meeting Yoongi, um, maybe meeting my current friends- except Hana, oh, my degree, and job, mating with Yoongi, and growing our pups,” Jimin lists off.
Shizuka smiles, nodding along to his list, “Well then, I suppose it's best we get down to proper business. Jimin I would love to be your midwife. Do you have any plans for the birth? I usually start there as most omega know already what they want.”
“I, um, don't know really. I know I want Yoongi there, and his parents, maybe my friends too. It'll be at the hospital. It's why I was so nervous today, with meeting you, since I know you already. I just want people I know there.”
“That's always a good place to start. Perhaps if you chose the room that you'll be in, that might make you feel more comfortable. As well as having a list of people you would like to be in the room with you,” Shizuka suggests, “It's tougher with hospital births, but most nurses and doctors will accommodate you.”
“I want Yoonie, Eunyoung, and you in with me. The others can with outside,” Jimin states firmly.
"Good. Now doctor Chan will also be in the room, but he will only assist if there are complications. He will most likely stay outside of your nest, along with Eunyoung and myself. Only you and Yoongi are allowed to decide who is inside your nest. It's protocol. So hopefully that eases your worry, a little."
Jimin nods, relaxing a little.
“This will be a normal birth, treat it as such, ok? Don't stress yourself out too much. We will do absolutely everything to ensure both pups are born healthy, and won't interfere unless absolutely necessary,” Shizuka reiterates.
“What happens after the birth? I'm not giving my pups away to anyone,” Yoongi asks.
“You won't have to, not until you are both ready. As I said, this is going to be treated as a normal birth. So Jimin will begin to nest a few days before. This will be when his body will adjust, and create an opening for the pups to come through. Yoongi it will be you that cares for Jimin during this time, but don't worry, I know you'll want to do so. Then after a few days, when the pups are ready, Jimin will go into labour, his body will know what to do, but both Eunyoung and I will be there to coach you through it. We will be on the sidelines, we will not enter your nest unless invited. Then once both pups are here; clean them off with the blankets from the nest. When you're ready, we will guide you through the tests to make sure that they are healthy. We won't touch, or take them away from you, ok?” Shizuka explains.
Yoongi nods, “I just…. I just want them to be here, I can't wait to have them in my arms. I wanna know what they look like, what they smell like. I wanna see there little hands and feet.”
“And you will. They'll be here before you know it,” Shizuka assures them.
Yoongi nods, “Thank you, I'm looking forward to it. Now, Jiminie is scheduled to see doctor Chan every two weeks, right up until four and a half months, will you be present at these appointments as well? How does it work?”
“Well, I can be there for the monthly appointments. And when you get closer to whelping, I'll be there for you twenty-four/ seven, as this is a special case. I know that Eunyoung most likely offered this already, but, if you need anything, or have any questions, you can call me.”
“She did, but I'll keep it in mind.”
"Yes, however, there may be something… awkward, that you may not want to ask or discuss with Eunyoung. Please feel free to call me and ask. But, if you do decide to call Eunyoung, if it's something big, please let me know. If you aren't sure, Eunyoung will advise you.”
Jimin giggles, “Yoongi has zero shame. He has already asked her about my nipples, and my feet.”
“You said they were sore! And your ankles were a little swollen when I massaged them on Thursday,” Yoongi accuses.
“Of course they were, it's hot and sweaty, and my work bag was rubbing up against my chest. And I'm on my feet all day, walking through cow poo, it would be weird if my feet weren't swollen,” Jimin argues back, “That doesn't mean you get to call up your mother and bug her because 'Jimin said his nips were sore, is he dying? Are my pups dying?’ What did she do? She laughed at you and hung up.”
“But you could have been dying, we'll never know now, then one day. Boom! You keel over dead. And then I die because I can't live on without you or my pups, it's a tragic affair, where about parents cry over our coffins, and mum curses the day she laughed in my face for asking a serious question,” Yoongi rants.
Shizuka laughs openly, it's obvious where Yoongi gets his dramatic flair from, his mother had ranted at her often. Jimin looks offended, although there is a smile on his face.
However, she had also answered many calls to upset alphas, with often odd questions to do with the physical appearance of their omega. She knew Eunyoung had as well, it was apart of the job to assure high strung, protective alphas that it was normal, and to trust their partner.
The fact that Eunyoung had laughed and hung would be seen as unprofessional if Yoongi was her client, rather than her son. She knows she would most likely yell at Wonho if he had called up in an anxious mess to ask if Ping's toes were meant to look like that - she had had that call before.
“You really think I wouldn't know when something is wrong with our pups? You're an idiot!”
“Yeah but-” Yoongi starts.
“Yoongi, trust in your omega. They will let you know what's normal and what's not. Please don't call your mother every time you notice something different about Jimin. Or if Jimin decides to tell you about his day, please listen, and don't jump to the conclusion that he and your pups are dying.”
“But-”
Shizuka stares at Yoongi, Jimin glaring at him as well.
“Fine. I'll trust that Jimin knows about our pups. And I'll stop calling mum to ask questions.” Yoongi concedes.
“Stupid questions. You can ask Eunyoung proper questions. But please use common sense, if Jimin has been on his feet all day, sweating, with a bag strapped around him, then it is likely going to be chafing, and general swelling from being on his feet.”
“Ok…. I guess I got a little worried. It's just, this is so important to me, and I worry.”
“Well if there aren't any other questions, I'll let you get going. Wonho tells me that your friend group is moving someone today. I'll let you go,” Shizuka states.
“Urgh, don't remind me. I don't want to even go,” Yoongi whines.
"I do, I wanna see her reaction since she's not getting what she wants. It'll be good to gloat about how we now live together and I get your comfortable bed," Jimin grins.
“I don't understand? Isn't she a friend of yours?” Shizuka asks.
"Not really. Although she is the reason we met up again. But she has been trying to get Yoongi to go out with her and spread horrible lies. Saying she and Yoongi have mated and that she three-months pregnant with their child. She was also the one who Wonho liked - before Ping," Jimin explains.
"I see…. Well, perhaps I might ask around, to see who her midwife is. Of course, I won't do anything, since she is pregnant, but still, we all know each other," Shizuka states a little angrily.
“If she's pregnant,” Yoongi corrects, “Hana doesn't understand how soulmates work, it would seem.”
“Let Eunyoung know too. She gave Hana a scolding for trying to use her pregnancy as an excuse to be lazy. It was a great moment in my life,” Jimin adds on.
"I bet she did. She hates when people use their pregnancy as an excuse to be lazy. Of course, I'm going to recommend that you do not strain yourself too much and rest as much as possible," Shizuka giggles.
"Don't worry about that, Yoongi would have me bundled up in a nest all day if he could," Jimin laughs.
“That's normal, alphas are protective by nature. And when you're carrying their pup, it only cements their need to protect. It's a good thing, I promise. Shows an alpha's claim to their mate and child. I bet Yoongi has done nothing to help Hana in any way?” Shizuka asks.
Yoongi shakes his head, a look of disgust on his face.
Jimin giggles at his reaction. It was true though. Yoongi cared for Jimin, made sure he was well fed, happy, and smiling. Giving up his things to make Jimin happy. Whereas he hadn't even batted an eye when Hana whined about being uncomfortable.
"Good. I didn't really expect him too, with what I have seen today," Shizuka smiles, "If that's all? I'll let you go, but I'll be in touch, and please do not hesitate to call. Also, there are brochures in that packet they give all omegas, with numbers that you can call as well."
She bids them farewell, shaking Yoongi's hand, and giving Jimin a hug, listening to Yoongi growl lowly in his chest.
“Sorry, can't help it,” Yoongi says sheepishly.
“Don't worry about it. And please, don't be strangers. I will be in touch, in a week to see how things are going,” Shizuka says, waving them off as she turns to leave.
----------
"Well, that went well. Now drink your tea and then you can go and gloat," Yoongi says as he sits back down, reaching for the tea to feed to Jimin.
Jimin groans, but downs the rest of the tea in one go, gagging at the ginger taste.
Yoongi hands him a pastry, a chocolate one to help wash the taste from Jimin's mouth.
____________________
“Wow, I didn't expect to see you guys here,” Namjoon says from his place in the kitchen, unpacking Hana's things from a box on the bench.
“We just finished our meeting with Wonho's mother. She has agreed to be my midwife,” Jimin says, as he steps further into the apartment.
“Wow really?” Wonho asks, popping his head out from the bedroom, “I didn't think she would, because of the whole soulmates thing. I said you guys were great though. When she asked.”
“Yeah, she was a bit cautious at first. But she soon warmed up after Jimin called me a duck,” Yoongi answers, looking around the room.
Very little had been unpacked; a few pieces of art hung up, plates and bowls in boxes on the bench, the couch, now has a blanket on it.
“Where are the others? Is it just you two down here?” Jimin asks.
"Upstairs, helping her pack. Apparently, she has been too distraught to pack anything, from her altercation with you on Monday," Namjoon explains, "This is all that has been done."
“Was it true that you used your alpha voice on her? And then just left?” Wonho asks.
“Yeah. She wouldn't let me leave, and I didn't want to push her,” Yoongi answers simply, “Can you imagine what that would have been like? If I actually touched her?”
“That's fair then. You gotta do, what you gotta do,” Wonho answers, as he pops back into the bedroom.
Jimin follows him, to see what was in there now since Yoongi's bed was currently made up into a nest at home.
There's a king single sized bed placed in the middle of the room. The metal frame looks old, and Jimin can see how lumpy the mattress is from where he's standing. He smiles to himself, glad that he had been able to get something nice while she would have to sleep on that horrible excuse for a bed.
“See why I bought my own? I'd be a cripple by now if I didn't,” Yoongi says into his ear, arms coming around his form to caress his belly.
“I feel a little sorry for her, but then I think about all of the shit she has pulled, and it goes away,” Wonho laughs.
“Mmm, I was just thinking to myself how lucky I am that I snagged such an old man for an alpha, “ Jimin giggles, “He's always made sure his bed is of the highest quality and comfort.”
“Not my fault I want a good night's sleep. Besides, everyone on this floor gets a new bed when they move in. I swear this is probably the only bed they actually have,” Yoongi smiles.
“Has she been down here? Since Yoongi moved out?” Jimin asks.
“Don't think so. Is it bad that I can't wait to see what she does? I really want to see the moment she realises that Yoongi doesn't live here anymore. And that she has to sleep on this shitty bed,” Wonho asks with a grin.
“It's the reason I'm here. And I want to gloat about my soft nest, amazing alpha, I also have sonogram photos to show everyone,” Jimin laughs, his inner omega happy that he gets to rub his success in Hana's face.
“Good for you. It's also the reason I'm here. I mean, helping out a friend and all that, but I really want to be here when she sees the situation she has gotten herself into,” Wonho grins.
Wonho starts to hang up some of her dresses into the closet like he was meant to be doing in the first place.
Jimin moves to help Wonho, Yoongi reluctantly passing the clothes to them to hang up, getting the job done quicker.
They hear the front door opening, just as they are finishing up; Jin, Taehyung, Eunae, and Baram walk through the door with boxes bad bags of Hana's things.
“I swear to the gods, if she tells me I'm packing wrong one more time, I will strangle her! How about you get up and do it then?!” Eunae rants as she throws her box onto the floor, “She's meant to be all packed up anyways! Not my fault she's lazy.”
The others laugh at Eunae's rant, although agreeing with her mostly.
“Yoongi, you go march up there and tell her to pack her shit up! And I won't make you do the extreme training program Taehyung and I made,” Eunae points at Yoongi when she sees him.
“I'm not going up there!” Yoongi almost yells, “You're lucky I'm even here in the first place.”
“Just walk up there and tell her in your alpha voice that Eunae is sick of her shit and she needs to hurry up and pack. It's not that hard!” Eunae whines.
“If it's not that hard them make Baram do it!” Yoongi answers.
“Baram is a sweet delicate alpha, who loves me, and old shit. Besides you've already used it on her before, it's just once more. Then we can all go home early,” Eunae continues to whine.
“Seriously?! No! I had to use it on her so I could leave. I'm not doing it again.”
“Fine!” Eunae huffs, starting out unpack the box she had brought down, “Gonna make you run double now, with weights on stubborn, stupid alpha. Bet you would have done it if Jimin asked you too,” she grumbles under her breath.
“Don't mind her, she'll forget it soon enough,” Baram says.
“I hope she forgets about the weighted running,” Yoongi muses.
"That… well, all I can say is, stay hydrated and don't whine. It'll only make it worse."
Yoongi gulps, “Guess it's a good thing? Get healthy to run around with my pups, and all that.”
“Yeah, congratulations on that. Jimin how was the doctor's appointment?”
“Good! Want to see photos!” Jimin smiles, pulling out his phone.
There is a crash, the sound of glass breaking fills the room. Jin sprints over to them, from his place in the kitchen.
“Let me see!” He whines loudly.
“You just dropped a box of plates,” Namjoon states incredulously, opening the box to see what is broken.
“It's ok, you're here to blame it on!” Jin grins cheekily, “Besides, I need to see these pictures.”
"Exactly, this is important stuff. And anyway accidents happen, you could say you tripped," Taehyung says, standing behind Jimin, all ready to see the photos, "Chimberly let's see the mini Min!"
Jimin pulls out his phone, hiding it away from Taehyung's gaze.
“Why are you hiding your screen? Are there sexy photos of Yoongi on your phone? Dick pics?” Taehyung asks.
“No, you're all just nosey and I don't want you going through my phone,” Jimin answers.
“Right. I bet you just have pics of Yoongle's knot you don't want to show us. Which I am grateful for since I don't need to see that," Taehyung laughs.
Both Yoongi and Jimin have gone red. There isn't anything like that on Jimin's phone, of course not, they're not apart enough to sext.
Jimin quickly opens the folder of all of the ultrasound photos of the bigger pup before holding the phone up for them to see.
“Please stop talking about knots. Here, this is our pup,” Jimin says.
"Oh, it's so cute! Where are the kitten ears?" Jin asks as a joke, "And the whiskers? Meowzers are you sure this is yours"
Yoongi growls, but leaves Jin alone, as Jimin flicks through the photos, the omegas coo at the images.
“So everything is ok? What did the doctor say?” Taehyung asks, taking the phone from Jimin to look for himself with Jin
"Yes, everything is fine, everyone is perfectly healthy. I have been given vitamins I have to take and a diet plan. But it's mainly eating healthy like I already do," Jimin answers.
The omegas nod, not really listening after Jimin said the everything was fine, focussing more on the sonogram photos.
Taehyung passes the phone back to Jimin, the screen now turned off.
“That's good, what was it like? What happened? Do you have a midwife yet?” Taehyung asks.
“They made sure I was healthy, you know, like a normal physical, measuring my height, weight, blood pressure, taking blood, all of that fun stuff, then I got to hear their heartbeat. It was the most relaxing sound to hear, it makes you feel so good when you hear it. It's kinda fast, but the doctor says that it's normal, but really soothing, knowing that the little person inside you is alive,” Jimin explains, “It's hard to explain, it's both exciting, and calming.”
Jin and Taehyung nod.
“And your midwife?” Jin asks.
“I met with her today, originally, when I was a pup, I wanted Eunyoung. But Wonho's mother has agreed to be my midwife, which is good, I like knowing that it's someone I know and trust already. Shizuka, Wonho's mother, is nice. I think it's a good fit.”
“Why can't Eunyoung be your midwife?” Eunae asks, from where she had come out to listen
“She's not registered anymore, she hasn't been for a while now. She will still be there, but as a support role.”
“I suppose that makes sense. What about us? Will we get to be there? We're pack,” Eunae asks.
“If you want you can come, but I don't want you in the room. And with how we get after whelping, you won't really get to hold or touch them until we are ready,” Jimin explains.
“I'll be there. Even if I don't get to hold the pup, I still wanna see them,” Eunae states.
“We'll all be there, it's a big step, one we all take together,” Namjoon says from his spot in the kitchen.
The others nod.
“Thank you, I'll let you know, closer to when it'll happen, what I decide to do, who to have there.”
The omegas nod, understanding on an instinctual level, they won't hassle Jimin over it, letting him make the decision for himself.
"Alright, I suppose we should get on with this then. So we can leave sooner, and get on with our lives," Namjoon states, already unpacking the unbroken items from the box Jin dropped.
They work together to unpack and move the rest to Hana's things downstairs. Jimin showing the photos to everyone separately, while Yoongi clings onto his back, making sure he doesn't do too much or tire himself out.
“I'm not sick Yoongi, I can unpack clothing,” Jimin grumbles, placing Hana's shirts into the drawers.
Most of Hana's things are down now, but they had been there for five hours. The others had moved upstairs to help with the cleaning, leaving Yoongi and Jimin alone to unpack the last of the items.
“I know, I know, I can't help myself,” Yoongi says as he takes another item out of Jimin's hands to put away.
Jimin huffs, laughing at Yoongi's instincts a little. It would be nice, to have Yoongi help him out with chores, but in four months time, when he would have difficulty doing things for himself, not now, when he is perfectly capable of putting clothing away.
“You're lucky I like you, roomie,” Jimin chirps, simply handing Hana's clothes to Yoongi now.
Yoongi laughs, taking the last item from Jimin and putting it away.
They tidy, for another fifteen minutes, when the door opens once more, the others walking in, and slumping down onto the couch.
Hana walks in after everyone else, grin on her face, as she makes everyone move so she can sit down.
"You've been sitting all day! Sit on the floor!" Eunae grumbles but relents, sitting on Baram's lap.
“I'm pregnant, I'm not allowed to do much,” Hana states.
“Jimin's pregnant too! You don't see him sitting around. Besides, we just moved and cleaned,” Eunae answers.
“Yes, Jimin, how is everything going?” Hana asks, “If you need any tips, you can always ask me. You know, since I have already gone through it.”
It's a smug tone, they all can hear it. Hana is boasting about being the first to be pregnant.
"I'm ok, I met with my midwife today, so I can ask her, as well as Eunyoung. She was a midwife before, so I always have her to call, if I need anything," Jimin answers, "And my doctor is lovely too, he said if I have questions, or I'm not sure of anything, I can call him too. But as a last resort."
“Still, it's always nice to have someone who has gone through it to ease any worries. No offence to Eunyoung, but times have changed,” Hana states proudly.
Yoongi snorts, “You're an idiot if you don't think my mother is now up to date on all of the latest methods of soothing pregnancy symptoms.”
Hana looks annoyed, “I know Eunyoung very well, thank you. She has already given me advice that is contradictory to what my midwife told me.”
“What, to get up and help? To stop being lazy? If you knew my mother as well as you say you do then you would know she hates laziness, and people using excuses to get out of things. Which you have done both of,” Yoongi fires back.
“Yoongi you shouldn't talk to me like that, it's not good for our pup,” Hana cries out.
“Not my pup, don't care. I'll talk to you in any manner that I want,” Yoongi says nonchalantly.
“Yoongi,” Hana whines, “Why are you like this? What did I do to make you so mad?”
“Well let's see shall we; you told everyone we were dating when I first met them, when we weren't, you told Jimin we were going to mate at the first moon party we had together, when I wasn't, didn't, and would never,” Yoongi lists off angrily, “You are now telling everyone we did mate and you're now pregnant with my pup, which is a lie, since I was with my Jimin for that moon, and now you're trying to force me to live with you! I'm sick of it, enough is enough! I love Jimin! I have loved him since I was four, there is no one else, not you and your imaginary pup. Jimin. He's the only one I'll ever want. Do I make myself clear!”
Hana starts to cry now, wailing loudly while everyone watches on in shock.
"Well, I think it's time we get going?" Baram asks Eunae.
“Yeah, that's a good idea, I'm knackered after moving today, so how about an early night?” Hoseok agrees.
“Yes! A marvelous idea, an early night for us all would surely do us some good,” Namjoon says as he tries to pull Jin up from the floor.
“What? No, I wanna sit for a little bit longer. My legs hurt,” Jin whines.
Namjoon simply lifts him from the floor, settling him on his back, motioning for Hoseok to gather their things and leave.
Jimin sighs, “Come on Yoonie, let's go home. I want my nest.”
Yoongi's head snaps to Jimin, as he has been glaring at Hana.
Jungkook looks confused, but nudges Taehyung into action, leaving also, along with Baram.
“Yeah baby, let's go home.”
Hana wails louder, “Yoongi! You can't!” It's garbled, difficult to make out the words she is saying.
“You live here!” She screams, rushing to stand on her feet.
“No. I live with Jimin. I moved out, I live with my mate, we are going home, to his nest where I will talk to my pups.”
Hana rushes towards them, teeth bared, hisses falling from her lips freely.
Yoongi turns fully to face her squaring his body and standing taller, ready to defend himself when he notices she isn't heading towards him, but Jimin. Jimin, who is bent over putting his shoes on
“STOP!”
The omegas freeze in place heads tilting to the side in submission from the strong sound of five alpha voices.
Wonho moves to take Hana to her room, herding her out of sight, while the other alphas help to put shoes on and move the omegas outside into the hall.
They start to come out of the trance in the elevator ride down, Jin shaking his head as if to physically clear the trance. He's on Namjoon's back, shoes on when he starts to grip to Namjoon tighter.
“Well that was weird,” Jin says after a minute, “She just tried to attack my sweet lil chick, all because she wasn't getting her way? What a psycho.”
“You're not upset you were put under an alpha voice trance?” Namjoon asks.
“No, why would I be? You did what you had to do to protect Jiminie and his pup. I'm more upset the Yoongi didn't deck her, that would have made my day.”
The alphas snort and laugh, Yoongi focusses on Jimin, who is starting to nuzzle into his neck, coming out of his own trance.
“You ok baby?” Yoongi asks.
“Mmhm. That was an odd feeling though. I'm glad that's the first time it's happened to me,” Jimin mumbles, cuddling further into Yoongi, still not quite out of the trance yet.
“Yeah, I'm glad that it's not common practice anymore. I mean, I could maybe see the appeal in a sexual sense. If you were into that sort of thing,” Jin says, reaching out a hand for Hoseok to hold onto, “Makes me want to be really close with these two though.”
Jimin nodded, as did Taehyung, who had come out of his trance to grip onto Jungkook. Eunae's eyes were still clouded over, Baram holding her protectively.
“Oh I could definitely get into it in the bedroom,” Taehyung states loudly.
Jungkook goes red at the statement, cheeks heating up, as he tries to look anywhere but Taehyung.
“It's quite nice,” Jimin slurs, still nuzzled in Yoongi's chest, “Was how my pup was conceived.”
“Yoongi, that's abuse!” Jin scolds, “And you left that detail out when you were telling us about your sex romp in the shower. That's not cool Yoongi.”
“Not in the shower, on the moon,” Jimin answers, unaware that he is now telling the group about their second pup.
“Did you really let him breed you again?” Taehyung asks, “I know you talked about it, but I didn't actually think you'd do it.”
“That's because Yoongi used his alpha voice. Come on Yoongi, that's not cool!” Jin says.
“I didn't use my alpha voice. Jeez, have more faith in me. I used undertones, he has full control, but there's the intent there,” Yoongi defends himself.
“Alphas can't do that! I'm not stupid Yoongi.”
“Really?" Yoongi says the tones in his voice demand that Jin submit, but the alpha voice is not present entirely.
Yoongi watches as Jin's face contorts into surprise, a grin plastered on his face at the omega's shock.
“But that's not possible! Alphas can't do that!” Jin whines.
“Are we just going to completely overlook the fact that I was right?” Jungkook asks, he had been silent the entire time.
“That's right! You said that Yoongi would knock Jimin up again, before the moon. Wow, never thought that would happen. You truly are magical, Yoongi. Two mythical conceptions,” Taehyung says as he smiles at the group.
“That's not possible. Once an omega's pregnant, they can't get pregnant again,” Eunae says, now aware.
The door open and the group makes their way outside.
“It's true. I've seen both pups. One is the bean pup, and the other is a dot,” Hoseok says quietly.
“Na-uh you would have told me if you saw both pups,” Jin wails.
Hoseok looks guilty, “I swear I only knew for a few days. Yoongi let it slip on Thursday.”
Jin drops his hand instantly, “I'm breaking up with you, Namjoon is now my only boyfriend.”
“That's going to be awfully tough, not seeing Hoseok, considering he is my boyfriend too,” Namjoon says.
Jin wiggles free from Namjoon's grasp, “I am now single. I'm going to the bar to find an alpha that will appreciate my need for gossip, and not keep it from me.”
"Fine, I'll just go home with Namjoon, and you won't get to have us doting on you while you get lucky over the pictures I stole from Yoongi's phone, I have pictures of both pups separately, and one where they're together," Hoseok says, moving to hail a taxi.
“What?!” Yoongi exclaims, “Since when did you get those?”
“Thursday, before I gave you your phone back I sent the photos to my phone,” Hoseok answers.
“Namjoon, shall we go look at cute sonogram pictures of the Min twins?” Hoseok asks, holding his hand out for Namjoon to take.
“You can't do that!” Jin whines, “You're meant to try and convince me that you love me, and want me to have your babies.”
“We could, but we know you want to carry our babies already. We were discussing pups, if you recall,” Namjoon says.
“This isn't fair! You can't do this!” Jin wails, climbing into the taxi after Hoseok, Namjoon climbing in and waving goodbye to the group.
“So you really have two pups in there?” Eunae asks, pointing to Jimin's midsection.
“Yeah, it's a rare thing. Superfetation, it's called. So one pup is five weeks old and the other is one,” Yoongi explains.
“All I'm hearing is that I was right,” Jungkook says with a grin.
“Yeah yeah, calm down kid, these are my pups you're gloating about. That's my job.”
“So he's a medical miracle then? Like that's not supposed to happen,” Eunae says, ignoring Jungkook.
"I guess… but honestly, I don't really care, as long as both pups and Jimin are healthy. Which they are. The doctor told us that, but still, I wanna do everything I can to ensure that both of my pup's make it out so I can love them. I mean, I already do love them, but… you know what I mean,” Yoongi answers.
Baram and Eunae nod.
“At least that's something- looking forward to the pups. Still can't believe you actually knocked him up twice though. That's a good effort,” Taehyung says from his place by the curb, not quite ready to go yet.
“I really didn't do all that much. Just, ya know,” Yoongi moves his hips back a forth, making Jimin grumble from being jostled
Wonho laughs, “Yeah, bet that was fun though- Making the pups.”
Yoongi snorts, “Yeah, great fun,” it's sarcastic in tone, “Nothing beats having your wolf growling at you, and taking over because you're doing it wrong.”
"Wait really? Your wolf will do that?" Jungkook asks, looking to Baram to confirm.
Baram nods a little, "Yeah, when you're in rut in that situation, you're still aware, and but it's like you are in the backseat."
“That's so cool, I always thought it'd be like your first rut. Then I feel sorry for omegas,” Wonho says.
“If that were the case then we would have died out years ago. No omega would put themselves in danger like that,” Taehyung answers.
"Yeah, I mean it's not like you want to rip your partner's arms off or hurt them. You just really want to get in there and make them never want anything else, but you, ever again- sexually. And then when it's all over and they purr and are so relaxed and pliant, just from your knot. It does something to you, like, you just want them to stay that way forever," Yoongi answers, pulling Jimin firmly to his chest.
Jimin had fallen into an omegan headspace, his eyes glittering silver.
Baram nods, “Yes. And for us, we discussed pups, and how we aren't having any, and I was pleasantly surprised that my alpha wasn't driven by that need. Like I have no doubt you were Yoongi. I just wanted to claim her, and be claimed in return.”
“It's different for us, we want pups, if Jimin didn't, then I know for sure that I would be the same. We want what is best for our partner. I want pups, I'm ready to take that step with Jimin, and he was ready too, so it happened. Twice.”
“Still can't believe that happened though,” Eunae says, “It's pretty cool though. I get to be an aunty, and get matching outfits for them.”
“You should coordinate with mum, she already has outfits, you wouldn't want to double up,” Yoongi says.
“I'll give her a call tomorrow, so we can arrange a shopping day,” Eunae says.
“I can see that you'll already be the favourite aunty, Eunae. My pups will absolutely love you,” Yoongi says fondly.
"You can't butter me up Yoongi! You're still doing exercise," Eunae says, "And, I'm looking forward too it. I may not want pups myself, but I'm awesome fun aunty material."
“You'll be the best aunty there is, no one will compare, honey,” Baram says, cooing at Eunae's excitement.
“Damn right! I'll have the best candy, and biscuits, and toys. And we can do all of the fun stuff that their lame boring parents won't let them do,” Eunae gasps in excitement, “I'll be the cool aunty that they dye their hair with when they're teens, and we can get piercings.”
“Please don't turn our children into delinquents,” Yoongi says.
“Says you, with your ears all pierced up. And Jiminie had wild hair colours when we first met. Now you've become old and boring,” Eunae huffs.
“That's right, Jimin used to have all sorts of hair colours. The pink was my favourite, he looked so cute,” Wonho says.
“I liked the orange. You couldn't lose him in a crowd with that hair colour. It was like a road cone,” Eunae says.
“How many times did you lose him in a crowd?” Yoongi asks.
“He is smol, I am smol, we lost each other often. We can't see over the giant people, like Namjoon.”
“Well I suppose it's a good thing I'm here now then, I'll never lose him in a crowd,” Yoongi says.
"You lost him at home once, I remember the phone call," Jungkook says with a laugh.
"I didn't lose him! He was hiding! And it was only for five minutes before I sniffed him out."
“Gross!” Taehyung laughs, making gagging sounds.
“You won't think it's gross when you find a mate. And Jimin smells really good right now, with his pregnancy scent, he's all soft and milky, it's a good blend.”
"That's even grosser. But honestly, I can't even smell his milky scent yet," Wonho says, as the others nod in agreement, "I know it's there, don't get me wrong. But I can't smell it."
"It's probably because your nose isn't in Jimin's neck all the time like Yoongi's is. Which is a good thing, considering Yoongi would probably get all defensive," Baram says.
“Yeah probably. Anyways, I should get going, mum wants me over for dinner tonight. I don't really want to go, but I promised.”
“Thank her for me again, will you. And maybe let her know that Jimin is settling again. I'm not sure if that normal, but I also don't want to get into trouble for calling her over something stupid.”
“Can do,” Wonho hails a taxi for himself, “Night everyone!”
"Yeah, we best be off too, get Jimin back into his nest before he realises that he told everyone about the second pup and has a meltdown."
Yoongi hails a taxi, ushering Jimin inside and bidding farewell to Baram and Eunae. Giving his address to the driver makes him giddy. He's going home with his omega. |
Hawks was tired.
He was bone-deep, breath-stealing, world-fuzzing tired and quite frankly was impressed he was still on his feet at all. Between working doubles nearly every day of the week, paperwork, the Commission, and his undercover work, he was stretched thinner than normal. Plus, he was on punishments, since he'd been too slow and let two people die the week before. Two people meant he couldn't eat anything more than an onigiri every two days for two weeks, and he wasn't allowed to sleep for two days at a time.
Frankly, he wondered if the two people would even appreciate his sacrifice.
It didn't matter, though, because he was on a no-sleep day and it wasn't like he didn't have plenty to fill his time with. Bringing his paperwork home meant that he didn't have to deal with Takahiro's prying eyes, or someone trying to send in Tsukuyomi and Kurai to try and "subtly" guilt him into taking a nap.
...Not that he didn't appreciate it but...
They didn't understand, and frankly, he didn't want them to understand. If they understood, that meant that they had gone through it too, and it was better that he was the only surviving Commission project. They'd looked into other children, sure, but recent events kept that horned girl from their clutches and that water boy was the nephew of a pro who'd officially adopted him recently. Hawks was glad. He would have given anything to be where they were when he was a kid.
It didn't matter, and he couldn't let his mind wander, not when there was so much to do. He moved to the kitchen to grab a can of coffee while his feathers delivered the stacks of paperwork to his well-loved desk in the corner. He saw an onigiri in the forefront of his fridge and his mouth started to water, but he dutifully closed it and left the meal alone. Food day was tomorrow. He couldn't let himself waver. He was a hero, after all.
Hawks sat down on the exercise ball he used for a chair (movement helped him stay awake, okay, and he'd read it was better for you anyways and there weren't any Endeavor themed desk chairs) and began to sift through his workload, signing his name and jotting down reports as needed. His vision started to fuzz out again, so he grabbed his nail from his desk drawer and squeezed it into his left palm. He missed his talons sometimes. They were less awkward than it.
He worked, and he worked, and he worked until eventually all of the papers were filled out appropriately. Then came emails, status reports, research, and finally he could close his computer again and take off for his weekly physical. The food in the fridge tempted him again when he grabbed his seventh can of coffee, but it was less desirable when he felt so sick.
As he headed towards the balcony, however, he felt his phone buzz.
[BURNED DOWN OFFICE MAX: tf you doing 2day?]
Hawks was almost amused. Maybe it was just him, but with Dabi's edgy demeanor, his text speech was always a little funny. Someone that dark and mysterious should at least spell out the word "today;" it wasn't like it was that much shorter not to. He even used the fire emoji once, though Hawks wasn't convinced that wasn't Twice's doing.
[SANDERS' ILLEGITAMATE CUM SPROUT: Wouldn't you like to know, hot stuff? ;3]
Ew, he hated that message, but it was consistent with his persona, so it was fine. Kontorora-sama said she'd noticed Dabi responded faster when he was flirty and hung around when Hawks turned on the charm, so that may mean he liked him, and if he did then Hawks would probably have to sleep with him. Hawks hoped he didn't like him. He'd do what he had to, but sex was...well. He had complicated memories of sex. He didn't want to live through it firsthand.
Kenishugisha-sama offered to teach him how and prepare him, but so long as it was an option he'd turn it down.
[BURNED DOWN OFFICE MAX: fukers want ur sorry ass to join us for game night since shig's out of town. gtf ovr here i dont want to deal with them]
Hawks felt a flood of hope and dread fill him simultaneously as he debated which would be worse: a visit to his handlers or a game night with wanted criminals? His handlers had training planned for the evening to sharpen his response time, and that was going to hurt, but at least it was all for his own good. The League, meanwhile, might stab or burn or punch him without reason or cause, as they had done plenty of times before. They got mad, they took it out on him, usually, since he wasn't really one of them and they wanted him to know it. Then, sometimes, they were so nice to him that it made something deep inside him want something he couldn't put words to, couldn't rationalize away and sometimes he wondered if he would survive it.
But it was for his mission, so he quickly messaged Kontorora-sama and Kenishugisha-sama to ask for a reschedule. He made sure to attach a screenshot of his texts with Dabi beforehand, so they gave him the go-ahead. With his current schedule, rescheduling would take forever, but he could at least weigh in before patrol.
He took off into the night, and while usually he adored flying, his body felt like it was made of lead and his feathers were uncomfortably misaligned and his body ached so badly it took all the joy out of the job. Good. Pain was good. He deserved this, after all, for letting those people die.
(No, it didn't matter that they died on impact, because if he was a good hero, he would have seen the impact coming.)
Landing was a little rockier than usual, too, since his vision blurred for a good two or three minutes, and he ended up rebreaking his ankle on the roof of their apartment complex which was fine. It didn't hurt that bad, and he would be sitting down most of the time anyways. It didn't matter. He could endure it.
The door to the rooftop was always unlocked for him, so he hobbled his way down to the communal floor and diligently ignored the one he wasn't allowed on. Hawks took a few extra minutes to force his ankle into proper healing position and wrap it with the sock from his opposite foot (makeshift gauze was his specialty) before throwing the doors open with a bright and cheery, "Heyo!"
He nearly snorted when he saw them all, though. Everyone was in flamboyant, brightly colored pajamas that so clearly didn't belong on most of the members. Even Dabi, who he'd never seen in a color besides black or white, was decked out in neon green sleepwear with bright yellow chicks peppered on them. They made those for adults? And how was anyone supposed to sleep in such bright colors? Hawks didn't own any designated bed clothes, but if he did he would want them to be dull and soft and cozy.
(Maybe he'd ask Kontorora-sama if he could have some?
Probably not, since he didn't sleep much anyways. It would just be a waste of money, and Hawks hated wasting money.)
"Fuck you," Dabi hissed and that brought Hawks from his own head. "It's the little psycho's choice night so this is what's fucking happening." Said psycho popped up from her pile of soft looking pillows and blankets (it wasn't a nest, he didn't wanna go lay down in it, he was a human not a bird--) with a cerulean bundle in her arms.
"I got you some too!" she chirped (Hawks wasn't jealous that she got to chirp but he had to swallow all his bad noises) and tossed the cloth at him. He caught it effortlessly and looked at it more closely. It was patterned too and clearly hadn't passed through Dabi first because the chibi Endeavors would never have earned his approval, but Hawks loved them instantly. Sure, it was still too bright, but it was thoughtful. The shirt even had slots for his wings.
"Wait, the fuck--!?" Dabi started up, but Hawks was headed off to change before the fight broke out. Kurogiri, donning baby blue pajamas with clouds, gestured towards their restroom before returning to break the children up.
Changing took longer than normal with his still-healing punishments and his twisting belly, but soon enough Hawks was decked out in his first pair of sleep clothes he'd ever owned. Assuming he owned them. He may just be borrowing. But pretending couldn't hurt for now, so he would. He would pretend that these were his and he wasn't a spy and they actually wanted to hang out with him not the pro hero they were using.
Geez, he needed a nap. A nap would get rid of all those mushy, unrealistic thoughts.
Not even his own mother wanted him.
Everyone wanted Hawks, though, so he would throw on his smile and put on a show. The League'd have to teach him any games he didn't know, which was probably all of them, unless they decided to blindfold him and throw things at him as a game in which case he was ready. Mt. Lady and Midnight had played that with him once, at first throwing kebabs and cubes of cheese, then switching to some of Edgeshot's kunai when Mirko got involved and waiters started avoiding them. He hated it, sure, but they'd had a blast and that was what mattered.
Hawks quickly found some of the League's medical gauze for his ankle since he'd need his socks now, bandaged himself up, and headed out with a grin. A grin that turned into a smirk when his feathers alerted him that Spinner was waiting around the corner to jump out at him. It was a game the League devised when they learned that Hawks was impossible to jump startle; no matter what they did, he always was saw them coming. Even Compress had joined in, making Kurogiri and Shigaraki the only hold-outs. He'd never met the latter, while the former was far too mature for their shenanigans.
So when Spinner lunged at him with a roar, Hawks maintained eye contact and didn't even flinch away. Toga burst into laughter and threw herself in for a hug while Spinner started to pout.
"How does nothing scare you?" he hissed while Hawks's feather grabbed the knife from Toga's hand and stuck it in the ceiling for safe keeping. Her version of affection involved a little more blood than Hawks was comfortable with, especially with how low his tanks already were. No sleep, no food, and anemia? No thanks. Little too far there. Luckily she didn't mind so much, nor did she notice him shift her to keep weight off his ankle.
"You're so late! Where were you, Hawksie?" she whined. He rolled his eyes, slowly and exaggeratedly playful, because otherwise he'd tick her off.
"Dabi invited me twenty one minutes ago, and it's a seventeen minute flight. I wouldn't say I'm late."
She turned on Dabi with a glare that could (and probably would) kill. "What!? I told you to invite him last night!"
Dabi shrugged, not even lifting his eyes from his phone. "Guess it slipped my mind."
"You jackass!" she shrieked and flew from Hawks to Dabi with much less cuddly intentions. Dabi caught her and wrestled her to the ground and the two were fighting, but not in a way that made his feathers stand on end or want to run away. No, it almost seemed like they were having fun, even when Toga produced another knife and Dabi melted it in a small but sudden burst of flames.
While they bickered, Twice or Jin came over with a bag of chips that he offered to Hawks. He declined, of course, even though his stomach felt like it was twisting in on itself. "So what's on the agenda tonight?"
"Toga found some American game called Twister," Jin answered around a mouthful of chips. He was pretty sure it was Jin, anyways. Both had bad manners and spoke with their mouths full, but Twice was usually more energetic. He seemed calm right now, relaxed in his red and black pajamas Hawks was sure were themed around some old American comic book hero from before quirks. "Seems lame. We also have Jinsei and Machi Koro, and Spinner snagged a copy of Shadow Hunters. Then, we were thinking Mario Party and movies til bed."
He hadn't heard of any of that. Or, he guessed he'd heard of some of it, Mario Party sounded familiar and he was sure Eraserhead mentioned his students getting into a fight at midnight over Shadow Hunters, but he certainly didn't know how to play. Jin must've seen it on his face, and being the nicest of them, smiled and nudged him. "Don't worry, I'll coach you through it all. Twice will too."
"Are you two sharing today or has he been tired?" Hawks asked, because it was always good to know. Both Twice and Jin were good guys, really, but Twice was more rambunctious and immature and tended to go along with Toga's chaos while Jin was calmer, more reserved, but also tended to drink and if Twice came back when they were drunk it was hell.
Jin shrugged and stuffed another handful of chips into his mouth. "Dunno. So far he doesn't seem all that interested in showing up, which is weird, since Toga-chan is hosting this shit. Don't worry, I won't do anything in case he does show up. I know it stresses you out."
"N-no, you don't have to--"
"Don't lie, I know he's a pain in the ass, and you and Kurogiri always take care of him when I check out. You already look dead on your feet, so I'll behave and I'm sure he will too." Jin was definitely his favorite. His whole life, Jin was the first person to put his needs over his own. Jin and Twice were mentally ill and shouldn't prioritize Hawks's comfort over their own, but both did and he liked them for that. Commission be damned, he'd find a way to save them when he took the League down.
"You really don't have to," Hawks insisted again, "but thanks, man."
Before Jin could answer Toga shrieked "UNCLE!!" and they turned in time to see Dabi not only had her pinned but was about to spit on her face. Toga was squirming and grimacing and suddenly Jin was Twice and bounding into the action with a war cry, but Dabi dodged swiftly.
"Are we playing games or what?" he drawled, turquoise eyes shifting to Hawks. Dabi's eyes were fascinating; even when his quirk wasn't active, they always seemed to have an ethereal glow to them, and even though he could appreciate how threatening they were, Hawks didn't feel at risk when they stared at him. They were familiar, nostalgic, yet foreign all the same. "And I hate his pajamas. We're changing them."
"I didn't get other pajamas," Toga grumbled, pouting from her earlier loss. Hawks immediately put his hands behind his head, stretching to lean back against the nearest wall with one foot in the air, making sure his top raised just enough to expose a strip of skin.
"You want me to take it off, Dabi~" he teased and was careful to keep from gagging, and not just because of the growing nausua that always accompanied punishments. Toga squealed in fan-girly delight and Twice immediately mimicked his pose, only to be ignored. Dabi came closer, almost nose to nose, and Hawks made a point not to cower. It was easy enough to hold the eye contact, though he wasn't sure what to do when those eyes began to wander his body. Luckily, Dabi walked away.
Kenishugisha-sama may be right. He may need to sleep with him, and to that he would need to know how to please the arsonist. He may have to learn. He'd managed to avoid it, but it might be time to bite the bullet.
Maybe the Commission would let him contact his birth mother for advice.
"Come along, now, all!" Compress called with his usual energy and Hawks was grateful for it. Future Hawks could deal with all that. Tonight, he could enjoy himself.
Kurogiri had Jinsei all set up and handed out different colored cars to each player. Hawks was red, which was cool, though he preferred blue. He read through the rules while the others grabbed snacks and beverages as well as choosing their own colors. He wasn't surprised when Twice and Jin started arguing over the color they wanted, nor was he shocked when Toga noticed what he'd chosen and demanded he relinquish the color of blood. Damn. If he was thinking more clearly, he wouldn't have picked it at all.
"Sorry, sorry," he chuckled and plucked the little blue figure from the front seat to hand it over to her. "I wasn't--"
His hand was slapped and he pulled back (with the little car) in shock. "Back off, gremlin. Pick a different color."
Toga huffed, but as commanded, she snatched up another little van and Hawks was slightly flattered. Dabi met his eye and glared. "Now you. What snack will you fucking eat?"
"Oh, I, uh, ate before I came," he lied. It wasn't a completely unreasonable one. It was two in the morning, after all, but for some reason Dabi gave him that look that meant he didn't believe a word he'd said.
"Sure. I got those stupid frozen buffalo wings you like so much in the oven. You're gonna eat every fucking one of them. Do you understand me?"
Hawks was torn. On the one hand, wow that sounded good. He loved those things and he never bought them for himself. He'd only had them because Spinner hadn't liked them and had given them to Dabi, who'd only shared with him because he'd wanted to see him freak out at the spice. He hadn't expected Hawks to like them so much, but he had, and now they always had a package in the freezer.
But on the other hand, he wasn't allowed to eat. He was already in so much trouble (and rightfully so two people had died) and he didn't want to make it worse.
But they sent him on this mission.
But he was on punishments.
Hawks figured he had time to think while the chicken cooked.
Should he ask permission? It wasn't a bad idea, but with Dabi watching, texting Kontorora-sama was risky. He liked to read over Hawks's shoulder and the last time he caught him texting her about his schedule he'd snatched his phone and demanded overtime for the extra patrol routes he'd done off the clock. He didn't want to know what he'd do if he saw him asking permission to eat.
"You my mom now?" Hawks asked with a quirk of his eyebrow and Dabi rolled his eyes.
"Better. I'm your fairy fucking godparent. Now shut the fuck up and wait here." Dabi went to the kitchen and came back with two Pocari Sweats and a box of strawberry pocky. Toga squealed and leapt up for the candy, but he held it away from her. "Back off, you've got your stupid cookies."
"Are we going to start?" Compress asked. There was no doubt who'd picked this game.
"Yeah, yeah. I'll go first."
"No, me!"
Soon enough, the game was underway. It was a little confusing at first, but he picked it up fast. Reading the rules was a good idea, since he caught Dabi and Compress cheating several times, much to one's annoyance and the other's delight. Dabi left at one point and returned with a bowl of steaming hot chicken soaked in delicious red sauce and a pair of chopsticks and Hawks salivated like Hound Dog in front of steak.
"Go ahead. All yours," Dabi commanded. All eyes were on him at once and Hawks realized not eating was going to get him in trouble and eating was going to get him in trouble so why not do the one that felt nicer?
That first bite was heaven. It was a mixture of sweet and savory, since his birdie taste buds didn't register hot like everyone else did, and he had to force himself to savor every bit of it before swallowing because all he wanted to do was tear into the bowl like the animal he didn't want to be. He snatched up another as soon as the first was gone, then another, then another. There was rice under all that chickeny goodness too, with chopped up little pieces of meat mixed in, and the sauce had soaked into the grains so it tasted like poultry too.
Hawks knew better than to eat when on punishments.
He knew better than to waver.
The last time he wasn't good enough, someone died.
But here he was, a decade later and still making the same mistakes he made at eleven years old.
And just like last time, the person who'd fed him look so pleased with himself. "Fuck, birdie, when was the last time you ate? You fuckin' starving yourself?"
"He's a model, it's only natural," Twice pointed out as he spun the wheel for his turn. His little yellow car bounced along the appropriate spaces.
"Yes, but he is also a hero. It is important to keep your caloric intake up, Hawks," Kurogiri lectured. Hawks was too tired to not feel ashamed.
"Nah, you've got it all wrong! I'm hungry all the time because of the hero work. I eat plenty," he tried, but Dabi had planted a seed of doubt and he worried that while he could cut down the stem the roots grew too deep. After all, it wasn't his first time eating like he was starving (he almost never had time to buy something, much less cook) or had come in injured (he came here after patrol, okay?) or even blind (quirks were a nightmare and he had his feathers to guide the way). Toga pushed her package of matcha cookies in front of him.
"Take a few. They're super good," she offered. He knew he should decline, but they were all watching so he took two out and popped one in his mouth.
He'd forgotten how good cookies were.
But not as good as--
"We also got melonpan," Dabi said and threw one at him. He caught it, of course. He'd trained forever on reflexes.
"Guys, I'm a hawk, not a turkey. You don't gotta stuff me," he joked but they all watched until he ate the melonpan nonetheless.
Seriously: if he ever broke free from the Commission, he was having melonpans once a week. They were that good.
The League refocused on the game and soon Hawks understood why Compress like this game so much because he came out the winner. Spinner flipped the board in frustration, so while the others played Machi Koro he had to clean it up. Kurogiri also stepped out to go set up the living room for their upcoming gaming and movie time. Toga won that one, though to be fair Twice was actively avoiding building near her so she could.
After a few more games and a lot of yelling, they migrated into the living room for somehow even more intense play but with limited players. Super Smash Bros. was a violent game, Hawks learned quickly, and not because little cartoon people were fighting to the death. They played in teams, and in his first round he was partnered with Spinner and proceeded to walk off the edge five times and lose instantly. What, he'd never played a video game before, the controller was tiny, and he couldn't tell which character was him in the giant cloud of partical effects. Spinner almost killed him in real life and would have had Kurogiri not intervened. Twice wouldn't stop laughing either, so that was a blow to his ego.
Eventually, as dawn's light peeked through the blinds, he was granted a shred of mercy because they were all ready to settle down for bed. Toga cuddled with Twice in her ne--pillow fort, Kurogiri kicked up his feet in his recliner, and Compress and and Shuichi laid together on the couch. Hawks checked his phone; he had patrol in an hour, and with the festivities dying down...
"All right, this has been a blast," he said with as he stretched. He felt so much better since eating those wings, at least physically. Guilt still gnawed his stomach into knots, but whatever. "but it's about time I hit the skies--"
"Come on, idiot, we're watching Kimi no Na wa," Dabi commanded and hooked their arms, dragging him towards the couch. He winced and bit his tongue when the jerk pulled too fast and he had to put weight on his broken ankle.
"I have patrol--"
"Checked the hero schedule you gave us, bird brain. You don't have shit today."
Was it already Thursday? He wasn't sure, but either way, he had work. Just work off the books. Dabi wouldn't like that...he needed a lie. "Oh, right! But I have a pre-patrol breakfast with Edgeshot. We're working a case--"
"Cancel. Now."
Dabi waited expectantly, and what else could he do? If there really was a breakfast thing with another hero and he left the League for it, the Commission would pluck his smallest and most sensitive feathers and put them through the paper shredder. Again. So, because undercover, he did as told.
[AGENT HAWKS: The League wants me to stick around for a movie. I am not currently able to get away.]
He wished Kontorora-sama wasn't so quick to reply. The food in his stomach turned sour at her response.
[K. KONTORORA: Understood. However, due to two failed appointments, we are going to have to add 30 hours of additional training to your repertoire. Have you followed the guidelines of your punishment, Hawks?]
His heart beat faster and his wings almost flared before he caught himself. Dabi was watching, after all.
[AGENT HAWKS: In order to blend in, I was forced to eat snacks bought with me in mind specifically. I tried to decline, but was disallowed.]
[I. KENISHUGISHA: Understood. We will work on your improvisational skills under pressure. We can extend the punishment another week in honor of those fallen citizens. Do you agree?]
It wasn't a question.
[AGENT HAWKS: Yes sir. Yes ma'am. Thank you for helping me be a more worthy hero.]
"Edgeshot is wordier than I would have thought," Dabi hissed and Hawks pocketed his phone.
"Yeah, well, we had to reschedule," Hawks explained and followed him to the television. There were a bundle of unused blankets and pillows set up and Dabi flopped down on his stomach. Hawks, ever one to please, followed suit.
"Have you seen this one before, Hawksie?" Toga asked. "It's sooooo good! I love romance movies! And horror movies...but they never have horror/romances, do they? I wanna see two people make out, covered in each others' blood~"
"Can we not with your fetishes?" Spinner hissed. Then caught the pillow she threw and sent it back harder.
"No pillow fighting, we're settling down," Kurogiri reminded them. Hawks was always amazed that they listened to him the way they did.
The movie started, and Hawks found himself pinching his arms to stay awake. It was hard enough when he was upright, but laying down, with a soft pillow under his head and Dabi's unnatural warmth almost touching him and just how long it'd been since he'd shut his eyes...but he couldn't...
He wasn't sure how long it'd been going when gentle fingers began to brush through the feathers on his left wing. He gasped and jolted, but they followed him and they was so good at it, why were they so good at preening? Hawks himself wasn't so careful, and those fingers reached between his shoulders to stroke those seldom touched little feathers that made tingles run all over and he couldn't stop the ugly, horrible chirp that time.
It wasn't long before he fell into the deepest, most relaxing sleep he'd had since he was with Touya.
It was so familiar, in fact, that as he drifted he could have sworn he'd heard Dabi say "Sleep tight, ototo. I'll protect you."
Hawks was sure he fell asleep on his stomach in front of the TV with nothing touching him.
When he woke, he was on the couch, on his side, and covered in a nice, warm blanket.
His head was clearer than it'd been in months and he wasn't queasy at all. There was no alarm blaring or pounding on the door. He was so much less achy; his foot wasn't throbbing and his bruises and cuts all stopped stinging. And his wings! They weren't tense or achy or itchy; it was like slabs of butter on his back rather than deadly weapons and it was glorious. What happened?
He sat up slowly and scrubbed a hand over his eyes before looking to the clock. Apparently it was almost eleven in the morning, since the sun was up. He'd slept for four hours? That wasn't good. Could he hide it from Kenishugisha-sama and Kotorora-sama?
"Good morning, Hawks," Kurogiri greeted and handed him a mug of fresh, warm coffee. Hawks took a sip and his feathers fluffed up. Heat was nice. He'd always loved being warm.
"Morning. Guess I dozed off," he chuckled. He had to bite back a yawn, which was a little annoying. "Everyone else already up or did they just head to their rooms?"
He never knew what Kurogiri was thinking, but somehow he felt he'd messed up. "We all slept down here for the slumber party," the man explained slowly. Hawks looked around and couldn't find any evidence of the slumber party.
"Then, what, you guys sleep only a couple of hours before springing up to clean? And here I thought you guys slept all day!" He knew they were up all night; Dabi started spam messaging him around eight in the evening and the others stole his phone through the night. Did they not sleep either? There was no way.
"Hawks...what day is it?"
His stomach dropped. Shit. Shit. "Is it...not...Thursday?"
Kurogiri shook his head. "No, it is Saturday afternoon. You were quite exhausted, it seems."
Hawks's hands began to flex and his breathing started to stutter because Saturday?! He'd slept for two days!? That wasn't allowed, this wasn't allowed, how did his alarms not wake him up he set a million of them, his handlers were going to kill him--
Something shiny moved in front of him and without thinking he latched on with both hands.
And oh no.
This was worse.
He made it worse.
There were voices, he felt them in his feathers, but he couldn't hear them above his pulse pounding in his ears. Kontorora-sama was going to kill him. Kenishugisha-sama was going to train him into his grave. He'd never, ever done anything this bad! Didn't they call? His wings always caught the vibrations of his cell phone, how had he ignored it? He couldn't breathe, but he couldn't open his mouth to try because if he did he'd make those awful, horrible clicking noises and if it could get even worse that was how it would.
Something touched his head and he flinched away.
Another moment passed before it tried again, more slowly, and began to scratch against his scalp. It felt so good Hawks bit his tongue hard enough to taste blood. At least the clicking noise was somewhat intimidating; his chirrs and coos were just ugly. But the hand kept rubbing and even lingered over the spots that his bad feathers used to grow and soon enough he couldn't help but warble. He braced for the touch to turn violent.
It didn't.
In fact, it kept going, combing his hair from front to the back, lingering on the spots that felt best. When it was done, it moved to the base of his wings and ruffled the feathers there and Hawks melted as his grip released. He ended up with his head in someone's lap as the hand doubled and itched up and down his back. This was nice. This was so nice.
But it was wrong. No one was supposed to be nice when he was bad.
His ears started to work again and he heard a deep baritone mumbling softly to him. "--and no one's mad, so you're okay. Come on back to me, pretty bird, take deep breaths and come on back it's okay--"
"Dabi?" That couldn't be right. Dabi wasn't gentle.
But when he looked up, he found bright blue eyes staring down at him with so much concern and affection he almost looked like Touya and why was Touya on his mind so much that wasn't fair it hurt too bad.
"Welcome back," Dabi greeted with a twitch of his lips that almost qualified as a smile. Hawks moved to sit up but his arms felt like jelly and Dabi placed a firm hand on his shoulder.
"What...?"
"Panic attack. Bad one, too," Dabi explained. Hawks looked to the clock and saw it was three now. Before he could process that, scarred hands played with his scapulars and his brain turned to mush.
"I...work..." he slurred out, because how could he have let this happen? "Gotta..."
"Got a few days off," Dabi finished. "Don't worry. You're not in trouble. Takahiro is handling things."
"Taka...hiro?" What? Sure, his favorite sidekick was more than capable, but the Commission would never allow him to leave a heteromorph in charge, no matter how much Hawks trusted him.
"Yeah, he was real worried about you. He said he hopes you feel better and get plenty of sleep."
"You talked to him?"
"Fuck, no," he chuckled. "I texted him."
"How'd you unlock my phone?" No one should have been able to guess his password. Touya's birthday would more realistically be Endeavor-san's code, not his.
"You sleep-talk." That was a lie, but Hawks didn't have time to call him out because what Dabi said next nearly sent him into another spiral. "You're off punishments now, too."
"What!?" he squawked and sat up fully and his wings tensed and extended fully.
"You're off punishments, and you'll never be on them again," he repeated. "so I'm having Kurogiri make karaage for lunch."
Hawks suddenly wished he hadn't woken up. "Punishments...?"
"Yeah. Punishments. How you weren't allowed to eat or sleep for two fucking weeks because you were ten blocks away when a villain attacked and couldn't save two mother fuckers. That's over. Forever."
"You all...read my messages. How much--?"
"Not all. Just me. The others couldn't crack the code, and I didn't fill them in on your entire workload."
Hawks had to run. He knew. "En...ti...re..."
"And they won't. It's none of their business. Hasn't been, since I figured it out when we fucking met."
So much to unpack, so little time. Hawks couldn't even work up a proper freak out. "You knew?"
"Duh. It was obvious. You aren't the type. Too good. Too giving. None of us can relate."
That was...there was...he was...
"And by the way, I don't wanna fuck you. That mother fucker who wanted to teach you sure did, though, but you don't have to worry about that anymore."
He looked him in the eye and Hawks knew that he didn't want to know for sure why he shouldn't be concerned. If he asked, he had to hear it, and he didn't think he could.
"And...punishments...?"
"Over. Forever."
Again, he didn't ask. Which was wrong. Kontorora-sama had a family. But he didn't, and Dabi didn't offer.
"So...what now?" Hawks asked. Dabi shrugged.
"Well, firstly, I added a few things to your schedule and took a few off. You're working eight hours a day, five days a week, just like every fucking hero around. I also called and cancelled all payments that went through the Commission and transferred bills to come directly from your account. Some of them you just don't need to pay at all, because they were bullshit. You shouldn't have to pay for your own purchase ten fucking years later. Some of that money is going to Dr. Yume, though. He's a pretty fucking renowned therapist who specializes in childhood trauma and coping with PTSD, and you're gonna see 'em three times a week til we sort this shit out. Plus, I ordered some shit online that should make your apartment a little more homey."
There was so much he should ask, so much he should argue, but the only word he managed to choke out was, "Why?"
Dabi smiled, and that smile wasn't Dabi's. It wasn't, it was someone else's, someone from a long time ago who was long, long gone. "I had to."
And all at once, he understood. Tears filled his eyes faster than he could stop them and he chirped out his name and all at once he was being hugged and his wings were wrapping around his brother because it was his brother, it was Touya, it was Touya, he was alive! They were wrong, he was alive! Hawks hadn't killed him!
"It's going to be okay, pretty bird," Touya promised, and Hawks believed him.
And for once, Hawks wasn't tired anymore.
|
‘You saved my boy’s life. A debt must be repaid.’
‘It was nothing-’
‘You must keep your magic secret,’ Hunith pleads, cupping her face with hands that had seen a hundred harvests. ‘In Camelot you will be vulnerable to men and monsters alike, but you cannot save yourself with magic. It will be the death of you.’
His eyes linger on the pale blue of her dress and the tight laces of her bodice, his hand clapping on Arthur’s shoulder as he protests, ‘No, don’t be modest. You shall be rewarded.’
‘Even-’ Merlin stares at her mother in confusion ‘Not even to save myself?’
‘Your Highness, please, you don’t have to-’
Hunith presses a kiss to her forehead. ‘You’re clever. You can use your nails and your elbows like the rest of us. Anything but magic, Merlin. Anything.’
‘No, absolutely. This merits something special.’
‘But Mother!’ Merlin exclaims, desperate, pleading.
‘No, Merlin. I do not want to hear another word.’
Uther sways, still in shock that his son was so close to being assassinated. Merlin, for a moment, wonders if she shall be granted permission to apprentice under Gaius officially, a budding hope rising within her chest as she imagines what it will be like to be recognised by the Crown.
‘If Your Highness wills it,’ she says, smiling as the thrill of relief surges beneath her skin.
It’s far from the goodbye she expects, but Merlin is no ordinary commoner. Magic flows through her like sweet honey, always there, always breathing life into the ground beneath her feet and bending to her will, like she is some young goddess. Her mother’s human fears seem so impossible when she has magic to defend herself with.
But Hunith says she cannot. She must not.
‘You shall be rewarded a position in the royal household. You shall be my personal maidservant.’
‘Anything but magic, Merlin. Anything.’
His chambers are dark, except the flickering of the hearth. Merlin, unsure and beside herself with nerves, curtsies low when the king turns to face her.
‘My lord.’
‘What is your name, girl?’ Uther asks her, gesturing for her to stand.
‘Merlin,’ she says, dusting off her skirt. His lip twitches and Merlin forces herself to stay still. ‘What will be my duties, sire?’
‘I have all the castle for those chores,’ he says, the first ripple of uncertainty flowing through her as he steps forwards, walking a circle around her. ‘Though propriety will remain, of course. You will deliver my meals and assist me in dressing and bathing. Otherwise, I expect you every evening at my leisure and in the daylight hours to assist Gaius, as previously arranged.’
‘Propriety?’ Merlin whispers, before feeling his hand at her waist, dragging across her stomach to the laces holding her dress up. Merlin steps back, but the king grasps the blue fabric tight, his eyes boring into hers.
‘I am the king,’ he says, ‘and while my heart remains with my late wife, I have needs—needs you will see to as I please.’
‘Do I get a say in this?’ Merlin asks him, knowing she does not.
‘It is an honour to serve the crown in such a manner,’ he says, before another hand joins the first. He undoes the laces of her bodice, letting it fall loose enough that her dress starts to slip, shoulders coming into view. Merlin trembles when he cups her face, leaning in to press their lips together.
‘As a gift to you,’ he says, ‘I shall make sure your first time will be pleasant.’
What do you say to that? Merlin feels his lips against her own, pressing and unyielding, before his tongue slips between her teeth. She can’t contain a noise of surprise, adrenaline rushing through her veins as he pulls her dress down with one hand. Flailing, Merlin doesn’t know what to do, unable to stop the invasion in her mouth any more than she can prevent her dress from falling down past her breasts, now bared to the muggy, hot air of spring.
Uther pulls away, calmly removing her arms from her sleeve as Merlin stands there in paralysis, frightened of what is to come. She wishes that sex was something she knew. She wishes that this experience was not her first, like Uther somehow guessed. Her magic bubbles inside of her, but her mother’s instructions are clear in her mind. Anything but magic. She chains down her power, trying to find any way—any way at all—to get out of this.
‘We will undress,’ he tells her, ‘then go to the bed. I shall please you and then, the proper fun will begin.’ And for some reason, he smiles, the corners of his eyes crinkling and his teeth glinting in the firelight. Merlin doesn’t know what she looks like to him. Like a terrified peasant, probably.
Her dress falls to the floor, leaving her in smallclothes than Uther ignores, so he can take off his own shirt and boots. Merlin finds herself backing away again automatically, until Uther reaches out and grips her wrist hard enough to bruise, smile fading.
‘Come,’ he orders, half-throwing her towards his bed. Merlin trips over her own feet, landing on fine blankets and silks, the open shutters of the window letting moonlight trickle in to illuminate the bed on which she will undoubtedly lose her virginity on.
He comes up behind her, something pressing into her backside. ‘On the bed,’ he demands, lifting her up himself and turning her around, laying her out on her back. That’s when Merlin sees him truly, naked and hanging, not so long but thick enough that she can’t imagine how it will fit.
Her fingers scramble for purchase on the blankets as he pulls her smallclothes down, revealing her mound, his back bending as he kisses the inside of her leg. Merlin shivers in dreaded anticipation, watching in horror as his face climbs further north, until he buries it in her dark hair. Then something wet touches her. Merlin jerks violently, but Uther is already holding her down, his arms trapping her knees as he runs his tongue over her nub, sending electric tingles through her body.
‘Oh,’ Merlin says weakly, pressing her eyes firmly shut as he continues, dampness forming between her legs that doesn’t come from Uther’s mouth. Her stomach aches, pulsing as she starts to shake, trying to get her most sensitive parts away from the king’s machinations. Her movement makes him clamp tighter around her knees and before Merlin even understands what’s going on, she’s sobbing through a bursting high, her whole body thrumming with energy that still doesn’t quite seem to be released. It’s not even her magic, which writhes pleasantly, churning through her blood with a feeling of yes, more!
The king leans back, pleased with himself. ‘There,’ he says, before the mattress jolts—the king climbing on top of her, boxing her in. Merlin’s heart fills with ice, feeling his cock brushing against her legs. One arm holds him up by the right side of her head, while the other reaches between them, aiming his cock at her wet entrance.
‘Wait,’ Merlin says, ‘Wait-’
‘Unless it is to moan or cry out from the pleasure I give you,’ Uther interrupts, ‘you will not say a single word, Merlin.’
Merlin shakes her head, squeezing her legs together until he pushes them apart with his knee, the head of his cock pressing hard against her entrance. ‘Please-’ she starts, only for Uther to brace himself against her body, pushing.
Merlin gasps. She tries to get away, but Uther only uses that movement to push harder, his cock squeezing inside a tight ring which burns as it stretches, accommodating him in ways Merlin hadn’t thought possible. Tears stinging at her eyes, Merlin sobs in pain, gasping again as he keeps going.
Uther groans in pleasure, leaning his head against her collar. ‘So tight! Definitely a virgin…’
It burns. She feels him impaling her, a fullness she can’t pull away from. The part of Merlin that is her magic wants him away, but her mother’s words fill her ears. Anything but magic. Uther is the king—he will burn her if he discovers her magic. Merlin can’t do a single thing but let him fill her with his cock and his seed, the burn brightening in a different way as he pulls out halfway.
‘Please,’ Merlin sobs, ‘Please.’
‘So tight,’ he repeats, before pushing in hard, their pelvises aligning. Merlin feels a jolt inside, feeling horrified as she recognises the feeling as her own pleasure. He leans out again, pounding into her a third time and she keens. Uther laughs low in his chest. ‘There. I am the king-’ he does it again ‘-and you are mine.’ Again. ‘A tight cunt.’ Again. ‘A whore.’ Again. ‘Tell me who you belong to?’ Again, again, again. He orders her, ‘Tell me!’
Merlin sobs, the burn fading as the pressure in her stomach mounts. ‘Yours,’ she says, hating herself, ‘I belong to the king!’
‘You belong to the king,’ Uther growls, before he loses himself in the movements. Merlin raises her hips into his thrusts, over and over until she feels release, stomach twisting. Uther doesn’t stop when she does, however, keeping up his unrelenting rhythm until he abruptly stops and Merlin, for the first time, feels a strange release inside of her—revealed to be the king’s seed when he pulls out his cock, liquid dripping from the tip.
Merlin stares at the king. His brow shines faintly, sweat dripping down his face. When he sees her looking, he smirks and bundles his arm behind her back, hauling her into the proper position on the bed, so her head meets pillows.
‘You will be a good bedwarmer,’ he says approvingly, as if he had not backed her into a corner or allowed her to leave. His arm—strong, thick—holds her in place as they settle, the king breathing slower and slower, until he sleeps.
Merlin can’t sleep. Part of her is in shock, still and another is petrified of the man beside her. She is no longer a virgin, instead she is a whore to a king, his seed drying between her legs. What would happen, she thinks morbidly, if she came with child? Would he send her away? Beat it out of her? Merlin can’t imagine Uther being happy with any bastard off a servant girl.
But it is a good thing she never slept, because the king wakes after an hour and he presses kisses to her collarbone, his cock hardening again against her.
‘Hands above your head,’ he mutters. Merlin doesn’t understand why, but does as she’s told, lifting hesitant arms up onto the pillows behind her, not expecting him to reach up and press her fingers to the gaps in the bedframe.
‘Sire?’
‘Hold on,’ he grunts, ‘and don’t let go.’ He spreads her legs and—with no preparation at all—spears into her abused cunt. A heady ache makes itself known, pain from actions unsuited to her frame, while Uther pounds in and in. Merlin struggles to hold onto the bedframe, trying to ignore how his bulbous cock makes her wanton and breathy. She feels disgusted with herself.
Whore, she calls herself as he comes again, filling her up without question, then leaving her on the edge. Merlin is ashamed to want more, to feel finished, but when he lowers her arms down from where they’ve gone numb, she can’t help but reach below, Uther’s eyes dark with passion as he watches her touch herself.
‘Have I left you undone?’ He asks her, obviously knowing the answer as he presses two fingers into her hole. Merlin, who circles her nub with shaky fingers, jerks her hips onto the pair of digits again and again, her embarrassment a gaping void in her breast as she gets herself off on the king’s fingers.
When she finally collapses, panting, Uther only chuckles and lays down beside her, once more pulling her smaller frame against his own. Merlin lays her head on his chest, closing her eyes, even as the tears refuse to come. She feels ashamed, abused and broken.
The king kisses her hair, then sleeps.
The pattern of her day is thus: wake in the king’s bed at dawn and use the pitcher by the window to wash. Uther sometimes stops her and has a lazy round of sex, most times forcing her to straddle his waist and rock her hips up and down until he comes, using the least amount of effort. Those days, Merlin is often left high and dry, as the king prefers to focus on his own needs.
Then she exits the king’s room, her walk of shame causing smirks and jeers amongst the guards. Merlin tries—and fails—to ignore them, flinching when they pinch her bottom through her dress and picking up the king’s breakfast from a cook who leers at her chest. Often, when she returns from the kitchen’s, Uther’s manservant—a young man named Julius—has already arranged a bath for him or organised his wardrobe for the day, leaving her to stand by the wall of the room until Uther dismisses her for the morning.
Gaius, suspicious about her nighttime activities, is lied to. Repeatedly. Merlin lies to him about being given a room in the servant’s quarters and lies about the love-bites on her neck.
‘I have a new friend who works in the kitchens,’ she tells him merrily, turning away so he can’t see her expression, managing to hold onto a teasing tone long enough to say, ‘Surely, you don’t want to meet them?’
Gaius snorts and warns her about too much playing around, then directs her to study another book on herblore—or if she’s lucky, the magic book he lets her peruse. Merlin enjoys the mornings with Gaius, because mornings mean reading in the quiet of the infirmary and sitting down on a blanket by the far wall, out of sight and just far away enough that Gaius can’t see her shifting uncomfortably when her hips ache.
Afternoons are spent running around on errands. Maybe, if she’d been a maidservant to another noble or even Prince Arthur, she’d have made friends that way. But for Merlin, known amongst the serving population and most of the castle guard as Uther’s own personal lady of the night, all it gets her is groped unexpectedly and a certain skill in escaping using the most unlikely routes throughout the castle. A bonus, should she finish her errands early, is free reign in Camelot’s library under the watchful eye of Sir Geoffrey of Monmouth—who, more than once, has sent the more daring of men looking for a piece of her running out of the hallowed halls like their arses are on fire.
Dinner is with Gaius. If Merlin is lucky, Uther is kept busy by meetings run long or other society events—but sometimes, she’s not. When the evening bell has rung, she’s expected to be waiting in Uther’s quarters, if not already there with a freshly-drawn bath and the next day’s outfit waiting on the clothes-horse.
‘You are a young beauty, you know,’ Uther tells her idly, in the quiet of after. Merlin lies on his bed with her back bared, straight-faced as he traces patterns on her shoulder, ignoring every stroke. ‘Tell me of yourself.’
‘What would you like to know?’
‘Where did you come from?’ He prompts. ‘How old are you?’
‘…Essetir,’ Merlin eventually murmurs. ‘A village called Ealdor. I turned nineteen this past winter.’
‘A Beltane child?’ Uther inquires.
She tries not to flinch. ‘Yes. Though that didn’t stop our neighbours from calling me a bastard, Your Grace, or treating me like one. My mother raised me alone.’
‘I see.’ Uther then asks her, ‘When do you bleed?’
Merlin does startle that time, squeaking, ‘Bleed?’
‘Yes,’ he rolls his eyes, ‘When do you bleed? I’m not stupid enough to imagine you can keep this up every night.’
‘Unlike you,’ Merlin can’t help but jest. Uther seems surprised at his own laughter when he chuckles.
‘Unlike me,’ he repeats, bemused. ‘Arthur did say you were a cheeky thing, but I didn’t believe him until now. Do you not feel able to express yourself in front of your king?’
Merlin’s levity dies. She shifts to look at him, testing the waters. ‘May I speak freely?’ There is a moment of nothing, before Uther inclines his head stiffly. Merlin takes a breath.
‘This is my place, now. Half of Camelot knows what I do for you. I was frightened, before—I still am, sometimes,’ she admits, turning away from his wincing. He gave her permission to speak freely, did he not? She refuses to feel sorry for him or acknowledge his regret. ‘Accepting my place here isn’t something I’m ready to do, yet. Part of me will always hate you for this, I won’t lie. Joking around has always been my go-to defence, but I don’t exactly interact with anyone but you and Gaius. Everyone else looks down on me. I don’t have friends.’
‘Yet, you made a jest to me,’ he says, peering at her, ‘About my cock, no less.’
Merlin shrugs. ‘Not much else to talk about, with you.’
When he asks her when she bleeds again, she tells him.
Nothing changes. Uther stills fucks her and Merlin still pretends to Gaius like everything is okay, when it really, truly isn’t. She feels like she’s dirty, like she has lice or an infectious disease. Sleeping with someone had never felt so wrong—not that she’d slept with anyone before Uther. Merlin finds herself drifting off during the act itself, fully awake, yet not entirely there, her body going through the motions and her throat raw by the morning.
The day her disassociation finally becomes a noticeable problem is when it happens outside Uther’s chambers.
Half a corridor from Geoffrey’s library, a guard grabs her and drags her against the wall. His body presses against hers and she can feel his cock through three layers of fabric.
‘Finally caught you,’ he says in her ear, low and dirty, ‘How much for a ride with the king’s mistress?’
‘Stop,’ Merlin hears herself say, the world becoming distant. She doesn’t feel his hands squeeze her breasts or any of the lewd remarks he makes. What she does feel is the lack, sanity returning to her as she watches Geoffrey throw the guard to the ground, furious and shouting.
‘Return to your post! If I see you again, you’ll be in the stocks for a week!’
The guard glares at her under his helmet, but indeed toddles off, leaving Merlin heaving against a wall. Geoffrey turns to her with wet eyes, resting his hand against her elbow.
‘I was just leaving my library to see friends. Are you alright, my dear?’
Merlin can’t speak. She opens her mouth, but words don’t come out. Geoffrey must think something is terribly wrong, because he chivvies her off to the infirmary, resting a hand on the small of her back as he guides her down corridors and up staircases. All Merlin can think about though is the absence of her brain—of how she didn’t even try to stop that man from taking whatever he wanted. She’s hazy again by the time Gaius has sat her down and peered into her unfocused eyes.
‘She’s in shock,’ he says to Geoffrey. ‘Did you see how far he went?’
‘Her skirt was up by her waist, but the man wasn’t undressed. She wasn’t doing anything.’
‘Hm,’ Gaius purses his lips. Merlin wants to say that it’s all shock, he’s completely right, don’t bother her about anything else—but he shakes his head and says to Geoffrey, ‘Go to Prince Arthur or Sir Leon. Identify the guard and have him face the consequences for his actions. Merlin will remain here.’
No.
It’s the first thing that really hits her.
Merlin can’t stay here.
‘Uncle,’ she whispers, shaking like a leaf. Her mentor takes her hand and squeezes. ‘Uncle Gaius, I’ve- I’ve got to see to the king.’
‘Not tonight, my dear. I’ll send Julius to take over your duties tonight.’
The witch wants to laugh at the very idea, but keeps her mouth firmly shut. It’s one thing for half the castle to judge her, another for Gaius. Merlin doesn’t yet know the consequences of not showing up will be, but knowing what mindless cruelty this began as, she can’t bear to know. That she finished her bleeding last week alone is enough to make her fear Uther’s anger.
She has no excuse.
‘Let’s get you to your bed, my dear,’ Gaius says, leading her up the stairs he claims are too many for his knees to take and helping her out of her dress, into her nightshift. Merlin blanks out at that point, until the moment he tucks her into bed and lays a kiss on her brow.
‘You stay here, Merlin. None shall harm you,’ he says. ‘You’re safe here.’
Okay, she wants to reply, but her mouth isn’t responding. When he leaves, Merlin still lays there awake, slowly regaining her faculties. Her biggest worry is Uther. What will he do, if she doesn’t come?
Her question is answered that next morning, when he arrives before Gaius is truly awake. She can hear him asking where she is and when Merlin edges towards the door to her room, hears his boots slap against the stone staircase. She reaches out to turn the handle just as he enters, eyes locking on her pale form through her long nightgown.
‘Are you harmed?’ he asks, looking her up and down, gaze lingering on her neck where she’s sure now must linger some kind of bruise. Merlin shakes her head. ‘Gaius says you were assaulted.’
‘…nearly,’ she whispers. She watches him slowly shut the door, looming over her as he steps forwards, hands brushing her hips.
‘You’re my property,’ he says with thinly-veiled rage. He lifts her nightgown up around her waist and removes her smallclothes, pushing her back against the cold wall. ‘If another would touch you, you will send them to the stocks for such a crime.’ He unthreads his belt and while Merlin knows what is coming, she still can’t help but lose her mind again.
Something is different this time, though. Maybe it’s because they’ve never fucked outside his chambers or maybe, because this is her room. Her safe place, where Gaius said none shall harm her. Because she loses her mind, but she still feels him, how his throbbing cock probes her entrance and pushes in without recourse, how he lifts her bare leg up around his hip and fucks her against the wall, dragging his teeth down over her neck where the guard had…had…
It’s different with this angle. Gravity pushes her down onto his cock and yet, there isn’t as much room. She’s not spread out on his bed or laid on top of him. And she’s dry, so dry. When she whines in pain, his mouth meets her own, swallowing her cries—don’t let Gaius hear, don’t let him hear us—and his movements hitch, her own pleasure nowhere to be found as he groans, spilling inside of her. For a long while, he keeps her there, pulsing around his cock, which soon grows flaccid. He pulls out, tucks himself away and lets her nightgown fall, leg slipping back down to the floor. Her hips ache, new bruises forming over the old star-shapes of his handprints.
‘You’re mine,’ he says, a harsh reminder to her as much as it is an order to remain. But then he surprises her, moving around her bedroom with purpose and collecting her a full outfit, smallclothes and everything. When she confusedly wobbles forwards, seed running down the inside of her leg, he sighs and removes her nightgown entirely, looking down on her body with an almost tired expression.
Then Merlin sees her reflection in her mirror.
Her skin is covered in a myriad of marks, from the multicoloured bruises across her neck to the handprints on her hips. Her thighs are covered in bite marks and her breasts a vast orange-pink colour. That’s from his lips, Merlin realised, thinking of how he’d kissed them the night before. She stretches her leg out to see the further damage and she sees that liquid trail, glistening in the morning light.
‘You are a loyal subject,’ says Uther, before he finds a pail of water on the dusty set of drawers and uses a cloth to wipe her down. His hands brush over her sensitive nipples, almost experimentally, before he steps away, handing over her clothing item per item. Merlin watches the darkness to his eyes grow, even as she covers up.
Below, she hears Gaius moving around and fear strikes her again. ‘Sire,’ she starts, only to be interrupted, as per usual.
‘You are mine,’ he says, crossing his arms over his chest imperiously. ‘Everything about you belongs to the king. Your sex, your body, your lips—nothing is for the consumption of others. Do you understand me?’
‘…yes, Your Grace,’ Merlin says, before watching him exit her room. After the longest moment, she follows him down, ignoring Gaius’ double-take at the sight of her dressed form. To make the start of her day clearer, she goes to sit at the table, waiting for the breakfast he usually provided.
‘Gaius,’ Uther utters his name, telling him, ‘I value Merlin as a trusted and honoured servant of my household. Should anything like this or worse happen again, you are free to throw the perpetrator in the dungeons. Likewise, Merlin has the power to order men to the stocks for assault on her person.’
‘Good,’ Gaius says, eyes darting between her and the king. Nothing about his expression says he heard anything at all and Merlin’s smile is a hundred parts genuine relief. The old man nods to himself, murmuring, ‘Very good indeed.’
‘Spread the word,’ Uther instructs, before abandoning them both. When he is gone, Gaius creeps forwards, inspecting her with his eyes, a flash of sadness showing when he glances at her bruised neck.
‘You have the king’s favour,’ he says, sitting opposite her. ‘How did you earn that?’
Merlin shrugs, saying, ‘I’m a good servant.’ At that, Gaius gives her a sharp look.
‘You aren’t using magic to finish your chores, are you?’
She truly does laugh, then, like she wanted to the night before. ‘No! Never,’ she swears, shaking her head. Honestly, using magic for sex with Uther. What a way to die, she thinks. That would be hard to explain to the courts.
‘And has the dragon said anything else?’ Gaius queries.
‘No,’ Merlin says honestly. Since that first day in Camelot, she hasn’t been down to see it at all. It’s been nearly three months since. She can’t imagine how he’d react to the idea of her being Uther’s personal bed-slave. Perhaps he’d think it below her, or maybe he’d go on about how it was ‘part of her destiny’, as if being continually raped could be preordained. Merlin doesn’t think the gods are that cruel.
Gaius huffs, then says, ‘You’ll be watching the knight’s training today. I’ll teach you how to deal with whatever injuries they give themselves.’
‘Sounds great,’ Merlin says, before her stomach rumbles. ‘So, are we having breakfast or not, then?’
‘Yes, Merlin,’ he rolls his eyes as he stands, ‘We’re having breakfast. Wait here while I cook the oats.’
‘I’d never want to be anywhere else! Do we have any honey?’
A week after the incident with the guard, it’s announced that a tourney will be held. Merlin doesn’t quite know what to think about it, not ever having attended one before, but the knight’s take on the idea of entering to heart, training longer hours than before and subsequently injuring themselves at a higher frequency than usual.
‘You’ll not be using your sword for another month,’ Merlin tells one Sir Cadogan gleefully, watching him gape in horror as she finishes binding his arm up. She pats his un-hurt shoulder. ‘You’re lucky you didn’t tear the ligament completely. Strained joints like this just mean rest and recuperation.’
‘But the tourney, my lady!’ He beseeches her, to no effect.
‘It’s either that or years without a properly-working arm,’ Merlin informs him, which appropriately cows him into doing as she says. ‘Get someone to wrap it for you every day for two weeks and let it out when you sleep. After that, come see us again and we’ll give you the go-ahead for light training.’
‘Light training?’
‘Less than an hour’s work every day after the two weeks,’ says Merlin, just as the prince himself joins them in the tent, ‘And nothing until then.’
Sir Cadogan practically leaps into the air at Arthur’s arrival. ‘Sir! Sir, I am being put to rest!’
‘Oh, that’s a shame. You were a good knight,’ he jests, before squinting at Merlin. ‘I thought you were my father’s servant, now?’
‘I am,’ Merlin says, heart deciding to beat rather wildly, ‘I work for Gaius in the day.’
‘And when does that leave time for my father?’ Arthur questions, baffled. Merlin forces herself to smile, speaking sweetly.
‘I have the mornings and the evenings to serve your father, sire. You can ask him about the particulars, if you’re so interested. I’m sure he’d love to share.’ Sir Cadogan, seemingly clued in by her tone of voice, chokes abruptly, but Arthur is oblivious.
‘I bet you’re an awful servant,’ he says, rolling his eyes. ‘No wonder he sends you away to Gaius.’
‘You’re probably right, sir,’ Merlin replies, before patting Sir Cadogan’s shoulder again. ‘You’re done. Remember, no strenuous activity for two weeks.’
‘Yes, my lady!’ Sir Cadogan practically shouts, before fleeing the scene, red-faced. Merlin tries not to feel shamed at his reaction. Arthur squints at his fleeing knight, then shakes his head.
‘Look what you’ve done, chasing off my knight.’
‘My pleasure,’ says Merlin, chipper. Arthur rolls his eyes.
It’s not the last time they interact, of course. The day of the tournament, Merlin is accompanying Uther, standing just behind him in the royal box, half-hidden in the shadows. On hearing during the small-talk stage of their evening that she’d never witnessed a tourney, he insisted she take Julius’ place as his cupbearer for the day. So, wine in hand, Merlin watches the tourney, making sure to keep Uther’s goblet filled with a summer-sweet red as the knights duel each other.
Arthur, the reigning champion, shows that his position as the best swordsman in Camelot does not go unwarranted as he wins whatever challenge he faces. Uther, proud of his son, orders Merlin to summon him to Uther’s side.
‘Of course, sire,’ she bows, leaving the jug of wine in the royal box as she tracks the prince down. As she approaches, however, another knight who has proven his worth so far stops to talk to him.
‘May I offer my congratulations on your victories today?’ says the knight, who Merlin thinks is called Valiant.
Arthur nods in respect. ‘Likewise.’ Valiant heads off after the exchange—though not before his eyes fall on Merlin in interest. Unfortunately for Valiant, Merlin has gotten used to such looks over the past few months and his lusty gaze doesn’t deter not provoke a reaction from her as she seeks Arthur’s attentions.
‘Your Highness, the king asks for your presence.’
Arthur hums. ‘Let’s go, then. Where is he?’
‘On his way back to the castle,’ Merlin says, recalling the early dinner he’d ordered before the reception was supposed to begin. ‘He’s probably going to make you stay for dinner.’
‘Alright, then.’
Julius intercepts her before she can enter the dining hall on Uther’s behalf, waiting until Arthur has passed before telling her, ‘The king expects you in his rooms after the evening meal concludes, in the bath.’
‘With a bath, you mean.’
‘No,’ says Julius, huffing. ‘In the bath.’
Merlin stares at her fellow servant for the longest moment, before concluding that Uther has something planned. ‘…okay, then.’
Julius nods immediately, disappearing inside and leaving Merlin feeling out of sorts. Why would he want her in the bath when he arrives? Is she unclean? Does he expect her to…wash him? While having sex?
Caught up in her ludicrous theories, Merlin doesn’t expect to run into someone as she traverses Camelot, stumbling as her shoulder catches on a sturdy arm. ‘Sorry,’ she starts, only to look up and see Valiant again, eyes gleaming.
‘Girl,’ he addresses her and Merlin realises a moment later that he’s got a hand around her wrist. ‘Come with me.’
‘Sir Valiant, unhand me,’ she quietly demands, only for him to drag her backwards through a door. Yelping, Merlin freezes as he grabs her skirt, tugging it upwards to her waist. Not again! She thinks, recognising that they’re inside the armoury.
Valiant, unlike the guardsmen, has no idea who she is as he kisses her, ale-heavy breath lingering as he runs his tongue around hers in a salacious manner. Merlin can hear her heartbeat in her ears, Uther’s voice reverberating through her skull.
Your sex, your body, your lips—nothing is for the consumption of others.
He said that, she remembers. Her mother had been kinder, in comparison.
Anything but your magic.
Merlin can still see, even as Valiant kisses her, so she knows that a stack of swords are nearby, as are a wall full of hand-axes. Even there, right behind them on a pillar, is a greatsword hung by two black nails. If only she could reach something-
She feels Valiant take off her smallclothes and she pushes against his arms, helpless against a knight’s full strength. The moment her smallclothes are out of the way, he pierces her sex with a long, hard prick, thinner than Uther but infinitely longer. He’s faster, too, humping into her, keeping her quiet by pressing his tongue far enough down her throat that she gags.
When he comes, he laughs, deliberately squeezing her thighs hard enough to hurt. ‘Good girl,’ he says to her, before letting her drop, stepping back to tuck himself away. Merlin sees the greatsword behind him and she breaks her mother’s rule, because she knows that when she’s done, Valiant won’t be alive to tell.
Her eyes flash gold. Valiant has enough time to widen his eyes before the greatsword is plunging through his neck, splattering blood across her face and in her mahogany hair. As he drops to his knees, Merlin runs, ignoring the hot pain between her legs in order to get out of there as fast as possible. Uther’s chambers had never felt so far away.
She almost laughs at herself as she arrives, moving past the guards and slamming the doors behind her so forcefully that they echo. Since when had Uther’s chambers become her safe haven? Merlin had maybe realised, subconsciously, that the only person who will hurt her here is Uther himself.
From in front of the fire, the empty bath looms.
‘I’m sorry, Mother,’ Merlin says, before her eyes flash gold again. It feels strange to use her magic after so long, but the moment she allows it free reign, her magic enthusiastically complies. The bath fills with steaming water—for she will not leave this room again, not now, not even to fill it manually with pails brought from the kitchens—and Merlin takes her dress off, one goal in mind.
Into the bath.
She piles her belongings beside it on the floor, seeing red dots splattered across the neckline. She can feel blood on her skin drying, tacky and wet. Merlin doesn’t want to let it dry.
Stepping into the bath—feeling the scalding water that turns her skin pink and sets her nerves alight—Merlin sits down and dunks her head beneath the surface. The water is clear for a moment, until pink particles start to swirl in front of her eyes and Merlin has to come up for air, clutching the sides of the bath with white-knuckled hands.
How is it different to what Uther does to her? Valiant raped her, but Uther does so every night, every morning. The two differences between Uther and Valiant, Merlin decrees, are that Uther is king and that he pays her. He at least has some semblance of a defence. Valiant just took and took and took, until Merlin stole his life in return.
Merlin drifts. Her mind finally latches onto hazy oblivion and she drifts, laying back in the copper bathtub and staring at the ceiling. When the door to Uther’s chambers finally open again, it is to an angry king.
‘Get out,’ he orders, furious. ‘There is a murderer on the loose. We could be interrupted at any time.’
‘Valiant?’ Merlin questions.
‘Yes-’ Uther starts, only to stop. It’s a natural reaction. Merlin has presumably been in his chambers for hours, alone and waiting for him. She would not know about Valiant’s murder.
He comes over to the bath, ignoring her bared breasts and focusing on her face, even as she stares at him sightlessly. Uther lowers himself down, crouching by the bath, reaching out to brush a damp strand of hair behind her ear.
‘The last time you looked like this,’ he says, ‘You had been attacked.’
‘I’m afraid I couldn’t put him in the stocks, sire,’ says Merlin. Uther purses his lips tightly, but there is a relaxation in his shoulders that she doesn’t miss. After almost four months of close contact, Merlin knows his moods and his tells. Uther is clearly relieved.
‘One moment,’ he says, going to the door again. Merlin can hear him speaking to the guards—hears Valiant’s name alongside her own—and when the doors shut again, he returns to her, shedding his clothes like a snake. Then, he steps into the bath with her and kneels, cupping her sex in the water and curling his index finger into her nub.
‘What did he do to you? From the beginning,’ he orders. Merlin shakes her head and he presses his finger in painfully, making her gasp. The king glowers at her.
‘He- he looked at me,’ she starts, ‘when I was collecting Arthur.’ Uther begins to rub slowly, going in circles. Merlin clutches the edges of the bath tighter. ‘Then- then when Julius told me to come up here and wait in the bath, I made my way to your chambers. I think he followed me.’
‘And then?’ He picks up speed, before abandoning her nub entirely and lifting her legs up around his waist. Merlin gasps as he presses inside of her without abandon.
‘And then he bumped into me and dragged me into the armoury by my wrist. He took my skirts up-’ Merlin whines unexpectedly, feeling the hot drag of his cock inside her, the water swirling around them.
‘Tell me!’ He hisses, pushing her up against the bath and holding her fast against him, pushing her so tightly onto his cock that it hurts, the point pressed up against the end of her cunt.
‘He- he raped me,’ she chokes out, ‘Kissed me. Fucked me. Finished in me-’
‘No!’ Uther pulls out, slamming inside of her again. Merlin cries out, tears streaming down her face as the water laps over the edges of the tub. Uther swears loudly and profusely, fucking into her for a longer time than she’s had him before, on and on until the haziness takes over her and the tears stop.
‘You’re mine,’ he hisses, finally pulling out, despite not being done. There’s water over the floor and there’s a gleam to his eyes that Merlin doesn’t like. The possessiveness of his expression frightens her. ‘All of you…’
He drops her hips, exiting the bathtub. Merlin doesn’t expect him to haul her out too, carrying her to the bed and dropping her down face-first. She tries to turn, but he holds her steady, thumbing down the cleft of her cheeks to-
‘What?’ Merlin flinches violently as he presses into her arse, rubbing the water into the tight ring of muscle. She yells when he presses a finger in, but then a hand presses to the back of her head, pushing her face into the blankets hard enough she has trouble breathing.
‘Quiet,’ he orders her, pressing his cock to her cheeks. Merlin hyperventilates, feeling it slip for a moment before he grasps himself, pushing it into the place his finger is holding. He bends it, opening her up more and Merlin can’t breathe.
His cock goes in. Oh, it takes too long, it’s the most fucking painful thing she’s ever felt and it’s dry, it is far too dry, stuck fast before he can get much more than his head in, but eventually, Uther has his cock in her arse. Merlin can barely breathe.
‘…oil. I’ve heard stories,’ Uther grunts, before shuffling her sideways on the bed so he can reach his drawer. His cock pulls at her arse and Merlin lets out a choked scream, before he hushes her and pats her cheeks. Merlin looks back over her shoulder to see him palming a vial, liquid dripping through his fingers as he oils up his cocks, pressing his fingers to the union of their skin.
He catches her eye. ‘Don’t scream again,’ he says warningly, massaging it in. A few moments later, his cock starts slowly sliding out of her and Merlin has to clasp her own hand over her mouth, before it finally departs and her arse closes. It aches, a tiny ring of fire left—and Merlin knows it’s only going to get worse.
‘You’re mine,’ he says again, readjusting her on the bed and climbing on top. Merlin is past the point of disbelief and is straight on to feeling nauseas, stomach turning at the idea of being buggered.
Uther uses the oil on her hole briefly, which causes her to jerk in pain, but Uther only digs a finger inside in revenge, physically examining the space available before using the same trick from before. Merlin cries as she feels him go again, the oil only making it easier for him to push deeper. She arches into the covers, trying to get away, but then- but then Uther grabs her hips instead of his cock and her arse. It’s leverage. It’s always leverage, to him. Merlin has mere seconds to prepare before he shoves inwards. The pain is blinding and she screams.
He reaches forwards to wrap his hand around her mouth, leaning into her to pull back against him. ‘Ugh,’ he groans in pleasure, ‘You’re so fucking tight here. I told you that you were mine, that your body was mine and no-one else’s. I was going to make you suck my cock in the bath, go as long as you could underwater before making you ride me—but this is better. So much better…’
Merlin shrieks into his hand when he moves in and out, the sound muffled. Uther clearly gets off on it, hard as all hell, but to Merlin, it’s just all pain…until the moment that things go numb. Then, all she’s left with is nausea and a stirring in her stomach. It’s her first time all over again, a high without cause. Merlin wants to scream at the world and realises that she can, from behind Uther’s hand.
So, scream she does, moaning in pleasure and bucking up into him, even when he stops to come, pushing back into his cock to chase that last high. Uther rolls off of her, leaving behind a searing trail in her arse and Merlin has to touch herself to get off. When it finally fades, the numbness starts to wear off, her skin prickling and her arse on fire in moments.
‘So good,’ Uther says from beside her, watching her get off, then holding her fast oh-so-casually as he touches her rim of her burning arse with oily fingers. His touch makes her buck in pain and only the unexpected bite of his teeth on her cheek makes Merlin stop still. ‘I won’t do this often. Too much work…but do you see now? Why you’re mine?’
To be honest, she doesn’t, but Merlin doesn’t tell him that. If this is what happens when another man rapes her, she’s never telling him again. She only complains in a whimper when he turns her onto her back and humps her, every movement making the pain lance up her back. Uther eventually gets half-hard and that’s the beginning of the end, pressing his cock into her vagina for the second time that night.
By the time he comes in her, Merlin’s mind is gone.
The next day, Uther has to excuse her from Gaius’ services, sending a message through the guardsmen telling the physician she has the day off on his orders. If Merlin had been able to even walk, she would have appreciated it, but as it is, she can barely move her own bum without feeling like she’s been flogged up the backside.
‘I will visit you,’ Uther says, watching her cry into his pillow. And he does visit, using sympathy as an excuse to stick his cock in her from different angles.
But Merlin’s ultimate embarrassment is Julius.
‘I have to change the sheets,’ he says to her face, unrepentant.
‘I can’t even walk,’ Merlin tries, holding them over her nose, but Julius pulls them away and lifts her in both of his arms. She tries to leave them, but Julius—not caring a jot for her nakedness—takes her over to the chilly bath of the previous night and drops her in. The shock of cold distracts her long enough for Julius to strip the bed and throw her a cloth towel to dry off in.
‘Don’t get comfortable,’ he warns her as he leaves, to which Merlin doesn’t reply. In fact, she considers jumping out of the window for the first time, limping towards it and staring at the cobbled ground below. If she fell, this would all be over. She imagines herself lying askew on the ground, covered in nothing but the bruises Uther has given her.
That time, she really does throw up.
The worst part about being Uther’s mistress is the possibility of bastards.
Merlin herself doesn’t hold out hope that she won’t go unscathed. In fact, it’s an inevitability, considering how much Uther has spilt into her and every month that goes by with a bleeding, she sees as a blessing. When the day finally comes that she doesn’t, Merlin—quite honestly—sits down and cries.
Then, she tells Uther her blood has come.
‘A shame,’ he says, almost musing. His eyes linger on her belly as they often do when she announces her four-night departure from his rooms, but flicker away almost immediately. He doesn’t care for bastards, but she thinks that the idea of her rounded with his child might still cause him to go hard. It wouldn’t be surprising.
When her false period ‘finishes’, she is straight back to sleeping with Uther every night, of course. He fucks her and she willingly goes to her hazy place of disconnect, knowing the only thing that can give her pregnancy away is her.
It’s in the second months that the more obvious pregnancy signs kick in. Gaius’ rooms smell acrid and Merlin has to hold in the urge to be sick twenty-four hours out of the day, realising quickly that ‘morning sickness’ is a misnomer. Nevertheless, she studiously keeps track of her false period and Uther is left none the wiser.
But then the sickness in the lower town appears.
‘If I had another assistant, I’d use them so you wouldn’t have to be around this,’ Gaius tells her, meaning no harm and in general, just being an over-protective man. Merlin chuckles, but stays further back from the blue-veined man on their table, thinking of the child in her belly. The possibility of death never felt so tempting, but she can’t bring up the courage to force it now.
‘Where is it coming from?’ Arthur asks, frustrated.
‘We don’t know,’ she answers for Gaius. Things only get worse when a noblewoman turns up dead. Suddenly, what they thought to only come from the lower town is a city-wide pandemic—and worse, is clearly caused by magic.
‘Magic,’ Uther hisses to her that night, clutching her breasts too tight. Merlin tries to push his hands off her, but he just grabs them tighter, leaning down to wrap his teeth around her nipple. It’s not about pleasure, but about pain.
‘Ow,’ Merlin says the next day, when the lady Morgana’s servant bumps into her. Her dress rubs on skin bitten to blood and the everlasting bruises on her hips ache, made worse by the knock into white stone.
The girl frowns at her. ‘Are you okay?’
‘I’m fine,’ she says, smiling despite the pain. Merlin leaves quickly after that.
Gaius solves the mystery, of course, but Merlin is the one to visit the Great Dragon and ask for his assistance.
Sniffing the air, the dragon says, ‘You are with child,’ like it’s something he can smell.
‘Yeah,’ Merlin says, making light of it, ‘but that’s not why I’m here.’
‘Oh?’ The dragon looks at her with gleaming, golden eyes and she wonders if he can see straight through her. ‘Then why do you seek my counsel, young witch?’
Arthur destroys the afanc, though not without Merlin’s help. She uses her magic and then is so terribly, terribly afraid when Morgana says she knows her secret. Green eyes wide and lips pursed, the great lady says:
‘Uther hurts you.’
Merlin is floored. Her breath hitches and she gasps, ‘No, he doesn’t!’
‘I know you’re hurt, Merlin,’ says Morgana, who reaches out and pokes her hip. Merlin, so used to palmed touches and not singular jabs, whimpers and then reaches to cover her own mouth to conceal the sound.
Morgana looks mutinous. ‘You can become my servant, instead. Gwen has more than enough work to share.’
‘Uther would never allow it,’ Merlin whispers. Doesn’t Gwen know? ‘My lady, Uther is king. I am his loyal servant. And if- if you told him you knew…he’ll just take it out on me.’
The lady looks stricken, but all Merlin has done is tell the truth. ‘Arthur could help,’ she tries, but Merlin shakes her head ruefully, knowing what the prince thinks of her.
‘He’d say it’s my own fault, you know that. Anything that happens to me under Uther’s watch is what I deserve.’ Oh, how it hurts to say it, but it’s the most honest she’s been in months. Uther told her she wasn’t to let anyone else touch her and then came along Valiant. What happened after is her doing, for letting Uther know Valiant touched her, if nothing else. Again, she thinks if she is ever raped by another man, she will never tell him.
‘Oh, Merlin,’ Morgana says, drawing her into an embrace. Merlin is briefly paralysed in her grasp, until the embrace continues and nothing happens. Slowly—so slowly—she reciprocates, tucking her chin into the crook of Morgana’s neck. The relief she feels at touching another person freely for the first time in months is enough to buckle her knees and Morgana follows her loyally to the floor as she weeps, crying into her lady’s shoulder.
Morgana croons, ‘Shh, Merlin. It’s alright. You’re safe with me,’ and Merlin believes her. She really, truly believes her.
Then a devilish voice in her brain that sounds like Uther says, you believed Gaius, too.
‘You will be dressed appropriately by a tailor the steward has brought for tonight’s feast with King Bayard,’ Uther instructs her, gesturing to Julius. ‘Both of you. Go now.’
‘Yes, sire,’ they say together, before leaving him. Walking side by side, Merlin and Julius stay silent for most of the way down, until Julius addresses her in a sharp voice.
‘Do not speak to any of Bayard’s folk tonight. The king has asked me to watch you, in case any more…incidents, happen.’
Merlin nods shallowly, nervous. She’s not thinking of Valiant, but of the tailor. It has been over three months since her last bleed and she doesn’t know if the tailor will be able to tell by looking.
‘This includes the male servants,’ continues Julius.
‘And the female?’ Merlin manages to quip.
‘Better be safe than sorry,’ he replies.
Merlin still speaks to Cara. Still learns about the poisoned chalices. Still drinks, when Uther offers her to Bayard’s mercy with anger in his eyes.
And apparently, still bleeds out her baby in the depths of her illness.
Arthur shifts in his seat, where he sits beside her in Morgana’s chambers. The lady had stolen her away the moment Gaius said she was well, not wanting Uther to see her and take her somewhere they couldn’t follow. At this point, Merlin knows, the last vestiges of secrecy have disappeared over her position in the royal household. Everyone knows.
Gaius knows.
‘Was it really my brother?’
Merlin darts a look towards Arthur, who asks the question. He looks so terribly upset, like he’ll hug her any second.
Gwen, scowling, punches him in the shoulder, hissing, ‘Arthur!’
‘It’s fine, Gwen,’ says Merlin, voice raspy. Her whole body aches, but having a quiet voice is just annoying. Her magic surges up, ready to soothe it, but she pushes it down until she can’t hear it anymore. ‘And as for brother, well, it could have been a sister. Far too early to tell.’
Arthur covers his face with his hand. ‘This is the reward for my life.’
‘This is what happens when the king doesn’t have a bedpartner,’ Merlin says flatly. She sees him wince, despite his hand. ‘What do you know about everything, anyway? My miscarriage was a bit obvious, I’ve heard.’
‘You were bleeding all over the bed,’ says Gwen in a soft voice. ‘Morgana spotted it, made Gaius take your clothes off.’
‘And then my father barged in, asking where I’d gone,’ Arthur interrupts, harsh. ‘He saw. Gwen told me when I returned and gave her the flower. Told me everything about you, from the child to the bruises.’
‘Oh,’ says Merlin, fiddling with the cuff of her nightgown and looking at her own lap. Arthur had rather smuggled her away in the night, when Morgana asked. She wonders what will happen, now.
Gwen reaches forwards to take her hand, causing her to still. ‘Merlin,’ she says, ‘You’re safe with us.’
She cracks. ‘Everyone keeps saying that, but it’s not true.’ She takes her hand away and whispers, ‘The moment Uther discovers where I am, he’s going to take me away.’
‘He won’t,’ says Arthur.
‘He will,’ Merlin counters with a scoff, bitter-hearted and cold. ‘Your father is the type of man to reclaim what is his the moment he knows it’s been defiled.’
Arthur swallows, pale. ‘What is that supposed to mean?’
For a moment, Merlin pities him for having a monster for a father. If only Ygraine hadn’t died—if only.
‘I killed Valiant,’ is what she tells him, eventually. By his startled expression, she knows he wasn’t aware. ‘He raped me in the armoury and I stuck a greatsword in his neck for it. After Uther found out, the thing he was most angry about was my stolen cunt.’
‘No,’ he says.
‘Yes!’ Merlin hisses, baring her teeth. ‘You don’t know him like that. I do. Uther latches onto an idea and never lets it go, whether its me or the fucking Purge!’
Arthur gets to his feet, saying, ‘I can’t listen to this.’
Merlin sneers, watching him turn away, ‘Yeah, Arthur, leave. This is exactly why I told Morgana not to tell you in the first place.’
The prince, his fingers on the doorhandle, screeches to a halt. For a beat, he’s silent, but then he asks in a strained voice, ‘Morgana knew?’
‘Knew that he hurt her,’ Gwen hurries to say, looking between them. ‘Not- not anything like this.’
‘And you judged my character just like that?’ He continues, not looking at her. His hand flexes. ‘You wouldn’t think I’d listen to you and ride you halfway home to Essetir myself?’
‘I was already pregnant by the time that conversation happened,’ Merlin tells him, less angry than before. ‘Uther knows where I hail from, in any case. He’d have dispatched a knight to check up on me, just to see if I ran because of a child. He would have been right.’
‘That doesn’t make your assumptions about me right,’ Arthur says, finally turning back to them and returning to his chair. Merlin thinks on his words for a long time and then later, finally, when he and Gwen are both asleep in their chairs, issues him an apology.
‘I’m sorry.’
And then, Merlin returns to Uther’s chambers.
He lays her out on his bed, naked and cold. He doesn’t touch her, instead just looking, catching where her breasts have grown heavier and where her stomach has dipped from its previous subtle curve. Medically, Merlin is aware her body is still showing signs of pregnancy. It might take a month before her body returns to its previous equilibrium.
Uther, full of molten fury, slaps her across the face. It stings and her hair goes flying, but Merlin doesn’t make a sound.
‘You lied about your bleeding,’ he accuses her, to which Merlin replies with knowledge she’s carefully researched for this very conversation.
‘Women can still bleed throughout pregnancy.’
Uther is still angry. He slaps her again, then mounts her roughly, pinning her wrists up above her head as he pushes inside, stretching her out. Merlin arcs her back, closing her eyes as a pleasurable ache runs through her weakened body.
‘Even if you didn’t, you still lost it,’ he says, ‘Our child. Do you know what I would give to have other heirs?’
‘Bastards,’ Merlin says.
‘Sons,’ he says, as if he didn’t hear her, ‘Daughters. Your stupidity got them killed. What would you have done if you knew?’
‘Not let Arthur get killed,’ she rasps, aching in the depths of her belly. Her cunt twinges from his rough handling, but the drag of his cock laying into her is making that feeling of bliss rise to the surface.
Uther hisses. It could be in anger or pleasure—she doesn’t know. He doesn’t speak to her again, though, only pumping into her and releasing his usual flow. The only difference tonight is how he grabs her hands and stops her from getting off, oddly smooth as he speaks.
‘This is your punishment. You are here for my pleasure alone. For every time you come without permission, I will enact a cruelty on you I have not yet done upon you.’
Aching—terrified—Merlin nods, curling up against his side. She’s nearly asleep when she next hears him speak and it chills her to the core.
‘You will never leave this room again.’
He locks the door on her every morning. Julius brings her meals and outside the doors, Merlin can hear whenever Arthur or Morgana attempt to invade Uther’s quarters on her behalf. Not even Gaius is allowed to see her, but her mentor at least gets the allowance of having books delivered to her.
Once, she gets a letter within the pages, written from her mother. It tells of the long months in Ealdor without her, asking on her life in Camelot. It’s the first letter her mother has ever sent her and Merlin treasures it, until the moment Uther takes it from her hands and reads it.
‘This is your mother writing?’ He frowns. ‘Where did she learn?’
‘My uncle taught her,’ Merlin replies, subdued at the sight of him with her newest treasure. She itches to have it in her hands again, but the last time she asked for something, Uther squeezed her wrist so hard she felt something crack. It still aches.
‘Hm,’ Uther says, before dropping the letter on the table. Slowly, so as to not attract his attentions, Merlin picks it up and smooths the fold, then lets it lie again on the wooden tabletop. He taps his fingers on a chair back, before abruptly ordering her, ‘Hike up your skirts.’
‘Sire,’ Merlin says respectfully, before pulling her shift—for what is the point of dressing, of wearing the layers of her dresses when Uther has her every which way daily—and draping it across her stomach, slumping artfully to display her nether regions.
Uther isn’t even watching.
Staring at the wall, he taps and taps, while Merlin waits there with a breeze around her privates and a crick in her neck. When eventually he turns, she watches him take out his cock and come towards her, keeping it at eye level. Oh, she thinks, one of those days.
‘Choke on it,’ he demands, watching her with beady eyes as she opens her mouth for him. One leg comes up to rest on the chair, while the rest of him leans in, jerking into her mouth. Merlin swallows him down, relaxing her neck as he hits the back of her throat. Then he grabs her hair, holding it painfully tight as he shoves her mouth further onto his cock. Merlin chokes, like he demanded, through no volition of hers.
Focusing on breathing and not of the mighty cock stretching her lips and spilling into her mouth in spurts, Merlin drops her shift and that’s when Uther lets his cock out of her mouth. She swallows what precum he’d already ejaculated, waiting for his demands, trying not to cough until her throat feels like it’s back in the right place.
Uther watches her wait. A glint appears in his eyes, a smile spreading across his mouth that tells her he likes what he sees. ‘Bed,’ he says crisply and Merlin obeys, joining him on top of the covers, laid out with her legs wide.
Then he tells her the dreaded command. ‘Turn over.’
Trembling, Merlin twists onto her stomach, expecting the familiar glide of oil between her cheeks, but then Uther does something unexpected—touching her bud, thumb slipping inside her cunt.
‘Do you remember my rules?’ he asks. Merlin nods. ‘Don’t come,’ he says, before beginning to circle and twists. Merlin can’t help her own reaction, though she tries to prevent it, thighs locking around his wrist as she struggles not to move or come without permission.
But the high builds. Merlin pants, taking large gulps of air, unable to keep up—and then she falls from a treacherous slope, keening into the covers and hiding her face. No, she thinks, oh no.
‘You came,’ Uther says, sounding sickeningly pleased. She hears him step back and doesn’t look. When he returns, something cold and metal is tucked up near her cunt, making her shiver. Merlin looks back over her shoulder, only for Uther to turn her over with a well-practiced swing of her hip.
In his hand is a silver penis.
‘I’ve haven’t used this in decades,’ he says, pressing the cool edge into her cunt, then pulling it out. He turns it over and Merlin sees a strange curve to it, before he slides his own cock against it—and suddenly, Merlin knows that it is meant to enhance size, if not add another cock into the equation.
Uther lifts her legs up to better align them, before holding both his own cock and the silver one, pushing. Merlin yelps at the freezing cold metal and then the stretch, which is far more than she’s had before. Only Uther’s hand on her hip stops her from being pushed backwards over the bed. Merlin tries to grab onto the covers for purchase, mewling as the two cocks go in as one, her whole body attempting to push them out.
Hissing in pleasure, Uther says, ‘This is paradise.’ Then he moves, rocking in and out. Merlin doesn’t know whether she’s allowed to come or not, but with how he moves his own cock and the silver, it really isn’t in her own hands.
‘Uther!’ She cries out, before he stops abruptly to come, leaving her on the edge. Merlin sobs. ‘Please, please let me come—sire, please.’
‘Oh, fuck it, come on my cock,’ Uther groans, pounding in and out once more just so she can finally reach her high, crying in relief. ‘I’ve missed that sound.’
‘Then get rid of the rule,’ she whines, feeling his hand on her over-sensitised nub. It makes her come again with just a few flicks of his finger.
‘You broke it just there,’ he says, but relents. ‘Fine. You can come whenever you need, but you still owe that last one to me. Turn over. I’m going in dry.’
Not thinking too much on that sentence, Merlin turns, feeling the press of his cock—and his cock alone, sans silver—against her arse. The oil comes next, no matter his words, but he makes up for it by going in without a finger or prepping, causing a harsh burn and a tightness that doesn’t fade.
‘Oh,’ Uther groans in pleasure, half-collapsing across her back as he rails into her arse. ‘That tightness, I’ve missed it. I fuck you too often to have that anymore. But soon…’ he trails off, still pounding away. Merlin gets off again, feeling his lips on her shoulder, mouthing a lovebite into her flesh.
‘Soon,’ he says, necking her and drawing out of her arse, only to lift her thighs and plunge into her cunt, ‘Soon, you will be round with my child again. You’ll be sensitive and your body will be different, mine to explore, and then when you have our son or daughter, I’ll put another one in you, and another and another. You will never not be fat with my bastards.’
Merlin moans at the ache rising in her belly. His words wash over her without impact. To Merlin, sex is all there is to life, now. Pregnancy is a fantasy, no matter how close to reality it may be. Merlin doesn’t want to consider the truth to Uther’s words, of being impregnated again and again at his leisure, so she doesn’t think about it. A new aspect of her hazy mind, focusing on the ache of the oncoming high, until she breaks apart.
His teeth score bloody marks in her shoulder as he comes and she doesn’t feel a thing.
Merlin doesn’t often get news of the world outside of Uther’s chambers, but the guards outside learn to talk a little louder and speak clearer so she can hear, if she presses her ear to the wood. It’s how she learns of the griffin, defeated by Sir Leon with a magical axe stolen from the treasury and of Morgana’s brief illness caused by a sorcerer, though Uther’s frustration and random departures after sex clue her in that something is happening. Sometimes, she even learns things from Uther’s own papers, if he deigns to bring any to his desk.
Of course, Merlin is so trapped and excluded from the outside world that the days can pass without her noticing, no calendar existing inside the world of Uther’s chambers. So, Uther’s triumphant expressions don’t make sense to her for some time, until she starts to feel bloated and nauseas all the time.
Uther has learnt to read her expressions, just as she’s learned his. The day she figures it out is the day he reveals she’s gone another two months without a bleed.
‘Though you didn’t know it,’ he says in a magnanimous fashion, ‘you have done me a service. Therefore, you may have one visit outside my quarters a week, provided you keep to your guards at all times.’
‘…thank-you,’ Merlin says, stunned and appalled at the same time. She grasps her belly and thinks to her new child, I hate you.
Uther kisses her sweetly, then gifts her with an orgasm for her gratitude, using his mouth like the first time, something he hasn’t done since before he locked her away. Merlin wisely goes away to her hazy place when he fucks her on his desk, then asks him in a lost voice if she can visit her uncle.
‘Only,’ Uther says, ‘if it is not in the infirmary. It would not do you well to rid yourself of the child. Do not tell a single soul of your pregnancy.’
‘I swear,’ Merlin says. When she dresses that evening, her hands shake in anticipation, her fervour dying when she realises that her favoured blue gown won’t tighten all the way around her belly. She ties it as much as she can, anyway.
‘…Merlin!’
Gaius’ embrace is like coming home.
Merlin is four months into her pregnancy with over seven individual visits to her friends under her belt when Morgana gets the brilliant idea to hide a druid boy in her very own quarters.
‘Outside with you,’ Morgana orders Merlin’s guards, who hesitate even as they acknowledge her order, standing just outside her door. When Morgana shows Merlin the druid boy, she is absolutely horrified.
And then he speaks in her mind.
‘Emrys?’
Like when the dragon called her, the boy has the ability to speak directly into her thoughts and it takes everything for Merlin not to freak out.
‘I was out with Gwen getting you a gift when he and his guardian were targeted,’ Morgana describes, ‘Uther and the guards are after him.’
‘Because he’s a druid,’ Merlin says, staring at the boy. Tentatively, she reaches out with her mind and says, ‘My name is Merlin. What is Emrys?’
‘You.’
Merlin has too much on her plate. Merlin has a baby she hates, visits outside his quarters that she can’t jeopardise and a destiny to make Arthur a good king that won’t completely hate magic—all without using magic herself.
Something has to break.
She turns to Morgana.
‘I have magic, too,’ she says, waving at the boy, ‘and this boy can’t stay here. He needs to leave. If I didn’t have Uther’s guards to worry about, I could sneak him out myself, but I can’t.’
‘I- Merlin-’ her friend stutters, before looking down at the druid boy with undisguised terror. ‘I wasn’t thinking.’
‘You wanted to save his life and that’s admirable,’ Merlin cuts in, ‘but what you need now is someone to escort him out of Camelot and it can’t be you or anyone who’ll be noticed if they go missing.’
‘If we convince Arthur,’ Morgana starts, ‘he could arrange something.’
‘He could,’ Merlin agrees.
The plan is set.
All they have to do is wait for the rest of the players.
‘Father needs to be distracted,’ Arthur says, completely on board, despite his first reservations. He still does not know about her magic. ‘I need time.’
‘I could give you it,’ offers Merlin, only to get three resounding no’s from Morgana, Arthur and Gwen. It startles the boy, but the glares aren’t enough to get her to back down. ‘I can get him to stay in the same place for a while. It wouldn’t even be his chambers,’ she says, already halfway through forming her plan.
Gwen’s brow furrows. ‘How is that?’
Merlin opens her mouth to reply, only to remember what Uther said: don’t tell anyone about her pregnancy. Considering that informing them of her plan would most definitely count, Merlin decides to wing it and face the consequences of them figuring it out for themselves.
Looking to Arthur, she says in a fake weak voice, ‘Tell your father in a very confused fashion that I’m in pain and insistent on going to Gaius. I’m hysterical.’
Growing alarmed, Arthur blurts out, ‘Why?’
‘Becoming hysterical now,’ Merlin says, before turning on the waterworks. Never has she been more glad that her hormones are out of control. Outright sobbing, she staggers towards Morgana’s door, gesturing for the boy to hide again as she makes her crying extra loud. Expectedly, her guards immediately knock.
‘My ladies?’
Merlin cries out in faux-pain, going for the door. Opening it up, she whimpers, ‘Gaius. I need to see Gaius.’
Shocked, her guards immediately begin to spirit her away, Arthur staggering out of Morgana’s room in confusion. Merlin thinks she could have a career in theatre, honestly, because by the time they’ve accompanied her to Gaius’ door, Uther is already storming in her direction, concern in his eyes.
‘Merlin, what’s wrong?’
‘It- it hurts,’ she gasps, curling her hands protectively around her midsection. Uther looks horrified and pushes the guards away to attend her, opening Gaius’ door and hurrying her inside.
Gaius himself looks over in concern at her entrance and Merlin feels terrible at lying to him all over again, but there’s a boy’s life on the line.
‘What’s the matter, girl?’ He helps Uther take her to the patient’s cot, where she fakes a wobble. It must look good, because Uther sits down beside her and holds her up. Gaius, with a stern voice, asks her directly, ‘Merlin. What’s wrong?’
‘Hurts, Gaius,’ she says, holding back half of a whimper.
Uther hurries to explain. ‘She’s pregnant, Gaius.’
‘Again?’ Gaius barks, looking furious. ‘So soon? Was Merlin laid out on this bed, poisoned, not six months ago?’
‘This is not the time,’ insists Uther, before Gaius snaps back.
‘No, this is the time. She lost a child. It could have had irreparable consequences, especially if she is not allowed to recover. Are you so blind so your own actions, Uther Pendragon?’
‘She is not Ygraine!’ Uther barks.
‘You are acting like she is!’ Gaius returns and for the first time, Merlin realises that Uther’s insistence on children from her isn’t normal. The moment he discovered she’d lost their first child, he was changed—the most major symptom being keeping her locked up in his quarters to be continually sexed up. That she was his bed-slave had never been the question.
The mother of his children, however?
‘You really meant it, didn’t you,’ Merlin states in barely a whisper. Uther still hears her. She squeezes the hand he holds as tight as she can, remembering to fake a pained shudder as she shakes her head again and again. She wants to say what he said to her, about remaining fat with his bastards, never not pregnant—but she can’t, not in front of Gaius. She holds too much love and respect for her uncle to say those things.
A real sob escapes her, fuelled with true upset. She wrenches her hand from Uther’s and wraps her arms around her belly, apologising to her son or daughter for ever hating them one bit. I hate your father, not you! Merlin weeps, bowing her head and going to her hazy place with little more than a thought, letting the tears run their course as Gaius snaps at the king to shut up.
It’s luck that Uther stays. Gaius sends him to stand on the other side of the room and he does, watching her all the while as Gaius lays her down and finds a heartbeat for her baby. Merlin vaguely hears them talking about the state she’s in, quiet and unresponsive, Gaius being very clear about how she’s disassociating to step away from pain—presumably, in this case, physical and emotional.
That she isn’t bleeding doesn’t deter Gaius from the possibility that she’s having a miscarriage and neither he nor Uther leave the room once. The single bright moment in her gloom is when Gaius curves his hand over her gently rounded stomach and says he hopes they will be like their mother.
Eventually, Merlin falls asleep, waking in a truer fashion sometime in the night. Gaius is asleep on his chair and Uther…Uther is sat on the patient’s bed with her, gently carding his fingers through her hair. Their eyes meet in the gloom.
‘I sometimes forget,’ he says, ‘that you are a person. If I am being true to my word, it often escapes me and I simply think of you as mine. Mine to keep, mine to have sons on. You are but a body with curves and a womb.’
‘How cruel of you,’ Merlin says flatly. It is not surprising. In the dark, she wants to let her magic loose, to see him recoil when her eyes light up gold. It would be the end of her.
‘I will treat you better,’ he promises, drawing her hand to his lips and smiling a little. ‘You should joke more. Even if you think it will offend me.’
‘Sire, for my jokes to work, they must offend you.’
‘I’m sorry,’ he says and if they were in a relationship of any kind that was not master and slave, Merlin would have accepted it.
Instead, she take his advice and jokes, ‘Try again when I’m not in astronomical pain from your bloody baby, sire.’
Predictably, Uther laughs.
The plan works well enough, she finds out sooner rather than later, visiting Morgana for the second day in a row. Uther has Merlin returned to her former schedule, errands and all, though guards are still a requirement. However, Merlin steals the early evenings for herself, refusing to return to Uther’s quarters until the evening bell has already rung. Uther doesn’t so much as allow it as work with it, as Merlin takes back her freedom in every way possible.
‘If you want to sleep with me,’ she says, ‘you have to ask. I also have the right to say no.’
Uther asks, humouring her, ‘Can I sleep with you?’
‘No,’ Merlin says and before Uther’s smile can so much as drop, she lays back on their bed and pulls her skirt up, a manipulation she planned from the start. ‘You can eat me out, though. If you’re good at it, I’ll even suck you off.’
The change in dynamic intrigues him. Every time he asks, Merlin decides if she wants to give in—which is most evenings. Pushing him to anger is the first route to losing what little freedom she has. Merlin makes a point of saying no at least twice a week and only letting up after he begs only once on either occasion. Happily, Uther says it’s rather humbling and the new status quo continues.
She was right to think he’d become obsessed with her changing body, however. He’ll kiss her belly often, even outside of sex and he almost never bruises her hips anymore, too focused on bringing her glory than pain. And he kisses more, too.
One of the more embarrassing incidents of his devotion to her new form comes when she’s talking to Morgana during a walk through the castle. Uther sees her from afar and approaches, curving his hand around her waist to her distended belly, then kisses her while she’s in the middle of a sentence. He winks at her when he walks away, happy as can be and irreverent to her red face as Morgana stares at her.
‘…that was surprisingly disgusting,’ says the lady.
‘You’re telling me!’ Merlin squawks, before anxiously adjusting her skirt, trying to hide her growing bump. That he is publicly showing off their relationship terrifies her in ways Morgana could never imagine. Still, she mutters aloud, ‘I can’t believe he did that in front of you.’
Morgana grimaces. ‘Here’s to hoping he never does it again.’
‘Don’t jinx it.’
Merlin’s worst embarrassment over the public truths, truly, comes when Camelot invites some travelling nobles into its heart. They have a feast, which Uther allows Merlin to attend as a guest in true finery, while the lords and their squires sit opposite. It’s strange to sit so close to Uther, with only Arthur to buffer them, when at most she’s used to pouring his wine.
Then the nobles ask who she is.
‘Her name is Merlin,’ says Uther, smiling in a terrifically smug manner, ‘She is the Royal Mistress.’
Merlin chokes on her pheasant and Arthur has to pat her firmly on the back as she glares at Uther with a vengeance. Uther smiles back.
‘Ah,’ says the visiting noble. ‘I see. Is the prince uninterested in marrying?’
It’s Arthur’s turn to choke, while Uther chuckles in amusement.
‘You misunderstand. Merlin is my companion. Arthur will be best served with a princess of his own, in due time. The child is a happy accident.’
‘I’m going to kill you,’ Merlin murmurs in her sweetest of voices, channelling Morgana at her worst.
‘No, you won’t,’ replies Uther, unbothered.
Grumbling to herself, ‘You say that now…’ Merlin stews the rest of the meal and happily gives Uther a very solid no when he asks if she’ll sleep with him that night.
Cara appears to her in her dreams.
‘I saw you destroy my afanc,’ she says, half snarling. Her eyes bore into Merlin’s. ‘Who are you? What magical being would dare entertain Uther’s lust for so long after what he has done?’
‘You say that like I have a choice,’ returns Merlin, feeling the most opposite of hazy she could ever be, even knowing she dreams deeply. ‘I do not serve Uther out of love. Rather, I made a promise to my mother not to expose my magic by escaping these sorts of situations with it. By now…by now, it’s habit.’
Cara looks as disgusted as Merlin knows it to be. ‘You’re with child.’
‘For the second time,’ Merlin says with a strict, false smile. ‘Your poison killed the first one. It made Uther all the more obsessed with me and my womb, so perhaps I have you to thank for that.’
‘Uther,’ Cara rolls her eyes, ‘He is a hypocrite of the highest order. You know that Ygraine, his first wife, was truly barren?’
‘Barren?’ Merlin asks in astonishment, ‘How? She had Arthur!’
‘Because of magic,’ tells Cara, a brittle smile on her lips. ‘Because of me. So perhaps everyone has me to thank for the Purge. When Ygraine died in exchange for her son’s life, Uther knew the truth. His whole crusade against magic is a lie.’
It tastes like truth. Every word from Cara’s lips sounds honest, without censure.
‘I was planning on sending Tristan de Bois to kill Uther,’ Cara informs her. Merlin nods slowly. ‘But…’
‘But?’
‘But you need him, don’t you? To recognise that baby, if nothing else.’
‘I wouldn’t say I need it,’ Merlin murmurs, asking, ‘Why do you ask?’
‘Because I can wait,’ says Cara, with a firmness to her voice that Merlin believes. ‘Will you ally with me? My only wish is to kill Uther for what travesties he has wrought on the world.’
Merlin hesitates. Wonders if Cara knows. ‘Have you ever heard of Emrys, Cara?’
‘Nimueh,’ she says, revealing herself. ‘My name is Nimueh—and Emrys is a legend, a sorcerer of great power who shall see the Once and Future King upon the throne of Albion.’
‘Right,’ Merlin says weakly, ‘Because that’s me. And the Once and Future King is Arthur.’
‘…you?’ Nimueh rightfully seems sceptical.
Merlin helpfully adds, ‘A dragon told me.’
‘Ah.’
‘Yeah.’
‘Well,’ says Nimueh, frowning to herself. ‘That makes sense, at least. I was wondering why I couldn’t scry your future. You’re too entwined with the fate of the world to divine, even for a High Priestess.’
Around her, the world begins to fade and faintly, Merlin hears Nimueh again, as she wonders if she’ll remember this. ‘You’re waking up, Emrys. We will meet again, as allies…’
When she opens her eyes, her dream is clear as glass. She does not forget a single thing.
Nimueh, Merlin thinks. I do not care for waiting.
She’d rather see Uther dead.
There are some things a mother never wants to know about her child. Merlin doesn’t realise she is setting her mother up for heartbreak until she sees her in the market and her child kicks her in the stomach.
Hunith smiles at the sight of her ‘Merlin!’ and rushes over to her in a way that prevents Merlin from running in the complete opposite direction. Her guards shift, but Merlin raises a hand, greeting her mother with an embrace that hides her teary eyes.
Her mother feels her bump immediately.
‘…Merlin?’ Hunith leans back, alarmed at the sight of her only daughter pregnant. Then her eyes flicker to the guards, who watch the reunion uneasily.
‘Mother,’ she says, mostly to put them at ease, until the moment she gasps in alarm at seeing the vicious bruise on her mother’s temple. ‘What’s this?’
‘I think that’s my question,’ says Hunith, who gazes down at her belly in half-wonder, half-fear. ‘Why didn’t you write to me about this? When did you get married?’
Merlin swallows the thick lump in her throat as she says, ‘I’m never getting married.’
‘My lady,’ says one of her guards for the day, ‘Maybe we should head back to the castle. Get your mother seen to.’
‘…yes,’ Merlin agrees, before taking her mother’s arm and carefully not looking at her once for the rest of their journey.
Gaius, on seeing Hunith, goes pasty white, quickly focusing on her injury. ‘How did this happen, my girl?’
‘That is what I’ve come to see the king about,’ she says, before asking him, ‘Why didn’t you tell me about Merlin?’
Back turned to them at that moment, Merlin only sees the stiffening of his shoulders that doesn’t match his casual tone. ‘Oh? I thought Merlin would have wrote to you.’
‘She didn’t and so far, she’s not explained anything. Why are guards following her around?’
Gaius turns. He meets eyes with Merlin, who shakes her head, not wanting to say a single word of it.
‘Gaius,’ Hunith beseeches him.
‘It’s…it’s not a happy story, niece of mine,’ he murmurs, sitting down and tending to her head as he speaks. ‘The first day Merlin arrived in Camelot, she saved Prince Arthur’s life.’
‘Yes, I knew that,’ says Hunith. ‘Merlin’s one and only letter told of her new position as King Uther’s maidservant.’
‘Yes.’ Gaius lowers his hands and glances at Merlin. ‘A maidservant.’
‘One who only served at night,’ Merlin adds, so he doesn’t have to say it. The moment her mother realises is the moment she’s grabbed in a very firm hug and Merlin doesn’t cry or feel any sort of wild emotion, despite her state, only tucking herself into her mother’s embrace as well as she can, as if she’s small once more.
‘My baby,’ Hunith weeps.
‘Things are okay,’ Merlin lies. ‘I’m fine. I’m still Gaius’ assistant and I get some really nice clothes out of it. I sat next to Arthur at dinner last week.’ That somehow makes things worse. Merlin has no idea how. It just means her mother hugs her tighter and tears fall down onto her hair.
Eventually, she pulls away, asking one of her guards, ‘Can you fetch Arthur? Tell him my mother is requesting assistance from the crown.’
‘Not…’ they hesitate.
‘Not that she’s blubbering over me,’ Merlin adds with a hasty smile, even as her mother fruitlessly tries wiping away her own tears. When the guard has left, she looks at her mother properly once more, taking her tired old hands and placing them on her belly. Hunith smiles, despite herself.
‘You’re having a child of your own, but I still feel like you’re my baby, even grown up.’
‘Yeah, well, this one is a right kicker,’ Merlin tells her, wincing as something punches her bladder. ‘My spine is awful.’
‘How’s your breathing?’
‘Terrible. Have to be completely laid flat to get a full breath in,’ she complains, before Gaius huffs.
‘I check on you at least once a week and I hear nothing of this.’
‘Don’t worry, Uther gets all my complaints as revenge,’ Merlin teases, not quite remembering to field her comments. Her mother’s sudden silence makes her nervous to look at her, so she moves on. ‘Also, Morgana. I think every time I mention something baby-related, she gets even more convinced that she should run off and live life as a travelling knight.’
‘The lady Morgana?’ Hunith broaches tentatively. ‘You really know her?’
‘She’s my best friend, I think,’ says Merlin, contemplating her relationships. ‘Morgana and Gwen could compete for top spot. Then, it’s Arthur. Then Julius, but only because he threw me in a bathtub once when I refused to get out of bed.’ Seeing the alarmed expressions on both Gaius and her mother’s faces, she hastily says, ‘It’s a long story. Julius is just kind of on my side all the time, despite being a snob. I promise it’s more of a mould kind of problem with his friendship. Necessity and all that. I think he at least sees me as a person and not a hanger-on.’
‘Who on earth is Julius?’ Hunith questions.
‘Uther’s manservant,’ says Gaius, barking, ‘At what point did he throw you in a bathtub?’
‘I wasn’t pregnant,’ Merlin says, before rechecking herself. ‘Uh, I think. Actually, I don’t know. I just remember it being not so funny, because the bath was cold, but he’s actually super good at his job and kind of strong, too.’
‘Why are you gossiping about men that aren’t my father?’ asks Arthur, who strides in with a pinched expression. ‘Whoever it is, he’ll probably have them whipped just for being on your good side.’
‘He wouldn’t do that to Julius!’ Merlin objects.
Arthur makes a face. ‘That doesn’t help. Hasn’t Julius seen you naked?’
‘Arthur!’ Merlin looks around for something to throw, but doesn’t find anything except her semi-frightened mother.
‘Whipped?’ She repeats.
Merlin huffs. ‘Arthur was exaggerating.’
‘I was not.’
‘Yes, he was.’
‘No, I was most definitely not,’ Arthur presses, before bowing to Hunith. ‘Pleasure to meet you. I heard you were seeking assistance, miss…’
‘Hunith. Just Hunith,’ her mother introduces herself, giving a respectful bow of her head, before Gaius returns to tending to her injury, putting a bruise balm on the tender skin. Arthur becomes more concerned as he notices it. ‘I had hoped to see the king,’ her voice sharpens, ‘but if I can speak to you instead, it would be a great honour.’
‘What assistance do you require?’ He asks in a formal voice.
‘It’s raiders, sire,’ says Hunith. ‘Kanen steals our harvest and takes from the village what we need to survive the next winter.’
Arthur presses his lips together. ‘Your village, where is it?’ Merlin winces.
‘Essetir. But we’ve pleaded to Cenred and he will do nothing,’ Hunith describes. ‘Please, can Camelot not help?’
‘I would be glad to help, however…’ Arthur looks to Gaius and the old man winces, as Merlin did.
‘You cannot sanction a mission into Cenred’s kingdom. It would be an act of war, directly violating the treaty signed by your father and the King of Essetir. Not even being of Merlin’s blood—my apologies, Merlin—will allow Uther to help Hunith or her village in any way.’
‘What about an unsanctioned mission?’ Arthur asks him, Merlin blinking rapidly at the risk he so clearly offers to put himself through. Arthur presses, ‘An unsanctioned team of knights could most definitely kill these raiders, could they not? Knights wearing chainmail and naught else, no defining colours or banners-’
‘You are talking dangerously, my prince,’ Gaius cuts in. ‘They would have to be volunteers. Those who would not be missed.’
‘How many fighters?’ Arthur asks Hunith.
‘Maybe forty,’ she says, breathing easy. ‘Will you truly help us?’
‘Prince Arthur cannot,’ says Arthur, smiling at the older woman, ‘but some foolish green knights? I’m sure if they heard of a worthy cause and knew that they should not wear their cloaks when putting down these bandits, they would offer their swords.’
Hunith laughs, then leaps up to encase Arthur in a hug that puts Merlin to shame—though, she partly blames her lack of exuberance on the baby growing inside her belly. It’s hard to be enthusiastic with a deadweight attached to her stomach. Nevertheless, it’s entertaining to see Arthur’s expression before he hugs Hunith back, confused, before becoming ever so slightly vulnerable and needy. Merlin attempts to ruin his buzz by making a kissy face, but he ignores her to share Hunith’s joy.
‘That all being said,’ he remarks when they part, ‘Will you be going back, now you’ve seen Merlin?’
‘I’ll have to, if only to say goodbye and pack my home up,’ she returns, making Merlin’s heart sing with joy, eyes prickling.
‘You’re staying?’
Hunith turns to her and almost scolds her as she says, ‘Of course I am. My baby is having a baby. You’re not doing that without me, if I have any say in it.’
Merlin isn’t ashamed to admit later that she burst into tears.
Parting with her mother when she returns is worse than saying goodbye when she returned to Ealdor.
‘But,’ Hunith says when she goes to leave after dinner, ‘your room is here. With Gaius.’ She looks at the stairs leading up into the tower and Merlin swallows that ever-present lump in her throat.
‘That’s- that’s not what I do,’ whispers Merlin, kissing her mother goodnight and leaving for Uther’s chambers. When she arrives, she bursts into tears on his chest and doesn’t give him a single answer when he asks why, simply pulling the covers over them both and settling into sleep.
The next day is somehow worse, her mother clearly filled in on where exactly it is she goes every night, her words hesitant and her expression worried.
‘You’re already pregnant,’ she says. ‘Does it make that much of a difference?’
That, Merlin doesn’t answer and by the time she arrives at Uther’s door, she’s angry at herself and at everything else. Uther clearly expects her to be pliant or upset—not pissed enough to push him back on the bed and climb on top of him.
‘Not that I am complaining,’ he says as she fucks herself on his cock, ‘but what brought this on?’
‘This fucking room,’ Merlin growls, rocking herself to completion and remembering to at least let him finish as well before diving under the covers to scowl at nothing. Uther rubs his hand over her bump, waking the baby up—the ass—and causing them to kick outwards and punch inwards.
‘Why?’ he asks.
‘Because my mother,’ she admits. ‘She doesn’t understand why I come up here every single night when I could stay with her in my room above the infirmary.’ Uther, wisely, doesn’t comment, probably so he can keep her cunt to himself.
Hunith settles in, though, staying in Merlin’s room and assisting Sir Geoffrey in the library, when she isn’t accompanying Merlin on her chores. She doesn’t keep an official position, just…just being there. Available at any time for a hug or a chat or a nag. Merlin enjoys her presence more than she can say.
Then, Arthur kills a unicorn.
Water turns to sand, crops rot. Foul things happen upon Camelot and in the centre of it: Arthur, refusing to believe what he did has any bearing on it.
‘He’s a prat,’ Merlin complains to Morgana, who whole-heartedly agrees. ‘Why couldn’t he have just left the unicorn well alone!’
‘He’ll come around,’ says Gwen, the eternal optimist. Merlin knows she’s right.
But how long will it take?
The answer: not long.
‘Hunith?’ Arthur looks at her in confusion, where she sits at the table by the sea. ‘What are you doing here?’
Merlin makes a mistake. A big and terrible mistake.
‘If you execute Tom, you’ll never see this baby alive.’
The king of Camelot slowly turns to face her—to face Merlin, who half the court is staring at—and his eyes are stone. ‘What did you say?’
‘You heard me.’ Merlin says, fists clenched. ‘Tom’s not guilty. If he dies on your orders, you’ll regret it.’
You could hear a pindrop.
As the tension mounts, Uther putting one foot in front of the other so very slowly, until he stands right in front of her, Merlin feels a great foreboding.
‘I see,’ he says. His voice is too calm. ‘Well, I see where your loyalties truly lie.’
‘With Camelot and all her citizens, you mean?’
Uther hums, then gestures to her guards. In seconds, they have her by her arms. ‘Take her to my chambers. The previous rules.’
‘No.’ Merlin’s eyes go wide, ‘No, don’t-’
Before they can haul her away, he grabs her by her chin, hissing, ‘He consorted with a sorcerer known to Camelot as a dangerous individual. Your friendship with his daughter blinds you to the truth, Merlin, but I see clearly. Now, leave.’
‘Please,’ Merlin tries, her guards already leading her out of the hall. ‘Sire, don’t lock me in again, please, not again, please, please-’
She’s locked in his quarters again. No matter how much she screams, cries or begs, the guards don’t change their minds. Merlin sobs for her life, curling up in the corner of the room behind a long, red drape, hating the very walls of the castle for existing. Was Uther’s room always so small?
He comes for her that night, locking the door behind him again and dragging her by her hair to the bed. ‘You disgrace me,’ he hisses, holding her hands above her head as he glares. ‘You hold an honoured position!’
‘Let me go,’ Merlin pleads, ‘Let me out-’
‘Never again,’ says Uther, before he reaches for her skirts. Merlin fights back. She scratches out with her nails and catches him on the cheek, before he grabs her again and slaps her across the face. Stunned, she lays there too long, enough time passing for Uther to take his belt off and wrap it around her wrists, tying her to the bedframe.
‘You are mine,’ he says the old adage, running his teeth up her bare thigh. Her skirts are pushed up over her bump and a possessive hand runs over it, rubbing at the tender skin around her belly-button. ‘Mine to keep how I please.’
‘Let me out,’ says Merlin, already crying. Uther watches the tears escape and does nothing, except pull down his trousers and impale her on his cock. She’s wet, but only because of her stupid pregnant body and as he fucks her, Merlin wishes that he was doing anything but.
Once he spills his seed inside of her, he leaves her to hang by her wrists, ignoring her whimpers and pleas to be let down, to be pulled under the covers on this early winter night. Merlin is cold and the fire is out. She can’t sleep for it, shivering, toes going numb, and Uther doesn’t care—but sleep is not needed for having visions.
Drawn into a dreamscape without warning, Merlin walks through the Darkling Woods, that night’s same moon shining above her.
‘What is this?’ she whispers, only to hear the hiss of a great snake. Turning slowly, Merlin sees a nightmarish creature, half a snake and half a leopard, its maw opening wide to reveal fangs the size of her arm. In an instant, it lunges for her and Merlin pulls herself out of the vision, only to feel the prickling ache in the bound arms over her head.
I can’t do this anymore, she thinks, at the end of her metaphorical rope. A feeling of unease has settled within her from seeing that beast and somehow, Merlin knows it has formed because of what happened tonight.
Seeing that Uther is deep asleep, Merlin looks up and reaches for her power, eyes glowing gold. The belt unfastens and her arms drop, the sensation almost more painful than the former position they were in. Slowly, not wanting to wake the king, Merlin climbs off the bed, moving silently along the stone floor to the farthest window.
Once, she wanted to jump out of here. She thought about splattering across the ground and lying there, dead as can be. Now, all Merlin can think about is levitating herself down with magic. It all seems so easy, now that she’s let her last shackle fade. Her magic eagerly comes to her call.
Barefoot on the cool cobbles below, Merlin walks down the empty street beneath Uther’s window, avoiding the guards by calling the shadows to her. She’s never done it before, but it can’t be that hard—it isn’t that hard. Merlin finds her way to the royal stables without trouble, not encountering a single person face to face.
But then the warning bells go off and Merlin hurries to saddle a horse, taking the nearest bay charger. She thinks he belongs to Sir Leon.
‘Come on,’ she encourages them, mounting up using a block and swallowing at the uncomfortable feeling that is riding while pregnant. She knows she can’t go fast, but a brisk trot might just get her out of the gates. ‘Go, go!’
The horse whinnies, then takes off at a faster speed than she expected, but it’s trained well, responding to the pressure of her bare feet against its flank easier than with reigns. And it seems as if the guards are not looking for her, as when she flies past them, their expressions are of confusion and incredulity. It’s only when she’s halfway through town that she hears the faint roar of Uther’s voice, echoing through Camelot. The words sound distinctly like find her.
But Merlin is already too far ahead. She may have absolutely zero supplies and a horse that can immediately be identified as a knight’s, but Merlin is a bloody witch and a healer’s assistant aside. She can look after herself in the wild.
One hand pressed to her belly, Merlin pushes the horse faster. ‘Yah!’
‘Nimueh,’ she calls out. ‘Where are you?’
‘You are a very loud thought-speaker,’ says the sorceress, speaking to Merlin in her dreams instead. ‘I heard you all the way from the Isle of the Blessed.’
‘Is that where I need to go to find you?’ she asks.
Nimueh inclines her head. ‘Yes, but it’s at the base of the White Mountains. From what I can see,’ she gestures to Merlin’s bare feet, clearly making a joke, ‘you’re not ready for that sort of journey.’
Only, it isn’t a joke to Merlin. ‘I’ve already run away,’ she tells her. ‘Uther did something. Worse than usual, I mean. But this time, I think it summoned something—a beast, with a leopard’s body and a snake’s head.’
Nimueh turns pale. ‘The Questing Beast. It hasn’t been seen since Ygraine died, an omen of the Purge to come.’
‘Wow,’ Merlin mutters, rubbing at a spot her child is kicking as she sleeps. They’re strong, her baby—too strong, she thinks. Are all babies like this?
‘I know a spell of teleportation, if you feel as if you could cast it, Emrys,’ says Nimueh, something about her voice telling Merlin she’s saying her druid name for a reason. Shaking off her doubts, she nods.
‘Tell me.’
‘Bedyrne ús. Astýre ús þanonweard.’ Nimueh recites, adding, ‘Pronounce it with a little oomph in the real world.’
‘Okay. Bedyrne ús. Astýre ús þanonweard. Bedyrne ús. Astýre ús þanonweard. Bedyrne ús. Astýre ús þanonweard.’
‘Perfect, you little monster,’ says Nimueh, grinning at her. ‘You know, some legends say that Emrys is the incarnation of magic itself. You can do all that magic can.’
Merlin snorts. ‘Maybe. Unlikely, though. So, that spell will bring me to you?’
‘Think of the Isle of the Blessed itself, with me as a focus and magic should guide you there.’ The world begins to fade again, as it did the last time she woke. Nimueh grants her one last word. ‘Be safe, Merlin.’
‘I will…’
In Camelot, everything is in shambles. Morgana can hardly believe how things have gone so wrong. Not only is Tom dead in a breakout she organised, but Merlin has run away, too. Uther is more furious than she has ever seen him and it’s all she can do to keep herself—and Gwen—out of his reach, hiding away in her room and, when that gets repetitive, the library.
Hunith, who unlike her daughter has not disappeared, helps them find the more stellar topics to read about amongst Geoffrey’s collection, when she’s not telling their stories about Merlin as a child. Morgana tries to imagine having magic in such a tiny village, where everyone would notice, but it’s not something she can just conjure in her head. She’s never even been to Ealdor.
She’s seen little of Arthur recently, either, Uther working him to the bone to find his runaway mistress and their child. Arthur confides in her one night that he thinks Merlin would be better off staying far away, even if it means never introducing them to the newest Pendragon at all.
‘She will be found,’ Uther swears.
‘Of course she will,’ says Morgana, lying through her teeth. ‘She’ll probably return when she’s had the baby, if it takes that long. All her family is here.’
‘Yes,’ Uther agrees, acknowledging her point. ‘But we will not stop, in any case. Anything could happen to her. Worse, if my enemies get a hold of her.’ He pauses to correct himself. ‘Them.’
Them. The word makes Morgana’s stomach want to expunge. She’d never liked the idea of Uther having another child after twenty years of just Arthur. He could have married if he had wanted that treasured spare. But when she finally met Merlin properly, deduced with Gwen that Uther was at the very least hurting her, Morgana would never have guessed he’d take her on as a bedwarmer. That she bore not one, but two children—despite the awful circumstances of the first’s death—only causes her worth to rise in Morgana’s eyes. To take on Uther and all his disgusting proclivities and come out of it still smiling…
Frankly, if Merlin hadn’t run when she did, Morgana would have organised it for her the next day.
‘The creature you describe has all the characteristics of the Questing Beast.’
Puttering around the workstation, Merlin peers into one of Nimueh’s scrying crystals, not seeing anything at all.
‘You aren’t a natural seer,’ says Nimueh, watching her in amusement. ‘If you were, the visions would call to you in your sleep.’
‘I think Morgana might be, then. She dreams things that come true,’ Merlin says, carefully lifting the crystal from its silken bed. ‘Is there a spell?’
‘Do what you think is best—but aim for reflection,’ Nimueh advises.
‘Reflection,’ Merlin mumbles, considering the word. It’s probably a reminder to aim for actually seeing something, maybe even from the perspective of something shiny. Merlin decides to aim for Arthur’s hauberk, knowing George shines it for fun on his off-days.
Reaching inside for her magic, a smile lifts at her lips as it rushes to her call, eager to do her bidding. Merlin lets it flow through the crystal, asking for a vision of Arthur’s present. Her magic throws her forwards and for a moment, the world is dark, but then all she can feel is an endless, burning pain in her shoulder and see the flash of a familiar set of fangs.
Merlin drops the crystal. ‘Arthur has been bitten by the Questing Beast!’
‘No,’ Nimueh reaches to touch the crystal, eyes flickering as she sees the afterimage of her vision. ‘Oh, Merlin, I’m so sorry.’
‘I have to help!’ Merlin exclaims, ‘How do I help? What cures the bite of the Questing Beast?’
‘Nothing, Merlin,’ says Nimueh, her expression grave. ‘It’s always fatal. Nothing can save him now.’
‘But he has to live,’ she cries. ‘He’s the Once and Future King—and he’s not even king yet! He was only made crown prince a few months ago!’
‘Shh,’ Nimueh soothes her, approaching her kindly. Running a hand down her cheek, Nimueh says, ‘The one thing that may cure him is the Cup of Life, but that is old magic, Merlin and the price is steep. Just like how Arthur was brought into this world, to save him would require the ultimate sacrifice.’
Lip wobbling, Merlin thinks the word me, before she realises her hands are pressed to the skin of her stomach. Her son or daughter would die if she were to pass. Nimueh embraces her fondly and Merlin is left in her hazy place, where all she feels is Nimueh’s arms around her and no more. She does not hear her voice or acknowledge that she’s being moved until the warm covers of her bed curl around her.
‘Sleep, my friend,’ Nimueh says. ‘You’ve had a shock. I’ll speak to you later.’
‘Okay,’ Merlin manages to reply, mouth full of sand. It can’t be real, she thinks. Arthur can’t be dying. Nimueh said the Cup of Life can save him—but another life would be taken for his.
Merlin presses her hand to her stomach and considers a dark thing.
You’ll never see this baby alive.
Was she really the one to make that threat? Merlin didn’t think she’d be the type to follow through.
But this is Arthur.
Is he worth more than her child’s life? A child that hasn’t been born, hasn’t walked or spoken their first word. Arthur has walked. He’s shouted and laughed and screamed. Arthur’s mother died so he might live. Arthur is here and real and dying and she could save him.
Would they ever forgive you?
Of course they would—if she never told them. Merlin is far from Camelot, now. Anything could have happened. The only people that matter to her would only care about her, not a baby she never even wanted. And if Merlin only had to tell one person, she’s sure her mother wouldn’t care a jot.
As if hearing her internal monologue and wishing for the right to live, her baby kicks her in the stomach. Hard. Merlin tells them off in her head, then lets the decision roll over her in a wave. Her choice, so important, so crucial, is simple.
She has to save Arthur.
‘The Cup of Life understands the balance of life and death better than any,’ Nimueh says, holding it between them. In the clear water lies silphium. ‘It will wash clean when I pour it away.’
‘How long?’ Merlin asks.
‘I’ll be here,’ Nimueh promises, helping her fight the fear of what is to come. Nimueh passes her the Cup. ‘Speak his name as you drink.’
Merlin brings the Cup to her mouth, whispering, ‘Arthur Pendragon.’ The water goes down easily, but her hands are shaking when she passes the Cup back to its keeper. Nimueh sets it aside the moment Merlin feels the pain of labour setting in, fists clenching around her knees.
No longer does she feel the familiar kicks and punches of her baby—only a crushing weight inside her chest.
‘Lie down,’ Nimueh instructs, familiar with childbirth. Merlin does as she says, then summons the haze.
Something like hours pass. It’s all pain and blood and sweat, but there is that disconnect and when it’s over, the haze doesn’t pass. There’s no crying babe or the choked tears of her family, welcoming new life into the world.
What her baby is, is dead. And that was Merlin’s decision.
Nimueh is holding her when the haze finally passes, keeping her settled against her chest, singing a song in a language Merlin doesn’t know. Her belly is disconcertingly empty and her hips feel physically wider, herbs and bandages pasted against her aching nethers.
‘What were they?’ Merlin asks. Nimueh stops singing.
‘A boy,’ she says in a soft voice. ‘He had blonde hair and your chin. I’ve wrapped him in cloth. You don’t have to see him if you don’t want to.’
‘I don’t,’ Merlin decides, content with imagining a small Arthur with her mother’s face. She questions her. ‘Have you checked on Arthur?’
‘I did,’ Nimueh confirms, ‘and his miraculous recovery is making waves. No-one has survived a bite from the Questing Beast before.’
Merlin swallows, sitting up. So much of the Isle is grass and it is no surprise to Merlin that the fields around her have grown in height, flowers blooming in the dead of winter because of her magic, which swims inside of her and outside of her without fear. Something about the Isle of the Blessed wants her to project her power. Nimueh sighs when their skin parts.
‘It’s time for me to return,’ she says, turning to face her saviour—her friend and her midwife. Part of her is afraid that she bestows that title upon her because it will happen again.
Nimueh leans forwards to kiss her on the lips. It’s not a cruel kiss or even a kiss of passion. Instead, it is a hello and a goodbye, a promise, even. Merlin is unafraid to kiss back, feeling her gentle tongue slide among her own and their lips—smaller than a man’s, softer than any she’s kissed before—pressing together with care.
Well, care until Nimueh bites her bottom lip. Then, Merlin has to bite back and pull away, just so she has the last word. Nimueh’s nose wrinkles and Merlin laughs at the expression on her face.
‘I have to go,’ she says, a joviality returned to her. She looks off into the ruined temple and asks her, ‘Bury him with rites?’
‘I wouldn’t do anything less,’ Nimueh promises, before standing and offering Merlin a hand. Hauled to her feet, Merlin makes her way over to her horse, only then realising that Nimueh has changed her dress, removing her stained garment and replacing it with a deep blue affair. She still has no shoes, though.
‘Nothing in your size,’ Nimueh says, answering the unasked question. Merlin smiles briefly, before taking the reigns of Sir Leon’s horse and looking back one more time on Nimueh and the Isle.
‘I’ll return, one day,’ she says. Nimueh kneels to her, bowing her head.
‘I know,’ the High Priestess returns.
‘…cheater,’ Merlin murmurs, watching a smile form on Nimueh’s face before she casts the spell to transport her to the Darkling Woods. Her horse barely even huffs. ‘Come on you,’ she says to it, mounting up and at last second, shifting to sit side-saddle to avoid the pain of attempting to spread her legs.
Dawn approaching, Merlin heads back to Camelot, ready for what the new year shall bring.
Arthur is coincidentally riding out on patrol, despite his recovery only happening the day before. Merlin thinks he’s most likely snuck out, if the bandages she can see peeking out of his collar are anything to go by.
‘Ho, riders!’ she calls when she approaches the road they trot on, a neutral expression in place. Arthur jerks at the sound of her voice, locating her in an instant. Despite herself, Merlin flashes him a smile, watching a relieved expression form on his face before he stirs his horse forwards, trotting up to meet her.
‘You’re alive,’ he says, eyes drifting briefly to her stomach and back, only to return to her stomach. He pales. ‘Merlin. Where’s my baby sibling?’
An unexpected swell of grief surges up inside her, but Merlin manages to tamp it down, shifting awkwardly on her saddle. ‘He passed away, Arthur. Never took a single breath.’
‘Oh,’ Arthur says, surprisingly choked up. ‘Merlin, I’m so sorry.’
‘I had my time with him,’ she says in return, thinking of the bruises he left all over her belly. ‘But hey, at least you won’t have to deal with getting kicked in the shins. I think he would have been a good shin-kicker. I’d have him trained to kick you when you were being an ass.’
Laughing unexpectedly, Arthur shakes his head, leaning over to embrace her briefly. Merlin welcomes it, the first of its kind from her friend, squeezing him harder than she thought she would as that grief bubbles up again.
‘Sire?’ calls another knight, before they part ways, Merlin resettling herself on her saddle again, whatever Nimueh’s herbs had done fading with time.
‘Back to Camelot,’ she orders in his stead, moving Sir Leon’s horse onwards, Arthur turning around to ride abreast with her. They come to the road again quickly.
‘Where did you go?’ He asks.
‘To an enemy turned ally,’ Merlin says, enjoying his panicked expression. ‘Don’t worry, I was talking about my enemies, not yours.’
‘You have enemies?’
‘Clot-pole.’
‘Ugh, what even is that?’
‘In one word?’
‘Yes.’
‘You.’
‘Merlin!’
They ride back to Camelot at a sedate pace, Merlin and Arthur bickering as much as they can before they arrive at the castle. Runners have obviously gone ahead of them, because Uther is there, as is Morgana, Gwen, Gaius and her mother. The distinct lack of baby is clear and Merlin isn’t quite prepared for how Uther’s eyes dance from knight to knight, as if anyone but Merlin would be holding him.
Eventually, after Arthur has helped her down from Sir Leon’s horse, he steps forwards and asks, ‘Where are they?’
A very, very petty part of Merlin wants to repeats her words from the council chambers—but Uther is not the only one looking at her hopefully, as if she will magically procure a baby for them all to see.
But maybe Arthur thinks she’s tongue-tied, because he steps up, his hand on her elbow and says, ‘My brother was born without breath. Father, we should take Merlin inside. She’s been through much in recent weeks.’
‘Says you, Mr Questing Beast,’ Merlin parrots, not quite knowing why he shoots her a funny look until she realises it’s something she shouldn’t know.
‘Yes,’ Uther agrees, looking ten years older, ‘Inside, the both of you. Gaius-’
‘Yes, sire, I will inspect them both,’ says Gaius, who motions for them to go. Merlin brushes past Uther without another word, reaching out for her mother’s hand as they walk inside. Hunith grasps onto it tightly, pressing them together tightly as they walk to the infirmary.
‘What happened?’ Her mother asks in a whisper. ‘Where did you go?’
‘I climbed out the window,’ Merlin breathes, not knowing who may be listening, ‘and to a friend. She cares dearly for me.’
Hunith, with teary eyes, says, ‘Oh, my brave girl. Was it true what Arthur said?’
‘About my son?’ Merlin clarifies, unafraid. ‘That’s what I told him. It’s true, but…’
‘But there’s more you aren’t saying,’ Hunith murmurs. ‘Later?’
‘Promise.’
When they arrive at the infirmary, Gaius checks on Arthur first, changing his bandages when he finds out the wounds are weeping more than they should.
‘You nearly died,’ he scolds. ‘You should be more careful.’
‘Had to find Merlin,’ Arthur mutters in return.
‘I was coming back,’ says Merlin herself, before Gaius sends the prince outside, citing that unless he wants to see Merlin’s womanly parts, he’d best join Morgana in wait. Then, Gaius turns on her.
‘What happened with the birth, exactly?’
‘I don’t remember most of it,’ she admits to him. ‘I went into the haze. On purpose.’
‘Don’t ever do it on purpose,’ Gaius says crossly, before making her lie down and examining her. When Merlin admits she thinks she herbs are overdue to be changed, Gaius agrees and gives her a remedy to apply topically. Eventually, he asks about the child.
‘What was he like? Size, appearance?’
Merlin shakes her head, sitting up. ‘I didn’t see him. Nimueh said he was blonde.’
Gaius freezes. ‘You were with Nimueh?’
‘I was with Nimueh from almost the same night I left,’ Merlin tells him. ‘She’s my friend and I trust her.’
‘Nimueh should not be trusted.’
Hunith interrupts, asking, ‘Who is Nimueh?’
‘Someone you shouldn’t mention outside of this room,’ Gaius says strictly, ‘lest Uther call you a conspirator of sorcerers. Nimueh was involved in Arthur’s birth. He will not like that she was involved in his second son’s, either, especially under these circumstances. He will think she murdered him.’
Merlin’s guilt flares. ‘She didn’t,’ she defends her friend, morose at her own actions, stretching the truth, ‘We lost the heartbeat soon before the labour. I- I was concerned. Rightfully so.’
Hunith runs a hand through her hair. ‘Did you name him, my love?’
‘Name him?’ It didn’t even occur to her. Merlin shakes her head. Hunith murmurs, ‘You should. Just for the memory of him.’
‘I’ve never been good at naming things,’ she mumbles. ‘Can I ask Gwen and Morgana to help?’
‘I think they’d love that,’ Hunith soothes her, kissing her brow. ‘But for now, you should rest in your own bed. Come on, up the stairs with you.’
‘At this point, it’s kind of yours,’ Merlin notes, doing as she’s told.
‘Until you’re provided another room, this one will always be yours, my love,’ insists her mother, guiding her to bed and tucking her in like a child. Merlin appreciates it.
The next day is a special sort of agonising and her trips to the chamberpot produce blood enough to make her woozy. Her mother assures her nothing is wrong, plying her with her favourite sweets brought straight from the bakers and the castle kitchens.
‘You’re going to make me fat,’ she complains, making her mother laugh at her.
The day after that, she has visitors. A lot of visitors—some rather unexpected. Morgana and Gwen come, of course, sitting with her and chatting about inane things and then, of course, the rather serious baby issue, on which Gwen eventually falls quiet.
Noticing something wrong, Merlin asks, ‘What’s the matter?’
Face speckled with grief, Gwen stutters out, ‘Well, if you’re looking for a name—a boys name, I mean—for your son—though of course you don’t have to use the name I’m thinking about at all-’
‘Gwen,’ Merlin interrupts, ‘What name?’
‘Well,’ she says, turning shy and still somehow smiling slightly, ‘How about Tom?’
Tom.
Oh.
‘Your father?’ Merlin repeats, the grief finally making sense in her twisted mind. She remembers the night she left, the guard bells going off and- ‘Oh god, Gwen. What happened to Tom?’
‘I gave him a key to secret himself out,’ Morgana murmurs, ‘but the guards caught him. Uther gave the order to kill on sight.’
‘Gwen!’ Merlin lurches forwards, wrapping her friend up in her arms. Gwen hugs back easily, Merlin launching into a spiel. ‘Of course, he can be called Tom! Tomas, even! I’d never want to name him anything else!’
Bright-eyed, Gwen laughs, pulling back and grasping Merlin’s hands. ‘Thank-you,’ she says, ‘He’d have been honoured.’
Morgana coughs, ‘And, not to break the moment, it’s a rather masterful revenge. Against Uther,’ she elaborates.
Thinking on it, Merlin hums in agreement, ‘It rather is, isn’t it? He fucking deserves it. My son was named for a good man, who only wanted to provide for his family.’
That visit, of course, ends in happy tears. That they convince her to hide a strange artefact that glows in her hand under her bed is a mere anecdote. Arthur, when he pops around, calls Merlin a few names that she volleys back at him, happy he is not treating her any differently than usual. In fact, he’s the one to break it to her that she has a new set of chambers.
‘They’re in the same hall as mine,’ he tells her, shifting awkwardly, ‘So, if you ever…scream, or anything. I’ll be able to hear. I’ll show you around later.’
‘Arthur,’ Merlin says as he turns to go. ‘Thank-you.’
He shrugs, smiling grimly, ‘No offence, Merlin, but I hope you never get pregnant again.’
‘Agreed.’
But her strangest visitor is not one of her friends and nor is it anyone she regularly interacts with.
‘Sir Leon?’ Merlin greets him in confusion, sat at the table down in the infirmary. The knight, caught off-guard by her sudden greeting, stutters through a hello before finally clearing his throat and announcing his intentions.
‘I came to thank you for bringing Lea back.’
‘Lea?’ Merlin repeats, before hazarding that this is the horse. ‘Oh, well—she’s nice. Very calm.’
‘Was that why you chose her?’ he asks.
‘Chose her? Uh…no,’ Merlin says, fiddling with her sleeve. ‘She was just…there. Looking pretty. Sorry for stealing her, by the way, I just needed a getaway horse.’
‘No, it’s- it’s fine,’ says Sir Leon, his awkwardness shining through. Shuffling about, he edges towards the door again. ‘If you’ll excuse me, my lady.’ Then he leaves.
Hunith notes, ‘Polite man. Good girl for apologising to him, Merlin.’
‘Thanks, mum.’
Uther doesn’t visit.
‘I’ve arranged for George to clean your room once a week,’ Arthur says, leaning against the doorframe. ‘You’ll have to arrange your own baths and meals, but I’m sure you can handle that.’
‘I usually eat with Gaius,’ Merlin informs him, before jumping on the bed. She feels giddy. ‘This is really mine?’
Amused, Arthur nods. ‘Everything in here is yours. George is getting Julius to pack away your clothes from my father’s rooms and bring them here.’
‘Okay,’ Merlin hums, not sure if it’s just a slip of the tongue or if Arthur is deliberately bringing up his father. A glance his way proves it’s the latter. Merlin narrows her eyes. ‘Out with it.’
‘Out with what?’ he queries in a faux-casual manner.
‘Arthur, I’m not going to break,’ Merlin promises. ‘Whether it’s about Tomas or Uther.’
His expression hardens. ‘That’s exactly what I want to talk about. Breaking. I’ve not seen you shed a single tear, Merlin. You’re usually so- so…expressive!’ Arthur nearly explodes, standing up straight so his shoulders can properly roll back in their sockets. ‘Why aren’t you grieving?’
Merlin opens her mouth to answer, but nothing comes out. She tries again and manages a short, ‘I know.’
Arthur, frustrated, asks her, ‘Why?’
‘Because-’ because if I do, I will not break—I will shatter. I exchanged my son’s life for yours and I would do it again, but the guilt of my choice is slowly choking me to death and I suspect if I told anyone, the noose would just pull tighter. That, on top of every other trauma your father has heaped on me, does not bode well for my mind nor my sanity. I’ve wanted to die before. It would be too easy to get to that place again.
Merlin doesn’t finish her sentence.
Arthur loses some of his anger, sagging in place. When he comes to sit beside her on the bed, Merlin reaches out, pressing a hand to his shoulder and tracing a triskelion with her thumb.
‘You know,’ she starts, ‘I’d be happy for others to grieve, as well. I’m just not ready, yet. If- if I think about it, it’ll consume me, Arthur. I don’t have time in my life right now to break. Uther hasn’t said a word to me yet and that, no matter what he thinks about it, is as much a threat as anything he’s ever done.’
‘It’s so strange, having a relationship with him,’ Arthur whispers. ‘Different from yours, I mean. Seeing him with you, it’s like I’m seeing a different person.’
Merlin doesn’t sympathise. ‘No. He’s the same, he just only has kindness and love for you. No-one else sees that.’
‘You did.’
‘Tomas saw it,’ Merlin corrects, thinking of his fond kisses and his happy smiles. It was all because she carried his child. Nothing more. Nothing less. ‘He loves his children.’
‘And Morgana,’ adds Arthur.
Merlin snorts. ‘If she’s not his daughter in some shape or form, then I’m a man.’
Chuckling alongside her, Arthur eventually stands again. ‘I’ll leave you to your new rooms,’ he says. ‘I’m just across the hall.’
‘I’ll come visit one day,’ she grins at him, eyes twinkling. ‘You won’t know what hit you.’
Arthur rolls his eyes, scoffing. ‘Bring it.’
‘You asked for it!’
When he finally leaves, Merlin lays back on her bed again, smiling at the plain canopy of her bed. It isn’t fancy or embroidered—it’s just plain sheet, with no embellishments or finery involved. Much more her speed.
KNOCK-KNOCK.
Merlin sits up, asking, ‘Yes?’ The door slides open. Uther stares at her from the other side.
‘I hope I am not intruding…’ he says, taking no step to enter. He just…stands there. To Merlin, it’s rather disconcerting. Catching her most likely confused face, Uther says, ‘Arthur swore to kill me if I ever entered your room. Even with your permission. Considering he swore on his brother’s name, I decided it was best to heed the warning.’
‘Ah,’ Merlin says intelligently. Uther doesn’t leave her doorstep. ‘What- what do you want? Because if you’re here to ask for sex, I’m really not in the mood.’
‘No, I am not here to ask for sex,’ says Uther, which is a change. ‘I would like to enquire over the matter of…Tomas.’
‘He died in the womb. I birthed him. He was blonde, apparently,’ Merlin says shortly, each sentence seemingly smacking Uther across the face as hard as a hammer. That petty, petty part of herself finally gets its due. ‘I told you that you’d never see him alive.’
Uther makes an aggrieved noise. ‘I won’t even pretend that was you implying it was murder—I know you wouldn’t do it.’
You don’t know me very well, Merlin thinks.
‘But despite everything that has happened, I had hoped to see him. Or his grave, at the very least. He is of royal blood.’
‘Uther,’ Merlin says his name, catching his eyes. ‘No.’
‘No?’
‘Never,’ she tells him. ‘Because despite everything that has happened, it was still your fault. You locked me up again, you tied me to your bedpost and left me with me dress above my pregnant belly in the middle of winter,’ she heaves, standing up, approaching him with a finger pointed right into his chest, pressing it against his heart.
‘It was you who did that. You who committed an act of violence that was apparently so grave,’ and here, Merlin sucks in a breath, as an epiphany calls to her, ‘that a Questing Beast was formed. Did Gaius tell you about Questing Beasts? Did he tell you that they only appear after acts of true violence? Of incest? Of murder?’
He is frozen under her hand. Merlin grasps on to his tunic so he can’t run away.
‘Do you know what I think?’ She says, cruelly and knowingly speaking false. ‘I think it’s your fault. I think that if you were kinder—if you hadn’t been so wrapped up in your self-proclaimed duty to kill innocent people—then maybe your son might have lived. It was your fault.’
‘No,’ Uther gasps, before she pushes him out of her doorframe.
‘Goodbye, my king,’ she says, before slamming the door.
The beauty of having her own quarters is that unlike when she lived in Uther’s rooms, Merlin can personalise. While her wardrobe is already outfitted for one of her station—as a pseudo-lady and sometimes, genuine maidservant, making for a very eclectic selection of gowns—her room is plain, meant to be non-offensive to the many delegations that come through Camelot and stay within rooms such as her own. Funnily enough, Arthur’s would-be assassin, Sophia of Tír-Mòr, was the last person to stay there. Morgana only got rid of her in a timely manner through sheer coincidence and dumb luck.
Merlin’s room itself is moderately sized, actually smaller than her room above the infirmary, but has an actual window rather than just a slit in the wall and a small antechamber set with a bath around the corner from the door—again, with its own window. The furniture is of a lot higher quality, too and there’s a drop-and-lock siege bar on the door. A genuine, bona fide siege bar. Apparently noble ladies just…lock themselves in their rooms during an invasion. Merlin can understand why, but she can see the siege bar from her bed. It’s a bit intimidating, to be honest.
But decorating. Merlin has the opportunity to do whatever she wants and actually get away with it, so the first thing she does is move the super heavy mirror with the help of her guards—who actually go away when she asks, now—and tuck it into the corner rather than have it sit a metre out from the wall. Then, she asks Geoffrey if she can have a map.
‘And you want to…frame it. Wouldn’t this be better asked for at a cartographers?’ the librarian queries, brow furrowing.
‘I want an antique,’ Merlin says, which Geoffrey doesn’t know is code for a map of Albion with magical name-places written on it. She actually has a map in mind, which she shows to him. The moment he sees which variation it is, he raises an eyebrow, but agrees to loan it to her.
So, Merlin gets a map put on the wall by her door. It’s a hidden centrepiece of the room, large, fading into the background if you don’t know its significance. And if sometimes, Merlin lies in bed at night and stares at the tiny inscription she knows reads Isle of the Blessed, then that’s her business alone.
Nimueh likes to visit her in her dreams, teaching her spells to memorise. After one disastrous mix-up where Nimueh teaches her two spells in one night and Merlin nearly summons a tornado over Camelot rather than a hurricane in her bathtub, they decide to stick with one spell per night, lest Merlin mix them up again.
‘It’s rather strange that Uther has let you be,’ Nimueh comments one night when they’re faux-drinking, tasting each other’s memories of different wines.
‘I think he’s waiting for me to come to him. I had a thing when stuff was better where he had to ask each night if I’d sleep with him,’ explains Merlin, thinking on his complete lack of attention. ‘And Arthur genuinely threatened his life if he so much as put one foot past my doorframe.’
Nimueh snorts. ‘That’ll help. Oh and before I forget, happy birthday.’
‘It’s my birthday?’ Merlin queries, amused. ‘I’m a peasant. I don’t have a birthday.’
‘You were born on this night, the twelfth day of the second month, twenty years ago.’ Nimueh says with a smile. ‘Mark it on a calendar or something. Emrys should know when her birthday is.’
Merlin goes pfft, waving her off. ‘No thanks. Nice to know, but nah. To be honest, I think my mother knows, because she called me a grown woman a week ago, which I think was a secret happy birthday, but still. No thanks.’
‘Special day next year. One, two, two, two, one,’ she recites. ‘Number symbolism in the Old Religion is a favourite of mine, after prophecy.’
‘And necromancy.’
‘And necromancy.’
‘And alchemy,’ Merlin adds, remembering the afanc.
‘No, no, alchemy isn’t fun, I’m just good at it,’ says Nimueh, winking playfully. Merlin reaches to kick her, but then the dream begins to fade and they exchange sorrowful goodbyes, not liking how their chats gett cut short.
Waking, Merlin takes a long moment to just lie in bed, warm and on the cusp of sleep. She thinks about being twenty years old. Being twenty means she can officially start a petition to take on an apprentice at twenty-one in Camelot—not that she’s a master of anything, except maybe every magic she encounters. She should ask the dragon about that.
Merlin muses over going to see him right then and there. She’s never visited him during the early morning before, so at least his reaction will be amusing. Though, Merlin can count their interactions on one hand in the past year and a half. She winces. I should visit him more. Dragons are founts of wisdom, right?
‘How old even is the Great Dragon?’ she grumbles to herself, throwing off her covers and changing out of her nightgown into one of her pale blue maidservant dresses, tying up her hair back with a matching ribbon. The seamstresses down in the middle-depths of Camelot had given her so many blue dresses, seemingly to match her eyes.
Roaming, Merlin waves to some of the on-duty guards she passes, but otherwise avoids them out of habit. It’s been a long time since anyone has tried to accost her, fear of Uther’s reaction should she be touched increasing tenfold after he started letting her out of his rooms again the first time. She’s heard more than one ghastly rumour about what he’d do to anyone who so much as sneezes on her.
Journeying down to see the Great Dragon is easy-peasy. The problem is everyone realising where she’s trying to go. The shadow trick she learned during her great escape comes in handy in the lower corridors and then the dungeon levels before she walks the long path to the dragon’s lair.
‘Hello?’ she calls out, settling herself down on the ground when the dragon doesn’t reply. ‘Hello, I don’t know if you can hear me-’
From deep within the caverns, she sees him fly around the corner, his chain rattling as he settles down on the handy perch in front of her.
‘Merlin,’ he greets, ‘This is a surprise.’
‘Morning!’ Merlin grins at him. ‘It was meant to be!’
The dragon chuckles, settling himself. She watches as his wings stretch out, then fold into his back oh so very neatly.
‘What has kept you from visiting me beforehand, young witch?’ he asks her, a strangely solemn tone to his voice. Merlin hesitates, wondering if he knows more than he’s telling her.
‘Well,’ she starts slowly, ‘It’s a rather long story. One I’m not really comfortable sharing.’
‘You were with child the last time you visited, I recall,’ he says, prompting her to blush.
‘Ah. Yeah. Um, I was.’
‘And?’
‘I was,’ Merlin repeats, frowning. ‘I lost that one.’
The dragon rears back. ‘Lost that one? Child, what in the world has happened to you?’ His tone is all astonishment and Merlin draws her knees up against her chest, deciding to start from the beginning, when he last saw her.
‘When we destroyed the afanc Nimueh made, I was pregnant,’ Merlin confirms, hearing the intrigued hum to his voice at the mention of Nimueh. ‘Shortly afterwards, Nimueh did a thing where she poisoned these chalices King Bayard gifted to Arthur and Uther. Except then she deliberately told me, because she wanted to bait me, the sorcerer hiding in Camelot, into drinking poison.’
‘I see,’ says the Great Dragon, sorrowful on her behalf.
Merlin winces. That isn’t even the worst part. ‘The thing was,’ she says, nervous and almost jittery, ‘I’m not exactly Uther’s maidservant. I’m more a…mistress.’
There is a moment of silence, before the dragon rears up, a half-roar escaping his golden belly.
‘MISTRESS?’ He exclaims, furious and hard-toned. ‘You are Emrys! You are not the Butcher’s plaything!’
‘You’re really not going to like what he did next, then,’ Merlin says wryly. She waits for the agitated dragon to settle some before recapping the past year. ‘After finding out I hid my pregnancy, he locked me in his quarters for months. I didn’t see anyone but Uther until the day I figured out I was pregnant again and he let me visit my friends once a week, with guards.’
The dragon lets out a shriek, blowing fire up into the cavern heights.
‘Then,’ Merlin continues, ‘a druid boy nearly got caught in Camelot, so Morgana did the right thing and rescued him, only to do the stupid thing that was bring him into her own rooms. We recruited Arthur to sneak him out, but Uther needed distracted so Arthur could work around the patrols and guards still searching for the child.’
‘Distract how?’ he demands.
‘By pretending I was in the most terrible of pain,’ Merlin says with a smirk, ‘and running straight to Gaius. Uther fell for it, hook, line and sinker. It also let Gaius tell him off for everything, which is obviously a bonus and then he, well…started being nicer. Let me be myself again, roam freely, all that kind of stuff. I could do normal things again. I wasn’t shut in a room without an end.’
The dragon croons, rumbling in a surprisingly comforting manner. Merlin almost wishes she could touch his scaly forehead in thanks.
‘Each bit lasted a couple of months,’ Merlin describes, ‘but then near the end of the year and my pregnancy, a man called Tauren came to Camelot. Tom the blacksmith—Gwen’s father—was imprisoned for associating with him and I threatened Uther. It was stupid.’ Her voice cracks without her meaning it to and Merlin realises that her emotions, always kept locked up tight inside her chest, are starting to overwhelm her.
‘Merlin,’ the dragon pushes, ‘Tell me what he did. What happened?’
‘He locked me up again,’ she whispers. ‘He was cruel. Left me tied up with half my clothes off. That’s important,’ she says, raising a finger, half a smile forming even as her jaw trembles. ‘You’ll find that funny, later.’
‘I doubt it,’ he grumps.
‘You will,’ Merlin promises. ‘The thing was, his actions conjured the Questing Beast. I had a vision that told me, so I finally broke free—I ran. Eight months pregnant, I stole a horse, contacted Nimueh and asked for help. She told me a spell to teleport to the Isle of the Blessed and I stayed with her a few weeks.’
‘A Questing Beast,’ the dragon rumbles. ‘I felt it when such a calamity appeared. I had no idea it was once again because of Uther.’
‘Yes, well, while I was recuperating under Nimueh’s care, Arthur went and got himself bitten, the prat,’ Merlin says irritably. ‘I mean, I’m gone for, what? Two weeks at that point? And he gets bit by the fucking Questing Beast.’
‘How did he survive? The Once and Future King has not passed on,’ the dragon says in a sharp voice. Merlin nods.
‘No, he’s alive. Because of me. Nimueh had the Cup of Life,’ she tells him, feeling the pit of her emotions begin to rise, pushing everything to the surface. Merlin grabs at the solid ground beneath her, holding on for dear life. ‘Dragon, I gave up my baby for Arthur to live.’
‘You have experienced great loss,’ he says, leaning forwards until she can feel his hot breath on her face. With a shaking hand, Merlin lifts her hand to touch his snout, sniffling wetly.
‘I miss him,’ she breaks. Shatters. ‘I want my baby, dragon.’
‘My name is Kilgharrah, child.’ He nudges her as gently as he can, knocking her bent knee over. Merlin briefly loses her balance, even sat on the ground and puts out a hand to stop herself from falling. ‘Losing a hatchling is never an easy trauma to overcome. It will stay with you.’
‘He was called Tomas. I called him that—after.’
‘He shall be remembered,’ Kilgharrah rumbles. ‘Is this your whole tale, Emrys?’
‘Nearly. That was the most of it,’ she says quietly. ‘I didn’t see Uther again for weeks. I came home to Camelot the day after giving birth and he left me alone until I was healed and placed in my new rooms. I have my own rooms now, near Arthur. They’re really nice.’
‘Good.’
‘Anyway,’ she murmurs. ‘Uther eventually visited. He didn’t come into my room, because Arthur threatened him, swearing on Tomas’ name. He- he was himself. Contrite, but himself. I told him it was his fault—that everything was his fault. I also may have lied a little and said that him leaving me tied up, freezing, was what called the Questing Beast into being.’
‘Oh ho ho,’ Kilgharrah chuckles in amusement. ‘A fitting betrayal. The death of his son, on his head.’
‘Either way, it would have been true. It was Tomas or Arthur. I chose Arthur.’
‘True,’ the dragon murmurs, before finally leaning back, sitting on his perch. ‘Have you any other fine stories, dear witch? I have a hankering for news.’
‘Oh, um,’ Merlin thinks. ‘Well, Arthur killed a unicorn.’
‘Arthur what?’
Finally telling her story in full to the Great Dragon makes her grief finally settle in her chest, turning her heart leaden. She smiles less, avoids people more and almost exclusively talks to Nimueh, who notices something off two dreams in.
‘You can’t avoid us forever,’ says Morgana, upset at being ignored, cornering her in a corridor to tell her so. Merlin nods shortly.
‘I won’t,’ she says. ‘I just…I think it’s all just hitting me. What happened with Tomas. I need to be alone with my thoughts.’
‘I understand that,’ Morgana says, reaching out to take her hand, ‘I have no idea what you’re feeling. I never want to have to go through what you have. But Merlin? Don’t push us away. Tell us you need space and we’ll give it to you. Don’t ignore us outright.’
‘There’s a difference?’
‘Yes,’ Morgana insists, kissing her cheek. ‘I’m here if you need me. For anything, Merlin.’
‘Thank-you,’ she whispers, before retreating. It takes her a stupid amount of time to realise she’s heading to Uther’s rooms, instead of her own. Merlin switches course immediately.
When in her own space, she stares at the map on her wall, gazing at the script for the Isle of the Blessed again. Merlin presses a hand to her empty stomach.
‘I wish you were here,’ she says. ‘I did want to meet you, in the end. I should have said goodbye properly and I really shouldn’t talk to myself like this, because it’s weird.’ Her hand falls to her side and she wonders why she tried going to Uther’s room. It wasn’t because they’re safe—they’re not—and it’s not because she wants Uther—definitely not. Merlin tries to think of reasons other than Uther that she’d want to visit that part of the castle.
There’s Julius, she thinks sceptically. I haven’t seen him in a while…
Merlin glances at her bed. It’s strange sleeping alone. Even when living with her mother, she was always close by. Merlin could just join her if she got cold or felt lonely. Then, she came to Camelot and all she knew was Uther. It struck her that she might be lonely, a strange idea. Or maybe she’s just not used to the new room.
…I can test it, she thinks, feeling a swirling in her gut like fear. Merlin wonders if she’s going insane.
Stepping out of her quarters, Merlin makes her way to Uther’s quarters, the lack of guards telling her of their lack of Uther. Entering slowly, Merlin stops almost immediately, looking at the familiar rooms and- and-
Feeling nothing.
Merlin looks at the lock. The idea of turning the key on either side gives her hives, so she takes it out and darts over to Uther’s side-table, depositing it in the farthest reaches of the drawer. An ugly flush appears on her cheeks as she finds the familiar vial of oil and the silver cock, reminding her just what messy exchanges have happened in this very room.
She forces herself to back against the nearby wall, closing her eyes and trying to imagine herself standing in here with Uther. She feels alert, on edge and attentive. For all that Uther has hurt her, she doesn’t feel out of place here. Merlin feels resigned for the most part, an oppressive feeling on its own that reminds her too much of being locked inside-
The door creaks open and Merlin’s eyes flash open, latching onto the sight of Uther as he walks across to his desk. He removes his outer jacket, sighing loudly, the way he does when the council members have given him a headache with their complaints and their demands. Merlin watches him move around to sit at his chair, not noticing her standing there, across the room. His eyes even flicker over her before returning to his papers, hand already reaching for a quill when he finally stops.
He looks at her again.
‘…Your Grace,’ she greets him, running a hand through her hair. Uther watches her flounder and his steady expression is strangely grounding. She calms, crossing her arms and leaning one shoulder against the wall instead, turning to face him properly.
He leans back in his chair. ‘Merlin. I never thought I’d see you in here again.’ His voice is almost wistful, but she can see his eyes rake down her clothed form, as if imagining what lays beneath.
‘Eyes up, please,’ Merlin requests and whoop-de-doo, he does as she says. A good sign, despite everything. ‘I came here to test a theory.’
‘What answer did you come up with?’
Merlin pushes off the wall, approaching him. Uther stays seated, watching her as she sits in the opposing chair, draping over it like Morgana does, all poised and elegant. Enticing, yet reserved.
‘It’s not the room,’ she tells him, not giving him the original question. Merlin feels a distinct freedom and safety in her new rooms that simply does not exist here. She ponders her own status, then. Merlin is still Gaius’ assistant, even if she’s not acting like a real royal mistress, at the moment.
When did I come to accept that title? Merlin wonders.
‘Will you threaten me with deserved violence if I ask you your favourite question?’ Uther queries, bringing her back to the present.
‘Ask away,’ Merlin says, ready to say no.
‘Can I sleep with you?’
‘No.’
‘Can I,’ he leans forwards, ‘pleasure you?’
Merlin frowns at him. ‘Isn’t that the same thing, in this scenario? I said no.’
‘To letting me fuck you into oblivion,’ says Uther, clarifying with a small, smug smirk. He gestures to her. ‘Can I pleasure you?’
Her frown deepens at his words. ‘No,’ she says, feeling a strange urge to say yes. Maybe that’s to do with the thrum in her lower belly at his words, because Merlin knows exactly what he’s offering. He’s done it enough times.
At her negative reply, Uther leans back in his chair, still again. ‘Understood,’ he says in a voice that is pleasantly mild. It’s the we’ll return to this later, when I get what I want after all voice. Merlin bristles.
‘I’m not letting you eat me out,’ she squawks, glaring at him and crossing her legs for good measure. Uther smirks. ‘No,’ she huffs.
‘Say no all you want,’ he replies airily, reaching for his quill. He pauses, then points at the door. ‘Leave. Come back later when you’re ready to say yes.’
‘I won’t be saying yes,’ she gnashes her teeth, standing. Leaving his rooms—not giving a damn about the surprised guards outside—Merlin returns to her quarters and screams into her pillow.
That night, she does not go to Uther’s quarters. No. Instead, Merlin takes a luxurious magical bath in her little bathing alcove. That her fingers find her nub is irrelevant, as is the orgasm she has imagining his face between her thighs.
‘Fuck!’ She swears, sweating in terror and anger and heat, deciding to give him a piece of her mind the next day. Merlin makes a plan and that plan begins the next morning, when Julius is picking up the king’s breakfast.
‘Julius!’ Merlin calls out, still irate and sounding like it, her silence around others broken. Heads turn at the tone of her voice. Even Julius seems alarmed. Merlin approaches him and gestures to the tray. ‘Give it.’
‘…give you the tray,’ he says slowly. ‘You aren’t going to poison it, are you?’
‘No, but he’d deserve it if I decided to give him a stomach-ache. I had worse with Tomas,’ Merlin says, reaching out to take the tray, tucking it under one arm. Julius watches her with hawks eyes and she exclaims, ‘What?’
‘You’re really not going to hurt him?’
‘No,’ she scowls. ‘Maybe call him a few names and shout at him.’
His expression flickers. ‘And you can get away with that, now? The last time I checked, Merlin, the boundaries that existed between you and the king were somewhat one-sided.’
‘Talk about it in front of half the kitchen, why don’t you?’ Merlin mutters as more than a few of the other servants hush, listening intently to Julius and Merlin’s conversation. Deciding to get this over and done with, she lets it continue, saying, ‘Things are different. He’s trying to bend the rules instead of outright breaking them. After I blamed him for what happened to Tomas, he’s been respectful of my boundaries—literally. He doesn’t ever come inside my personal rooms.’
But she seems to just worry Julius more. ‘What happened to your son?’ he questions, his concern clear.
‘It-’ Merlin struggles to explain in front of so many listeners, knowing Uther would know it came from her if she told the truth. That being said, she hates Uther. Really and truly hates him. She’s dealt with worse from him for bigger things than ruining his already-sullied reputation.
Still, the full details aren’t something she wants well-known, personally, so she gets creative. ‘Exposure.’
‘Exposure?’
‘To the elements,’ Merlin says, not elaborating. Julius doesn’t seem to get it. Merlin sighs, then reminds him, ‘It was a month off the new year and I was eight months pregnant. Come on, Jules, you’re the one that asked. I bet Lisbet has already figured it out.’ She looks over her shoulder at one of the watching scullery maids, Lisbet, who seems appalled. Sharp mind, Lisbet. ‘Anyway—I’m going to take His Cadness breakfast and you’re going to take the morning off while I tell Uther off for the game he’s trying to play with me.’
With that said, Merlin leaves, Julius still standing there in the busy kitchen corner as she departs for Uther’s quarters. It’s a kick in the backside, going through with this old routine. It used to be that a day wouldn’t go by where she didn’t collect his morning meal.
Entering his quarters, she’s hit with severe déjà vu, but Merlin persists, setting up the dining table and opening half his curtains. By the time she makes her way over to him, the quiet noises have already half-awoken him and perspiration has dampened her lower back from fear.
‘…Merlin?’ he murmurs groggily.
‘I have a bone to pick with you,’ Merlin says, hauling off his covers and hiding her fear. The sight of him in actual nightclothes is a surprise, though the instinctive curled position he takes at the lack of covers makes her smirk. ‘Get up, Your Royal Highness. As I said. Bone. Picking time.’
‘I am awake, Merlin,’ he groans, getting to his feet and trudging over to his dining table. As he eats, Merlin gathers a set of clothes for the day and makes up his bed properly, keeping a watchful eye on the king as she does.
Eventually, she runs out of chores. She sits opposite him, at the end of the table, only a fruit bowl and a tray with dining-ware between them.
More alert now, Uther watches her with a guarded expression. ‘What have you to say?’ he asks.
‘Yesterday. Do you know how frustrated you made me?’ Merlin asks him, not waiting for an answer. ‘No, you don’t. It makes me uncomfortable that I have to deal with the kind of lurid images you inspire. I am not ready to do anything—let me be clear: anything—with you. Not now, not tomorrow, not next week.’
Uther looks at her with a serious expression, voice gravid. ‘Are you sure?’
‘Very,’ Merlin says. She imagines him getting anywhere near her right now, fantasies excluded. She’d probably scream or go to her hazy place, then never come back out. ‘Like you, I just lost my son. Unlike you, I had to go through some awful things to get to that point and I know you’re king, but if you expect me to just…roll over? After everything you’ve done to me? That’s just- that’s just not going to happen.’
‘Are you retaining your position?’ He asks her.
‘My position? This is more than a position.’ Merlin clenches her jaw. ‘I’d never leave Camelot. This is my home. That you’re in it doesn’t make a difference on that point. Arthur and Morgana are two of my best friends and if I stopped being your mistress, they’d be overjoyed. People still know me, though. Geoffrey has already written my name in the records. Whether I stay your mistress or not officially, I’ll still always be known as your whore.’
‘You are not a whore,’ Uther cuts in.
‘That’s exactly what I am. A royal whore,’ she snarls, ‘All as a reward for saving Arthur’s life.’
‘It is an honour-’
‘One I’ll retain for the rest of my life,’ Merlin interrupts him. Uther falls silent. ‘It doesn’t matter whether or not I’m officially the Royal Mistress or not, I’m yours forever. I can never get married while you’re alive, because all my children will be doubted. That’s even if I managed to marry someone at all.’
‘If you have children at all,’ Uther says, careful. ‘You are currently…disinclined, to having relations.’
That’s one way to put it. ‘If I had the choice, I’d never sleep with you again. My honoured position, however,’ she mocks his words, ‘will make finding other lovers difficult, to say the least.’
That makes him shift, a possessive glint returning to his eyes. ‘I thought I was very clear about that.’
‘We’ll discuss it,’ Merlin says curtly. She watches his fist curl up on the table, his shoulder tensing beneath his shirt. ‘I want us to start from scratch. I- I want respect.’
‘I am your king.’
‘And I’m your mistress, but you don’t see me proclaiming it from the rooftops every time someone questions my authority,’ scoffs Merlin. ‘I know you’re king. I’m allowed to be both loyal and hateful. Just look at Morgana.’
Uther stirs. ‘Morgana doesn’t hate me.’
‘You should try listening to her more, if you want that to be true. Everyone knows you see her as a daughter and treat her as such-’ Merlin says, frowning at his grimace. ‘Don’t make that face. You raised her. Take responsibility for both your children, you cad.’
He points a finger at her. ‘You are treading a fine line,’ he warns her and Merlin clamps her jaw shut. The expression on Uther’s face tells her to run, but like every time she gets the urge, she stays stuck to her seat, waiting.
A charged moment passes between them, before Uther speaks to her.
‘I acknowledge your need for autonomy. However, bargaining will mean nought if nothing ever comes of it. Set your season. We’ll have till the end of whichever you choose to negotiate our activities as lovers. If nothing concrete comes of it, you will come willingly to me and we shall retain what rules we have in place already.’
‘I never want to be locked in a room again against my will.’
Uther looks faintly startled at her first demand—but if anything has become clear since yesterday, it’s that. She cannot handle being in a locked room. The idea of a key to turn in a lock turns her stomach—the idea of being trapped making her want to jump out the window again.
‘A good opening salvo,’ he allows her, before pointing at her stomach. ‘I want to know when you are pregnant.’
Denial stirs in her gut, but it’s a clear enough step. He would always find out eventually, if it came to be. He’s found out both times so far. Merlin nods reluctantly to his demand, disguising her shudder of disgust, then says, ‘You respect my decisions, like the yes or no question.’
‘Agreeable. You stay in my chambers the days you do say yes.’
‘Okay,’ Merlin nods. She wrinkles her nose at the rapport they’re building. ‘For some reason, I expected this to be harder.’
‘I expect it will be, once we get into specifics,’ Uther says. ‘Like this. You’re my lover and mine alone.’
Grinding her teeth, Merlin shakes her head. She’s had enough of being his plaything.
‘No. That’s too binding,’ she says. His eyes flash.
‘What happened to forever?’
‘I want a choice. Unless you plan to marry me, then don’t go into this expecting monogamy,’ Merlin manages to say, the words like tar. ‘Different rule: no marriage.’
‘Agreed. From either of us.’ That surprises her, but Uther returns to the previous rule quickly. ‘You’re my lover and I have to give permission if you want to show interest in another.’
‘You’d say no to all of them!’ Merlin objects.
‘Free reign,’ he returns, ‘while remaining clothed.’
‘You know exactly how far someone can go with clothes on,’ Merlin challenges him, which makes him purse his lips.
‘The castle denizens are already aware of the price for touching you without your permission. You know the line and you’ll tell them it is physical sex and anything that involves the removal of clothing.’
‘I want to table this for a later date,’ Merlin says, getting a stiff nod. She brings up her salary, agreeing to a reduction during this period of negotiation before a return to business as usual.
‘When will that be?’ he questions.
Merlin takes time to consider it. Uther offered her until the end of her chosen season. Spring is too early and winter, he could claim, is right now. Either autumn or summer. She considers the logical choice of autumn, giving her longer and forcing Uther to wait. Then she considers Uther himself and their negotiating. Summer would sweeten the deal.
Merlin thinks of where they started and of numeric symbolism.
‘The end of summer. Like when we began, two years ago.’
Uther nods, then reaches for the fruit bowl, taking out an apple. Brown spots have begun to appear on the skin, the end of a winter supply only finally begun to go bad. She watches him slice it with his knife, sitting there without a care.
Merlin licks her lips, trying to push down her unease. A suggestion of a rule comes to mind, but she knows Uther. Knows what he likes and dislikes. He would never agree, would he?
…she says it anyway.
‘No violence.’
Uther pauses in cutting up his apple. ‘What is construed as violent?’
‘No hitting me, no leaving bruises on top of bruises. Don’t leave me tied up and vulnerable.’ She sees him flinch. He should. ‘Ask before using other implements because some of that stuff hurts, Uther. Especially arse sex. I hate that kind of sex. It always hurts and I don’t like it.’
He points the knife at her, saying, ‘You’ve never complained before.’
‘I wasn’t allowed to. Now, I just don’t care. Plus,’ she adds, ‘if you hurt me again, everyone I know will spirit me away, regardless of my opinion on the matter or yours. Best head off the worst of you, so no-one sees it anymore.’
Taking on a brooding expression, Uther eats his apple piece by piece, throwing two at her when she makes grabby hands. Merlin catches one expertly, then loses the second down her bust. Uther laughs when she struggles to fit her hand down to reach the piece of fruit that has somehow got itself halfway down her bodice.
‘Laugh all you like,’ she grumbles, fixing her dress. ‘I will get my revenge. Apples will be involved, so you know it’s me.’
‘Very well, I shall look out for a deluge of apples,’ says Uther, before he returns her rule. ‘Should you ever leave Camelot on a hunting trip or visit to your former village, you’ll bring people with you. At least one knight.’
Merlin can’t help her surprise. ‘I’m allowed to leave?’
Uther’s smile turns fixed. ‘You will be monitored as Morgana is, if that makes things seem simpler. Your rank is…closer than you would expect.’
‘Huh,’ Merlin mutters to herself, thinking that her rate of security does, in fact, seem somewhat similar to Morgana’s. She can roam the castle by herself, but the moment she leaves, there are guards on her tail and often watchers in plainclothes. It is like the freedom Morgana wields. Merlin just has the added bonus of being allowed in the kitchens.
‘Regarding rank,’ Uther continues, ‘Children.’
‘I want all your bastards recognised,’ Merlin immediately says. She’d grown up a bastard herself, but being acknowledged by an actual named man would have made the world of difference when she was younger. Having her own children growing up with a royal education is just the icing on the cake.
‘All of your children,’ he agrees. Merlin narrows her eyes.
‘Hey, don’t twist my words. I said all of your bastards, not all of my children.’
‘Semantics,’ he mumbles, the topic closing. Merlin leans back in her chair, finally eating those apple slices. They’re soft and tart, which really makes her want a full apple to herself.
‘So,’ she says, before hesitantly running through all the rules she can remember. ‘No locking me in a room without my consent. I always tell you when I’m pregnant. Uh, you respect the yes-no thing and my decisions.’
‘You stay with me on the nights we spend together,’ Uther adds.
‘Yeah,’ she nods, ‘and you’re not violent to me. I must have Morgana-level security whenever I leave the castle and you recognise all your bastards officially.’
‘Your children,’ he corrects again, which is not what Merlin is agreeing to.
‘We said we’d come back to the monogamy thing—oh yeah, no marriages for either of us—but really, if I win that argument, then I don’t want you to have to acknowledge children that really aren’t yours, should I have them.’
He waves his hand, nodding along before getting to his feet. ‘Fetch some paper and writing implements. We’ll write what we have down, with the summer deadline. After that, the rules are sealed.’
‘What if we need to add onto them later?’ Merlin asks. ‘Will we do like we did today, back and forth?’
Uther tilts his head in agreement, before undressing by his clothes horse, leaving Merlin to scrounge around his desk. At one point, she catches sight of orders for excavations, but has no clue what it could be referring to.
Merlin forgets about it. It probably won’t be anything important, anyway.
‘It’s bothering me,’ she says, frustrated. Gaius looks up from his book, watching her smash herbs in the pestle for his next brew.
‘What is bothering you?’
‘Uther,’ Merlin grits her teeth, scowling as she accidentally smashes her thumb. Putting it in her mouth, she garbles, ‘He kept correcting one of our rules!’
‘Why do these rules mean so much to you?’ Gaius asks her in turn, frowning at her. ‘Merlin, I worry for you. This affair with the king…you have had your chance to end it. Why not stop, instead of jumping back into something you can’t control?’
‘I can control it,’ says Merlin.
‘No, you can’t. He’s the king.’
‘I can control most of it,’ she corrects. ‘Why was he so focused on changing the wording of the rule? Doesn’t he want his bastards recognised?’
‘Bastards?’ Gaius exclaims.
Merlin points the pestle at him. ‘Right? It’s weird!’
‘Merlin,’ Gaius sounds appalled, ‘Are you pregnant again?’
‘No.’
‘Then why are you talking about bastards?’
‘Because it’s inevitable,’ says Merlin. ‘I’m the king’s mistress. It’s kind of my job to do the thing that makes babies.’ She flinches when Gaius shuts his book with a loud slam, uncaring of the fragile spine, pointing roughly at her.
‘You are not something for Uther to use and abuse as he sees fit,’ Gaius says, trembling. ‘Kings mistress or not. There are herbs that impact fertility—herbs you should have asked about when this began.’
Merlin wilts. ‘But- but then you would have found out.’
‘And if I had? I thought you were a maidservant, not a whore.’ He bites his tongue too late and Merlin drops the pestle, not having ever expected to hear the word leave his mouth. A tense silence falls over the infirmary.
Since her first days in Camelot, Merlin has worried over Gaius, cared for him as her uncle and respected him as her mentor. Even when she hid her indiscretions with Uther, to her, Gaius was still that man who fell off a balcony whom she saved with her magic. He fussed over her, scolded her, made her clean the leech tank whenever she was overly-cheeky—but he never made her feel unwanted.
‘Merlin,’ he murmurs, ‘I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have-’
‘No,’ she interrupts. Merlin shakes her head. ‘No, say it. It’s the truth. I came here to be your assistant, to learn how to control my magic in secret. Instead, I’m whore to the king and I’ve repressed my magic to the point where sometimes, I haven’t used it in months. That’s not what my mother wanted for me.’
Gaius repeats, ‘Months? But your magic is instinctual, it…just happens,’ he says, repeating what she said oh so long ago. ‘You were born knowing magic.’
‘Well,’ she says testily, ‘when half your time is spent in the presence of the Butcher of Magic, you get used to holding it inside. If he were not the king, do you not think I would use it? I did with Valiant. I killed him in the armoury the moment I was out of range.’
The old physician covers his face with his hands.
‘Didn’t know about that, did you?’ Merlin mutters, cleaning her hands with a rag and picking up the fallen pestle. ‘At least Uther keeps some of my secrets.’
‘Uther said that it was an accident.’ Gaius shakes his head in disbelief. ‘I knew it was not, but he didn’t allow me to investigate further. It was one of the many mysteries of Camelot.’
‘I killed him,’ asserts Merlin.
Gaius wipes his eyes and says again, ‘I am sorry, Merlin.’
‘It wasn’t a lie,’ she murmurs softly. ‘Don’t apologise for telling the truth. I’m a whore. I’ve known it for a long time.’
‘Oh, Merlin…’
‘Enough of that,’ Merlin says soothingly, stepping forwards to wrap her mentor in a hug, feeling his tears on her shoulder. She holds him while he weeps, as his whole body shakes with it. Uther has wrought heartache on the kingdom, she thinks, with his Purge and with all his actions. I shall stop it one day. I shall make Arthur king and Uther shall rot in the ground.
That, she promises herself, will be her goal. Uther dead at her hand, his kingdom toppled under Arthur’s fruitful regime—and the first thing she must do is something she has put off for a long time.
It’s time Arthur found out about her magic.
‘Where are we going?’ The prince complains, leaning back in his saddle to stare at the bright canopy above them. This early in the spring, the hot day is a disguise for the rains to come, but Merlin has no intention of letting it pass them by.
‘A secret place,’ Merlin teases, looking over at Morgana and Gwen on their own horses. Several paces behind them, a half dozen knights follow on their own steeds, Sir Leon on the lookout for danger. Merlin has a plan to get most of the knights to leave, during her big reveal, but Sir Leon can hopefully be inducted into the secret as well as provide cover on behalf of their anxious bodyguards.
Gwen asks her, ‘I heard you had the kitchens pack something special in the picnic.’
‘If I did, that’s my special treat!’ she exclaims, knowing exactly what rumour Gwen has heard—as she inducted Gwen’s usual friends into keeping it a secret from her for Merlin’s amusement. ‘We’re nearly there, anyway.’
And indeed they were. On a jaunt for Gaius during the early days of her career as his assistant, she’d discovered a little spot by a stream with a gentle cover of rocks on one side, which will impress Arthur and Sir Leon. As they come over the ridge, however, Arthur has an almost flustered expression about him.
‘I’ve…been here before.’
‘Oh,’ Merlin stops short, pulling her horse to a halt. ‘When?’
He hesitates. Merlin can sense his embarrassment—as can Morgana, who with twinkling eyes, leans in and teases, ‘Come on Arthur, when were you last here?’
Arthur mutters something she doesn’t catch. ‘What was that?’ she asks.
Louder, he says, ‘I was here with Sophia!’
‘The assassin?’ Merlin says, incredulous. ‘What was she trying to do, seduce you?’
‘To death,’ chips in Morgana, the conversation seemingly alarming the knights, Sir Leon staring at Arthur in shock. ‘She was a sidhe in human form, as was her father. I had to knock Arthur out with his own sword to stop him from running off with her. She was so busy trying to get revenge on me for disrupting her plans that her father, who was trying to stop her, tripped her through an open balcony when I stabbed him.’
‘I heard they died,’ Merlin says morbidly, ‘Not that it was your fault.’
The discovery that Morgana can get away with outright murder in Camelot is far less surprising that it should be and Merlin contents herself knowing that Arthur is safe and sound as she dismounts, tying her horse up on a nearby tree.
‘Sir Leon,’ she starts, attempting to be subtle, ‘Maybe your knights could have a wander around the perimeter. Make sure the surroundings are safe. You can stay and guard us.’
Sir Leon, taking her advice, nods in agreement, ‘Of course, my lady—men, spread out around the clearing on foot. Check both sides of the stream for activity.’
Arthur, dismounting with the rest of the party, takes the picnic basket before Merlin can do more than untie it from her horse. ‘Find us a spot,’ he instructs her, Merlin gladly letting him shoulder the burden of the basket as she heads towards a grassy patch in the sun.
With Gwen’s help, she sets out a blanket, the four of them settling on the ground as Sir Leon stands awkwardly a few feet away. Merlin waves him over.
‘Come on. Sit. I’ve got something to tell everyone and I’d rather you were sitting.’
‘…why?’
‘In case you faint, of course,’ she says. Sir Leon gulps, then settles himself on the grass instead of the blanket, taking his sword out to set beside himself like Arthur has done.
Morgana, suddenly pale, asks, ‘You aren’t here to speak about Uther, are you?’
‘No—you know this secret,’ Merlin tells her, making her stare for a long moment before she recoils.
‘You aren’t!’ She accuses, looking at Arthur and Sir Leon. ‘Merlin, don’t tell them, you’ll get yourself hurt.’
Wary, Arthur asks, ‘Why would we hurt her?’ He, Leon and a frowning Gwen exchange looks, before Morgana reaches over, latching onto her arm.
‘Merlin,’ the lady impresses upon her, panicked. ‘If they tell-’
‘They won’t,’ Merlin interrupts her, calm and assured of herself. ‘I trust them. I don’t want it to be a secret between us. They—all of you,’ she looks around the group, including Leon for the sake of it all, ‘Have helped me. Seen to my well-being. Trusted me. I don’t want that trust to be misplaced. The longer I stay silent, the worse the reaction will be when it’s finally revealed.’
‘All this talk is worrying me,’ Arthur says in a joking tone that isn’t really joking, gaze darting between his pseudo-sister and his father’s mistress. ‘What is it?’
Morgana drops Merlin’s arm with one last imploring look, but Merlin’s mind is set. She looks at Arthur under her lashes—checking behind him to make sure the rest of the knights have vanished—and then to the open basket. Raising her hand, she summons the closest bundled item, her magic singing in delight as it surges within her to float over the half-dozen apples wrapped in cloth.
Arthur startles, reaching for his sword, but Gwen grabs onto his arm, halting him in place as she stares at Merlin’s hands. Untying the knot in the cloth, Merlin simultaneously levitates the entire contents of the picnic basket into the middle of the blankets, setting out plates and forks, sharing cut hams and hard cheeses from within the mess. Goblets settle beside their drinkers, wine pouring from a fat green bottle as the bread is carved into slices for their consumption.
‘When I was born, I caused a snowstorm,’ she says, coring the apples with merely a thought, breaking them into pieces for their plates as she speaks. ‘It was sudden. Most of the snow was centred around our house and Mother said it ringed around it in an unnatural fashion, barely reaching the edge of the village. I used magic as a newborn without thought, using it to make my screams louder to attract her attention, summoning wild animals to play with, making green things grow. Once, when there was a drought, I filled the village well with so much water it poured out of the sides. This was all before I was two years of age.’
‘Impossible,’ mumbles Leon, while a pale-faced Arthur stares at Merlin in silence.
‘It was hard to make me stop.’ Merlin says, eating a slice of cheese. Chewing for a moment, she takes a second to swallow before continuing, the words pouring out of her, one after the other. ‘Mother never beat me or treated me unfairly, but I knew before I could really talk that I was not allowed to make things happen. I was to be still and silent. As I got older, I experimented more, but my mother always got me in trouble for it. Seeing her cry was the worst thing in the world to my child self and I made her cry often, so I learnt not to use magic where others could see. As I got older, things became easier to understand, like Uther’s Purge and Cenred’s forcible recruitment of sorcerers into his armies. In either kingdom, my fate would be cruel.’
‘Then came adulthood. I wasn’t married, because to Ealdor, I was the strange bastard girl. Only my mother’s goodwill and ability to write and speak well kept them from throwing me out entirely. Mother arranged for me to come to Camelot and assist Gaius, if not apprentice. That last bit never came to pass, though I had hope for a second, that night I saved your life,’ Merlin says, aiming the last bit at Arthur.
Shifting where he sits, the prince asks in a rumbling voice, ‘So, you do not practice sorcery?’
‘I’m not a sorceress—I’m a witch. They are different things,’ she explains. ‘A sorcerer has a choice. I never did. But coming under scrutiny while living in the palm of your father’s hand isn’t something I could ever allow, either. Magic is like air to me, Arthur, something that exists inside me and could never not exist in my life. I’ve never dared use it in Camelot, except for the most dire occasions,’ she says, adding belatedly, ‘and some training in the more esoteric spells, in recent months.’
He blurts out in horror, ‘You’ve been training? In Camelot?’
‘Yeah, just in my room,’ Merlin shrugs, hiding her fear of rejection by shovelling food in her mouth. She offers him his pile of apple slices. Arthur stares at her extended hand.
Gwen, tentative, asks her, ‘If you’ve had magic all this time…why haven’t you used it? To help yourself, I mean. Everything…’ she trails off, swallowing. ‘Everything with Tomas might never have happened.’
‘Anything but magic,’ she blurts out, shoulders tight. ‘It’s what my mum said for- for if anything like that happened. With men. Anything but magic. I’m just like any of you, when it comes to all of that.’
Gwen breaks first, lip trembling as she moves across the middle of the blanket to hug her. Merlin welcomes her embrace, dropping her sliced apples onto the cloth in her lap. She feels Morgana join them, a moment later.
Leon and Arthur are quiet, not doing anything. When they finally part, Merlin sees the prince picking at his food, gaze looking anywhere but her. If Merlin hadn’t already made the mistake of judging him prematurely, she would have thought him to feel betrayed. Instead, she doesn’t judge—she asks.
‘Arthur, how do you feel, learning about me?’
He toys with his fork, still not looking at her. ‘I don’t know,’ he says shortly. ‘Sorcery is evil. That’s all my father has ever said.’
‘He would say that, considering what happened to your mother,’ Merlin says, catching everyone—even Morgana—by surprise with her words. Arthur looks straight up in concern.
‘My mother?’
‘Do you remember Nimueh?’ she asks, correcting herself. ‘Cara?’ At his non-recognition, she says, ‘The creator of the afanc and who was responsible for the poisoned chalices?’
‘That was the same person?’ Arthur questions, suddenly furious. ‘You were near-dead!’
‘I was. Nimueh and I have been in contact since then,’ Merlin describes calmly, knowing she needs to keep a level head. ‘Mainly, she was after Uther and only a little bit, you, finally fed up enough with the Purge to use her gifts for darker purposes. Nimueh is one of the last High Priestesses of the Old Religion, the bearer of the Cup of Life and protector of the Isle of the Blessed.’
‘Why would you speak to her?’ asks Leon. Merlin weighs her options, then decides to tell the truth, to a point.
‘She walked into my dreams to ask why I helped destroy her afanc. The poison was meant for me, too, if not a Pendragon. To her, I was a nuisance. When she dreamwalked, we talked of our personal truths and what I told her stayed her hand, regarding her next attempt on Uther’s life. Everything she planned has been put on hold, until my word.’
‘Your word?’ Arthur grits his teeth. ‘To kill my father?’
‘Yes,’ Merlin answers honestly. She isn’t surprised to see Leon begin reaching for his sword. ‘I’m not going to tell her to do it.’
Morgana butts in. ‘Why? You have more than enough reason to wish him dead,’ she says, only the slightest bit accusing, like she would want Uther dead herself.
Merlin shrugs, knowing she could have told Nimueh to begin her plotting again, but the word of Emrys goes far with one like her. Instead of continuing that line of conversation, she asks, ‘Can we return to why I brought her up?’
‘Queen Ygraine?’ prods Gwen, equally wishing for the treasonous segue to end.
‘Nimueh knew her,’ explains Merlin, physically moving her hand to prod Leon’s wrist back to his lap before it can wrap around his sword-hilt. He yelps and she gives him a chiding look that makes him look at her in a half-hurt manner. Merlin winces a little, looking back to Arthur. ‘She and your mother were friends, long before you were conceived. Nimueh made regular journeys to the heart of kingdoms near and far, using the Cup of Life to heal ills and other such manners.’
Still eating, as if to curb any murderous impulses, Arthur asks after a gulp of wine, ‘What did she do to her?’
‘Nothing. Everything,’ Merlin fiddles with her dress, finally handing out the rest of the apple slices onto everyone’s plates. Realising they’re actually one short, for Leon, she summons one from the castle kitchens, laying it out for him along with a goblet. ‘Your mother was barren, Arthur. She couldn’t have children.’
‘She had me,’ he spits out.
‘Because Uther asked,’ says Merlin, shocking him. ‘Your father pleaded with Nimueh for a child of Ygraine’s womb and Nimueh eventually faltered and worked her magic, using the Cup of Life as her instrument. But the thing about the Cup of Life is that it is an instrument of the Old Religion, keeping the balance of life in check with every use. What Uther asked for was the ability to give life,’ Merlin stresses.
‘Oh no,’ mumbles Morgana, figuring it out in an instant. Arthur takes longer, looking at Merlin uncomprehendingly.
‘For a life,’ Merlin says to him, keeping his gaze with her own, ‘you must owe a death. Like when you were healed from the bite of the Questing Beast, a life given by the Cup of Life must be exchanged with a death. Uther understood the consequences—they were made very clear to him—but he persisted and Ygraine died. Instead of accepting his choice, he blamed the very existence of magic. The Purge began the day your mother died.’
Arthur stares at her blankly. Then he says something that chills her. ‘What do you mean, I was healed with the Cup of Life, Merlin?’
It was never something Merlin meant to give away. A slip of the tongue has forever taken that decision from her.
Tongue-tied, Merlin, startled and wide-eyed, opens and closes her mouth. For a brief moment, she even begins to turn into that hazy oblivion of hers, but Arthur speaks again, drawing her from the brink, and he sounds terrified.
‘Merlin, what did you do?’ He looks at her in dawning fear. ‘You told me you went to an ally who was your enemy. That was Nimueh. When you left Camelot, you went to Nimueh.’
‘Arthur-’ she starts, but he interrupts her, shaking his head frantically.
‘Tell me you didn’t. Tell me you didn’t do it, Merlin.’
‘I- I didn’t,’ she says desperately, reaching out for him, except Arthur bats her hand away, grabbing his hair.
‘Tell me,’ he says, ‘Tell me about the Cup of Life.’
Her eyes prickle with tears and her lip wobbles. No, she thinks. I never wanted you to find out about this.
‘A life for a life,’ Merlin says, chest heaving. She shakes her head. ‘I never meant to tell you. I never wanted this to burden you.’
‘My brother,’ Arthur says, voice breaking. ‘Why, Merlin? You should never have exchanged him for me.’
‘You’re the Once and Future King,’ she says, weeping into her hand, wiping her eyes as she explains. ‘You’re the destined king, prophesised for an age. You couldn’t die before your reign began. So much is riding on you. What’s the world as we know it worth? Not an unborn child.’
‘Did you even love him?’
‘With everything I had,’ Merlin gasps. She looks at Arthur, stricken. ‘Of course I loved him, Arthur. But I love you, too. If I hadn’t been pregnant, it would have been me in his place.’
Now it’s his turn to look heartbroken. ‘Merlin,’ he says, dismayed. ‘You- you can’t say that.’
‘I speak only the truth, my king.’
‘Don’t call me that.’
Merlin laughs and it’s an insane laugh. ‘You are my king,’ she says, ‘who I am destined to see to the throne, to advise and to watch over as you bring hope and prosperity to all of Albion. We’re written in the stars, Arthur. I would gladly give my life for yours.’
‘But it was Tomas, instead,’ he says, before latching onto her arm and dragging her into his arms, holding her tightly. Merlin tucks herself into his body, setting her chin over his shoulder, wrapping her arms around his broad torso. She feels safe in the depth of his embrace, Arthur her best friend, even over Morgana. Sorry, Morgana, she thinks without regret.
‘Idiot,’ he mumbles into her hair. Merlin squeezes him tighter.
Beside them on the blanket, Gwen wipes her eyes and leans into Morgana, who discretely wipes her eyes. The two women exchange silent glances, newly grieving over the boy they never knew, grasping each others hands. Sir Leon, on his patch of grass, does not even think about picking up his sword.
But eventually, Merlin and Arthur part, tucking into each others sides as they dig into their askew luncheons. Quiet overtakes the group, Merlin resting her head against Arthur’s chest as he rests his arm over her shoulders. It’s understood that they won’t talk of Merlin’s actions again, or of the unborn Tomas’ sacrifice.
They simply eat and sit in the sunshine, until it is time to leave.
On a rainy day mid-spring, Uther announces the search for treasure beneath Camelot, men already hired to excavate choice portions of the tunnels below the castle. The new intrigue, however, quickly becomes a nuisance to the many castle residents and townspeople, as the sound of pick-axes goes well on into the night.
Slamming a pillow over her head, Merlin groans, trying to block it out. If only she lived in her room above the infirmary—now inhabited by her mother, Hunith—then she might never hear the ugly sound of axe on stone.
‘I’m going to go mad,’ she mutters, before releasing a touch of her magic around her chamber. In an instant, all outside noises cease and she smiles, thrilled at both the peace and the little trick she’s decided to employ at all. Progress, Merlin thinks, knowing she’s gotten into the bad habit of actually dealing with things like a normal human being, when she has the power not to.
Next morning, she wakes with the sun and momentarily forgets her silencing ward, until she feels the touch of her own magic on the walls and windows and pulls it down. Then the sound of pick-axes begins anew.
‘Ugh…’
A week in, however, the miners strike gold—or rather, a tomb. Merlin gets to accompany Gaius down to see the body of the man struck by a trap, whose grey pallor and red eyes cause her brow to rise.
‘A curse?’ She spies the bolt. ‘Attached to an object?’
‘Astute observation,’ Gaius muses, watching her skirt around his body and inspect the room. To Merlin, the jewels and treasure aren’t much. As a peasant—despite her mistress status—she has no use for any, knowing it’d be a peril to be caught with them, let alone wear or use them. Even in her position, she hasn’t any jewellery bestowed upon her like many would expect.
But where do the bolts come from? Merlin wonders, peering into the darkness. Her hand rises to rest against one of the raven statues, brushing the cool stone as she leans in, surprised to feel the undercurrent of magic when she touches it. Peering at the stone curiously, Merlin inspects it with her power, recognising some kind of enchantment, though what kind, she has no idea.
Behind her, Gaius steps forwards, the sound of stone rasping on stone attracting her attention. Merlin turns just in time to see a bolt fly from the raven’s mouth, slowing time as she figures its destination is Gaius himself. A push up sends the bullet flying past his shoulder when time resumes, instead of piercing his heart.
Gaius looks at her, wide-eyed. ‘You just saved my life. Thank-you.’
‘It’s nothing,’ Merlin says, before hearing a clamour at the entrance. Uther walks into the room, pausing as he spies her by the statue, before continuing inside to marvel at the chamber’s contents.
‘Well,’ he says, ‘this is quite a find. You see, Gaius, I was right. There is treasure to be found under Camelot.’
Merlin watches him circle the stone coffin, picking at the treasure hoard before finally peering at the relief carved into the stone itself. For such a rich hoard, Merlin finds it strange that the stone façade is so plain—even despite the blue heart-shaped gem in the centre. That, she can tell, is the centrepiece.
‘Which of my predecessors do I have to thank for all this?’ Uther wonders aloud. ‘Gaius?’
‘I’d have to look into it, sire.’
Uther’s gaze strays to the dead man. ‘How did he die?’
Gaius gestures below, to the stone slab he stepped on. ‘He seems to have unwittingly triggered a trap here.’
‘To deter graverobbers,’ determines Arthur.
Uther nods in agreement, standing tall. ‘Well, there’s plenty in here people would want to steal. Have them secure the tomb. Guarding it is your responsibility, Arthur.’ Uther goes to leave, finishing his circle around the stone, but stops in front of Merlin, eyeing her in interest. Merlin looks away.
The king moves on, except then he picks something up from amongst the treasure and returns to her side, hands rising above her shoulders. Merlin stiffens as he drapes a long, golden chain around her neck, a heavy amulet falling down below her bust. When Merlin inspects it, ignoring how Uther pulls out her hair from beneath the chain, she discovers a red jewel half the size of her heart, set into a golden diamond. To her surprise, it thrums with magic beneath her fingertips.
‘You will have your share of the treasure,’ Uther says. ‘It is high time you own your own collection of jewels. Do not think I have not noticed your lack.’
‘…I had not thought to own any, my lord. I’m not of noble blood,’ she tells him cautiously, not mentioning that even with her savings, she could hardly afford jewels abundant.
‘Nevertheless. I have overlooked you.’ Uther says, before finally bowing out. Merlin is left standing by the raven statue, awkward and shifting between two feet. The moment Uther is gone, she better inspects the amulet, noting the runes carved around the edges in a language she doesn’t know.
‘That was absurd,’ Arthur mutters. Merlin looks over at him. ‘He’s right to give you accessories, but this late? After everything?’
‘At least it’s interesting,’ Merlin says, brushing her thumb over the red centre. It pulses gently to her magic, not exhibiting anything physically, per say, but still emanating an aura of some kind when her magic reaches out to touch against it. She can feel the aura expand over her, settling over her skin as some sort of protection. ‘Actually, I’m rather keen on accepting this piece. It’s a protective amulet of some kind.’
‘Merlin!’ Gaius gasps, Merlin only then remembering she hadn’t told him of Arthur’s knowledge of her magic.
‘It’s alright, I’m aware,’ Arthur says, only making her mentor turn a particular shade of pink before he scurries over to bat the jewel out of her hands.
‘You don’t even know what it does!’
‘It’s protecting me from something,’ says Merlin, glancing back at the guards by the entrance. ‘Let’s talk of it later.’
‘That we will,’ Gaius grumbles.
Arthur moves to push them towards the exit. ‘It’s late. Let’s have the guards collect the body and leave, so we can return to our beds. I have security to sort out.’
Assisting Gaius the next day in exploring the tomb and identifying all the various sigils on the treasure hoard, Merlin is the first to know when Gaius finally identifies the tomb as belonging to Cornelius Sigan, a sorcerer of great power from the earliest days of Camelot.
‘It explains your amulet,’ he says, pensive. ‘If it really is his tomb and his magical artefacts are still empowered, then there may be darker spells at work. No-one must touch anything else within the tomb.’
‘Including that blue crystal?’ Merlin asks.
Gaius’ lips form a firm line. ‘Most definitely.’
With much regret, Merlin sets her new amulet away, deep in a drawer, pretending like she had already placed it back in the tomb when Gaius brings his suspicions to Uther. The news that certain pieces may be enchanted brings the king’s mood plummeting down.
‘Can they be recognised?’ Uther asks, demanding an answer.
‘With time, sire,’ says Gaius. ‘I would inform Arthur.’
‘Yes, yes—tell him to be wary of the treasure.’ His gaze lingers on Merlin. ‘Do not wear the amulet again, until Gaius rids it of its devilish spells.’
Merlin nods, curtseying so she can hide her face of defiance behind closed eyes. ‘Yes, sire.’
‘You shall have a chest of jewellery to call your own before the month is up,’ he promises her again.
As Gaius seeks to translate the runes he found carved around the blue heart crystal, Merlin seeks out her mother in Geoffrey’s library. Hunith, on her arrival, looks up from a book on Camelot’s legends, smiling at her approach.
‘My love, what brings you here?’
‘Cornelius Sigan,’ says Merlin, kissing her mother’s cheek and wishing a passing Geoffrey a good day. ‘Have you found anything interesting?’
‘This book is old,’ Hunith says, turning the page delicately. ‘Sigan was powerful, Merlin. He was a great enchanter. It is written that the very stone of Camelot react to magic, down to the deepest reaches.’
Stone. The word sparks a recollection in Merlin, how the raven warmed beneath her touch.
‘Could it mean the gargoyles?’ She asks, suddenly eager to know. Merlin imagines some of those great beasts on the roof coming to life like the raven, defending what was once Sigan’s.
Her mother turns back the pages, seeking the passage again. When Merlin looks, however, she finds the writing to be in another language entirely—one that Gaius has not begun to teach her, yet.
‘What language is that?’ she asks.
‘Hm?’ Hunith pauses, ‘Oh, it’s the archaic tongue of Daobeth. My mother’s family came from there, generations ago and they passed down that tongue to me. When the Purge came, what writings I had were burned by passing soldiers, thought to be magical by nature. I would have taught you to read it, but I could hardly remember myself, until I stumbled upon this text a month ago.’
‘So, I do know this language?’ Merlin says, strangely enthralled by the idea. Intellectually, she’s aware she speaks another language fluently when her mother deigns to speak to her in such a way, but it’s something to, as an adult, happen upon that same language in an actual text.
‘It was burned down by dragons,’ Hunith adds. ‘Daobeth, I mean. My translations may be suspect, however, so it likely is the gargoyles.’
Merlin idly kisses her mother’s head again, saying, ‘Thank-you. That’s really helpful. I’ll tell Arthur.’
Hunith drags her down for a kiss of her own, smacking it on the cheek. Grinning at the way Merlin’s nose wrinkles, she says, ‘Don’t forget to tell Gaius.’
‘I won’t.’
She forgets to tell Gaius.
‘I just don’t believe I fell asleep,’ says George, still going on about that. Merlin looks to Julius, who is staring at George sceptically. George pouts. ‘I’m not that kind of servant! I get an excellent amount of sleep at night! That Arthur has taken up with that horrid newcomer-’
‘Newcomer?’ Julius and Merlin interrupt as one. George huffs, then points over at the door to the kitchens.
‘That man, Cedric, who has been stealing my chores!’ George describes with fervour, ‘He apparently saved Arthur’s life on the boar hunt, which is poppycock, as it was clearly Anderson the guardsman and I’m sure he sabotaged Arthur’s horse just to make me look bad when Arthur fell off it this morning—look at him, now, taking Arthur his dinner!’
Merlin looks over, watching a brunette man exit the kitchens with a tray of food. Lanky and hurrying right along, to be frank, he doesn’t look a thing like any of the servants Merlin knows. If he had a less wild haircut—something that Merlin knows among the male servants, like George and Julius, is a bit off, presentation everything amongst the high-ranking staff—then maybe she would believe he was actually Arthur’s new favourite. Though, considering he’s apparently been embarrassing George all morning and making a big name for himself, maybe it isn’t so surprising.
Remembering her warning to pass along, she hums a short goodbye to her contemporaries, then moves to intercept him.
‘Cedric!’ She calls, causing him to pause, turning at the sight of her. ‘Cedric, hello. I’m going to see Arthur, so let me just take that right up.’
‘I’m afraid I shouldn’t, miss. Arthur has just employed me in the royal household, see,’ he says, being perfectly polite. ‘I want to do my best.’
‘So does George,’ returns Merlin, ‘and you’re not letting him make up for his so-called mistakes by stealing his duties from him. Also, I have a bit more authority than you, so I won’t say it again.’ She gestures for the tray, not expecting Cedric to hold it away from her, chin tilting upwards in a dismissive motion.
‘No,’ he says. ‘I want to impress him. Leave me be.’
He starts to walk away and for a moment, Merlin lets him. Then she screws her head on straight, lets out a little laugh and follows him, coming to stand right by him as he traverses the castle. When he side-eyes her, she finally deigns to reply, ready to deal out some fun—along with some mild threats.
‘You have no idea who I am, do you?’
‘…no.’
‘My name is Merlin,’ she introduces herself, catching his expression flicker in recognition. ‘I’m more well-known for being Uther’s mistress than a maidservant or even as the assistant to Gaius, Court Physician. However, I’m also Arthur’s best friend. George’s, too and I won’t pretend to you that I don’t have enough influence with Arthur to get you knocked down to stableboy in two seconds flat.’
‘Milady,’ Cedric begins in an imploring tone, but Merlin isn’t finished.
‘Now, George and I don’t speak as often as I’d like, but I know him well enough. He’s kind enough to tend to my chambers as well as Arthur’s, you see and I thank him kindly for his work. The problem with my position is that it comes with so many levels of station—like today, see,’ she says, gesturing to her work dress. ‘I hardly look like a woman who regularly engages the lady Morgana in friendly conversation, do I?’
‘No, milady,’ says Cedric, gritting his teeth.
‘Exactly,’ Merlin nods, before saying, ‘and normally, I would applaud you for getting this far. Really, I would. Only, you’re sabotaging my friend on your way to greatness and I’ll ask you not to do it anymore. Do we have an understanding?’
Cedric inclines his head. ‘Yes, my lady. My apologies. George won’t see any more trouble from me, I promise. May I escort you the rest of the way to Arthur’s chambers?’
Merlin grins sunnily, tucking her arms behind her back. ‘Sure! Come on, I’ll show you a short-cut—there’s a set of servant stairs right around here that’ll take you up three flights.’ She says, before leading him to said stairs, getting an appreciative look from the man who was obviously going to attempt to try the main staircase, not used to the convoluted architecture of Castle Pendragon.
By the time they reach Arthur’s rooms, Merlin feels like they have some kind of camaraderie going on, bonding over secret passage-ways and hidden stairwells. When Arthur looks up to find them both arrived at his door, Merlin is still smiling.
‘Merlin—Cedric,’ Arthur greets, humming appreciatively at the dinner Cedric has arranged. ‘Hmm, boar from the hunt.’
Merlin makes a face. She’ll ruin Cedric’s new job if she points out it was Anderson who killed that thing, now…whoever Anderson is.
‘Want some, Merlin?’ Arthur holds out a bit on his fork, Merlin wandering over to nick a bit of broccoli off his plate, instead.
‘The poor beast,’ she pouts, sitting at the end of the table with him, bringing her legs up. Arthur pushes them off with a scowl. ‘I’ve got an update for you on the Sigan thing.’
‘Oh?’ he says, shovelling food in his mouth.
Through her broccoli, Merlin attempts to say, ‘Sigan could control the gargoyles.’
‘What?’ Arthur boggles.
Merlin actually swallows her mouthful. ‘Sigan could control the gargoyles,’ she says helpfully. ‘Legend says in one of the really old books in Geoffrey’s library my mother translates says there’s an enchantment magic in the gargoyles. Not much else, but considering Sigan was involved in the building of Camelot, I thought it was worthwhile to share.’
The prince frowns, considering it. ‘Would the incantation be easy for our enemies to master?’
‘Individually? No,’ Merlin says, employing her little-known knowledge in magical arts, remembering to keep it plain for poor Cedric’s sake. If it were George, she wouldn’t bother. ‘Enchanting on the scale I’m talking about is a masterwork and would require a unique incantation, probably known to Sigan alone.’
‘Good thing he’s dead,’ Arthur snorts, chewing a bit of his boar. ‘And that individual thing?’
‘If I’m right, all the animal statues in Camelot are able to be brought to life,’ she says, before pointedly saying, ‘Including those ravens in the tomb.’
Arthur’s eye brightens briefly in understanding. They exchange nods. Casually, Arthur takes up his ring of keys, taking off the one to the new door over the tomb itself. ‘Here,’ he says, offering it to her, ‘So you can investigate personally. If Sigan had a spellbook, find it and deliver it to Gaius. Just don’t touch it with your bare hands. Bring the key back when you’re done.’
Merlin takes the key eagerly, the idea that there might be a spellbook or even better, a grimoire, not having occurred to her. ‘Thank-you, sire. Should I bring guards?’
He waves her off. ‘There’s some outside the tomb. Be careful.’
‘I will,’ she promises, stealing his other piece of broccoli before popping it in her mouth, standing with a twirl. Wide-eyed, Cedric watches her prance forwards, stock still as she gives him a little wave.
Really, the possibility of a grimoire should have occurred to her. How did Arthur come up with that first? Merlin shakes her head, telling her internal self off for not being creative enough to think a great sorcerer would have more than pretty trinkets and enchanted gems.
When she reaches the cavern itself, after a long trek during which she’s glad for her work dress, Merlin spins the key in front of the guards’ faces.
‘Arthur’s giving me free reign to inspect the hoard. Watch over me, boys?’
‘Yes, milady,’ one says, eyeing her as she unlocks the gate and steps inside, leaving the key in the lock. Merlin lights the nearest brazier, before sneakily sending out her magic to cover the room, aiming to detect any and all forms of magic.
Instantly, the blue crystal heart lights up a fiery blue in her mind, almost overpowering everything else in the tomb itself. Merlin winces, pulling her magic just far enough away from it to not detect it any longer, immediately striking gold with a book-shaped object imbued with preservation magics within the tomb itself.
‘Come to mama,’ she says, rubbing her hands together, readying a spell of silence on the door. Then—peeking back to make sure the guards don’t notice—she goes grave-robbing.
Inside the stone coffin is a dusty skeleton covered in rags, which might have once been majestic robes, in its arms a grimoire. Merlin eagerly retrieves it, looking back at the door again to make sure the guards didn’t see her little levitation. All she sees is their backs and a long shadow, which bothers her the second she turns back to the grave, closing it once more.
Merlin frowns.
Was that shadow coming from the right direction?
Turning around again, Merlin manages to catch sight of a smoking ball rolled in the direction of the two guards, which only takes a few seconds to knock them out. Shocked, Merlin clutches the grimoire against her chest and ducks behind the coffin, crouching down on the ground.
If there’s an intruder, maybe I’ll get lucky enough that they spring the arrow-trap…
Hearing footsteps, Merlin waits for them to make a mistake—belatedly removing the ward of silence with brief flash of magic—and realises quickly that whoever it is would know she’s there. She grimaces.
How to do this?
‘…who is it?’ she asks aloud, hearing their shuffling footsteps.
‘Milady.’
Annoyance courses through her and Merlin stands, glaring at Cedric. ‘I was starting to like you! Is this all you are? A thief?’
Cedric looks back at her with a sleazy grin, golden tooth flashing in the light. ‘I don’t want no harm, milady. Just some treasure, then I’ll be on my way. Can’t begrudge me a few jewels, can you?’
‘If that’s all you want, take something and begone from Camelot,’ Merlin says, irate. She doesn’t care for some petty thief, only for the trouble he’s gone to in infiltrating the castle. ‘I’ll warn you though, some of these things are enchanted. I’d go for the coins and plain jewels—and nothing inscribed, lest something foul wreaks havoc.’
Funnily enough, Cedric seems to take her seriously, though he looks a bit bothered. ‘Fine,’ he says, before summarily beginning to fill his bag. With the amount of treasure in the room, Merlin has no doubt it won’t be noticed. She only stops him once, when he goes to pick up a square, pink gem.
‘That’s enchanted,’ she says, squinting at it. She can feel the soft magic of it from here—something about the safety of young ones, specifically. A baby? Cedric eyes her curious face and then the gem, before placing it down.
‘You’re a sorceress, ain’t you?’ he asks. ‘I wouldn’t think you’d be safe in Camelot.’
‘I’m not, under Uther’s ruling, at least. Arthur will be better to us all,’ says Merlin, helpfully offering a place of gold coins in an old decal from behind her. He holds his bag out over Sigan’s coffin, watching the coins slide inside.
‘Good,’ he says, before looking around wistfully. ‘I could have had so much more.’
‘You’re escaping free, with your life,’ Merlin says flatly. ‘I haven’t forgotten about George. Don’t forget, I’m going to have to come up with a lovely little alibi for myself, too, that passes Uther’s muster. It won’t be pretty. You will never be able to step foot in Camelot again.’
Cedric raises an eyebrow. ‘Are you sure about that?’
‘Trust me,’ Merlin says, rubbing her wrists, ‘I’m going to have to use an old excuse. He doesn’t let anyone touch what’s his.’
‘…alright,’ Cedric says, uneasy. ‘I’ll be off, then.’ He glances at the blue crystal heart. ‘You sure I can’t take that?’
Merlin snorts. ‘Knowing what little I do of Cornelius Sigan, I’d say you’re more likely to be possessed than leave alive with that thing. He was very big on the whole living past death thing. It’s the strongest magical artefact I’ve ever seen.’
Cedric chuckles, then nods away, backing up. ‘Fair winds, my lady. No offence, but I hope I never see you again.’
‘Same,’ says Merlin, watching him leave. When his shadow has long gone, she puts the grimoire in the far reaches of the shadowy treasure hoard, hiding it under a pile of gems. Then she sits down on the ground, behind the coffin.
Rearranging her skirt, Merlin feels briefly terrible about using Cedric like this, but then remembers it’s not just Cedric who has to get away with treason, but her, too. And if Cedric doesn’t get away, then who knows what he’ll tell Uther.
Breathing in deeply, Merlin rips her bodice open halfway, shucking her skirts oddly, then leans back against the hard stone. Hazy place, she thinks, reaching for that oblivion. Uther will give you the benefit of the doubt immediately. You can tell Gaius later, to stop him worrying. If Arthur is the one to come…snap out of it.
Likely, the guards will be the first people to see her, so Merlin will just let them carry her away and only come back when one of her trusted—or Uther—are about. Then, she can explain. Maybe I can even say I remember Cedric freaking out, she thinks idly, slipping away into the depths of her own head. The cold becomes nothing to her.
Soon enough, relatively at least, there’s a commotion around her and Merlin keeps a weather eye on the voices, not really absorbing anything she sees through her own eyes. When someone picks her up, however, she doesn’t have enough sense of her body not to flop around, which is unfortunate. She thinks they sort her clothes out, though. That’s nice of them.
Eventually, she hears Uther’s familiar snapping, getting closer and closer until she’s abruptly taken from the guard’s arms, face buried in a familiar velvet coat. Uther has her. Merlin almost wishes she doesn’t have to come out of her hazy place at all.
He lays her down somewhere—Arthur’s voice joins the quiet cacophony. Merlin starts edging towards sanity again, but something is stopping her from reaching reality. The world feels fuzzier than normal.
‘Merlin, come on,’ Arthur says, sounding quiet. Scared. ‘Wake up, lazybones. You weren’t hurt, just ruffled. Come on, Merlin. Come on.’
Just ruffled? She thinks, laughing crazily. I’m stuck!
‘I’ve made Father leave,’ he says. ‘He’s not allowed in your room, remember? I can’t believe he carried you in front of all those people. He should never be allowed to touch you again.’
Merlin attempts to reply, moving her mouth open and shut. An arm around her shoulders shifts and she can feel her own bedspread beneath her.
‘Merlin? Don’t you dare tease, you little wart.’
‘…wart?’ she manages to whisper. ‘That’s you, isn’t it?’
Arthur sighs in relief, kissing her forehead. ‘Bloody hell, you scared us all, Merlin. Who did this to you? What wastrel do I have to execute?’
‘Unfortunately, I think Cedric’s far gone by now, Arthur,’ Merlin says, sensing his anger spike. She puts a hand on his chest, shaking her head. ‘It’s fine. I don’t think he did everything. I started going hazy and he freaked out. Observant little shit…’
‘I’ll kill him.’
‘Nah,’ Merlin says, yawning slowly and shuffling on the bed, getting comfortable. ‘You’re going to let me go through the hoard with Gaius and smuggle out Sigan’s grimoire. Still can’t believe you thought of that before me. I’m so depressed about that, you don’t even know.’
‘You’re just going to…let it go? You were nearly assaulted,’ he bites out, ‘again.’
‘But I wasn’t. He was just a little creepy, is all.’ Merlin pats his chest again, wanting dearly to just lie down and sleep, perhaps even have a friendly sleepover with Arthur, but she’s aware that a lot of people are worrying about her. ‘Come on. Time to tell everyone I’m right as rain.’
Merlin is never faking an assault again. Everyone’s worry makes her guilt multiple by a thousand.
‘You are not as right as rain,’ he grumbles, peeling them apart to get up off her bed. ‘You’re insane. I worry about you, Merlin.’
‘Let’s just go,’ she says.
Nope.
Never again.
‘This is so cool,’ Merlin mutters, paging through the grimoire while Arthur sorts jewellery and treasure into different piles. Strangely enough, like Merlin, he can sense which pieces are enchanted just by touching them, though it takes him a few seconds.
Gaius, who has finished translating the runes around the crystal heart, has set up a small basket over the thing, as if the adage out of sight, out of mind will make Merlin stop remembering that it’s a living soul trapped in an object.
‘You know,’ Arthur says, looking up from his sorting, ‘I’m doing you the favour by gifting you the treasure with the magical properties. I could always take it for myself.’
‘You don’t have an interest in any of that,’ says Merlin, distracted, ‘and some of it’s for Morgana, after I’ve figured out which ones I don’t want to keep.’
‘Oh, really?’ he mutters, before Gaius snaps at them.
‘Keep your voices down. Don’t endanger yourselves by talking so freely.’
Merlin and Arthur exchange looks.
‘I,’ Merlin decides, ‘am going to introduce you to Kilgharrah.’
‘Who or what is Kilgharrah?’
‘The Great Dragon.’
‘The Great what?’
Gaius only sighs.
One day, Arthur ‘goes on a hunt’ instead of taking part in a tourney. In truth, he takes over George’s mothers house, gets whacked with a spoon every time he’s rude and wins a tourney.
Simultaneously, Merlin is attacked by assassins after her non-existent child, whereupon she dispatches her attackers and learns that—until then, at least—they were after Arthur, too.
Magic is great to have, really. When she tells Arthur, he’s too busy caring about his life-choices to care. In the end, he doesn’t even claim his victory at the tournament, instead resolving—to her face—to be kinder to George.
‘His mother is a nightmare,’ he says, haunted. ‘He deserves some kindness in his life.’
‘Well, while I love that you’ve discovered empathy,’ says Merlin, rolling her eyes, ‘I’m rather more concerned about the assassins.’
‘You dealt with them, didn’t you?’
‘Yes, but-’
‘Then it’s done,’ says Arthur, kissing her cheek as he passes her to leave. ‘Well done, Merlin.’
Spluttering, Merlin exclaims his name in disbelief. ‘Arthur!’
‘That’s my name. Don’t over-use it.’
Merlin screeches.
Spring creeps into summer and it’s on the hottest day of the year so far that Morgana unwittingly reminds her of it.
‘I wish I had magic,’ she says, sighing over a golden choker Merlin had gifted her from Sigan’s treasury, brushing her fingers over the runes. ‘It feels so warm—and that’s not because it’s the height of summer and it’s physically warm. I can feel the magic in this, I swear.’
Distracted by the words height of summer, Merlin barely manages to reply. ‘Uh, you just might, if you think you can feel it. Magic takes magic to sense.’
Morgana turns a dazzled smile on her. ‘Really?’
‘Really,’ Merlin confirms, even as she thinks of Uther’s damnable new rules and her deadline, which is fast-approaching. Soon, she shall be in the king’s bed again and this time, it will be of her own volition.
Morgana, however, is ecstatic, drawing her from her growing panic. ‘You can teach me!’
‘I can teach you?’ Merlin repeats.
‘Yes!’ Morgana states, eager. ‘My nightmares are real—is that magic?’
‘Most probably, yes. You’re likely a seer,’ says Merlin, ‘I’ve thought it before. It just never came up. I’ll ask Nimueh to try and speak to you.’
‘Nimueh,’ Morgana repeats, surprised. ‘She’d come all this way?’
‘No—no, it’d be a dream,’ Merlin tells her, explaining, ‘Nimueh can dreamwalk. It’s a variant on Seeing, actually, but she’s a lifetime older than both of us, despite her looks.’ Merlin muses on Nimueh’s physical appearance. Nimueh was a young woman of age twenty-two years ago. How did she do it?
‘Does she visit you that way?’ Morgana asks.
Merlin admits, ‘Every night. We talk magic and our own histories, mostly. I’ve come leaps and bounds in my formal training in magic because of her, not to put Gaius down. Only, he just gave me a book and that’s about it. I’ve far from finished it.’
‘Could I learn that way? Being taught every night in my dreams?’ Morgana looks to be imagining it clearly and Merlin hates to break her bubble.
‘Probably not,’ she winces. ‘I’m exceptionally good at magic, due to having so much of it in the first place. I can do what I like with my magic. Nimueh is just trying to force a certain amount of rote memorisation on me.’
‘I can do that,’ Morgana insists.
‘I’m sure you could, but you haven’t even tapped into your powers yet, accidentally or on purpose,’ says Merlin, quickly adding, ‘With the exception of your Seeing. I know that’s involuntary. Nimueh’s first instructions for you would probably be to attempt to harness your power intentionally and find a measure of control over what you already possess, before searching for more.’
Her friend takes on a peculiar expression, half understanding and half confusion, before she nods in a steady manner, saying, ‘I understand. Ask Nimueh for advice and if she can spare a visit to me, one night. I’d love the opportunity to speak to her.’
‘I will,’ Merlin promises, before remembering Uther’s deadline again. She goes to stand and says, ‘I have to see to something.’
‘Wait,’ Morgana says. ‘I plan to visit my father’s grave the day after next. Will you come with me? Gwen is coming, as well.’
‘I’d be honoured,’ Merlin says, touched that Morgana would invite her. To show her gratitude, she leans in to embrace the young woman, kissing her cheek. ‘I haven’t left Camelot’s walls since our picnic. Will it take long?’
‘Only the day,’ the lady says. ‘Go. And, thank-you.’
‘Nothing else would please me more,’ Merlin smiles, noting, ‘and I’ll ask Nimueh about seeing you tonight. See you on the morrow, my lady, if we do not cross paths.’
‘Good day, Merlin.’
Departing from Morgana’s rooms, Merlin patrols the halls of Camelot, hearing from a passing courtier that Uther is in a meeting with his councilmen. Everything itches under the sweat of the day and Merlin sticks to the shadowy and cooler corridors of the castle, trying not to think too hard on her immediate future.
Well, clearly it doesn’t work. When has trying not to think about something ever worked?
Having finished her chores for Gaius before lunch and spent the afternoon with Morgana, Merlin has nought to do but wait until the king leaves the council chamber. For every hours she waits, the more disturbed she feels.
Gaius was right. It’s strange that I never got out when I could. Why did I put myself in this position again?
But then the time comes. The meeting finishes and Merlin hears Uther ask Julius for a lukewarm bath to be prepared in his quarters. As he swoops through the halls, she comes to stand beside him, accepting his arm when he offers it.
‘My lady,’ he greets her.
‘Sire,’ she greets him in turn. ‘I understand that we need to finish a long overdue conversation, before the end of summer.’
‘And here, I thought you had forgotten,’ he murmurs, nodding. ‘We shall speak privately.’
‘Yes, my lord.’
Together, they walk to his quarters, Merlin seating herself in a chair at his table while he sits at his desk. The greater distance changes the balance of negotiations and Merlin can tell he wants her opposite him, rather than far away, seated as she pleases.
He retrieves their scroll of rules. ‘Last time,’ he says, ‘you tabled the topic of your rights to carnality with others.’
‘Yes,’ Merlin says, focusing on the far wall. ‘I won’t accept anything less than free reign.’
‘Which is unacceptable to me. You’re my mistress, paid for such things.’
‘Yes, but,’ Merlin says, tapping her fingers on the table, ‘you have had other lovers. A breadth of experience I do not share. I want that.’
‘…you have thought about this,’ he says, eyeing her. ‘How many lovers do you think I have had?’
‘More than just your wife,’ she says immediately. ‘I mean no ill thoughts to the late Queen, but you’ve not only been alone in marriage since her death, but have no compunctions against taking a stranger to your bed and teaching her the ways of sin. It strikes of experience in doing such a thing. Am I wrong?’
‘No,’ he admits freely, ‘and I have had other lovers before and during her reign as queen.’ Not giving Merlin enough chance to be truly alarmed, he says, ‘However, they number below the amount of fingers to both my hands. I kept each for some time and few were of little use to me.’
‘I see,’ Merlin says, hoping she doesn’t sound like a strangled cat. The little smirk he gets tells her otherwise.
‘I’ll say it again,’ speaks Uther. ‘You can have your free reign if it involves full clothes.’
‘And I’ll say it again,’ Merlin says, testy, ‘You know how far someone can go without removing their clothes.’
‘There is a line—one you unwittingly brought up in our last discussion,’ he points at her. ‘Should you have children, you want there to be a distinction over which are mine. There is no possible way for you to know, should our times overlap. It is security I wish for.’
‘That is a single point on why you wish for my carnality to be limited to yourself, Uther,’ says Merlin, rolling her eyes. ‘Don’t deny it, however reasonable this paternity question may be.’
He pounces. ‘So, you agree?’
‘Shut up,’ Merlin says flatly. Moments later, the doors open, admitted Julius with the bathwater, joined by half a dozen other servants bearing pails. Julius barely reacts to her presence past a flicker of his eyes between him and her, but the others are less quiet, murmuring to themselves. Lisbet even says hello, which Merlin returns in an unfortunately sharp manner.
As the servants depart, Merlin calls out to Julius, asking for him to stay. While the others leave, he stands by the door, eyebrow raised in question.
‘Julius,’ she asks, mentally apologising to her friend, ‘Should I be allowed to pick my own lovers?’
The eyebrow of question rises up into an eyebrow of incredulity. ‘Lovers?’ he repeats. ‘The mistress of the king?’
‘There,’ Uther says in a smug voice, ‘It’s absurd.’
‘Shut up.’ Merlin looks at Julius, silently beseeching him to say something. Julius stiffens very slightly.
‘While in secrecy, it would be absurd,’ he begins slowly, ‘with permission from the king, it would be allowed. However, any royal issue would be forever questioned.’
‘Come on, Jules,’ Merlin whines.
His lip twitches. ‘You’re young. Kissing others is not a crime. Only your reputation and that of the king’s issue is at stake.’
‘Thank-you,’ Merlin says, looking back at Uther and parroting. ‘Kissing others is not a crime.’
‘You want to do more than kiss, girl.’ Uther acknowledges Julius, saying, ‘You may depart.
Julius bows swiftly. ‘Thank-you, my liege.’ With that said, he scarpers, sharpish. Merlin hardly blames him—he just disagreed with the king, however lightly.
‘You’re mine,’ Uther says, as soon as he’s gone. ‘In all seasons.’
Fury ignites within her, smothering all fear. ‘I don’t want to be just yours, though.’
‘Then officially resign,’ he snarls, ‘and leave the castle.’
‘I can’t do that,’ she hisses. ‘My whole life is here and you know it.’
Uther bares his teeth. ‘Then get over yourself and accept that I will not go any further with this insipid demand. You will accept my offer or it is officially off the table.’
Merlin lets out a silent scream in her head, then snaps, ‘Fine! Free reign above clothes—and you can’t punish any of them for it!’
‘I can punish them for public indecency,’ he snaps right back. ‘My rule. All of this free reign takes place behind closed doors and nothing—nothing—interferes with any paternity claim. Do you understand?’
Merlin grits her teeth, standing. ‘I understand, sire.’
‘And you tell me.’
‘Free reign, does that mean nothing to you?’ Merlin questions him furiously. Uther slams his hand down on his desk.
‘I don’t care if it’s before or after, I just want their names! Call it insurance, if you decide to break any of the rules.’
‘And if you do the same, Arthur will kill you,’ Merlin says with utter surety.
Uther doesn’t even stop to argue, scribbling down their latest addendums and asking her with sarcasm, ‘Do you want it signed?’
‘I want a copy, with both signed, acknowledging their validity,’ Merlin says, joining him at the desk and only using his list as a reference once, otherwise writing down the rules as she sees fit. Uther grits his teeth at her handwriting, practically chickenscratch next to his curling font, but nevertheless signs his full name on both documents and pricks his finger to make bloody thumbprints.
Fucking pretentious twat, she thinks, glaring at the looping Uther Pendragon, King of Camelot and All Its Peoples, Crown of the Realm, Defeater of Magic. It makes her itch.
It makes her sign her name Merlin Emrys Ambrosius.
‘What is that?’ Uther questions her, baffled, as she copies his thumb trick. Something about the world seems to shift, then, but she doesn’t know what.
‘My name,’ Merlin replies in a droll fashion. In truth, she’s quite alarmed at the sight of it, not having meant to write the last word. It just came out, like it was part of her name all along. But of course, she refuses to give Uther an inch of leverage—for all he does with leverage is use it for his own benefit.
‘You can’t be an Ambrose,’ says Uther, sounding faintly horrified. ‘You- you can’t be.’
‘It’s my name. I don’t know where it comes from or what side of my family it’s from,’ Merlin says honestly, blowing on her parchment to dry her name and her thumbprint, before rolling it up, ‘But it’s mine. No-one can take it from me.’
Uther, watching her like a hawk, doesn’t react to her proclamation, not explaining his horror or his shock. Merlin can’t tell if he ever will or if this will be one of those things he holds over her head, until it best suits him.
Tapping her signed scroll, Merlin says, ‘I’ll come to you at the end of summer. Should I have Geoffrey copy the rules into the records, for posterity? I think it’s a law, regarding work contracts of these sorts, however strange this one is.’
‘…yes, yes, you do that. I’ll…I’ll give him mine later,’ Uther says, distracted, but still staring at her, like she’s some ghost come to haunt his grave. Merlin cautiously turns her back on him, leaving him to his bath.
She thinks, I’ll have to ask Mother about this name lark…
Geoffrey stares, open-mouthed, at her signature.
‘Gaius,’ Merlin begins in a slow voice, watching her mother organise herbs out of the corner of her eye. ‘Do you know the family name Ambrose?’
Perhaps predictably, Gaius drops his book, staring at her in bafflement. ‘Ambrose?’ he repeats, tone more of the type that precludes a whole, how do you know that spiel that confusion.
‘Geoffrey refused to tell me when I asked,’ says Merlin.
‘Why were you asking Sir Geoffrey?’ Gaius asks her, still staring. His expression shifts, turning guarded. ‘Did Uther say something strange?’
‘He didn’t say anything, which was rather the problem,’ says Merlin, piqued by Gaius change in tone. Deciding to come clean, she says, ‘I wrote my full name on a contact with him and for some reason I don’t understand, I wrote Ambrosius at the end of it. I was confused and Uther was kind of horrified.’
‘Oh my girl,’ Gaius says, sounding also very horrified. ‘That’s because it’s your father’s name.’
Hunith drops her herbs. With wide, frightful eyes, she asks him, ‘How?’
‘I suspect an old spell, cast on his family line,’ says Gaius, sounding old and tired as he picks up his book and joins Merlin at the table. Hunith quickly joins them both. ‘For any Ambrose of the blood must sign their full names in contracts with kings. I remember, for Balinor was very miffed when he agreed in blood to his last one. It bound him by his word better than any magical oath could—full names are powerful in that way.’
‘So,’ Merlin starts, heart in her throat from hearing the name Balinor for the first time in her life, ‘Any contract I sign is binding?’
‘To you and any other signee,’ says Gaius, frowning at her. ‘And I suspect Uther will know that. He will be fully aware, now, that you have magic in your blood, even if you have never supposedly used it or have any idea that it exists. What contract did you sign with him?’
Merlin can’t help the faint flush in her cheeks, nor the uncomfortable feeling that winds in her chest at the idea of sharing the contents of her agreement with Uther.
‘My love,’ her mother murmurs, resting a hand on her shoulder. Merlin clenches her hand tightly around the paper in her hand, attracting eyes to it and Merlin gives in, showing it to Gaius. He takes his glasses up to read it, scanning the words with a poker face to rival the Great Dragon’s.
It’s only when he finishes, does he look up and say, ‘You, my dear, have unintentionally backed Uther into a corner that he has avoided for over twenty years.’
‘A corner?’ Merlin blinks, baffled, watching him turn the contract around and point at their ruling on bastards.
‘All his bastards must be acknowledged,’ intones Gaius, a faint smile forming on his face. ‘And to my knowledge, only three such people exist. Your son, Tomas, is one.’
‘Then who are the other two?’ Hunith questions morbidly. Merlin would have asked the same question, if she wasn’t shocked speechless.
‘A girl called Elaine, who lives under watch in the care of Sir Geraint of Garlot,’ Gaius describes. ‘She has no idea who her true father is. Sir Geraint took her on as a fosterling under order of the king when her mother and aunts passed from plague. She lives as a knight’s daughter in the noble quarter, while her adoptive father trains the green knights, staying as reserve.’
‘And the second?
Gaius hesitates, then says, ‘I fear you already know.’
Hunith murmurs a quiet oh my under her breath, but Merlin is stuck. The only person who pops into mind is Morgana herself, except it couldn’t be true…could it?
‘And my contract forces him to acknowledge them as his bastards?’ Merlin clarifies, for her peace of mind.
‘Tomas, Elaine, the lady Morgana,’ Gaius says, affirming her suspicion. ‘My only concern is the lack of time limit. Uther could acknowledge them today or on his death-bed.’
‘I was rather meaning when they were born,’ says Merlin, shocked. ‘Morgana is to visit her father’s grave the day after next.’
‘Gorlois was that girl’s father,’ insists Gaius, eyes flashing. ‘Blood does not a father make, despite the unfortunate truth. When Morgana’s mother, Vivienne, died when she was a young child, Gorlois took on the full mantle of a parent, up until his death when Morgana was nine years old. Morgana has every right to call the man who raised her kin.’
Merlin raises her hands. ‘I’m not arguing with you. It’s just hard to believe after all this time, Uther has not at least told her. Has he ever called her his daughter? Even of his heart?’
‘Not to my knowledge, no,’ whispers Gaius. ‘He is fearful.’
‘Rightly so,’ says Hunith. ‘Morgana is a fierce woman, whose love for Uther is quickly fading with his many cruelties. This betrayal shall break her when she discovers it.’
The three muse on the bleak future ahead of their lady, before Gaius rolls up Merlin’s contract and gestures to his library.
‘I shall keep this safe for you.’
‘Thank-you.’ Merlin nods, attention shifting to her mother. She rolls the name of her father on her tongue. ‘Balinor. Balinor of Ambrose.’
Hunith smiles back weakly. ‘Balinor Ambrosius. Oh, my love, I did not mean to keep it from you.’
‘He was magic,’ she deduces, ‘like me.’
‘Like you,’ Hunith shares, reaching to cup her face and press their foreheads together. ‘He came through my village and stayed but weeks. I loved him then, in his desperation. He was kind. Clever. But he was running, Merlin and he couldn’t stay.’
‘Because of the Purge.’
‘Because of the Purge,’ her mother confirms, ‘though he was not all sorcerer. He didn’t tell me, for fear I’d be caught for knowing too much, but I heard from the soldiers who followed after him. They called him Dragonlord.’
‘Dragonlord?’ Merlin whispers, eyes going wide. ‘What does that mean?’
‘It means,’ says Gaius, attracting their attention, his voice tired and broken once more, ‘that he could control dragons. His bloodline holds the blessing of old, when dragons allied with human sorcerers and gave them gifts. It used to be that there were plenty of them, but like all things, the gift became obscure and the members of their families well-guarded.’
‘Balinor had no family,’ says Hunith.
‘No, he did not,’ Gaius scowls. ‘Balinor once had many brothers and sisters, all who held noble titles of their own in the kingdom from whence they came, some Dragonlords and some not. It was Balinor who inherited his grandmother’s seat in the House of Ambrose. When the Purge came, Uther had Balinor’s bloodline slaughtered one by one, until the very last child was dead. Only Balinor escaped, because despite Uther’s dragon hunts, one refused to be killed. Nothing but old age could have taken this beast.’
‘Kilgharrah,’ Merlin whispers with mounting dread. ‘My father signed a contract…’
‘It lays in the magical treasure vault, secreted from sight. I do not know the exact wording, only that Balinor agreed to call the Great Dragon in the caverns below, where magical chains laid in wait. It was a great task and an even greater folly, but I know not what drew him to do Uther’s bidding, nor where he lives even now.’
‘He is not dead?’
‘I believe,’ says Gaius, ‘that the Great Dragon would tell you if you inherited his powers.’
‘I wouldn’t bet on it,’ Merlin frowns. ‘He’s a comfort, at times, but he plies me with knowledge for his own ends, I suspect. I have to ask things of him—he never gives freely. He knows about my father, I bet.’
‘From what you’ve told me of him,’ says Hunith, ‘I’d have to agree.’
Groaning quietly, Merlin leans into her mother, who willingly embraces her after such a meaningful conversation. Gaius quietly leaves them be, filing away her contract among his many documents.
Merlin wants to find him—Merlin wants to find her father.
But first, she thinks grimly. I have to get Uther to acknowledge Morgana.
She has her work cut out for her.
The thing about being friends with Morgana is that Merlin knows her. She’ll be furious once she finds out Uther is her father and if Uther ever tells her, it will be Gwen and Merlin she turns to first and Merlin won’t be able to lie and say she never knew. That breeds its own sort of mistrust and as her friend, Merlin doesn’t want to be tarred by that brush.
Likewise, she doesn’t give a shit about Uther’s feelings. If Morgana wants to disown him, she can do that freely, in Merlin’s opinion, while reaping the benefits of being a princess of the crown.
Merlin rightly concludes that she must tell Morgana before Uther does and soon, so her lady can reconcile her feelings before confronting him. The only problem with that, is that her opportunity stems from Morgana grieving over the death of Lord Gorlois.
It’s very tricky.
It’s also the right thing to do.
Borrowing Lea from Sir Leon again, Merlin begins the trek to Gorlois’ grave with Morgana and Gwen, along with a cadre of knights. Numbering more than they usually would, due to reports of banditry in the area and Uther hearing that Merlin would be joining Morgana’s pilgrimage, they ride within a veritable bastion.
‘I learnt something recently,’ Merlin begins, once they are several hours into their journey. Morgana hums in interest.
‘What did you learn?’
‘My father’s name,’ she says, describing Uther’s expression. ‘I signed my full name in a contract with Uther several days ago and he recognised it. Apparently, Ambrosius isn’t a common name.’
‘Ambrosius?’ Gwen queries, tilting her head to see around Morgana. Merlin grins wryly at her.
‘The House of Ambrose. I’m definitely a bastard, no doubt, but the name is mine. Uther assassinated all the members of it, some twenty years ago, according to Gaius and Geoffrey’s accounts.’
‘Shocking,’ Morgana murmurs. ‘You’re safe from him?’
‘I think so. He’s not done anything, at least,’ she shrugs. Now, for the big stuff. ‘Gaius read my contract afterwards though and he was impressed at how I’d gotten Uther to agree to one of my points about bastards. Did you know that he has two living daughters?’
‘He does not!’ Morgana exclaims, several of the knights shifting in surprise.
Merlin nods voraciously. ‘He does! I was shocked to hear it! Gaius says that both girls live in Camelot, one in the care of a knight in the noble quarter.’ Merlin’s mouth is running away with her, clearly, because how the hell is she supposed to tell Morgana that she is the other bastard.
‘What’s her name?’ Morgana questions, asking, ‘Have you met her?’
‘I have no idea,’ says Merlin, shaking her head. ‘I think her name was Elaine?’
‘Elaine…I have met her,’ Morgana presses a hand to her mouth in shock. ‘I’d never have guessed it. She looks more like me than Arth-’ and then she stops talking, falling silent. It isn’t hard for Merlin to muster up some concern.
‘Morgana?’
Gwen reaches out to touch her shoulder. ‘Milady?’
Morgana doesn’t reply to either of them, gaze caught on nothing as she figures out just who the second girl is. The head knight, Sir Hadley, looks back on them uneasily.
‘My lady, is everything alright?’
Her gaze flickers. Breathily, Morgana says, ‘Fine. Everything is…fine.’ She looks to Merlin. ‘Did you learn the name of the other girl?’
‘No,’ Merlin lies dumbly, staring at her. She doesn’t know if Morgana believes her—but the point soon becomes moot, as bandits fly down from either side of the valley, kicking the knights into action. On Lea’s back, Merlin attempts to spy a way out of the brewing fight, but the valley they have been caught in is tall on either side and their fighters are bottlenecked around them.
Then Sir Hadley is killed.
‘-fuck!’ Merlin exclaims as she’s dragged right off her horse, Lea whinnying loudly as her saddle sits askew. This would have been the perfect time to use her magic, had they not been surrounded by Uther’s loyalists and strange bandits.
‘Head for the path!’ cries Morgana, spiriting her along by her wrist. Stumbling over her own feet—cursing herself for deciding to dress like a bloody noble that day—Merlin runs up the hill, avoiding the bandits and attempting an escape.
Alas, it is not to be.
Surrounded, Merlin looks for any exit, seeing one of the bandits’ horses flying past. A whispered spell has the white steed turning abruptly, rearing once before it comes up behind the three women, Merlin catching its reigns.
‘I wouldn’t, if I were you,’ says the lead bandit, gesturing for his men to take them.
‘Up, Morgana,’ Merlin instructs, her friend not complying. Merlin rolls her eyes, thinking, there isn’t time for this, and reaching to take her by her waist, using those farmgirl skills that she’s abandoned to haul Morgana up onto the filly’s back. Then, she slaps its behind, spelling it to ride as fast as it can to Camelot.
‘No!’ cries the bandit, before growling and grabbing her by her hair. Merlin yells, feeling his breath on her face as he shouts, ‘Why would you do that? I’ll kill you where you stand, you little chit!’
‘Don’t touch her!’ Gwen lunges, attempting to peel off his harsh grip. It only gets tighter and Merlin can’t help the wave of tears that overtakes her at the pain.
Growling in her ear, he asks her, ‘Who are you?’
Merlin chokes out, ‘Your worst nightmare,’ before he flings her to the ground, her head bashing against a knobbly tree-root. Merlin sees stars.
‘Merlin!’
The world fades in and out. It is not her hazy place, but genuine darkness. Once, Merlin sees Nimueh’s concerned face in her dreams, but her voice is muffled and unclear. A stupid part of her wonders why Nimueh is in her dreams at all—she is supposed to be talking to Morgana, isn’t she? That’s what they agreed, that night Merlin saw her again, after signing her contract.
‘Merlin,’ she says, stroking her hair behind her ear. ‘You are in danger, my friend. You must wake.’
Wake? From her dream?
‘You are unconscious, Emrys,’ says Nimueh, ‘Not asleep, safe in your bed. You must wake up. Wake up.’
Uther runs his hand over the ransom, face like stone. From her seat at his table, Morgana watches the king come to his eventual conclusion with dark eyes.
‘She is my mistress,’ he says, reluctant and apologetic. ‘But with no child in her belly. We cannot pay the ransom.’
‘Merlin is part of our family,’ Morgana cuts in, causing Uther to turn on her with a wild look to his eyes. ‘She is the sister I never had, the mother of your son and Arthur’s best friend. That Gwen is with her is but another reason why you must pay.’
‘I cannot,’ he says, but it sounds like a lie.
‘Would you pay for Elaine?’ Morgana asks him, ignoring Arthur’s confusion. ‘Would you pay for me?’
Her words cause the king to rear up in his seat, whispering in a deathly voice, ‘How do you know that name?’
‘Elaine?’ Arthur repeats, ‘Who is Elaine?’
‘Our sister,’ says Morgana, unafraid. Merlin’s tales have taken root in her mind and now she sees it, she cannot unsee it. Elaine was a girl when they met, she remembers, barely ten years of age, while Morgana was fourteen. Uther had thought to make her Morgana’s lady in waiting, but the strangeness of their appearances—many mistaking Elaine for Morgana herself during the trial period—caused him to dismiss her. Once, Morgana thought it merely chance. Now she knows better.
Merlin did not have to say her name for Morgana to know she is the second daughter.
Arthur’s eyes bug. ‘Our sister?’
‘Yes,’ Morgana confirms, smile flat and creeping, as she watches Uther turn ashen. ‘Our dear baby sister, Elaine of Garlot. Would you pay her ransom, sire? For I will volunteer my own dowry chest to save Gwen and Merlin, if I have to.’
‘That is for you,’ Uther says, appalled and distracted for a single moment.
‘Then pay it using Camelot’s coin, instead!’ Morgana exclaims, her anger bubbling to the surface. He has kept her as his ward, when she is his daughter. ‘You owe it to me for all your lies, at the very least!’
Arthur, staggering to lean back against a pillar, mumbles, ‘Sisters. I have sisters.’
Uther is far more cognisant. ‘I have kept you as my ward, allowed you the privilege of keeping your status as Gorlois’ daughter-’
‘But I’m not his daughter,’ Morgana says, hysterically. Her hands grip the edge of the table with a strength that turns her knuckles white. ‘I’m yours. Did he know the truth? Did you send him off to die on purpose?’
‘No!’ Uther denies it, standing tall. ‘Never! Gorlois was my friend and staunchest ally!’
‘You cuckolded him!’
‘How did you even discover this?’ Uther demands of her. ‘Who told you of Elaine? Was it Gaius?’
‘No, it was not,’ she hisses, stretching the truth.
‘He was the only one who knew,’ he says. To that, Morgana scoffs.
‘You truly think that? There are plenty who know the truth of your affairs. Servants overhear secret business all the time. I wouldn’t be surprised if the dragon knows about your affairs.’
Uther makes a noise of mindless rage, leaning over the table towards her. He growls, ‘Their ransoms will be paid. We will continue this discussion when you have re-evaluated your words. You will not listen to servant gossip any longer.’
‘Like you could stop me.’
With one last glare levied at her, Uther abandons the chamber with a fantastical twirl of his long coat, stomping out and leaving Morgana and Arthur with half a dozen guards, who will no doubt spread every last word of what they have said here today among their colleagues. Arthur, when the door slams closed, moves around to sit beside her, staring at her hands where they lay against the table.
‘…you are my sister?’
‘A bastard,’ she whispers, her anger draining away, like a dam has been broken inside her. What resentment she built up against Uther in the last few hours vanishes in the face of Arthur’s shock. Her brother’s shock. Morgana can’t help but laugh in a hollow manner, thinking of days not so long past. ‘People thought we would marry.’
Arthur jerks roughly. ‘Never,’ he says. ‘It- would Father have ever allowed it, do you think?’
‘I have no idea,’ she tells him, reaching over to take his hand, entwining their fingers. Arthur latches onto her, squeezing tightly and bringing her knuckles to his lips. ‘You were always the brother of my heart.’
‘As you were my sister.’ Arthur holds her hand to his chest, still pale with shock. After a lifetime of being an only child, she can hardly imagine what it must feel like to him to discover he has siblings—oh, wait. Yes, she can.
‘At least one good thing has come of today,’ Morgana says lightly, belaying her own feelings of disgrace. ‘Three things, even. Our discovery, the truth of Elaine and Uther’s agreement to pay the ransom.’
‘Elaine,’ Arthur repeats her name again under his breath, pondering. ‘I wonder what she’s like.’
‘She looks exactly like me,’ says Morgana, remembering their similarities as girls. ‘My hair, the same jaw and even the same eyes. We have Uther’s eyes.’ And isn’t that a shock of cold water to realise. She whispers, ‘It’s been staring us in the face this whole time.’
Arthur squeezes her hand again, then says, ‘I’ll have her summoned to the castle to meet us. You said she was of Garlot?’
‘Her foster father is Sir Geraint,’ Morgana replies, repeating what Merlin said to her. It’s so strange. Merlin is the one who found out the truth. Morgana wonders how long it would have taken for Uther to be honest with them, if Merlin were not there to hurry things along. He would have probably never have told us, she thinks, unless there came the day where Arthur and I fell into bed with each other. Not even Uther can excuse incest.
‘I know Geraint.’ Arthur says, sounding betrayed. ‘I knew he had a daughter.’
‘I’ll make Uther acknowledge us,’ says Morgana, determined to have her dues. ‘Elaine shall want for nothing and I shall take all that is owed to me.’
‘You’ll be a Princess of Camelot, by the time I’m done with him,’ Arthur says in a strict voice, ‘with your own place in succession and a crown upon your brow. You should have always had as such.’
Morgana leans in her chair, wrapping her arms around Arthur’s shoulders. In an instant, he reciprocates, drawing her closer against his chest. Morgana can’t help but think of the day Merlin revealed her magic, when Arthur cried with her and did not let her go for hours. Morgana never would have thought that she and Arthur would share something as important as they did, that day.
When they part, it is reluctantly. Morgana brushes her fingers through Arthur’s hair, saying, ‘You will go with the chests of gold, yes? And take back Merlin and Gwen from Hengist?’
‘I swear,’ he promises her, blue eyes meeting grey. ‘We’ll get them back. The four of us…’
‘The four of us,’ Morgana repeats with a nod. There’s nothing more to say. Because it’s that phrase—the four of them—that rules their future. Arthur, Merlin, Morgana and Guinevere. Together.
United, they can do anything.
Merlin comes to slowly. Laid out on a fur-covered bed, her head in Gwen’s lap, at first Merlin thinks she’s just taken a funny turn. Only when she remembers that they have been kidnapped does she fully awaken, sitting up so fast that her vision goes starry for a moment.
‘Merlin!’ Gwen scolds her, ‘You’re hurt, stay still!’
‘Ow…’ Merlin whimpers, closing her eyes as she reaches up to probe the lump on her forehead. Her magic swirls, waiting patiently like a trained dog, eager for her command to heal it and for once, Merlin lets it rise, basking in the warmth of her power as it heals her wound.
Gwen makes a worried noise. ‘Be careful,’ she whispers, ‘We’re in Hengist’s castle. He awaits our ransom.’
‘Ours? Why are we being ransomed?’ Merlin says stupidly, before recalling her position as the king’s mistress. Gwen gives her a look. Wincing, she points at her head, ‘My brain is still hurting?’
‘You’ve clearly healed it.’
‘Brain injuries can last for weeks,’ argues Merlin, before hearing a scuffle outside the door. Looking around, she has a brief moment to take in the bare stone room they inhabit, a moth-eaten tapestry covering the wall between two of the slit windows and dark drapes covering the posts of the bed they sit upon, before the doors open, admitting a bald, old man in layered hides.
‘The lady Merlin,’ he enunciates, bowing in a way that insinuates he’s mocking them, somehow. ‘You have awakened. I apologise for Kendrick’s poor treatment of your noble head.’
‘I was born in a farming village,’ says Merlin, correcting him, ‘I’m no noble.’
‘The king’s mistress wants for nothing,’ he returns. Then comes the usual leering, his beady eyes following the curve of her bodice down to her bare ankles. Merlin shifts her dress to cover them. ‘I know of Uther’s cruelties to you. You could stay in my keeping, should you wish it.’
‘Unfortunately, I am bound by contract to see to the king’s…needs,’ says Merlin, excusing herself from such an opportunity. ‘Camelot law states such contracts last a year and a day from signing. We renewed our deal quite recently, I’m afraid, sir.’
‘Sir!’ He laughs, shaking his head. ‘I am no knight, my lady. A lord of my own making, but not a knight, no—I am Hengist.’
‘Lord Hengist,’ Merlin smiles winningly. ‘Thank-you for our accommodations during this trying time.’
‘Only the best,’ Hengist chuckles. He brings out a folded piece of parchment from his pocket, waving it around. ‘Tomorrow, you shall travel to the Vale of Denaria, where his Royal Highness, Prince Arthur shall exchange four chests of gold and silver for your lives. Uther has bent, just to keep you lovely ladies unscathed—even your maidservant.’ He sighs. ‘A shame. I would have kept her, otherwise. But Uther has paid for her safe return, so no harm shall come to either of you.’
‘Her name is Lady Guinevere,’ says Merlin, faking another smile. ‘Thank-you for your kindness, Lord Hengist. I am sure we shall indeed be kept safe and hearty, in your company.’
‘Silver-tongued wench,’ Hengist chuckles genially, despite knowing what she’s doing. ‘Will you accompany me to a feast this night? I have some entertainment planned.’
‘We’d be honoured, my lord,’ Merlin dips her head, noting how Gwen follows her lead. Hengist gives one last pleased chuckle before leaving, Merlin waiting until the door is closed and locked again before scowling. ‘Well, he’s awful.’
‘I would not have done that,’ mutters Gwen, who glares at the door balefully. ‘Hengist is a war-monger. He does not deserve your niceties.’
‘You catch more flies with honey,’ says Merlin wisely. She gets up off the bed, brushing down her dress. ‘How do I look? The last thing I remember is getting knocked over.’
‘Will you use your magic to clean your dress?’ Gwen asks, sounding amused.
‘Of course,’ says Merlin, letting it out, seeping into the soft velvet fibres of her navy gown. She has to fix her bodice so it sits straight and pull up her collar, but other than that, there isn’t much to do. Idly tightening the ties at her back, Merlin inspects Gwen, noting somewhat angrily the darkening bruises on her wrists.
Reaching out, she says, ‘Give me your hands. I’ll fix your wrists,’ and waits until Gwen has tugged her sleeves out of the way before focusing her magic forwards, eyes flashing gold as it seeps into Gwen’s ochre skin. Glowing slightly, the bruises turn forwards in time, until they’ve gone through all the colours they should be, healing at a rapid pace.
‘It’s beautiful,’ says Gwen. ‘Your magic, I mean.’
‘Thanks,’ Merlin blushes, not having heard that before. Sitting on the bed again in wait, she looks back at the door again. ‘I wonder what this entertainment will be.’
‘Knowing Hengist? Something horrid.’
Oh, but how could Lancelot being chivalrous ever be horrid? Merlin understands why Gwen likes him immediately.
Seeing the wilddeoren eat his competitor alive is exactly as Gwen described.
‘Did you really help defeat the griffon?’ Merlin asks him later, curious. Hengist is drinking in a corner with his allies, leaving Merlin and Gwen at the high table with wine and meat aplenty.
Lancelot, holding his cup of ale tightly, nods. ‘It was all due to Sir Leon,’ he says.
‘That’s not true,’ interrupts Gwen, chiding him gently. ‘He only took the enchanted axe. You were the one to deal the final blow, Arthur said.’
‘I would never take credit where it is not due,’ Lancelot says, however. ‘If not for his actions, I would never have been able to defeat the beast. With Sir Leon and Prince Arthur by my side, we were an even match for the creature.’
‘I remember Uther being pissed over the whole affair,’ says Merlin, twisting her goblet. ‘You were never mentioned. I only heard of you later from Gwen, when I caught up on all I had missed.’
Lancelot frowns at her. ‘Missed? You were in Camelot, my lady?’
‘Locked in Uther’s rooms,’ she says glibly, trying to ignore the expression on his face. ‘I would have helped with the ordeal, otherwise. It’s my job to take care of Arthur and getting into a fight with a griffon qualifies.’
‘I had heard your tale,’ says Lancelot in a low voice, ‘Of a beautiful woman locked in a high tower. That you were Uther’s mistress was part of the story, but…’ he hesitates and Merlin shakes her head.
‘That part of my life is over. I’m still his mistress, but circumstances have changed.’
‘I had heard you had a child.’
‘Passed away,’ says Merlin shortly. Lancelot winces and she pities him. ‘It’s alright, really. I don’t mind questions. Tomas was my baby and he died. That his death made Uther see the light is one of the better things surrounding his death.’
‘Could you not run?’ he asks.
‘And leave my family behind?’ Merlin laughs, feeling Gwen’s hand sneak into her own. ‘Never. Uther will not live forever, though and one day, I’ll call Arthur my king instead and his reign will be glorious.’
‘I hope to see that day, if only for your sake, my lady,’ Lancelot bows low. ‘Maybe, once Arthur is king, I shall be able to become a knight of Camelot like I have always dreamed and my lack of heritage shall mean nought.’
‘If Arthur doesn’t accept you into the knights, I’ll beat him up until he changes his mind,’ Merlin promises him with a grin. He smiles back at her, laughing and in that moment, Merlin can see him, a vision of the future taking over her mind.
‘You shall be Sir Lancelot du Lac,’ she intones with a gravity she does not hear in her own voice. Laid overtop his present body, Merlin sees his hair braided long, swept over full silver plate and a red cloak of Camelot. ‘You shall know glory and you shall know heartbreak, a Knight of the Round Table, with king’s confidences in your breast and a son by a lady of the crown. When these have come to pass, you shall look back on this day and remember it fondly, for all its sorrow.’
Blinking rapidly, Merlin slumps in her chair, feeling as though she ran a hundred miles. She wipes at her forehead, looking at the stunned Lancelot with confused eyes.
‘Did I say something? I feel kind of funny,’ she whispers.
‘You- your eyes,’ he stammers, staring at her in awe. ‘Are you a prophetess?’
‘Not usually,’ Merlin says, glancing at Gwen, who has a hand over her mouth. ‘Why? Did I give a prophecy? That would be kind of cool, actually.’
‘It…was cool,’ says Lancelot, gaze flickering to Gwen and back. ‘You said I would have a son by a lady of the crown and be a knight, in my own right.’
‘I did?’ Merlin smiles. ‘That’s great! Arthur couldn’t want for better!’
Lancelot blushes and Gwen is quick to fill her own goblet with wine, hiding her face behind its rim. Merlin eyes her in interest, wondering about the full contents of her so-called ‘prophecy’.
Lancelot wasn’t going to marry Gwen, was he?
The next morning, Hengist gives Merlin her pick of the horses, but there’s only one she’s got her eye on—Lea, whom Hengist’s band led by Kendrick had captured. Gwen, likewise, seeks out her own mare, one of Morgana’s three riding horses. While not a war-steed in her own right, the chestnut steed has a temper that few can tame. Gwen is one of those few.
‘Lancelot,’ Merlin calls before they leave the castle, attracting the attentions of many, even as the quiet swordsman steps out of the shadows at her plea. Beneath her, Lea huffs, stepping around in an agitated fashion, ready to let loose. Merlin pats her flank, saying to Lancelot, ‘We will see you again, before or after Arthur is made king.’
He bows. ‘My lady. I will endeavour to stay alive that long.’
‘See that you do,’ Merlin says, before cheekily adding, ‘Or Gwen will be upset.’
Her friend splutters, exclaiming her name. ‘Merlin!’
‘What?’ Merlin flutters her eyelashes faux-innocently, making Gwen huff. The surprisingly amiable kidnapping ends soon after, when Hengist himself leads their party to the Vale of Denaria where Arthur waits with a dozen knights and other levies.
Scanning them both for harm, Arthur seems to let out a sigh of relief at their cheery dispositions. ‘How are you, Gwen? Merlin?’
‘Hungover!’ Merlin replies cheerfully as Gwen shakes her head. Arthur rolls his eyes.
‘Of course this is what we’re exchanging a full months worth of taxes for. A drunk Merlin and the lovely lady Guinevere.’
‘Why aren’t you calling me lovely?’ Merlin questions, offended. Hengist snorts, then begins the exchange. Sooner rather than later, Merlin and Gwen are given permission to make their way over to Arthur’s band, immediately shrouded within a horde of redcloaks.
‘Let’s hope we never meet again,’ Arthur says to Hengist, who doesn’t let up his pleasant demeanour, even giving Merlin a cheeky wave as they depart.
‘You can always come stay with us when your contract is done, Lady Merlin!’
She returns with a shout, ‘Never, thanks very much!’
Later that week, Merlin seeks out the dragon, but unwittingly runs face-first into Uther, instead. His hands grasp her shoulder, steadying her as she overbalances, keeping her from falling.
‘My lady,’ he says, pausing a moment before slowly unhanding her. Merlin, not having expected to run into anyone—let alone Uther—is slow to react. He frowns at her. ‘Why are you up at this hour?’
‘Uh,’ she says eloquently.
Uther raises an eyebrow.
‘…I’m not going to tell you,’ says Merlin, eventually. Leaning against the nearby wall, she wonders if she’ll be able to wait him out and visit Kilgharrah anyway, deciding that smalltalk is the way of it. ‘How are you, my lord?’
‘Fine,’ he says, before…bending. He takes a step closer to her, physically imposing his presence across her body, his hand trailing down her side. ‘I’ve heard you were treated well by your kidnappers. Something about a hangover?’
‘Hengist invited us to a feast,’ she explains, ‘and the wine certainly flowed.’
Uther pauses, his fingers barely brushing the base of her breast and Merlin doesn’t breathe, standing as still as she can as he thinks up his next words.
‘There is wine in my chambers,’ he says, an invitation. ‘Would you care to share it with me?’
Inwardly, Merlin squirms, but on the outside, she’s as cool as glass—meaning to please him before she realises what she’s even doing. ‘If you wish it,’ she says, cursing herself as he smiles. In an instant, his arm wraps around her waist, tugging her down the corridor in a half-embrace. He leans down, his nose pressing into her hair.
‘I’ve missed you, Merlin. It has been so very long…’
The journey is swift and for a moment, Merlin wonders if she’s gone to her hazy place to escape everything, but then the doors to his chambers shut and he has her turned back against the wood.
‘Will you sleep with me tonight?’ he rasps into her neck, tongue already laving at her skin. Merlin feels her knees go weak, that old state of pliancy returning to her as she gasps.
‘Yes,’ she utters.
‘Good,’ Uther whispers, before speedily undressing her, leaving Merlin in naught but her smallclothes as he lifts her up, pressing her legs around his waist—and even they disappear soon enough. He kisses her and it’s wet and passionate, pressure forming deep in her belly as she turns on.
Not against the door, she thinks in embarrassment. The guards will hear. Merlin pulls away from him, bare feet dropping to the cool floor as she drags him by his shirt to the bed. Uther’s eyes follow her, unblinking, as she climbs back onto the sheets.
‘You’d better make this feel good,’ she says to him strictly, unbuttoning his coat. Uther chuckles lowly, assisting her and stealing kisses as he does. For Merlin, the encounter is like a dream—or a nightmare. It’s something that shouldn’t happen. Even with her contract and her position, she shouldn’t let this happen.
But it’s happening.
Merlin said yes.
Divested of his clothing, Uther wastes no time in kissing down her collarbone to her breasts, teasing her nipples with his teeth and stretching her thighs open with his hands. Merlin shuts her eyes, burying her hands in his short hair as he moves on down, past the small rolls of fat on her stomach to her hairy centre.
‘Gods,’ he moans, licking a stripe from her cunt to her nub, pushing one of her legs up over his shoulder. Merlin moans, feeling her high quickly approaching as he circles and sucks, stimulating her sensitive pink skin.
When she comes, it’s with a curse, ‘I hate you, fuck!’ Merlin pants her way through the aftermath, reaching for Uther’s cock as he climbs over her, guiding it to her entrance. The sweet slide into her has them both groaning, Uther taking a moment to bask in the sensation before moving, pushing in and out over and over.
Merlin, for her part, doesn’t slip into her hazy place. The encounter isn’t wreathed in fear and to be completely honest, a part of her has missed this—the part that wants sex, wants all the primal sensations of a good fuck. Uther, for all his mistakes, is at least good at it.
When he comes, Uther naturally reaches between them to finish her off, keeping his cock tucked inside of her as she tenses around him, nails digging into his skin.
‘How was that?’ she rasps, opening her eyes. Uther kisses her shoulder, half-collapsing on top of her.
‘Good. Very good. A return to business, then?’ he asks her. After a long moment of thought, where Merlin thinks of their contract and her apparent willingness to get fucked, even despite her fear and her anger, Merlin nods.
‘Yes,’ she says. ‘A return to business.’
Uther laughs lowly, then kisses her on the mouth.
It’s not that Merlin goes back to sleeping in Uther’s rooms every night, because she doesn’t. Merlin’s life doesn’t revolve around him, not like it used to and as autumn begins, she finds herself only sleeping with Uther perhaps, at most, three times a week. There’s no rhyme or reason to her visits and often, she leaves Uther frustrated, pursing his lips. She feels like she’s treading a very fine line.
‘You’re my mistress,’ he complains at her, snapping. ‘It’s bad form!’
‘Bad form is what you did last year,’ Merlin says, not hesitating to bring his previous behaviour up each and every time. Uther usually starts brooding at that point, well aware of his mistakes.
Her relationship with others is different. Everyone has different reactions, from her mother’s reluctant understanding to Arthur’s refusal to accept it.
‘You don’t have to do it,’ he keeps saying, Morgana often backing him up. The both of them have been closer since the kidnapping, forming an unholy alliance that baffles Merlin until the moment she asks Julius about it.
‘They found out about Uther being the Lady Morgana’s father,’ he explains. ‘The Lady Elaine, too, is of Pendragon blood. They meet with her once a week, ignoring all Uther’s edicts against it.’
Merlin gapes. ‘That’s it? Has Uther acknowledged them?’
‘Not as of yet,’ says Julius, before warning her, ‘You’ve been extremely lucky not to see his anger from it, Merlin.’
He speaks too soon.
That very night, when Merlin waits in his quarters with a full tub, planning on giving Uther a very insistent yes, just because she’s worried he will take her no as an insult, he storms inside with rage in his eyes.
‘Get undressed,’ he orders and his tone, if nothing else, is what prompts her to move. Her dress comes off and so do the rest of her things, Uther stalking towards her and kicking a chair out of the way so he can lay her out on the dining table.
His teeth graze her flesh too sharply. Nevertheless, habit kicks in. ‘Will you sleep with me?’
Merlin’s breath catches and before she can stop herself, she says, ‘No.’
Uther pauses, a cold tension springing between them. ‘You took your clothes off when I asked,’ he says icily.
‘You’re scaring me,’ says Merlin, inching backwards on the table in an attempt to gain even a little bit of distance. Uther grabs her wrist. Merlin tries to shake him off and for a moment, he holds fast, squeezing tight enough that she genuinely, for a single moment, thinks he’s going to break her wrist.
Then he lets her go, instead grabbing her leg and drawing her down, off the table. Merlin yelps as she flies to the floor, knees knocking against the cold stone as he undoes his belt.
‘If you won’t let me use your cunt, then I’ll use your mouth,’ he sneers, taking out his cock and grabbing her by the hair. Merlin isn’t prepared for him to ram it between her lips, moving her head back and forth as she scrabbles for purchase on his trousers. His cock hits the back of her throat and she gags, tears immediately forming, only for Uther to turn her head back on an angle that gives him more room to shove inwards.
‘Whore,’ he growls. ‘Look at you, gagging and wanting. My Royal Mistress. Your yes and no games, your rules. I’ve had enough. If I want to fuck you, I will and you will say yes each and every time.’
Wrecked, Merlin at least doesn’t have to swallow what seed he spills, as Uther takes his cock out to spray across her chest. Still holding her by her hair, he hauls her to her feet, dragging her to the bath.
‘Say yes,’ he hisses in her ear as Merlin whimpers. The bathwater looms below them and Merlin wonders if he’s going to drown her.
‘Yes,’ she whispers, before he lets go of her hair and starts taking his clothes off. Mouth aching, Merlin coughs deeply, throat on fire, before she stumbles into the bath, sitting down in her usual spot.
Uther follows her, naked and only half-hard. He doesn’t even seem to care about that, kneeling in the water and leaning over her, lifting her leg up over his hip to impale her. He pushes inside, firming up slowly as he pounds away, Merlin’s arm latching onto the sides of the bath just to stay above the waterline.
‘Whore,’ he mutters again as she shudders through a climax of her own, still pressing in again and again. ‘My mistress. Mine alone. I’ll drown you, push you underwater as I fuck you and not let you up for air until I’m finished. Do you understand? If you say no again, I will kill you. You won’t ever see the light of day.’
Did our rules mean nothing to you? Merlin wonders as he finally comes, releasing into her abused cunt. Her hazy place doesn’t seem very far away, right now. When he’s done, he only stays long enough to rinse, drying off and heading straight to bed. Merlin lays in the cooling water, feeling numb. What will the consequence of breaking them be? Our contract became magical the moment I signed it with my full name.
Merlin tallies it all in her mind. He didn’t care for her no’s and he was most definitely violent. Even Merlin broke a rule tonight by leaving—but that rule was only supposed to be in place if she said yes and slept with him willingly. Slowly, pushing off the haze that threatens to take her for good, Merlin washes off the stains of his seed, getting out of the bath to dry and dress.
Making sure Uther really is asleep, Merlin risks teleporting away, the wind barely buffeting around her at all as she appears in her own quarters. Seeing her pristine bed, Merlin almost wants to cry.
I can cry, she thinks, I should. Merlin decides to let the tears fall, surprised at just how badly the event has her shaken up when they refuse to stop falling. She doesn’t want to be here, in her perfectly clean room, when all she is, is a dirty, rotten whore to the king.
It’s when she stumbles outside that she realises she’s forgotten her boots in Uther’s chambers, seeing guards outside of Arthur’s rooms that startle at the sight of her. She approaches them, pushing past them to Arthur’s door, hesitating for the merest second before knocking.
She hears him invite her in, then opens the door, seeing George folding laundry into his wardrobe as he sits at his desk. The moment he sees her, Arthur shoots up from his chair in alarm.
‘Merlin? Merlin, what happened?’
Merlin shuts the door behind her, moving forwards at speed. She slams into his chest, sobbing, barely even hearing Arthur’s soft soothing noises or the arms that wrap around her.
This is what you get when you try to chain the monster, Merlin thinks, scolding herself for ever thinking she had a chance. What good is a piece of paper when the will of an arrogant, cruel man is stronger?
‘George, get her some nightclothes,’ Arthur says, his voice sounding like it’s underwater. ‘She’s staying with me tonight.’
‘Yes, sire.’
Arthur leads her to his bed, sitting her down on the edge before crouching before her. If he had not looked so different from his father, had Merlin not trusted every inch of Arthur Pendragon, she would have gone right to her hazy place there and then.
‘Merlin,’ he says, soft as butter, ‘I’m going to undress you, alright? We’re going to get you changed into something more comfortable, so you can stay here, tonight. I don’t trust him anymore. You don’t ever have to be in the same room as him again by yourself, do you understand? I won’t let him.’
Words stick in her throat. When she speaks, her voice is lower than usual. ‘Never?’
‘Never,’ Arthur swears, before taking her hands. ‘Now, show me how to untie this dress.’
It takes a while. George returns soon enough with a nightgown and a blanket that her mother gave her, patched and frayed, but most definitely special to her. That George knows that surprises her, but George has never shown himself to be dumb.
‘I thought you might like something that isn’t from Uther,’ he says quietly.
George helps Arthur figure out her bodice, loosening the ties and holding her mother’s blanket over her chest as Arthur carefully laces her arms into the sleeves of her gown. Merlin doesn’t really understand why she isn’t moving her own limbs, but the help is appreciated—even if the stares aren’t. Arthur’s eyes catch on the bruises across her neck and collarbone, the teeth marks dragging down above her breast and even the handprints slowly colouring on her hips. They’ll be the worst, she knows, just because they’re taking so long to bloom.
‘George,’ Arthur instructs, ‘Get the guards to summon both Morgana and Gwen. Tell them they’re sleeping over here tonight, with us.’
‘Yes, sire,’ he says, before something stupid occurs to Merlin and she reaches out, thumbing the soft material of his shirt. George looks to her. ‘Milady?’
‘…tell Julius to get my boots back,’ she whispers. ‘I left them behind.’
His softness crumples into a scowl. ‘My lady, you should not be walking through the castle in bare feet. I’ll get Julius to go immediately, don’t you worry about it.’
Her lip twitches. ‘Thank-you, George.’
‘It’s no problem at all, my lady.’
‘George,’ Arthur huffs. ‘Tonight, please.’
Ordered away, the manservant quickly departs, briefly explaining to one of the guards their task before disappearing to seek out Julius, all for a pair of boots that really don’t matter at all, in the grand scheme of things. Merlin feels guilty for even asking.
‘Into bed with you,’ says Arthur, peeling back his covers and picking her up under her legs and back, tucking her in. ‘Get comfortable. It’s not every day a lady gets to sleep in my bed.’
‘Ha,’ she snorts. ‘Like you ever have any.’
‘That’s right,’ he replies, ‘You’re the first. Except Morgana, of course, but she only did that as a girl, whenever there were thunderstorms.’
‘I love storms,’ Merlin says, curling up beneath the covers as he tucks them under her arms.
‘You were born in a snowstorm, you said, that time on the picnic,’ Arthur remembers. ‘I bet you were the most annoying child on the planet, pushing your mother to a heart attack every day with your tricks.’
‘Something like that,’ she replies, feeling the rest of her mental haze truly fade. It leaves her limbs feeling like lead, her very bones aching as her muscles throb. She can still feel the damage to her throat and it makes her want to cry again. Arthur, sat beside her on the bed, threads their fingers together as they wait for the rest of their friends to arrive.
And arrive they do, in a flurry of limbs and concerned voices, climbing into bed with her almost immediately. Morgana cocoons her in her arms, while Gwen slides in on the other side, perfectly willing to steal her prince’s bed.
‘Is this how it’s going to be, huh?’ says Arthur, shaking his head and abandoning them to their huddle to blow out the candles. At one point, George returns with a taller shadow, Julius searching her out in the darkness with bright, furious eyes.
‘Merlin,’ he says evenly.
‘Hey, Jules,’ Merlin greets him, voice still lower than it should be. Only he seems to realise the cause, having been there so many other times when Uther has abused her for his pleasure. That furious glint only turns brighter.
George, glancing at his companion in concern, says, ‘Your boots have been returned to you, my lady. If there is nothing more we can do for you all…’
‘Bring breakfast for six in the morning,’ Arthur orders him. ‘Julius, you’re welcome to join us in planning how to keep Merlin far away from my father for the rest of his reign.’
‘Unfortunately, someone has to deal with the aftermath,’ says Julius, ‘though I appreciate the thought.’
‘Breakfast for five, then,’ Arthur grunts, moving to join them in the bed. He waves them off. ‘You’re dismissed.’
‘Yes, sire.’
‘Of course, sire.’
Trapped in the middle of a Morgana-Gwen sandwich, it takes Merlin a minute to realise that Arthur has to reach across Gwen to take her hand. The covers shift, moving around everyone’s waists prematurely, but the heat of their bodies is enough to keep them warm.
‘Tomorrow,’ Morgana murmurs in the dark, ‘We figure out how to overthrow Uther.’
‘Agreed,’ says Arthur. Merlin feels him grasp her hand tighter and Gwen kiss her head, Morgana keeping her firmly imprisoned inside her arms.
‘I love you all,’ she whispers, teary-eyed. Immediately, identical words come from each of her bed-mates and it only makes Merlin want to cry harder, sobbing into Morgana’s collar.
‘Shh,’ she soothes. ‘Shh…we love you, too, Merlin. How could we not? You’re my sister.’
‘Mine, too,’ says Arthur.
‘Mine, three,’ says Gwen, swearing, ‘He’s never touching you again.’
The affair was always going to end badly. For a time, Merlin thought she had some control, that Uther would end up respecting her and that his respect would make him at least tiptoe around the rules they set. It even seemed possible, after the death of Tomas and Uther’s pointed avoidance of her, so she could settle her grief and push past her reluctance.
What was it she said, not even a month ago? I’m yours forever. How naïve could she be, to think she could have her own life, while saying that? But Merlin was right to say that she would never leave Camelot either, as it was the solid truth.
The day she first saved Arthur’s life from Mary Collins, Merlin would never have imagined the consequences, which now amount to treason and insurrection. She sits around a table in the quarters of the Prince of Camelot, three of the best friends she could ever have using her experiences as a singular excuse to dethrone a king.
‘We have to get you and Elaine sorted,’ Arthur points out to Morgana. ‘I’m not taking the throne before that happens. I want you, at least, legitimised.’
‘Can’t we just walk into a council meeting one day, when you’re already sat in it?’ she asks, almost whining. ‘Uther needs to be gone sooner rather than later and the rumours have been swirling around for weeks!’
‘Yes, we could do that,’ Arthur agrees, taking it into consideration. Merlin is almost afraid to ask, but she does, anyway.
‘What if I’m pregnant?’
A stone-cold silence enters the room. George scrapes his plate with a wince, before Gwen slowly speaks on Arthur’s behalf.
‘They’ll be acknowledged. Won’t that be enough? If anything, Arthur can recognise and legitimise any of his siblings that he wants, when he becomes king.’
‘I could,’ Arthur winces, ‘But it comes better from Father’s mouth. Had Tomas lived, for example, there would have been a formal announcement of the king accepting his bastard son as a ward of the crown. With Morgana, for example, it’s more complicated, as we need to explain Uther’s lies to the nobility and do away with her inheritance to Tintagel.’
‘Gorlois’ estate,’ Morgana explains when Merlin makes a face at the word Tintagel.
‘If you’re pregnant again, they likely won’t be questioned,’ Arthur says to Merlin, ‘but it’s still better to have Uther proclaim it either to the courts or in writing, for the records.’
‘Understood,’ she mutters, glancing at George. ‘How have the other servants been, lately? I’ve been stuck going between Uther and Gaius.’
‘Well,’ he starts, hesitant. ‘I don’t know how they’re feeling right now, though I’m sure word will be spreading as we speak about the…incident, last night. I’d say that most of them would be behind you, Merlin, if Arthur managed to convince the knights to his side.’
‘The nobles would fall in line,’ Morgana adds.
‘Convincing the knights will be the hardest part,’ says Arthur, rubbing the bridge of his nose as if a headache has sprung into existence at just the idea of trying to turn them to his side. ‘The problem is whether they tell my father or not. It’ll happen, for sure. A coup like this won’t go unresisted.’
‘I hate to bring this up,’ Gwen says, quiet, ‘but there may be an easier way to remove Uther from power.’
They all know what she means.
‘I’m not going to plan an assassination of my father,’ says Arthur, drawing his line in the sand. ‘If it happens…fine. It happens. But I won’t be involved in that kind of business. He’s still my father and despite everything, I still love him enough not to sully my hands with his death.’
‘The fact that you use the word sully is pretty telling in its own right, Arthur,’ Morgana points out. Arthur ignores her, looking to Merlin.
‘We’ll have to inform Gaius and your mother of the distance you require from the king. If I thought you would agree, I’d order a knight at your side from dawn till dusk.’
‘I would,’ Merlin says, surprising him. ‘Agree, I mean. It’d be a boring position for them. They’d have to be informed of my magic, too.’
‘Leon could,’ says Arthur, but he frowns still. ‘He’s a strong ally within the rest of the knights for us, though. High-ranking and noble-born, to boot.’
‘Not Leon, then. Someone else.’ Merlin wishes, for once, that Lancelot was already a knight. He’d guard her day and night if she asked, it had seemed like when they met.
‘Sir Bedivere, perhaps.’
‘Sir Bedivere?’ Merlin raises an eyebrow.
‘Older than me,’ Arthur says, ‘Handy enough with a sword. He’s a good man, steadfast—carried me back to Camelot on his own back when I was bitten by the Questing Beast. Sir Pellinore stayed behind to fend it off,’ he reminisces on the attack solemnly, saying, ‘Sir Pellinore was a good man. Bedivere is loyal and not scared of magic, besides.’
‘That’s good,’ says Merlin. ‘I’ll seek him out today, after I’ve visited the Great Dragon.’
‘Great Dragon?’ George repeats, jaw dropping.
‘Yes,’ Morgana waves him off, ‘the Great Dragon which lives under Camelot, whom with Merlin treats like a doting old man. You should take Arthur down to see him. It’s about time.’
Merlin hums in agreement, despite Arthur’s very manly shake of his head.
‘No,’ he says.
‘Yes,’ she says. ‘I’ll take you once we have a plan of action.’
Morgana states, ‘We should take care of myself and Elaine before the weeks end. When that is over, Arthur can ask for more duties. After a month, we start bringing trusted knights into our plans. Gwen, meanwhile, can help George and Julius spread discontent among the serving staff.’
Merlin and Arthur boggle at her. ‘Did you just come up with that right now?’ Arthur questions accusingly.
‘Of course not,’ she says, scolding. ‘I’ve been thinking about it for months. Merlin,’ Morgana looks over at her, ‘At this point, I think it’s time to bring in Nimueh.’
‘It’ll just cause trouble for Camelot itself,’ Merlin warns, knowing Nimueh’s plans have never managed to solely target Uther.
‘You’re our link to her. Discuss everything with her,’ Morgana instructs, ‘Convince her to let us advise her, so we can plan the ultimate attack against Uther, one he can never recover from, that leaves his reputation in tatters and leaves only a bright future for Arthur ahead of us.’
‘You know,’ Merlin says, ‘You’re scary, Morgana.’
Her lady grins with teeth and says, ‘I’m aware.’
Arthur nit-picks Morgana’s plans for the rest of the hour, before Merlin interrupts to remind them that they have duties that morning and if she’s going to introduce Arthur to Kilgharrah, they need to go now.
‘How do we get there?’
‘Well, rather than sneak down,’ Merlin says, grabbing his hand. ‘I think we’ll teleport. Hold your breath.’
‘Why do I need to hold my-’
Wind whirls around them both, carrying them down into the caverns beneath Camelot. Merlin aims so that Arthur is standing just inside the doorframe, while she is left in her usual spot, watching Arthur stagger at the change of material beneath his feet.
‘Dear gods,’ he mutters, before Merlin turns and calls out for her friend.
Kilgharrah, wisely, eyes Arthur with care as he settles on his usual rock. ‘The Once and Future King,’ he greets him in a slow, even voice.
‘…dragon,’ says Arthur, before he snaps out of his shock. ‘Good morning.’
‘Good morning,’ Kilgharrah repeats in amusement. ‘Merlin, you have never brought anyone along with you before. I assume things have changed, since our last meeting.’
‘I thought it was time you met,’ Merlin nods in agreement. ‘At this point, even Arthur is ready to accept his father being assassinated.’
‘Oi,’ Arthur butts in, scowling at her. ‘I didn’t say that.’
‘You implied it.’
Kilgharrah laughs at them both, before saying, ‘Your relationship amuses me. To think that you would be so amiable, Emrys and the son of the Butcher.’
‘The Butcher?’ Arthur repeats, never having heard the name before. Merlin grimaces. ‘Why do you call my father that?’
‘Is that not what he did?’ Kilgharrah questions, voice chilling. ‘Butchered innocents in his Purge? Killed thousands and spilt magical blood across the land, all for his ravaged heart? Uther is called the Butcher because it tells exactly what crimes he has committed, in the name of revenge.’
Mute, Arthur doesn’t reply to the dragon’s claims, Merlin placing a hand on his shoulder in comfort. It causes the long sleeve of her work dress to slip down, revealing the hand-shaped bruise around her wrist and Arthur flinches at the sight of it, drawing her hand into his to cradle.
‘My father is many things,’ he murmurs, ‘Butcher among them.’
‘Yes,’ Kilgharrah says, eyeing Merlin’s frail form. ‘I have heard what he has done to Merlin. It was I who she came to, after the new year passed, to whom she told the full truth.’
‘We know it, now,’ says Arthur. ‘Gwen, Morgana and I. Leon knows, too, George some of it. Even Julius. Merlin has magic and the both of us have a destiny to share.’
‘That you do,’ the dragon agrees. ‘Though I did not believe there would be so much hardship on Merlin’s part to get to this point.’
‘Speaking of hardship,’ Merlin interrupts, remembering the name of her father and the title he keeps, ‘When were you going to tell me it was my father who imprisoned you, Kilgharrah? Why would he do such a thing?’
Kilgharrah rears slightly, while Arthur looks at Merlin in shock. ‘Balinor called me from the sky! I heard his voice and I came, at his will! What I did not know was that Uther had bound him in blood contract to bring me here, in this cavern without stars. The moment I flew within reach of the great chain-’ he lifts his wing, showing them both the cuff around his leg, ‘-I was forever bound to this place. A powerful magic, made from all the cold iron the lands had to offer. It sought me out in moments, forever binding me here. Balinor wept where you stood and only for the last hope I had in my heart to be free, did I warn him of the men behind him, ready to strike him down.’
‘You saved him?’ Merlin exclaims, eyes wide. ‘Even though he imprisoned you, you saved his life?’
‘He was the last Dragonlord,’ Kilgharrah says, ‘and he was my kin, just as you are, Merlin. One day, though it is a small hope I kindle in my breast, I hope to be released—by you.’
‘By me?’
‘By you,’ Kilgharrah repeats. Merlin stares at the great, ugly chain shackled around his leg, reaching far down into the caves below and she feels defeated. Even from afar, the lack of life to it—the coldness of this iron—makes her magic recoil.
‘I could never destroy that thing,’ she says, so sorry. ‘Kilgharrah…’
‘It would take a weapon of immense strength,’ the Great Dragon tells her patiently, ‘One borne of dragonflame. A weapon worthy of a king.’
‘Dragonflame?’
‘Burnished in my breath,’ Kilgharrah says, ‘will one day come a sword. On its blade shall say the words take me up, cast me away. It will be called Excalibur, the Sword of the Once and Future King, capable of killing anything, living or dead.’
‘How can you kill something already dead?’ Merlin asks, confused.
The dragon’s eyes twinkle. ‘With Excalibur, of course.’
‘Great,’ Arthur says, clapping a hand on Merlin’s shoulder. ‘I’m to have a legendary blade, it seems. Why call it Excalibur, though? Seems a rather strange name.’
‘Oh ho ho, but this sword shall be legendary amongst even the most infamous of swords,’ says Kilgharrah. ‘Its name shall last a hundred thousand lifetimes, until even you, Arthur Pendragon, have been lost to time.’
Merlin makes a noise at the back of her throat several times, raising her hand to stop him. ‘Hey. Quit it with the prophetic nonsense, Kilgharrah. Stop making self-fulfilling prophecies for your own amusement.’
‘I do no such thing—I’m merely informing you of your destiny, Merlin.’
He laughs at her.
Arthur pats her on the shoulder again. ‘Time to go, Merlin, before you attempt to lose your temper at a ten tonne dragon.’
Fists clenched, Merlin says, ‘I am not going to lose my temper at Kilgharrah.’
‘If you say so, Merlin,’ Arthur says, sounding perfectly dubious.
Kilgharrah stops laughing to nod his head in farewell to them. ‘Oh and Merlin? Despite the awful parentage of your newest hatchling, congratulations.’
‘Oh.’
Merlin, despite all claims to the contrary, keeps her word as best she can. So, even knowing that Uther has no intention of keeping to the rules, she writes a letter informing him of her latest pregnancy.
It’s a long letter. Surprisingly, she has a lot of feelings and writing them down is a catharsis she doesn’t expect. What was originally going to be a three-sentence letter telling Uther that a) she is never stepping near him ever again, b) Arthur will murder him if he tries anything and c) that she’s pregnant, becomes a gargantuan, two page, doubled-sided letter that she delivers via Julius, wrapped in her least favourite hair ribbon.
Of course, while she believes Kilgharrah that she’s pregnant, she still counts back to her last bleeding, figuring out that she’s nine days late. Any longer and she may have noticed the lack herself. That Kilgharrah can smell the changes in her body at all is testament to his nose.
Uther sends a return letter via Julius, who, the clever fucking snob, makes sure Morgana is in the same room during delivery. The letter is summarily snatched from Merlin’s hands and read by his daughter, who immediately orders Gwen to send for a scribe.
‘I want a copy of this,’ she says, oddly flat. When Merlin attempts to read it, Morgana doesn’t let her, keeping it far from her reach until the scribe arrives and Morgana hands it over, telling them to deliver three copies to Sir Geoffrey, Arthur and Morgana herself.
Later, Merlin sees the scribe again. He looks ill.
‘Let me read the letter Morgana had copied,’ she says to Arthur, holding out her hand. Arthur taps his quill on his desk, shaking his head. ‘Arthur!’
‘I’ve read it and I don’t want you to,’ he says, sounding just as toneless as Morgana. ‘The contents are disturbing, Merlin. If he sends you anything else, I want to know, do you understand? Julius is under orders from both myself and Morgana to take any deliveries to us, not you.’
‘Is it really that bad?’ Merlin questions, flinching at Arthur’s furious look.
‘Merlin, if that letter is an example of the general sort of conversation you have together in private, you have been keeping the worst of his actions to yourself.’ Looking practically murderous, Arthur orders George to remove Merlin from his rooms for the first time, Merlin too shocked at his audacity to really argue against George’s gentle pushing.
Sir Geoffrey is her next stop, but by the time she reaches him, the old man is in a towering rage. When he sees her, he orders the nearest guard to follow her around the castle wherever she goes and if they see the king, to guard her against him with their life.
‘Really,’ she mutters. ‘What is so bad about this letter?’
Merlin has to get her hands on one of the copies.
Trudging back to her chambers—the guard on her heels, like a little lost duckling with a very sharp spear in hand—Merlin takes little satisfaction in closing it in the guard’s face. She thinks she remembers him jeering at her once, two years ago, in those early days.
Merlin takes a moment to breathe, looking fondly at the scribble indicating the Isle of the Blessed on her mounted map, before staring at herself in her mirror. Just above average height for a woman, Merlin has a rather slim build, with dark brown hair that gains certain pale streaks whenever she spends too much time in the sun and an olive complexion. Balinor is likely who she inherits that from, she figures, as her mother is of the usual pale stock.
The bruises around her wrist are just past livid, now and a quick rucking of her dress proves that the handprints on her hips show up in stark relief, all yellow and green. Funnily enough, Merlin muses, they match the emeralds hanging in teardrops from her ears—new accessories she’d recently acquired after taking some of Cornelius Sigan’s enchanted gems to the local silversmith to be set into jewellery. This close to her ears, the emeralds let her hear a little more clearly, should she so wish it.
Sighing, she lets her skirts drop, hand accidentally brushing her stomach. Merlin swallows. The idea of having another child is terrifying. Since Tomas’ birth, she’s started remembering bits and pieces of her labour, just as other experiences from her hazy state have become clearer in her mind. The true pain of Tomas’ birth was on another scale, something she’s still sure she’s suppressing, just to keep her sanity. No-one can go through that much pain in such a short space of time and remember it all.
Just the pain, she thinks, is enough of a deterrence not to want to have children. Merlin swears that after she births this one, that will be her set for a lifetime. No more. Her hand smooths over her flat belly.
‘What will you be like, huh? A girl, this time? Another boy?’ She murmurs, staring at herself in the mirror. ‘Will you look like me or like Arthur? My face or his? I know I should compare you to Uther and not your brother, but Tomas was like Arthur. I think Nimueh helped birth Arthur, no matter what anyone says about Gaius being there. She said they looked alike.’
A loud knock comes from her door and she hears the guard from before calling out. ‘Milady? Milady, the king is coming down the corridor. Please, bar your door-’
‘Step aside.’
Her blood runs cold. Merlin lurches forwards, towards the siege bar, slamming it down just as she hears Uther—presumably—throw the guard to the floor. The moment the siege bar locks in place with a final thump, her mind starts going into overdrive, Uther’s voice muffled and distorted as a hazy cloud overtakes her brain.
She’s locked in her own room.
Merlin reaches out for her bedpost for something to lean again, dropping down onto her mattress as she hears Uther threaten her with treason if she does not open the door.
‘I’m not letting you in,’ she whispers, wanting Arthur and Morgana and Gwen. Then, a memory blooming inside her head, Merlin recalls the druid boy from so long ago. He spoke to her using just his thoughts.
Arthur, she tries, knowing instinctively that it didn’t work. Merlin shuts her eyes tight. She’s done this before, hasn’t she? It’s how she contacted Nimueh in the first place.
‘Arthur!’ She calls, feeling his alarm. ‘Arthur, he’s here outside my door, please, I’m scared.’
Merlin hears a wisp of thought—of speech—and knows that Arthur has heard her, that he has ordered his knights to Merlin’s room. Heaving a sigh of relief, Merlin reaches across to the chest at the end of her bed, dragging her mother’s blanket off it around her shoulders. George was right. It is nice to have something that isn’t a gift from Uther to wear.
Soon enough, she hears a commotion, Arthur and the knights confronting Uther outside. Wary, she creeps closer to the door, activating her enchanted emeralds.
‘-no right! I told you that if you ever stepped foot in there, you’d face the consequences, Father!’
‘She isn’t even letting me in! The girl has locked herself inside! Pah, afraid of locked doors,’ she hears Uther mock her, reminding her of just why she wants Arthur to take him away.
‘You will leave. Immediately. Or I will have you apprehended.’
‘Put the sword down, Arthur.’
‘I saw the letter you sent to her,’ says Arthur. ‘I saw the threats you made and all the scandalous comments in between. You want Merlin dead.’
‘A lie.’
‘You wrote it yourself. Don’t try to deny it. Morgana had the letter copied—Merlin hasn’t even read it. Now, I won’t ask again. Move along.’
‘What has the girl done to you? My own son.’
‘Merlin is my best friend. For all the time you’ve spent with her, you can’t even see why she would be. Merlin is brave and courageous in the face of utter depravity. Your depravity. I won’t ask a third time.’
‘You will regret this.’
‘I shall never regret this.’
Merlin hears Uther’s tread on the stone, fading off into the distance. Arthur quietly requests two knights follow him, to make sure he isn’t planning on returning, then knocks on her door. Merlin turns off the enchantment and speaks through the wood.
‘I know he’s gone. I was listening.’
Arthur’s voice is upset. ‘I just want to make sure you’re okay. Will you come out?’
Merlin doesn’t mean to hesitate, but she does anyway. The idea of opening her door, only to find Uther standing outside, is an image that just won’t leave her. He’s stood in her doorway too many times. Once was enough.
‘Merlin…’
Arthur’s heartbroken tone is enough to remind her just who really stands outside her door. In seconds, she’s lifting the siege bar and opening up, taking only a split second to inspect Arthur’s lost expression before hugging him tightly.
He hugs her back, burrowing his face in her hair. ‘I’m here. I’ll keep you safe.’
‘I know,’ she murmurs. Arthur is the only one who has the power to say that. Stepping back again, Merlin looks to the knights over his shoulder, meeting eyes with Leon, Sir Bedivere, Sir Kay and even Sir Geraint. The half dozen others are faces she’s unfamiliar with, but thankful to nonetheless. ‘My greatest thanks, sir knights.’
‘Anything for you, Merlin,’ says Leon. His smile still radiates anxiety as he says, ‘I never thought I’d ever face down my king in pursuit of my knightly duties, but here we are.’
‘Shut up, Leon,’ says Arthur. Merlin doesn’t mind.
‘Still, thanks.’
The knights all get in their short piece accepting her gratitude, before Merlin decides to take advantage of the situation to argue her way into reading the letter from Uther.
‘So, now I know the juicy bits about Uther’s little note to me,’ she starts, peering at Arthur with a small grin, ‘Can I read it?’
Arthur glares at her. ‘No. Definitely not.’
‘Come on, he’s probably said worse to my face,’ says Merlin, which seems to have the opposite effect she was looking to make. Arthur’s already pinched expression becomes even more guarded. Merlin rolls her eyes. ‘Come on, Arthur! It’s my correspondence, not yours!’
‘No.’
‘There are four copies of it floating through the castle,’ she says. ‘I swear, I’ll eventually find at least one of them.’
‘Not if I have anything to do with it.’
‘Morgana-’
‘No, Merlin.’
‘Sir Geoffrey!’
‘The prince has already informed me of his decision, my lady.’
...so, Merlin supposes she’ll have to get creative.
Waiting in the kitchens, Merlin pounces forwards when she spies her prey arriving to collect their master’s meal.
‘Julius.’
Her fellow manservant narrows his eyes at her. ‘This is about the letter,’ he deduces.
‘Yes. Do you know where a copy is kept?’ she asks him.
‘Yes,’ he says. ‘However, I want to read it.’
Merlin pauses, wondering why he’d want to. Cautiously, she questions, ‘Is there a specific reason you wish to read what is apparently a truly despicable piece of writing?’
‘I could ask you the same question,’ says Julius, raising an imperious eyebrow.
‘Simple. It’s my letter,’ Merlin says calmly.
Julius thinks on whether he wishes to answer for a long moment, then tells her quietly, ‘I have witnessed you at your worst. Now, I wish to know how you came to be that way.’
‘You think Uther will just say why in a letter?’ Merlin asks him in an equally as quiet voice. The manservant breathes in deeply, wide nostrils flaring even wider, before running his hand through his braided hair, a telling action. Merlin has never seen Julius upset before, her colleague always poised and professional, projecting a constant veneer of I am better than you. Seeing him like this, angry, distressed, puts her off-kilter.
‘I think,’ Julius says, ‘that I cannot imagine what depths he can go to, despite all I know of him. I want an example. There exists a fifth copy of the letter made by the scribe, who had naively thought to begin his own collection of records, not believing that Sir Geoffrey would agree to permanently archive such distasteful documents.’
‘You took it from him,’ deduces Merlin.
‘I did. I have not read it, however. I would not do it without your permission,’ he says, looking her straight in the eyes. Merlin sucks in a breath.
‘You know what’s funny?’ She whispers to him. ‘Out of everyone who has a copy of the letter, you’re the one who might just convince me not to read it.’
Julius looks down at her solemnly. ‘I believe you should. I shall deliver it to your quarters later, beneath your centrepiece.’
Centrepiece? Oh, the map. ‘Alright,’ Merlin agrees. ‘You can read it whenever you like, Jules.’
Julius flashes her a rare smile, white teeth behind dark lips. ‘My mother used to call me that. It has been pleasant to be called it again by you, Merlin.’
‘Emrys,’ Merlin gives him her prophesised name. ‘Merlin Emrys. Merlin Emrys Ambrosius, technically, but…yeah. Some people call me Emrys.’
‘Emrys,’ murmurs Julius, before he inclines his head and steps away, picking up the tray holding the king’s breakfast and departing.
Merlin, anticipating the arrival of her letter some time after lunch or early afternoon, goes about her day like normal, assisting Gaius on his Thursday run into the market to collect empty pots from his patients. As if Merlin is blessed to have a busy season, they are waylaid by two travellers, a manservant and his mistress, a lady of the House of Tregor, seeking Uther for assistance.
‘Merlin,’ Gaius says, eyes flickering back and forth between the Lady Catrina and herself, ‘You finish my rounds here. I will escort the lady to the castle.’
‘Yes, Gaius,’ she chirps, hefting her basket of pots onto her hip. ‘Can I be excused from my duties when I get back?’
‘Send the pots down to be washed first, but yes, you can go,’ Gaius says.
‘Thanks, Uncle!’ She leans in to peck his cheek, then moves onwards, finishing their business for the day before returning to the castle. The scullery maids scrunch their noses at the sight of her burden, knowing exactly what kind of crud they’ll be scrubbing off the insides.
‘I hate Thursdays,’ says Lisbet, whining as she accepts the basket. Merlin laughs at her, then skips off with nary a goodbye, knowing if they start begging for her help, she’ll get sucked into washing-up duty.
In her quarters, Merlin checks behind her map and discovers, like Julius promised, the famed letter. Readying herself for the vitriol to come, she opens up the folded parchment and reads, skimming through it at lightning speed.
…you are a whore. It is no surprise to me that you are with child…
…blame me? To blame me is to blame yourself for Tomas’ passing…
…drowned you…
…the silver cock to impale you like a stuck pig…
…your audacity as to address me in such fashions, like you are not the deceptive devil’s child who only lusts for fame and fortune…
…I would not be surprised if you let Valiant have his way with you. You described the encounter in such detail, were so wet around my cock as you spoke of violence…
…I should have drowned you…
…I will wring your neck as I fuck your pretty hole…
…you shall only ever know me as your master, my slave in all things…
The contents are not surprising. For every indecency he writes, Merlin only feels more proud to have gotten away. For every threat, she feels like spitting in his face. Her only regret is that her friends have read this, that poor Sir Geoffrey has been forced to learn her dirtiest secrets in the name of archiving. That scribe had a point, no matter Julius’ opinion: some things are better kept out of public eye.
Folding the letter contemplatively, Merlin hides it on the opposite side of the frame from where Julius first stashed it, wondering what her friend thought of the contents. Honestly, while the letter is far from tame, only the pure volume is shocking. Uther used to say those sorts of things in his anger often.
At dinnertime, she waits for Arthur, Gwen and Morgana in Arthur’s chambers, assured by George half an hour previous that he would arrange everything. When time ticks onwards without their arrival, her stomach rumbling in a desperate manner, Merlin starts to give up hope that they’ll ever arrive.
Then, of course, they come marching in one by one, Gwen the most confused of the lot. Arthur and Morgana hold picture-perfect masks of distain and anger, looking more like siblings than ever as they join her at the table.
‘Our apologies, Merlin,’ Arthur says stiffly, George running in after them all with a plate of food for her. Merlin hesitates only for a moment before digging in, curling up a slice of chicken with green beans and shoving it in her mouth. ‘I’m afraid that our father was enjoying the company of the Lady Catrina Tregor and forcibly invited the both of us to join them.’
‘I met her in the marketplace,’ Merlin says through a full mouth, having to repeat herself when they all look at her funny. ‘I met her in the marketplace. I was with Gaius. Her manservant came up to us and showed us her seal.’
‘Huh,’ Morgana says, pursing her lips. ‘What an odd thing to do. How did they know to ask Gaius?’
‘No idea,’ says Merlin. ‘Gaius recognised the seal on sight, but he would. So,’ she pauses, before asking, ‘Why are you both so pissed off?’
‘Because he was flirting with her the entire time,’ Arthur says in a very unfriendly voice. Merlin blinks rapidly.
‘I’m sorry, say that again. I could have sworn you said your father was flirting with another woman.’
‘Shouldn’t we be glad? His attentions aren’t on Merlin, this way,’ Gwen notes.
‘My father is wealthy and unmarried,’ says Arthur, ‘so it’s not surprising to us that he’s getting attention from her in return. Our problem is the fact that we hate him and we don’t want him to be happy.’
‘You’re stealing all my lines,’ Morgana mutters.
‘Well, if you’re not quick enough on the mark, Morgana,’ Arthur smiles, ‘then I will have to do it for you.’
‘So,’ Merlin ponders, chewing on a hunk of cabbage drenched in gravy. ‘She wants to marry him? I mean, if he’s going to break the rules, might as well throw out the entire contract.’
Arthur gives her a funny look. ‘Contract? Your contract with my father had a rule about marriage?’
‘Hm-hm,’ Merlin nods, swallowing. ‘Yeah, no marriages for either of us, and because it’s a magic contract, there are consequences to breaking the rules. Don’t know what those consequences are, but considering magic, it’s probably a fair’s-fair deal.’
‘I really need to see this contract,’ says Morgana. Merlin raises her hand, waggling two fingers.
‘We each have our own copy. Different wording per person. Each as equally binding. Like how mine says all his bastards have to be recognised, while his says all my children have to be.’
‘Wow,’ Arthur says, eyebrows rising. ‘That’s…different. I can’t believe he would have recognised all your children as his, no matter what.’
‘That was my problem, too,’ Merlin scowls. ‘It’s how I figured out Uther must have had other children. Gaius was just the one to name them.’
‘…you knew?’
Merlin looks to Morgana, realising her second lie is coming to light. Morgana, unlike Arthur however, doesn’t look to be upset. Just…contemplative.
‘Um,’ she says eloquently.
‘It’s alright,’ Morgana waves her off, reaching across the table to push her plate closer to her. ‘You should eat before it goes cold. I remember last time you were pregnant. You never ate enough.’
‘Didn’t I?’
‘No,’ Gwen agrees, sounding fond. ‘I can’t believe a dragon told you.’
‘To be fair, he can smell that kind of stuff,’ says Merlin, digging into the rest of her dinner with gusto, listening to Arthur and Morgana complain about the sappy flirting going on between their father and Lady Tregor.
‘I swear, I felt like I was intruding on something,’ says Arthur.
The topic of Lady Catrina becomes something of a joke between them over the next several days. It isn’t until Gaius gathers them that the joke becomes something much more serious.
‘A troll?’
‘I saw her myself,’ says Hunith, who apparently has been spying on the woman for several days now, after Gaius said to Uther that it was inappropriate, despite her situation, for Lady Catrina to have a male servant helping her dress and bathe. Some finagling of orders via Julius saw Hunith sent to be her maidservant.
‘That must have been…’
‘Strange,’ says Hunith. Merlin’s mother shakes her head in disbelief. ‘Her servant, Jonas, was harder to get past than I thought he would be. He sneaks her out of her rooms each night to a stye in the tunnels.’
‘Were you seen?’ Morgana asks in concern. Hunith pats her arm with another shake of her head.
‘I don’t believe so. But I can’t be sure.’
‘Trolls, they’re powerful, right?’ Merlin asks Gaius, who nods solemnly. ‘That transformation spell must be taking a lot out of her, if she’s transforming back every night.’
‘Perhaps. But trolls are filthy, unclean creatures. It could be perhaps that she simply cannot abide living in human form for very long,’ says her mentor, opening one of his bestiaries to show her the classification itself. Merlin skims the information, absorbing what she can, before Arthur peers over her shoulder with a wrinkled nose.
‘What language is that?’
‘Old Tongue,’ says Merlin, still reading. ‘Surprised you can’t understand it.’
‘Arthur isn’t one for languages,’ says Gaius with a chuckle. ‘He can read several variants of Brittonic and Celtic scriptures, as well as the language of Normandy, but I’m afraid that is where he ended his studies.’
Snickering, Merlin teases, ‘Poor little Arthur, can’t even read Old Tongue.’ She rather deserves the thwack to the back of her head for that remark, but Gaius didn’t have to do it in front of her friends. Scowling, she rubs at the point of impact, saying, ‘I thought that was rather funny.’
‘It was,’ agrees Morgana.
‘Why would a troll come to Camelot, then?’ Merlin asks, changing the subject back to the false Lady Catrina. She taps the bestiary. ‘It says here they prefer caves and limited human contact.’
‘Ah, except trolls crave wealth and power,’ says Gaius.
‘And my father has wealth and power,’ Arthur mutters. ‘Dear gods, a troll is seducing my father.’
‘Good luck defeating that,’ Merlin jokes, knowing they won’t let her anywhere near this if Uther is in the picture. Morgana huffs.
‘All we have to do is tell Uther she’s a magical creature in disguise. His prejudice will take care of her.’
‘It’s a start,’ says Gwen, encouraging her lady. Arthur, glancing her way, hesitates before agreeing that it’s the best option.
Merlin, personally, is interested in the troll herself. She’s not met many practitioners of magic and trolls are apparently the best among them—she can see why they would want the station and gold to fit their power.
That night, Merlin has her mother lead her down in the direction of the troll’s lair, hiding herself in the shadows just outside to wait. Hunith wishes her luck before returning to Gaius, leaving Merlin alone in the tunnels. She sees Jonas first, watching him scurry around, wincing at the smell of fresh horse dung he brings by the bucketload into the lair. Merlin tries to stay as far back as possible while staying in the general entrance area, though her stomach complains. Violently.
Eventually, however, Jonas leaves—returning shortly with his troll mistress, who immediately begins staring into the shadows where Merlin stands, her bulbous, purple face quite shocking Merlin herself.
‘Who’s there? Show yourself!’ she exclaims.
Merlin quiets her magic, untangling it from the shadows so they fall away from where they shroud her. Jonas and the troll immediately hiss at the sight of her and Merlin raises her hands.
‘I mean no harm. I merely seek…wisdom, I suppose.’
‘Wisdom?’ The troll perks up. ‘From little old me? Ooh, come in, come in!’ She waddles into her lair, Jonas watching Merlin suspiciously as she steps forwards.
Nose wrinkling, Merlin enters the lair, watching the troll get settled in her pile of dung, snaffling and gnashing her teeth in glee as she picks up some rotten vegetables, stuffing them in her mouth. Merlin almost feels like gagging.
‘So, you seek wisdom, do you? What kind of spell was that, which kept you in the shadows all nice and hidden from sight? It’s rare that magic like that works on little old me, but you were coming on a bit strong. Subtlety is key,’ the troll gestures around playfully.
‘Well,’ Merlin coughs, ‘it’s just me reaching out and, uh, bending them to my will. I’m not really using any sort of spell.’
‘Oh,’ the troll says, sounding disappointed. ‘Could have used that on my neighbours if I ever had to go back to the cave. How did you find out I’m a troll? Who are you?’
‘My name is Merlin,’ she says. ‘I’m the Royal Mistress.’
‘Mistress? I’ve heard about you,’ the troll points, ‘Not treated very well, are you? Word among the trolls is you used the Cup of Life last winter to sacrifice your own child.’
Merlin startles.
‘Yes, yes, I know all about that—powerful artefacts like that have a very distinct signature…ah, lovely!’ The troll finds a dungball among the straw, stuffing her face with it. Merlin tries not to react too badly. ‘Interesting thing you did. Not many sacrifice unborn babes these days. Who was it for?’
‘Arthur,’ Merlin chokes out.
‘What a pity,’ says the troll, shaking her head. ‘You know my plan then? To become Uther’s queen?’
‘I mean, it’s not that hard to guess.’
The troll eyes her up. ‘Are you going to try and stop me?’
‘Me? I’m not allowed within fifty feet of Uther,’ says Merlin, hand on her heart. ‘I won’t promise about anyone else, but be assured that I’ll have no part in it. I swear. Do anything you like to him. If you manage to make his prick have an unhappy accident, I’d owe you one.’
The troll giggles nastily. ‘Ahh, I like you! Show me the shadow trick—I’ll be watching very carefully. If you manage to teach me a little something, I’ll give you something in return.’
‘Okay,’ Merlin agrees, surprised at the overall amiability of the imposter. Then again, being polite never killed her—her time with Hengist was fun, except the part where a man got eaten alive by a wilddeoren. Closing her eyes, she reaches her magic out and draws in the shadows like she normally does, wrapping them around her like a cloak.
‘Now that is something. Your magic is very strong, little witch.’
Letting the shadows be, Merlin opens her eyes again, watching as the troll rocks side to side, thinking.
‘A spell,’ she eventually pronounces. ‘I know blood magic, curses, enchantments, rituals—I’m a very learned being. There are many magics under my employ.’
Merlin hesitates, an idea forming before the troll even finishes speaking. After a moments pause, she asks, ‘Can blood magic be used to track people?’
The troll cackles. ‘Who are you trying to find?’
‘My father, he was fleeing the Purge when I was conceived. My mother never had the chance to tell him I lived,’ Merlin tells her, edging a step closer, ‘but I know that he does. Still live, that is. Could blood magic help me track him down?’
‘Of course!’ says the troll, who gestures her closer. Merlin moves to crouch in front of her, just outside her stinking stye, ignoring the stench as best she can. Her stomach revolts harder and she can’t help but throw up, spewing all over the floor.
The troll hums. ‘That’ll be a good dinner. Very nice touch, witchy.’ She kneels in her stye, making grabby motions for Merlin’s hand.
But Merlin isn’t that stupid. ‘Tell me how it works,’ she demands. The troll sighs forlornly, but nevertheless explains.
‘I’ll enchant a gem of some kind using your blood. Like calls to like and you’ll feel that call which draws you to blood kin when you wear it.’
‘Okay,’ Merlin mumbles, wiping her mouth before summoning a necklace from her boudoir. Mostly made of silver plate, the choker ties around her neck in two parts, held together on one side by a lock and on the other, a blue, square, sapphire bound in chain. While the silver plates themselves are littered with enchantments made by Sigan, meant to protect the wearer from all sorts of poisons, the sapphire itself is bare.
‘That is some necklace, witchy,’ says the troll, taking it when offered. ‘Yes, yes, this will do. One drop of blood, please! Let it fall on the gem in the middle of my recitation.’
Merlin nods in agreement, then grits her teeth as she digs her own nail into the palm of her hand, shivering when it wells with blood. The troll natters away at the sight of it, then begins to chant, half rocking over the necklace. Merlin listens to her magic as it swells, intrigued by how grounded it is in the marrow of her bones, so unlike Merlin’s own, which flows like water.
The troll jerks her head halfway through the spell, indicating it’s time, so Merlin holds her hand out over the gem, letting a drop of blood pool into a bead on her palm and fall, down, down, down onto the surface of the sapphire. The moment it touches, the blood seems to seep into the gem, turning the sapphire a darker blue than it was before, magic emanating from the centre. It makes Merlin think of what the troll said about the Cup of Life having a distinct signature. Compared to Cornelius Sigan, the troll’s magic is as the earth is to the sea.
When the troll finally finishes the spell, the sapphire begins to glow with a faint light which dies down when she passes it over. In Merlin’s hands, the choker seems warmer than before, a strange beating echoing in her ears.
The troll, with narrowed eyes, says, ‘You, witchy, are dragonkin.’
‘…you could tell?’
‘Human blood feels different to your type,’ she says, still looking at Merlin sceptically. ‘Be careful. That necklace will lead you to more than just your Balinor.’
Taking the warning for what it is, Merlin gathers herself up and holds the necklace close. ‘Thank-you,’ she says. ‘I appreciate your wisdom and your skill.’
‘Eh, you humans, always chatting away,’ the troll grumbles, making shooing motions. ‘Off with you, witchy. You can seek more magic advice when I’m queen of Camelot!’
Said ‘witchy’ is ready to leave, but something occurs to her belatedly and as she stands, she says, ‘I’m pregnant. Will that affect the spell? Babies blood is mothers blood and all that.’
The troll lets out a breath through her nose that rather sounds like a hog sniffing, before she says, ‘Yes, witchy—or should I call you something else, hmm? Idiot, maybe? Of course that affects the spell! And just because you were dumb enough to ask for blood magic when with child, I won’t tell you a single thing about it! Now go!’
‘Time to go,’ whispers Jonas, standing creepily over her shoulder.
Merlin eagerly vacates the troll lair, feeling stupid for not having thought about how her pregnancy affects magical spells like the troll just did. Stupid, she berates herself. Idiot! By the time she gets far enough down the tunnel to escape the putrid odour of the stye, her stomach is still flopping around inside her chest, a feeling which doesn’t abate when she breathes in fresh air, giving Merlin the opinion that her ‘morning’ sickness has now officially begun.
‘Morning sickness,’ she mutters to herself, finally exiting the underground passageways in truth. ‘Lies. All lies…’
It takes the whole trip back to her quarters for Merlin to realise she never told the troll her father’s name.
‘Oh no, no,’ Arthur firmly opposes. ‘You are not going on a quest to find your father while a troll is invading!’
‘This is the perfect time!’ Merlin argues. ‘You’re busy, I’m out of the way, you don’t need to worry about me and I get to keep some neutrality with another magical creature! That’s called progress in my book, especially when all the other magical creatures we’ve encountered have ended up dead.’
‘You’re pregnant,’ Arthur tries, which does nothing but shock Gaius.
‘I’m barely two months, if that,’ Merlin rolls her eyes. ‘It’s the best time to travel in.’
Arthur puffs up, then says, ‘I’m getting your mother.’
‘Ah,’ Hunith pops her head around the corner of Gaius’ cabinets. ‘Sorry, Arthur. Merlin came to me, first, asking if I wanted to come. I’ve given her a letter, instead.’
The young prince fumes. ‘He could be anywhere!’
‘And I am the greatest sorceress to walk the earth,’ soothes Merlin. ‘I can teleport back to my room to sleep every night, if that makes you happy.’
Mutinous, Arthur says. ‘It would.’
‘I will, then,’ she says cheerfully. ‘See, it wasn’t that hard.’
Morgana and Gwen take the news of her quest much better than Arthur, wishing her luck and good fortune. Even Sir Leon, when Merlin asks to borrow Lea, is gently praising of her decision.
‘I looked up the House of Ambrose the last time Arthur talked to me about it,’ Leon tells her. ‘Camelot’s library has little, but my mother’s personal collection had a dearth of stories. They used to rule over land in the west, their most honoured duty being to guard a mountain pass from invaders from a keep called Dinas Emrys.’
‘Dinas Emrys?’ Merlin repeats, lips parting in shock. Leon grins at her.
‘Must be a family name, my lady.’
Talk about coincidence, she thinks instead. She wonders if it was named for her by one of ancestors who possessed foresight.
Her journey begins a day later. Merlin packs her bags, saddles up Lea and wraps her choker around her neck, hearing that drumbeat echo between her ears again. Exiting Camelot’s walls, she feels the pull begin, attempting to draw her back to Castle Pendragon.
It must detect my mother, she guesses, before theorising that perhaps she’s feeling those of Uther’s blood, too. Certainly, the further onwards Merlin rides, the stronger the pull to return becomes, until she can feel it—the individual strings leading back to where she came from.
Only one leads onwards.
Like she promised Arthur, she teleports back to her rooms to sleep in, but quickly, she becomes guilty about leaving Lea behind in the woods. So, instead of the full night, Merlin will visit her chambers, have a very over the top bath and swap out her dirty wardrobe. She’s gone a full week before she catches another in her quarters.
‘Julius?’ Merlin exclaims, ‘What are you doing here?’
‘…I could ask you the same question,’ he says. ‘I thought you were on a pilgrimage.’
‘I’m teleporting back every night for a bath.’
A silence forms.
Said silence only breaks when Julius asks her, ‘What did you do with the letter?’
‘Uther’s letter?’ she clarifies, watching him nod. ‘Why?’
He says, ‘I’d like to read it again.’
‘Why?’
‘To see his depths.’
‘…no,’ Merlin replies, shaking her head. ‘You’ve read it already. You don’t need to see it again.’
Julius purses his lips, frustrated. ‘I need to. Give me the letter, Merlin.’
‘I said no,’ she repeats. For the first time, the contents of the letter embarrass her. ‘Please, Julius, stop asking.’
‘I won’t,’ he says, eyes roving over her quarters before finally settling on the map. He tilts his chin, glancing back at her. ‘If you hid it in the same place I did, I will be very upset at the both of us. Me for not trying and you for not being creative.’ Julius goes to the side of the map which he originally placed the letter and Merlin darts forwards to the opposite, sliding the letter out from behind the frame before it can be dislodged. Julius’ eyes dart to it in an instant, where she clutches it tight.
‘You aren’t getting this,’ she promises him, then teleports back to where Lea is waiting, letter still in hand.
Merlin swallows roughly, keeping the paper folded tight. The embarrassment she felt before increases tenfold as she imagines what everyone who has read it has thought of her. What was regret becomes despair and she shoves it into her saddlebag violently, patting Lea apologetically when she stirs.
‘Sorry, girl,’ she whispers, before curling up with her horse by a fire she lights with but a thought. The flames flicker in the night and she manipulates them above the main blaze, creating idle pictures of unicorns and birds, forming a dragon the very last. For a long moment, she causes it to soar through the air, its wings beating long and hard as it chases an imaginary prey. What would a dragon hunt through the sky, at sizes like Kilgharrah?
Merlin keeps following the call from her necklace, passing from Camelot into Essetir early on in her journey, riding around towns and villages, preferring to stay out of sight. It helps that she can just summon meals from Camelot, daring to scry Arthur just so she can pick food off his plate when he’s not looking. Morgana catches her more than a few times, Nimueh’s thrice-weekly training paying off.
‘I hardly have any time for you at all,’ Nimueh jokes, when they meet in the dreamscape. Merlin scoffs, peeling an orange with her bare hands as Nimueh lays back and stares at the stars Merlin has conjured to life that evening. ‘This isn’t our sky.’
‘No,’ Merlin says, glancing up from where she sits, cross-legged. ‘It’s from the southern hemisphere. The Romans brought their star charts with them when they invaded and left behind many a text. Gaius had me memorise them in case my teleportation skills went awry. I think he’s worried I’ll end up in the far reaches of the world.’
Nimueh laughs, gazing at the sky thoughtfully. ‘I think you are too powerful for that, Emrys. You will go only where you need to.’
‘Thank-you for your faith in me.’
‘No problem, Merlin. How far do you feel you have to go?’
‘Not far,’ she says quietly. ‘Probably a few days. How is your sister?’
‘Morgause is eager to meet you,’ Nimueh replies. ‘I would bring her with me into this realm of dreams, if you would allow it.’
‘Can you do that? Bring in more than just one other?’
‘I could,’ Nimueh says, ‘but it’s not something I can do whilst sleeping myself. I’d be acting as a bridge, in essence, rather than as the other side of a door—and a door is easily opened and closed. A bridge must be held.’
‘Understood. If you’ve the strength for it, I’d happily meet her here.’
‘The reason I broach such a question,’ Nimueh says, however, ‘is because there is another Morgause wishes to speak to. But I do not want to impose upon Morgana without your permission.’
Merlin raises an eyebrow, popping a slice of imaginary orange into her mouth. It’s just as she remembers it to be, on that day the traders came last spring.
‘Morgana?’ she queries.
‘Morgause was born to the Lady Vivienne, before her marriage to Gorlois,’ says Nimueh. ‘Making them sisters by blood.’
‘Ah, shit,’ Merlin mutters. ‘Her family gets more extensive by the year. Have her write a letter explaining everything. I’ll deliver it to Morgana myself, explaining that the sender wishes to meet.’
‘Thank-you,’ Nimueh says, reaching out to brush her hand against her shin. Merlin gives her a piece of orange, a memory she’s willing to share. Nimueh hums thoughtfully at the taste.
Merlin wasn’t lying when she said her quest would soon be over. Her understanding of the necklace grows stronger with each day she wears it and with all her focus on the single strand that means her father, the necklace itself is learning, mentally showing her the distance, if not the route.
Eventually, she comes upon the base of a mountain, led along a river to the mouth of a dark cave. Merlin leads Lea as close as she dares, before finally stopping her on the grassy edge before the pebbled embankment, using her magic to instruct Lea to stay.
Heart in her throat—that heartbeat fluttering inside her mind—Merlin inspects her dress, fussing over her ruffled blue work skirt, which has somehow got a long trail of mud along the hem that she can’t feel, because her boots are in the way.
‘Oh, get over yourself,’ she mutters. ‘Farmgirl. You don’t care about mud.’ But Merlin wonders, will she looks strange? An average girl with jewels around her neck and wrists, hanging from her ears. The dichotomy alone would bring her heritage into question.
Merlin takes a breath, thinking, my father is inside that cave, and bucks up. Walks forwards. Her hands shake as she imagines what he’ll think of her. Not even twenty-one years old. No, stop. Merlin keeps walking.
The inside of the cave is dim and she has to reach out to the wall to stop from slipping on the damp rocks, feeling the necklace warm against her skin as it recognises its quarry is near. On and on she goes, through the dark until she comes to a dimly lit sanctum, where a bed lies on the ground and a single stool lays by a worktop.
To the left, behind you! Her necklace screams and Merlin turns in time to see the blade levelled at her throat. Her breath catches as it chinks gently against the magical sapphire, the man on the other end of the blade grim and old, his hair long with many strands of grey in it.
‘What are you doing here, girl?’ Her father asks her, grizzly and unfriendly. Her necklace pulses, shining faintly and his eyes travel down to it. ‘What is that?’
‘Troll magic,’ she blurts out. Balinor’s brow furrows and Merlin finds herself explaining everything in a torrent. ‘There’s a troll trying to become queen of Camelot by marrying Uther and it’s all very funny, but I had a nice conversation with her in her troll form and she liked my magic, so we had an exchange of sorts and I had this necklace, but the gem wasn’t enchanted like all my other things, so I asked her to enchant it in exchange for a shadow magic demonstration!’
‘…say that again,’ says her father, lowering his shortsword. ‘Slowly.’
Merlin takes a deep breath. ‘A troll is trying to take over Camelot. We had a nice conversation. She enchanted this necklace for me.’
‘How?’ he asks. ‘What kind of magic?’
‘Blood magic.’
Balinor grimaces. ‘Whose blood did you use? Who were you trying to find?’
‘I used- I used my own,’ she says, stuttering. The witch steadies herself and quietly—oh so quietly—tells him, ‘My name is Merlin Ambrosius.’
Balinor startles. He nearly drops his shortsword, staggering back. ‘How do you know that name?’ he rasps.
‘I wrote it,’ she says, swallowing the lump in her throat. ‘On a contract with a king. I’d never signed anything like it before and- and I didn’t know what it meant. Not until Gaius told me.’
‘Gaius?’ Balinor repeats, looking at her in a new light. ‘Did he save you, too?’
‘He’s been like a father to me,’ she says, smiling a little, too nervous to yet grin in front of him. ‘I call him uncle, though. Uh, can we sit?’
‘…yes,’ he says, belatedly. He moves past her, into his living space. Merlin follows him like a puppy, sitting down when he offers her the stool. It says something about how much of a hermit he must be, living in this cave, when Merlin discovers he does not have another seat.
Balinor, not to be deterred, sits on his mound of fur and blankets, staring at her—and not at all like how everyone used to. He doesn’t leer or undress her with his eyes. Merlin realises it would be a problem if he did. No, he stares at her like he is drinking in her existence. Merlin doesn’t mind that—after all, she’s doing the same thing.
‘You look like my sisters,’ he tells her after a long silence. He gestures to her, shaping her face with his hands. ‘You have their countenance of brow and their eyes. My mother’s hair. We are of black hair by our father, but our mother, she was a beauty, with brown hair like yours and a cheeky smile.’
In response, Merlin gives her most mischievous grin. Balinor breaks out into one of his own, eyes sparkling.
‘That’s it,’ he says and Merlin can’t help her teary eyes. Wiping at them discretely, she sniffs and asks him a few of her own questions.
‘Have you been living here all this time? Why not live in a house?’
‘I have been here a few winters,’ Balinor tells her, ‘and as for a house? I tried that once. There was a woman I loved, whom I made a home with, in the outskirts of Essetir.’ His gaze darkens. ‘But Uther Pendragon chased me out. I could not stay. So, perhaps it is my pride or some sort of arrogance, but I cannot live in a house…not without her.’
‘That’s real love,’ whispers Merlin, pressing a hand to her belly. Balinor sees it and hesitates to ask, but Merlin doesn’t mind. ‘I’m pregnant.’
‘Do you have a home of your own?’ he asks. ‘A family? You seem young.’
‘I am,’ Merlin agrees, ‘but that is the best part. Outliving the father of my child will be my greatest achievement, for I dearly wish him dead.’
‘He has wronged you.’
‘Several times,’ she says, smiling as she imagines Uther dead and gone. ‘When he is dead, I shall be free. Arthur has promised me safety and I believe him.’
‘Arthur? Arthur Pendragon?’ Balinor stiffens. ‘You spoke of Camelot. You have made that place your home? Merlin, none in our family is safe there.’
Merlin twitches. ‘Uther already knows about me. I told you—I signed a contract with the king. The moment he saw, he knew. He thinks I know nothing of our family. All I have ever told him of my life is bastardy and while that is true, I’ve hardly told him everything.’
‘Whose bastard are you?’ He asks her, gaze roving over her, searching for clues. ‘My sister, Adhan? My elder brother, Wyllt, he had many children…’
‘Neither,’ she says.
‘You have jewels,’ Balinor gestures. ‘Enchanted jewels at that. Malory was a great sorceress. Did you inherit her power?’
‘Most, if not all my jewels are from the tomb of Cornelius Sigan,’ Merlin explains.
‘Then- then my nephew, Bael,’ he says, confusion twisting his face, a happy sort of sadness in his eyes. ‘Do you even know?’
‘I grew up with my mother,’ states Merlin, not giving him time to ask which of his many brothers and nephews—gods, so many dead—fathered her. She steps off the stool and comes to kneel in front of him, taking his hand in both of her own. ‘A good woman, from a village on the border of Essetir.’
Balinor stills.
‘I have a letter from her in my bag,’ Merlin says, ‘but I came here for me. To seek my father on a quest of my own making. I first found out your name from Gaius, when I asked about the House of Ambrose and I heard from Kilgharrah how you wept for him, when he was chained. My mother says she loved you.’
‘Hunith,’ he rasps, reaching to cup her face in a shaky hand. ‘Merlin, I do not know how to be a father.’
‘All the hard bits are over,’ Merlin teases him through her tears, unable to help herself. ‘You don’t have to worry on that account.’
Balinor leans his head forwards, pressing their foreheads together and closing his eyes. Merlin matches him, feeling the necklace sing at her throat, blue shining behind her eyelids. When she sits back, the necklace is glowing.
‘You found me,’ Balinor says, smiling at the sight of it. His eyes crinkle at the sides and Merlin finally knows where she gets that from, for it was certainly not her mother.
‘I can take it off, now,’ she says, reaching to undo the clasp at the back of her neck. As she unfolds the silver plates of the choker, the light begins to dim and that featherlight heartbeat fades from existence. Merlin, so used to the weight of it around her neck after nearly two weeks of travelling, feels oddly bereft without it.
Balinor chuckles. ‘You have a tan line,’ he says, gesturing to her neck. Merlin presses her hand to her throat.
‘Do I? Ugh, Morgana is going to laugh at me.’
Her father’s laughter fades. ‘Daughter,’ he says, asking, ‘how do you know Arthur Pendragon and Uther’s ward?’
Merlin doesn’t quite know how to answer. ‘Uh, I’m a servant in the royal household,’ she says.
Balinor can tell it’s not quite the truth. ‘With jewels such as these?’ he nudges the collar in her lap. ‘Are you the wife of a noble lord or knight?’
‘No. I’m not wed. I won’t ever,’ she says, voice tight. No, she thinks. Not now. Not when things have gone so well. ‘Can I speak of it another time?’
Her father is silent for a long time, but eventually, he nods, getting to his feet. He offers her a hand when she moves to join him and the warmth of his grip is comforting to her.
‘Let us get your horse,’ he says gently. ‘Your bags and that letter, too. I wish to see what Hunith has written.’
‘Alright,’ Merlin mumbles, clutching her necklace tightly as they make their way out of the cave. A short whistle attracts Lea’s attention, an encouraging breath of magic causing her to walk their way. Balinor seems surprised at her attentiveness.
‘A good horse,’ he says, eyeing her. ‘A war horse.’
‘I’m borrowing her from my friend, Sir Leon. Lea and I get on well, don’t we, my pretty?’ Merlin says, cooing at her as she meets them halfway. Balinor’s amused expression as they walk back into the cave with Lea keeps her buoyant, distracting her from what could have been a very complex conversation about her status in Camelot.
Following Balinor’s instructions on where to tie her off, Merlin removes her bags and the saddle, too, for good measure, retrieving her mother’s letter from where it lays safe in the bottom of her bags.
‘Here,’ she offers it to Balinor, who accepts the sealed envelope with all the gravitas required of a man receiving a letter from his long-lost love. Merlin busies herself with Lea as he reads it off on his bed, brushing down her coat and letting her eat from a bag of oats.
At one point, she hears a few teary gasps, but keeps her head trained on Lea’s coat. Only once does she peek, quickly looking away when she sees the older man silently crying.
I hope you’re telling him you love him, Mother. For I think you were the best thing to ever happen to him.
That night, she is visited by Morgause.
‘Emrys,’ she greets, all brown eyes and a curious expression. With blonde hair tumbling over her shoulders, it would be easier for Merlin to think her another of Arthur’s half-sisters, rather than Morgana’s.
‘High Priestess Morgause,’ Merlin returns. ‘Did Nimueh tell you my request?’
‘I’ve written a letter. It sits in Nimueh’s keeping,’ she confirms.
‘I’ll have it sent,’ she promises, ‘no matter what happens tonight.’
Morgause tilts her head. ‘That is kind of you. How goes your hunt?’
‘Ended,’ says Merlin, smiling. Nimueh in the background gives her congratulations, but takes no physical form in the dream, too busy holding the bridge together. ‘A new dawn tomorrow for me. I have so much to speak with him about. I had cousins before the Purge!’
‘My condolences,’ Morgause offers, but Merlin’s enthusiasm is infectious, a smile forming on her face. ‘I have other plans I would like to submit for your perusal, if you don’t mind taking a moment.’
‘So long as Nimueh is okay,’ Merlin says.
‘Arthur,’ she begins, tone inviting. ‘I want to test him. Challenge him, before Beltane comes anew.’
Merlin asks her, ‘On what? Arthur is a good man. Nothing like his father.’
‘Does he accept magic?’
‘He embraces it—embraces me,’ Merlin says, truthfully more than a little wistful. ‘For so long I had to hide and now, as more people come into our confidences, my secret is spreading. None have tried to harm me or hand me over to Uther’s headsman. I rather think they would save me from such a fate.’
‘You are beloved,’ Morgause counters. ‘How will he react to a true sorcerer? One with no ties to him?’
‘Uh, you’re literally his sister’s sister,’ Merlin points out. ‘To him, that means you’re family. Although, he is fairly outnumbered by sisters at this point.’
‘Arthur and Morgana know the truth of their origins?’
‘All of the truths there could be. They even recruited Elaine, another of Uther’s bastards, just so they can pressure him into legitimising Morgana.’ Merlin adds, ‘I’ve not actually met Elaine yet, but apparently she’s Morgana if Morgana wasn’t a vindictive, manipulative imp of a woman.’
‘Is she really all that heartless?’ Morgause raises an eyebrow.
‘Of course not- well, I mean,’ Merlin pauses, ‘She’s one of the kindest, most heartfelt people I know, but by all the gods, is her idea of revenge not the worst I’ve ever heard. Morgana is my heart-sister. I love her dearly. She just regularly scares the crap out of me.’
‘Sounds like Morgause,’ says Nimueh. ‘I can’t hold the bridge much longer. Answer Morgause’s question, Emrys.’
‘Question?’
‘The challenge,’ Morgause beseeches her.
‘Uh,’ Merlin mumbles, ‘Fine. Go for it. Just remember, he’ll tell Morgana everything later. They’re thick as thieves.’
Morgause inclines her head respectfully and then the dream falls away, leaving Merlin to drift off into a true sleep.
‘Will you tell me about our family?’ Merlin asks her father. Balinor sips his broth, then nods. ‘How many brothers and sisters did you have?’
‘I was one of nine,’ Balinor describes. ‘Tiffany was the eldest. Then came Wyllt and Hadrian. Then it was I and my twin sister, Malory.’
‘You had a twin?’ Merlin blurts out.
‘I did,’ says Balinor, smiling sadly. ‘She was the elder of us both by several minutes. After us, came Adhan, who was less than a year younger than both I and Malory. Then, two years after Adhan came the second set of twins, Daemos and Phadros. Their mother was not the one who birthed the rest of us, half-brothers to us all; and last came little Robin, who was born in the spring when the frost was not yet melted. She was still a child when the Purge began.’
‘I’ve only ever known my mother for family.’
‘And you were lucky to have her. If you had been born before the Purge, I fear you never would have grown up to become who you are today.’
Merlin dips a crust of bread into her broth, soaking up the herby goodness. Balinor can clearly cook.
Shifting slightly, Balinor asks her, ‘Will you tell me of your life, today?’
‘Well, I grew up in Ealdor,’ she starts, grinning as she remembers to mention her birth story. ‘The day I was born, I made a snowstorm above the village! There was a perfectly round circle, Mother said.’
Balinor startles, ‘You have the gift?’
‘Of magic? Yes, of course I do,’ Merlin says. ‘I said that yesterday, didn’t I? When I told you about the troll!’
His eyes widen. ‘You did. A- a shadow trick?’
‘Watch,’ Merlin says, before summoning them around her, disappearing into what her mother had told her looks like a void of black, through which you can only see the barest of shapes. Balinor stares at her and Merlin quickly releases the darkness, unreasonably nervous.
‘You…’ he trails off. ‘You did not cast a spell.’
‘No, uh, I just use my magic. It’s an extension of me. I’ve always had it,’ Merlin describes, babbling a bit. ‘I used to use it all the time as a child, when no-one was looking. Mother says it makes me special, but obviously, it’s a bit stupid to use magic where everyone can see, so I’ve been hiding it for a long time. But Mother and Gaius said you were a sorcerer as well as a Dragonlord, so I can use it in front of you—if you don’t mind, of course.’ She looks straight at him, seeking permission.
Balinor nods gamely, watching her with hawk eyes as she hesitates, before holding out her hand in front of her. This time, she does use a spell.
‘Bærn.’
Fire sprouts from the palm of her hand. She looks over at Balinor, eyes still golden and she sees him smiling. When he sets aside his food and holds out his own palm, summoning his own flame, Merlin finally feels connected to him. This is something they share, that can never be taken away from either of them.
Merlin wills her fire away, waiting until Balinor has let go of his own before she lays down her bowl and reaches across the gap, wrapping her arms around him. She feels him go stiff beneath her, before he slowly embraces her in turn, hands laying lightly on her back.
‘I have not been hugged since the day I left your mother,’ he rasps, before suddenly holding on a whole lot tighter. Merlin burrows her head into his neck, feeling his hair tickle her nose as he just…holds onto her.
She doesn’t know how long their embrace lasts. Longer than normal, for sure, but they’re sat comfortably and the general feeling of belonging doesn’t fade. This is Merlin’s father. And to Balinor…she doesn’t know what she means to him, if she means anything at all yet, but Merlin knows there is something that makes him wrap his arms around her in turn and never want to let go.
They part, in time. Merlin sits right beside him, finishing her food as fast as humanely possible—remembering what her friends said about how she never ate enough when she had Tomas, accepting seconds when Balinor offers—and settling into the quiet with Balinor.
Eventually, however, he asks about Camelot. ‘How did you come to work there?’
‘I saved Arthur’s life from this sorceress who was trying to kill him because Uther burned her son alive,’ Merlin says, before adding, ‘But I was originally to assist Gaius. I still do, actually, so technically I have two jobs. Assistant healer and maidservant.’ She ticks them off on two fingers.
Balinor watches her answer him. ‘Who were you assigned to? Arthur himself?’
‘No, haha, no, that’s George’s job,’ says Merlin, tugging at her sleeves. ‘I…am Uther’s maidservant. Technically. Not anymore?’
‘And?’
‘And…yeah.’
‘Merlin,’ he rumbles, taking out the already well-handled letter from her mother. ‘Hunith told me of your life in this letter. All the good and all the bad.’
The lump in her throat won’t go down, no matter how many times she tries to swallow it. Merlin doesn’t like the feelings swirling around inside her head right now.
Balinor unfolds the letter. ‘She said you are the unwilling mistress of the king. That you have lost a son of your own and have faced travesties she will not describe.’ His hand rises to rest on her shoulder, gentle, yet hesitant. ‘I hold no love for Uther. That he would do this to you does not surprise me. But Merlin,’ and he reaches for her chin, turning her head gently so she is forced to look into his caring eyes. ‘You are my daughter. With every word you speak, every smile and frown I see upon your very face, I am drawn to love you more. You do not have to lie to keep me happy. You do not know me.’
‘I want to,’ Merlin manages to croak, feeling the haze in the back of her mind, ready and willing to pull her away from reality. It feels overbearing, like a wolf at her back, about to strike. ‘I didn’t want you to know about this, though. Everyone in Camelot- everyone in Camelot knows. I never have to explain things. Even- even when I did tell someone, when I told Kilgharrah, I never told him more than the basics. The bare bones of my life.’
Balinor brushes her hair behind her ear. ‘I am here. I will listen to everything you want to say, if you want to say it.’
Does she want to speak of it? Merlin doesn’t know. She shakes her head and doesn’t realise she’s crying until Balinor has swept her into his arms again, humming an unfamiliar song against her hair.
Stupid baby making me have emotions, she thinks, sobbing into her father’s chest. It’s an excuse, but Merlin will take all the excuses she can get. She hates that she always ends up crying—that someone always has to take care of her. It’s not fair.
It’s just not fair.
Uther’s letter is in her saddlebag.
Merlin, acutely aware of this, doesn’t realise that it’s fallen out until the day she’s looking through it and discovers the folded letter is nowhere to be found. Instantly, her eyes search the nearby ground, but it’s not there. She expands her search outwards, checking her other bags, in case Balinor has found it and put it away somewhere. When that comes up with nothing, Merlin checks around Balinor’s own living area and then, panicking, Lea’s straw-littered alcove around the corner.
Nothing.
‘Father!’ She calls out, afraid that the letter is lost. ‘Father, where are you? I have lost something important!’
Balinor, who had disappeared into the cave system earlier, is nowhere to be found.
…just like her letter.
Stomach sinking like a rock, Merlin dashes for her belongings, quick to retrieve her enchanted necklace and latch it around her neck. A string of intent guides her, telling her which tunnel to take and which carved stairs she must climb.
Merlin finds her father in a worn-out divot, where there is barely enough rooms for two horses to lay beside each other, the letter from Uther burned half to ashes in front of him in the shape of a hand.
‘Father…’ Her lip wobbles. Not even her mother has read that letter.
Balinor turns to look at her. The anger in his eyes is bright, burning gold. Magic flares from his sitting form, a burst of heat that ripples out from him in a wave. Merlin has to blink her eyes to return moisture to her eyeballs.
‘I,’ he says, with a voice like thunder, ‘am incandescent with rage, daughter-mine.’
Merlin turns mute at the sound. It’s nothing to do with her father and everything to do with Uther. She loves Arthur too much to ever react like this with him. Gaius would never use such a tone of voice. Leon is always tripping over himself whenever they speak.
Only Uther has ever spoken like this to her, full of rage, yet refusing to shout.
‘He takes and he takes and he takes,’ Balinor says, slowly shaking his head. ‘He says he brings peace, but he brings cold iron. He proclaims he loves his wife, but his bastards probably number half a dozen. He steals your virginity from you and has the audacity to call you a whore.’
Balinor makes to stand and Merlin has a full-body flinch that makes him freeze, his golden eyes flickering back to brown. ‘Merlin?’ he whispers.
‘I’m sorry,’ she mumbles, enfolding her arms around her torso, as if she can hug her own fear away. ‘I’m sorry, it’s not you. Forgive me.’
‘There’s nothing to forgive, my hatchling.’ Balinor slowly reaches out his arm, as if she were a spooked animal, holding out his hand for her to take. ‘You are safe with me. I promise.’
‘Only Arthur can say that,’ she says automatically. ‘No-one else. It doesn’t work unless it’s Arthur.’
‘I understand,’ he murmurs, still holding out that hand of his. ‘I will always be yours to call upon, in sickness or in health. Dragons are not solitary hunters. They fly in an assemblage. From eldest to youngest, whenever there is someone who needs help, another is there to share the load or take it entirely.’
‘Trust,’ Merlin whispers.
‘Yes, dragons rely on trust. There will always be another,’ Balinor says. It sounds like a promise. ‘I will not hurt you, Merlin.’
‘I know.’
‘Reach out.’
Merlin relaxes one of her arms, tangling their fingers together. Slowly, he stands and she doesn’t feel threatened, the warmth—no, heat in his fingertips an altogether new sensation. The temperature grounds her in the present.
When Balinor is close enough to reach, he presses his lips to her head, murmuring a spell in Old Tongue. Merlin feels it wash over her, like a protective enchantment or a blessing.
‘You should not go back,’ he says, sound regretful. Merlin knows what he means.
‘I don’t have to, but I will. If only for my family. Arthur seeks to depose his father and gathering his loyalists will be yet months of work. These things take time.’
‘Oh, my hatchling,’ he says, cupping her cheek and resting his forehead against her own. ‘I would never have thought you to exist, let alone be part of a movement within Uther’s very own court to dethrone him. Every word out of your mouth is a blessing.’
You have never heard my say I’m yours, forever, to Uther, Merlin thinks to herself, scathing of her former claim. She was so naïve. Kings like Uther only ever reign long enough for their allies to turn on them.
Balinor kisses her head again, leaning back from her. He glances at the burned letter, saying, ‘I am only sorry I burned what little evidence you have of his cruelties.’
‘Ah, well,’ Merlin coughs, ‘That is the fifth copy, I think, of the original. Fourth copy? When it first came, Morgana read it in my stead, then had it copied, archived with Sir Geoffrey in the library and shared with Arthur. The original, with Uther’s true signature and his seal, has been hidden away.’
Balinor raises an eyebrow. ‘And what of this fourth copy?’
‘A spare, made by the scribe. It was…confiscated,’ Merlin decides to say. ‘Julius, my friend and Uther’s manservant, gave it to me in exchange for permission to read the contents. It was when I was teleporting back and forth between Camelot and wherever Lea was on my journey here that I discovered him trying to find it in my quarters, to read again.’
‘There are many things about that sentence I find intriguing, Merlin,’ says Balinor, interrupting her. ‘However, I cannot bring myself to believe that you can transport yourself leagues away with any regularity.’
Merlin raises an eyebrow right back at him. ‘You want to try me?’ she asks, locking their entwined fingers. ‘Perhaps we should go visit my mother, yes?’
Balinor’s eyes fly wide open. ‘Merlin-’
Recklessly, Merlin incants the spell, at the last second changing her destination from the infirmary itself to her old room, which now belongs to her mother. Balinor stumbles as they traverse the realm, but Merlin stands still, far more used to the brief swirling of wind and change in ground beneath their feet. Their hands part as Balinor staggers back.
‘We are in Camelot?’ he hisses, wide-eyed. Merlin wiggles her eyebrows.
‘This is my mother’s room.’
‘Your mother?’ Balinor gapes. ‘When did she leave Ealdor?’
‘Oh, sometime last autumn.’
‘She’s- she’s here,’ he says, quaking in his boots. He looks terrified. ‘Merlin, take us back.’
His begging takes her by surprise. ‘Why?’ she questions, baffled by his fear.
‘Merlin,’ he pleads, reaching to take her hand again, ‘Take us back. There’s no hope for us to be together, it would be cruel to show her that which has been long since lost to her.’
‘I think you should let her make that decision herself,’ Merlin says, ripping her hand away as she says accusingly, ‘She loves you still! She told me herself!’
‘And I am a wanted man, daughter. We can never be together.’
Merlin scowls. ‘Oh, shut up. I’ve told you that Arthur is a good man. The moment Uther is off the throne, Arthur will officiate your own bloody marriage if it means making my mother happy! She’s like mould—she grows on you.’
‘Don’t call your mother a mould!’
Merlin splutters, ‘It’s a joke!’ only to hear footsteps coming from behind the door. Balinor has only a second to turn around before it opens, admitting Guinevere. She stares at Merlin and the Dragonlord-turned-hermit, then calls down the stairs.
‘It’s just Merlin! And—someone! He actually looks like Merlin…’ Gwen trails off, her eyes widening. ‘Are you Balinor?’
Balinor looks at Merlin wildly. ‘Who did you tell about me?’
‘Gwen,’ Merlin gestures to her, ‘Uh, Arthur. Morgana. George. Julius. Uh, Mother and Gaius.’
‘And Leon,’ Gwen adds.
‘And Leon,’ repeats Merlin.
‘Elaine is also downstairs,’ says Gwen as an afterthought. Merlin blinks rapidly, smiling.
‘Great! I finally get to actually meet her—come on, Father,’ she grabs his arm, pulling him towards the stairs. For all his wishes for them to leave, he puts up less of a fight than she was expecting.
Downstairs, Morgana and her famed lookalike are gathered at the main table with Gaius. The old man gets to his feet, gasping at the sight of Balinor, meeting him in the middle for a hearty embrace.
‘Gaius,’ he breathes.
‘Balinor! Oh, it’s been so long,’ Gaius says, leaning back. ‘Let me look at you.’
Merlin, sneaking around the reunion, comes to sit with Morgana, leaning around her to greet Elaine.
‘Hi! I’m Merlin!’
Elaine smiles kindly at her, looking disturbingly like Morgana as her nose and eyes wrinkle at the same time. ‘Hello, Merlin. I’ve heard a lot about you.’
‘Likewise!’
‘So, Merlin,’ Morgana interrupts, elbowing her, ‘Is this your father?’
Hearing his new title, Balinor looks over at them all, pausing only briefly before he gives a short half-bow. ‘My ladies. Best I not give my name, if you aren’t aware already.’
‘Lord Balinor,’ greets Morgana, eschewing his attempt at anonymity. ‘This is my sister, Elaine of Camelot, and I am the Lady Morgana. Merlin is a dear friend of mine and to know that you have been found is wonderful news to us all.’
‘…thank-you,’ he murmurs, bowing his head again. Merlin raises an eyebrow at him.
‘You know, you don’t have to bow. Morgana doesn’t mind. Also—Elaine of Camelot?’ She looks to her compatriots curiously. ‘I thought you were Elaine of Garlot, no offence, Elaine.’
‘I was,’ says Elaine mysteriously, Morgana ruining it with a cackle.
‘The troll is good for some things! We managed to guilt him through Lady Catrina into acknowledging us both. Her supposed good will is the only reason he’s doing it.’
Merlin squeals. ‘That’s great! Does that mean you’re a Pendragon?’
‘My legitimisation is coming,’ Morgana smiles, ‘The public announcement is tonight. Uther has summoned nobles from far and wide to attend a feast. We could easily sneak you in,’ she says to Balinor and Merlin both. ‘Despite the presence of Uther, Camelot’s feasts are beholden to none.’
‘I remember,’ says Balinor quietly, ‘though it may not be wise for me to attend.’
‘Nonsense,’ Elaine shakes her head, reaching out across the table to take his hand, impressing upon him, ‘You will come at the express invitation of the royal household. If you wish to, you may come as one of my father’s friends.’
‘Bael of Garlot?’ Merlin offers, remembering it to be her late cousin’s name. Balinor lowers his head, briefly offering a kiss to Elaine’s knuckles before rumbling.
‘I must settle matters with Merlin’s mother before even thinking to accept, my lady. Alas, but my current state of affairs would not lend well to attending such an event.’ He drops her hand, gesturing to his clothes.
Merlin gives him a point for trying. Alas, but Morgana has a happy twinkle to her eye.
‘I can fix that,’ she promises. ‘I’ve been wanting to see Hunith in a prettier dress than she can currently afford. The tailors will have to adjust something, rather than make a fresh piece, but I doubt Hunith will mind. Don’t go anywhere, my lord.’ Morgana stands, swiftly joined by a giggling Elaine, winking at him as they sweep out of the infirmary.
Balinor looks at Merlin helplessly. ‘She is a force of nature.’
‘Much like her mother,’ grumbles Gaius. ‘Some will say she is much like Uther for her own good, but they never knew Vivienne Le Fay.’
‘I remember Vivienne,’ says Balinor, surprising Merlin. ‘I did not know Morgana was her daughter.’
‘She had two daughters,’ Merlin recalls, making Gaius shoot her an alarmed look. She explains, ‘Morgause is a High Priestess of the Old Religion. I’ll have a letter from her to give to Morgana, soon enough. She seeks to challenge Arthur and introduce herself to Morgana before next May.’
‘Merlin,’ Gaius says in a chastising voice.
‘What?’ she mutters. ‘I talked to Morgause myself. She is a neutral party in this. Nimueh vouches for her.’
‘And Nimueh,’ Gaius rolls his eyes, ‘has always been a force for good.’
Scowling at her mentor, Merlin goes to return fire, only for the door to the infirmary to open. The trio turn to face the new visitor, except it is Merlin’s mother who stands in the doorframe, lips parting in shock at the sight of Balinor.
Hunith trembles. ‘Merlin, you- you found him? Please tell me I am not dreaming this.’ She steps forth, door closing quietly behind her as Balinor escapes their huddle, tentatively moving forwards.
‘Hunith,’ he says. ‘I did not- I never thought…’
‘Nigh on twenty-two years I have been without you,’ she whispers, hand reaching out, stopping just before his face. Balinor reaches up, pressing it to his bearded cheek and Hunith’s whole frame shudders, before she leans in to-
‘Oh my god, that is disgusting,’ Merlin says under her breath, making a face. She whispers to Gaius hurriedly, ‘Is this what it’s like for everyone?’
‘Shut up, Merlin,’ he hisses.
Her parents part mouths—disgusting—and both seem teary-eyed. ‘I never thought I’d see you again,’ Hunith says.
‘Or I, you. When Merlin came to me, I had thought her to be my niece, who escaped the flames or the knife.’
Hunith brushes her hand over his greying hair. ‘You have gotten old.’
‘And you have only become more beautiful.’
‘Gaius!’ Merlin squawks, ‘They’re flirting!’
‘Shut up, Merlin!’
Balinor chuckles at Hunith’s blush, kissing her sweetly once more before saying, ‘The Lady Morgana has invited us to the feast, this evening. Perhaps, Bael of Garlot may tempt you for a dance.’
‘I would accept, if he asked.’
Merlin mutters under her breath, ‘Is this how Morgana felt whenever she saw Uther and I? Honestly, this is just plain strange to see, Gaius.’ When Gaius hits her over the head, she makes a noise of offense. ‘Ow, that hurt!’
‘I very much doubt the comparison is the same, Merlin, now, really—shut up.’
Grumbling to herself, Merlin reluctantly watches her parents flirt some more, discussing how Morgana and Elaine had briefly waylaid her mother to order her to the tailors later, teasing of a surprise waiting for her here. Balinor looks years younger as he smiles at her, the wrinkles across his face fading in the presence of her mother. Likewise, her mother looks truly content for the first time in years, that last sadness vanished from her countenance. Slowly, Merlin feels less disgusted overall at their flirting and their hand-holding, watching her parents reunite with only love in their eyes.
We’re together, she thinks, before her mother looks over at her and holds out her hand. Merlin rushes to her side, happily joining them, wrapping her arms around their shoulders. Balinor is on the edge of tears, joy sparking in his eyes and Hunith presses a kiss to her cheek, clutching them tight. Merlin laughs in glee.
And we’re happy.
Merlin dresses her in her best gown that night, a deep navy affair in velvet with silver stitching and a high collar, along with her sapphire choker and hanging diamond earrings. Morgana and Elaine, likewise going all out, help her with her hair as she does with theirs. Gwen, wearing her best dress, refutes any and all their attempts to give her jewellery for the feast.
‘No,’ she says, grinning in the face of their pouting. ‘Anyway, don’t you have Hunith to dress up like a doll?’
‘Yes,’ Morgana agrees, before sending Gwen to fetch her. Hunith, holding a dress in her arms with a wary expression on her face, arrives to giggles.
‘Come on, Mother,’ encourages Merlin, pulling her behind the screen to help her into the freshly-tailored gown.
Hunith is uneasy. ‘It’s too much, Merlin.’
‘Mother,’ Merlin says firmly, tying up the laces at her back, ‘One day, Arthur is going to give back Father his rightful seat. If you make it that far—and I have no doubt you will, you and Father are sickeningly in love—then you’ll be a Lady of the House of Ambrose. Think of tonight as…a trial run. If you can’t handle a dance or two in a nice dress, then maybe you should be talking to Father more about your future.’
Her mother takes it well, but she still sighs as Merlin finishes tying her in. ‘You’ve grown up, Merlin. Let me look at you.’
The two ladies, once peasants and now, both destined for so much more than their little village, appreciate each other in their gowns of navy and indigo. Hunith has a much more simple affair than her daughter, but both women look equally as beautiful.
‘Merlin has more shine,’ Elaine notes, going over to her chest of jewels, brought up from her adoptive father’s house. From within, she draws a simple golden chain, on which hangs a stone dragon.
‘The Pendragon crest,’ says Morgana, eyeing it.
‘A gift from the king,’ Elaine reveals, bringing it over to Hunith, laying it around her neck. ‘But seeing as you’re to be wife to a Dragonlord, I think it more than appropriate. I’m not afraid to be seen with you, so if anyone does ask, you send them right to me, Lady Hunith.’
Hunith touches the stone dragon with care. ‘Thank-you, Lady Elaine.’
‘That’ll be Princess Elaine by the night’s end,’ Merlin reminds them all, causing a round of giggles.
‘Oh, quiet, you all. I’ll just be Lady Elaine,’ she shakes her head. ‘I’m a commoners daughter. Morgana will be the princess among us.’
Morgana flushes in an ugly manner, digging her knuckles into Elaine’s side. ‘Shush,’ she orders.
‘Princess Morgana, Princess Morgana,’ Merlin teases, before a guard knocks on the door to inform them of the time, abruptly ending the festivities.
Journeying below, Merlin keeps her head held high in the face of the many nobles congregating in the halls and then, in the great hall where they’ll feast that night. Gwen disappears into the background with a small goodbye, Hunith briefly readying herself to follow until Merlin wraps her arm through hers.
‘Just pretend you’re in Ealdor,’ she whispers, ‘and you’re not the only one dressed beyond your station. Everyone here is pretending, too.’
‘Is that what you do?’ Hunith asks.
Merlin, keeping a pleasant smile on her face as the subtle leers begin, nobles recognising her amongst all their fellows, nods an affirmative. ‘Let’s fine Father, shall we?’
As Royal Mistress, Merlin has been to more than her fair share of minor functions, though there hasn’t been one as grand as this since Arthur’s coronation. Of course, Merlin didn’t attend that, either, locked away in Uther’s quarters. That being said, however, she does recognise most lords on sight, as they do in return. Merlin’s position grants her a certain infamy, even if her relationship with the king is currently non-existent.
They soon find Balinor near the edge of the party, his hair brushed back behind his head into a leather tie and his beard clipped in a handsome fashion. Instead of his weathered outfit of before, he wears dark trousers, polished boots and a fine tunic in deep navy, matching both lover and daughter that night, a silver pendant hung low across his chest. Balinor’s eyes crinkle at the sight of them as they approach, clean hands reaching outwards. Merlin gladly passes her mother into his arms, not wanting her mother to notice the sort of attention being turned on her that night.
‘Keep her busy?’ she flashes her father a grin, noting the slight downturn of his lip as he glances around.
‘All night,’ he promises, faintly distracted by one of her more obvious observers. Merlin struggles to keep her smile in place, knowing then that her observant father has most definitely spied her watchers. Hunith, frowning, looks on Balinor in concern.
‘I’ll see you later,’ Merlin says hurriedly, diving back into the crowd. She seeks out her allies, relieved to find Arthur on the other side of the hall.
He looks surprised at her appearance. ‘I thought you were searching for your father,’ he says.
‘I found him,’ Merlin says, before discretely pointing at him. Arthur follows her finger, raising an eyebrow at the sight of him.
‘And you invited him to the party,’ he says, unimpressed.
‘Morgana invited him,’ Merlin corrects, tucking herself into his side. Beside Arthur, she is more of a spectacle, but the sheer presence of Arthur deters her more lewd admirers. Merlin promises herself then and there that she will not go without an escort tonight, in case another Valiant occurs. ‘And if anyone asks, his name is Bael of Galort.’
‘Will Sir Geraint not protest?’
‘He can take it up with Elaine.’ Arthur snorts. Merlin grins. ‘You know, I don’t know why I ever believed you when you said she’s a tamer version of Morgana. All I see is someone who knows better than she when to speak.’
‘Elaine does get whatever she wants,’ says Arthur thoughtfully.
The chatter mindlessly for another half hour, Merlin sticking to his side the entire time, even as various nobles approach to exchange pleasantries with their prince. Some looks practically insulted at being forced to acknowledge her, while others are jovial enough, even asking about Tomas. It seems, despite all rumours to the contrary, news of his death has not reached everyone in the kingdom of Camelot.
After the fifth mention of his brother, Arthur is a bit more than depressed. ‘Please,’ he mutters, ‘Can Father just get the announcements over and done with? Bring some joy to this party…’
‘I’m sure it’ll be soon,’ says Merlin, frowning delicately. ‘Arthur, are you okay?’
He sends her a miserable expression. ‘I might have never met him, but I did love my brother, Merlin. I just didn’t expect to hear about him tonight.’
Merlin rather thinks she should be more upset than him, but she doesn’t say it, instead patting his arm consolingly. ‘It’s nice, at least,’ she says, ‘That they’re thinking of him, I mean. Some people seem to have guessed the theme of tonight.’
‘Rumours pass through quickly. Morgana and Elaine haven’t exactly been quiet about their intentions,’ he says, nodding at the pair. They’d not left each other’s sides once that night, entertaining the loudest and proudest, quite obviously triumphant.
While Arthur is distracted, Merlin seeks out the main speaker of the night, finding Uther with Lady Catrina on his arm near the entrance. It seems, despite the hour, that the noble class have yet to all arrive, as the pair are still welcoming guests. Catrina, amusingly enough, seems to be having trouble keeping her smile on.
That’s what you get, Merlin snickers, wondering how the troll will act later, once the disguise is lifted. It can’t be easy acting as sociable as the Lady Catrina when one is used to isolation and reclusion.
The heartbeat between her ears seems to get louder, then, when she’s left to her thoughts. Merlin turns her attention inwards. Why does she hear that noise when she wears her choker? Merlin thinks furiously, wondering if the heartbeat is her own.
No, she thinks, too fast. No human has a heartbeat that fast. The beat is quick-paced, which logically means a smaller body-
Ah.
Merlin focuses her magic around the sapphire, questioning it, just as it learns her intentions. Does the heartbeat belong to the child in my body? The gem seems to sing in her mind, congratulating her for finding her blood. Merlin, abruptly remembering the reaction it had when she discovered her father, puts her hand up over-top it, attracting Arthur’s attention.
‘Merlin?’
‘Quick question,’ she says, ‘Is my necklace glowing?’
‘…no?’ Arthur narrows his eyes. ‘Why would it be glowing?’
Sighing in relief, she drops her hand. ‘Because it tracks those of my blood. Apparently, it also tracks the child in my belly and it has visible reactions to positive finds.’
‘Well, that’s stupid,’ Arthur says, scowling. ‘Why would you wear it?’
‘Because it’s pretty and because my parents are dancing together, tonight,’ Merlin scowls right back at him, ‘This necklace found them for me. Don’t knock it.’
‘Fine. But if you out yourself by wearing a temperamental magical necklace in public, then it’s on your head,’ he says, pointing at her. Merlin bats away his finger.
‘Calm down, Arthur. You said it wasn’t glowing, anyway.’
Arthur’s scowl deepens.
Luckily, it’s then that Uther and Catrina begin wading through the crowd, heading for the other end of the hall. Merlin retrains Arthur’s gaze on them instead, watching as attention gradually falls away from individual conversations to the king and his guest, the Lady Catrina herself not joining Uther up on the dais.
‘Peoples of Camelot!’ Uther calls, the final whispers dying away. Silence overtakes the hall. ‘I have called you all here, from far and wide, to feast and make merry tonight. The reasons for such an event will shortly become clear to you.’
‘Recently, it has been made clear to me,’ he says, ‘that I have done wrong to those close to me. Many of you know my ward, the Lady Morgana. Less of you may also be aware of a girl, whom I awarded custody of to a loyal knight of Camelot, Sir Geraint of Garlot, fifteen years ago. The Lady Morgana and the Lady Elaine of Garlot recently united, discovering a truth I have kept from them and from Camelot, for both their entire lives.’
Uther pauses and most of the hall seems to understand where this is going, whispers passing between choice nobles. The king gestures for Morgana and Elaine to come forwards and they do, joining him on the dais.
‘With solemn apologies to Camelot,’ Uther says, ‘and the estate of Tintagel, I here today, do claim the Lady Morgana and Lady Elaine as my daughters by blood and gift them what is owed to them as wards of the Crown and members of House Pendragon. They both, from here on out, will be known as Princesses of Camelot, recognised alongside any and all children of my mistress, the Lady Merlin, as my blood.’
Merlin struggles not to choke on her own spit as the attention of the hall is split halfway between Merlin and Morgana and Elaine. Even Uther seems discontent at his own words, like he had not meant to say what he did. Arthur grasps her arm tightly, keeping her from stepping backwards in shock, his grip the only thing keeping her from curling inwards at the sudden stares.
‘While this may come as a shock to you all,’ Uther continues, still frowning slightly, before it slowly lifts into a gentle smile, ‘I do this in hopes that my many mistakes may be laid bare. But I would be remiss in not giving credit where it is due. In recent weeks, I have been reunited with an old friend and ally, the daughter of the late King of Elmet, the Lady Catrina of House Tregor. Our relationship has flourished and it was only with her encouragement, did I decide to legitimise my daughters.’
‘Today,’ Uther says, an unexpected foreboding growing in Merlin’s heart as the troll curtsies low, ‘I bring you news of dearest import. It give me greatest pleasure to inform you that the Houses Tregor and Pendragon are to be united in the closest bond of all. I am to marry Lady Catrina of Tregor.’
‘What?’ Arthur blinks, Morgana and Elaine visibly confused on the dais as Uther welcomes Catrina to his side, pushing them aside. Various reactions litter the hall, from joyous to confused, Merlin firmly in the what the fuck category.
‘Tomorrow, we shall be bound in matrimony,’ says Uther—again, Merlin thinks, what the fuck—smiling at Catrina fondly. ‘This union heralds a new dawn for the kingdom, a new beginning…and a new queen for all here in Camelot.’
Arthur mumbles, sounding sick, ‘A troll for queen.’
‘I could not hope to have made a better match in all the time since the passing of Queen Ygraine!’ Uther announces, still smiling for all the world to see. This time, it is Merlin who has to hold Arthur steady. ‘I hope you will all share in our joy and feast to your hearts content this ere night, for my daughters and for the Lady Catrina. Dance and make merry! To the feasting hall!’
Noise swells and the nobles begin to turn, doing as their king bids. It is all Merlin can do to fight the tide.
Arthur, somehow, regains his faculties and drives through the crowds to where Balinor and Hunith gather, Gwen and George already huddled up beside them. The pillar gives them at least some shelter.
‘Your troll seems to have made her move,’ says Balinor, amused. Arthur, irate, growls at his words.
‘Arthur!’ Morgana and Elaine burst from the crowd, pressing up against his side. ‘She is to marry your father?’
‘I didn’t know,’ he grits his teeth. ‘I barely expected him to acknowledge Merlin’s child, let alone announce a match!’
‘I claimed neutrality,’ Merlin reminds them all, ‘The troll can be reasoned with. Offer her a ruin, regular tithes. She might just leave.’
‘I cannot give Camelot’s wealth to a trickster,’ says Arthur. His eyes gleam. ‘My father is enchanted, clearly. Seducing him was not enough. He would never say something like that about my mother.’
‘Your father has done worse before,’ Balinor reminds the prince.
Arthur refutes him. ‘Father loves my mother dearly. Her death pains him still, after all this time. How do we stop this?’
‘Not here,’ Gwen stops him, reaching out to touch his arm. Arthur visibly calms at her touch, attention squarely on the serving girl. ‘Later, Arthur. There are too many people.’
‘You’re right, of course, Guinevere,’ he says, nodding.
Merlin raises an eyebrow at his clear favour, glancing at Morgana. In mind-speak, she reaches out to ask, ‘How long has this been going on?’
Morgana jerks slightly, glancing her way. Merlin gestures subtly to Arthur and Gwen. Unfortunately, their party moves on and Merlin remembers that for all her training with Nimueh, mind-speak is one of the few basic skills she would not have been able to teach her.
At the feast, Merlin is sat up at the high table, on the far end beside Ser Geraint, who seems rather unfazed by the whole affair.
‘Elaine is still my daughter,’ he says, ‘Uther can call her princess all he wants. It won’t change the fact that I raised her from girlhood. Elaine has promised me she’ll let me have the last word on her suitors and I’ll show them that just because she’s bastard of a king does not mean the knights of Camelot shall not protect her from their inquiries. The opposite, rather.’
‘Good man,’ Merlin smiles, looking out over the crowd to where her parents hold court, speaking quietly with a balding man in green and grey. Balinor seems only a little guarded in front of him. Just because of his relation to Elaine, Merlin points him out to Sir Geraint. ‘That is my father, there. He and my mother have reunited only today, after over twenty years apart.’
Geraint tips his goblet. ‘I wish them good fortune. I had thought you a woman of little means before your arrival in Camelot. Is your father a lord?’
‘He was. He will be again,’ says Merlin auspiciously. Geraint gives her a narrow-eyed look and Merlin winks cheekily in reply, sipping her wine.
‘You have the influence,’ he says, somewhat mildly for his expression.
‘That I do. Keep it quiet, though. Don’t want Uther making everything harder than it should be.’
‘My word is my vow,’ Geraint says, before serving her some greens from a nearby dish. Merlin thanks him kindly.
The feast itself isn’t interrupted by any speeches or declarations, except once, when Sir Accolon drunkenly asks for Morgana’s hand. Uther has him immediately sent to the dungeons, before cheeses and wines are served apiece.
‘A dance, milady?’ Geraint questions, Merlin silently thrilled. Keeping to courtly ways, however, she bows her head demurely and lets him lead her from the high table to the middle of the hall, where they join the slowly-filling floor.
Geraint is a good dancer, but soon Leon is cutting in, giving him the chance to take on Elaine for a twirl. Merlin eagerly lets Leon spin her around, then Sir Bedivere and Caridoc—the guard who held back Uther long enough for her to bar her door.
‘I am squired to Sir Cador!’ He tells her, explaining his new sense of dress and invitation to the feast itself.
‘That’s amazing!’ Merlin says, grinning as he leads her through not one, but three dances. It’s then that she takes a funny turn, her stomach rebelling against the constant motions plus food. Caridoc escorts her off to the side, concern clear, Balinor creeping up behind him.
‘I’ll look over her, boy,’ he says.
Caridoc, not knowing Balinor, straightens his back. ‘I’m perfectly able to watch the Lady Merlin while she regains her balance,’ he lies.
Balinor shoots him a look. ‘I’m her father, boy. I know perfectly well what ails her. Off with you.’
‘He’s telling the truth, Caridoc,’ Merlin tells him, leaning against the wall, feeling very rough all of a sudden. ‘Go find another pretty girl to dance with.’
He hesitates. ‘If you’re sure…’
‘I’m sure.’
Caridoc sends Balinor one last suspicious look before departing. Merlin watches him go, accepting the arm around her shoulders when Balinor sidles up to her, the warmth of his embrace giving her a gentle relief from the swirling sensations in her stomach.
‘Your child?’ he murmurs.
‘Absolutely kicking me in the ass,’ Merlin mutters in turn, closing her eyes. Her stomach flips. ‘I might actually need a bucket.’
‘Where do we go?’
Merlin forestalls him. ‘Not really. I’ll run if I really feel the need, but I think I just need to stand still for a while. Talk to me—how’s your night been?’
‘Good,’ he rumbles. Balinor muses, ‘More people remember me than I would have thought.’
Sudden anxiety spikes. ‘Really? Do you need to go?’
‘No, no,’ he puts up a hand. He looks contemplative. ‘The steward—or rather, the lord—of Dinas Emrys sat across from me at the feast. He insinuated much. I told him of my daughter, when he informed me that the vaults are untouched. He’s eager to meet you.’
A familiar green and grey tunic catches her eye, even as she wonders what he means by vaults. ‘I think he’s coming this way.’
Balinor looks up, something like a smile forming. ‘Sir George.’
Sir George, a tall, ruddy man with little hair left on his gleaming head, comes to a halt in front of them, hands clasped over his belly. ‘My lord,’ he greets, turning to eye up Merlin. ‘My lady. What a surprise, to find Bael here is your father.’ His tone tips mischievously at Balinor’s false name.
Merlin, eyeing him in turn, nods in welcome. ‘A pleasure to meet you, Sir George. I hear you hail from Dinas Emrys.’ Still, the knowledge that her family seat is named after her makes her insides squirm.
‘Aye,’ he says, a more solemn countenance taking over him. ‘Though Uther named me lord, I only claim stewardship. I balk at the idea of holding such a prestigious seat. Defending the pass from invaders is my only duty, in absence of its lords.’
‘You said at the table that the vaults lay untouched,’ prompts Balinor. ‘Is it true?’
‘The horde lies sleeping,’ George intones lowly. ‘They go untouched.’
‘I can hardly believe it,’ Balinor whispers, ‘When our bonds went silent…’
‘The Lady Malory was powerful indeed, milord.’
‘Malory?’ Merlin blurts out, remembering the name. ‘My aunt?’
Sir George shifts nervously, pursing his lips. ‘Aye. Should you trek to Dinas Emrys, my lady, mayhaps the vaults would open for you. The fires that took our castle burned the sacred tapestries on which the spells of unlocking were wrote upon. Only a child of the blood can open it, now.’
‘What are the vaults?’ she asks, ‘What is inside?’
Balinor shakes his head. ‘Later, Merlin. We risk much talking in the open like this.’ His arm slips from her shoulders, even as the other rises to press against Sir George’s arm. The two men clasp wrists, grim, before Sir George steps away again, sinking into the crowd.
‘What was that? Who was he, really?’ Merlin hisses. Balinor’s eyes dart around before he answers, a sudden glower appearing. Merlin follows his gaze. The sickness in her stomach doubles as she sees Uther striding towards them, eyes locked on her father.
‘Lady Merlin,’ he acknowledges her, not looking away from Balinor. ‘Who is this?’
Merlin swallows roughly. ‘Bael of Galort, sire. A guest of the Princess Elaine.’
‘You are close,’ the king deduces. Her stomach rolls.
‘Bael and my mother have become close, since her arrival in Camelot,’ Merlin lies, saying, ‘They seek to marry.’
‘You look familiar,’ Uther says critically. Balinor breaks their staring contest first, bowing low and affecting a broken voice.
‘Sire. It’s my, uh, first time past the lower town. Lady Elaine is kind. She and, uh, the Lady Morgana-’
‘Princess,’ Uther interrupts.
Balinor shuffles in a nervous fashion. ‘Begging your pardon, Your Highness. Princess Morgana gave me these nice clothes, said me and Hunith should take advantage of the celebrations.’
‘Yes, well,’ Uther grimaces faintly, ‘Be away with you sooner rather than later. This is a gathering of noble lords and ladies.’ He looks to Merlin, a familiar expression on his face. Merlin pales. ‘Take care with whom you associate, Merlin.’
‘Yes, sire,’ Merlin mumbles, giving a low curtsey. Bowing her head so he can’t see how her expression breaks, breath shaky, Merlin stays prostrated until his feet have left her line of sight. When she stands straight again, Balinor curls his hand around her waist, trembling in anger.
‘You would think his new fiancée would distract him.’
‘Not even Catrina can completely control him,’ Merlin says, looking around. Absent from the high table and the dance floor, the Lady Catrina appears to have vanished, probably returned to her den. ‘She’s not even here. No wonder Uther slipped her leash.’
Balinor huffs. ‘Can’t even do her job right…’
Feeling like her night has been ruined, Merlin says, ‘I’m going to go, now, I think. Give mother my love.’ She slips out of his hold, heart panging when he calls her name. Using the thick crowd to her advantage, Merlin makes for the doors, keeping a state of awareness around her as she passes the guards.
Unlike when Valiant was able to follow her, Merlin isn’t distracted. Her almost paranoia-like perception of Camelot’s halls alerts her to her follower. I won’t be taken off-guard again, she thinks, dipping into a hidden alcove just after she turns a corner. When her stalker turns after her, walking past her hiding place, Merlin recognises Arthur. She breathes a sigh of relief, stepping out.
‘Arthur,’ she calls. He turns, mimicking her sigh of relief.
‘Merlin. Caridoc said you were ill, but then I saw my father approach you-’
‘I’m okay,’ she interrupts, welcoming his short embrace. Leaning back, Merlin says, ‘You should go back to the feast. They’ll miss you.’
‘You shouldn’t walk around without a guard,’ he scolds her, before shooing her into her little alcove again. ‘I’m sending Leon out to escort you. Don’t move.’
Merlin leans back against the wall. ‘I won’t,’ she promises. Arthur swiftly departs, leaving her behind. Merlin almost physically feels him walk back to the hall, unconsciously reaching for her sapphire. When her fingers brush the cool gem, she blinks, wondering…
Merlin closes her eyes. Her magic bubbles in her veins and she coaxes a thin stream towards the necklace, not wanting it to shatter from being overpowered. That’s happened before, with one of her Sigan jewels. Those strings she felt the first time she left Camelot return to her, delicate, but strong as steel when she plucks at them, recognising each person they lead to. Merlin goes through them one by one. First, her baby, the closest tether, leading inside her—showing her that heartbeat, which rings between her ears. It makes her smile faintly.
Second is Arthur, the next closest, before she feels her mother and father. Then, Elaine and Morgana. The three instances of pure Pendragon blood prove to Merlin that the magic is, indeed, twisted with her pregnancy. Sensing Uther is a repulsive feeling and Merlin moves on, not realising there’s something to move onto until she feels her mind flying down, deep into the ground.
This time, the other notices her presence and Merlin almost hears Kilgharrah roar, before he quiets, realising it is her who seeks him. Merlin can hardly believe it. A dragon! The troll was right to call her dragonkin, to say the shape and feel of her blood is different. With so many comparisons to Kilgharrah, Merlin can sense the difference between human and not, her father exuding heat through the magic, a subconscious awareness of her looking warding her off. Merlin compares him to Kilgharrah, who is almost like a volcano in comparison—who watches reservedly as she gains an impression of his core self—while everybody else is cool as silk.
Dragonfire, she thinks distantly, identifying, before a faint glimmer catches her attention. Merlin reaches for that glimmer, seeing something that looks like a thread…
‘My lady?’
Merlin snaps back into herself, the gem at her throat pulsing in complaint at her sudden detachment, the glimmer settling in the back of her mind even as the necklace urges her to investigate. Leon’s brow furrows in concern as he watches her come back to herself.
‘My lady, are you alright?’ he asks. ‘You looked…far away.’
‘I- I was,’ she replies. Merlin lurches forwards, legs having gone to sleep, Leon quick to grab onto her as she trips. Her cheeks flame. ‘Sorry!’
‘It’s no bother, Merlin,’ he murmurs and something about how close he is ignites in her chest a strange sensation. Merlin’s mouth goes dry. Leon helps her stand straight, but his hands linger on the velvet of her dress and suddenly, Merlin wants him to touch her.
That revelation does the opposite to her conscious mind. Resisting the urge to stay within his grasp, Merlin clears her throat and jerks her head down the corridor, stepping away. ‘Escort me home?’
‘Of course,’ he says, offering his arm. Merlin takes it delicately, her fingers curling around the cool steel of his chainmail. ‘Arthur said you had a run-in with the king.’
‘Briefly. He was more interested in my father,’ Merlin says, causing Leon to startle. Merlin smiles, explaining everything that had already happened that day to him as they traverse the castle.
‘So, your father is here…and Lea is in a cave?’ Leon queries. Merlin halts, horrified at having forgotten his horse. Leon is quick to say, ‘I’m sure she’ll survive one night.’
‘I should get her,’ Merlin says guiltily. ‘People know I’m here—they’ll wonder where she is.’
‘They’ll ask stranger questions if you deliver her home tonight,’ Leon says, offering, ‘Bring her to me in the morning. Pretend as if you took her out on a morning jaunt.’
‘I will,’ says Merlin, agreeing to the plan. They take a slow stroll through the castle and when they reach Merlin’s door, Leon presses his lips to her knuckles.
‘Farewell, my lady. I wish,’ he hesitates, still slightly bent over her hand. ‘I wish you sweet dreams.’
‘Charmer,’ Merlin teases, watching his cheeks flush. She leans against the wall by her door, crossing her arms over her chest. She recalls that urge again, to feel his hands on her arms, which turns into something more in her mind. She wonders what it would feel like for his hands to run down her waist, to ruck up her dress to press against the soft skin of her thighs…
‘I’ll- I’ll just go, then,’ he stutters, turning away. Merlin doesn’t hesitate to reach out, grabbing his arm and as he turns back, she does something reckless, pulling her whole body in against his and leaning up to press her lips to his. Leon sucks in a breath, startled and Merlin, for the briefest moment, wonders how he would react to her tongue in his mouth.
Instead, she pulls back, twisting to open her door and enter her room, quick as a flash, shutting the wooden obstacle behind her. Merlin flushes, leaning against her door and giggling to herself.
She just kissed Leon.
Uther would be furious, she thinks, marvelling at her own actions. And Leon, with his pink cheeks and that gobsmacked expression—she wonders how he’d kiss her in turn. If he’d treat her like a lady the entire time or if he’d slowly lose his composure, bit by bit, until she was laid out beneath him, gasping for breath.
‘Bath!’ Merlin interrupts her own thoughts, shaking her head. Merlin has more respect for Leon to imagine what he’d look like beneath his armour. She divests herself of her choker and her earrings, placing them in her jewellery chest as her hair undoes itself with magic. Then comes her dress, her shift and her undergarments, before with but a thought, her bath is filled with hot, steaming water.
Settling inside, old habits take over, Merlin leaning back in the tub with her arms lying along the rim. She thinks of Uther without meaning to, remembering his cruelties and his pleasures. Part of her misses the feeling of sex, if not her partner, and Merlin knows very firmly that if she tried to take another lover who had the wrong temperament, then things could go very, very badly. They’d have to treat her kindly and listen to her for every single second of their liaison.
‘And no such man exists,’ Merlin mutters, bitter. The warmth of the water soothes what little nausea remains in her belly and she wonders again what her new baby will be like. Blonde or brunette? Girl or boy?
No lover will take you while a child sits in your stomach, she thinks morosely. Her hand slaps against the water angrily. That Merlin can even think about having another lover—properly, rather, not just as talk with Uther—says something to how much she believes Arthur will protect her, but the reality is that until Uther is dead, none will dare. Not even Leon—especially not Leon. For all his bravery and chivalry, she doesn’t think he could bed a woman unmarried to him, let alone someone claimed by a king he’s sworn fealty to.
Merlin sits and stews. Her bath has grown cold by the time she leaves it.
Her oath of neutrality, no matter how blasé she’d been while saying it, Merlin feels honour-bound to keep. So, when Arthur calls his council of friends and allies to discuss the issue of the troll on the morning of the wedding, Merlin doesn’t attend. However, just because she doesn’t want to get involved doesn’t mean she’s happy leaving things as they are.
Using Lisbet as a messenger after returning Lea to a flushed Leon, Merlin has Jonas meet up with her in the servant staircase near Catrina’s rooms. She dares not step foot in the corridor itself. Uther had placed Catrina a mere three rooms away from his own and Merlin refuses to tempt fate.
‘I’d like the opportunity to talk to her privately,’ she says to the manservant, who she is certain is far from human himself. Jonas slowly twists his neck in a facsimile of a nod, before going to collect his mistress.
Catrina, dressed in her silken nightgown, not having yet gotten into her chosen wedding gown, slips into the stairwell soon enough. She looks at Merlin with a narrowed gaze.
‘What do you want with me, witch-girl?’
Merlin crosses her arms over her chest, feeling the comforting pull of her apron of her work-dress. For all she’s used to fancy dresses, this makes her feel more like herself.
‘I want to ask you a question. I also want to issue a threat.’
‘Oh?’ Catrina raises an eyebrow. ‘And with what power do you threaten me? One little human witch can’t best me.’
‘You seem to be under the impression that I am anyone but Merlin Emrys Ambrosius,’ Merlin says, watching how Catrina stiffens. It seems her assumptions that the troll would see her as a threat were true. Merlin doesn’t hesitate to continue her impromptu speech. ‘When you become queen, I don’t care what you do to Uther, but Camelot and its peoples are a different story. Arthur and Morgana and Elaine are a different story. Anyone but Uther is a different story.’
Merlin steps down, closer, looming over the troll well enough that Catrina has to retreat a step. ‘You can be queen. You can bask in Camelot’s riches. If you can content yourself to simply holding the crown alone, without taking advantage of your subjects and your new family—barring Uther, of course—then I will feel no regret letting you keep your station until Uther is dead in the ground.’
Catrina nods slowly in understanding and Merlin stands straighter. The troll says shortly, ‘You had an inquiry?’
‘I wrote a contract with Uther,’ Merlin explains. ‘Signed in blood. Gaius, the Court Physician and a small-time wizard in his own right, says that magical contracts are binding. The only problem is, Uther has been breaking it left, right and centre. How do the consequences work? Why isn’t he feeling them?’
‘What were the terms?’ Catrina asks in turn.
‘No marriages, for one,’ says Merlin, pointedly. ‘No violence against me, which he broke. No challenging our yes-no rule and keeping respect of my decisions. No locking me in my room unwillingly, which I think he broke on a technicality, as I didn’t want to lock myself in my own quarters the day he tried breaking in. Claiming his bastards and all my children, which is the only thing he has fulfilled. There are others. I think I’ve only broken one.’ She frowns. ‘Two, maybe. I’m supposed to have security when I leave the castle, but I didn’t this past week, when I’ve been searching for my father.’
‘Binding magical contracts are tricky things,’ says Catrina, tone cautioning. ‘Magic takes only when most appropriate and the punishment shall equal the crime. Uther would never have agreed to marriage if he had not been first enchanted, so the punishment will not take. Likewise, you were not unwillingly locked in your room. You locked it yourself.’
‘He was threatening to kill me. I was under duress!’
Catrina purses her lips. ‘There’s a fine line. You will only know if you crossed it when you pay the price. Did you know that Uther has a broken hand? He knows not how he did it. It’s why he did not dance, yestereve.’
‘He has a broken hand?’ Merlin mutters, aghast. But then—oh, but then she remembers that he slapped her. She feels slightly faint at the idea of him getting what he deserved. ‘Oh.’
‘You see?’ Catrina tilts her head. ‘And Emrys? I do suspect you are your own form of security, equal to if not more effective than any Camelot guard.’
Merlin laughs tonelessly. ‘Does the contract ever end?’
‘When Uther dies, it will be broken,’ Catrina promises, before making a face. ‘I must get ready for my wedding. Pray for me, witchy.’
This time, her laugh is true and she smiles at the troll woman. ‘Good luck with the wedding night. Break his cock for me.’
Catrina rolls her eyes, before abandoning her in the stairwell. Merlin laughs to herself for a little longer, then climbs to her feet, passing a curious Julius on her way down to the kitchens for her breakfast. He raises his eyebrow and she gives him a happy wave, walking merrily on her way.
After all, today Uther is getting married to a troll!
‘Is it just me,’ Arthur starts, laying his head against his desk, ‘Or is she not being as bad as I thought she’d be?’
‘Agreed,’ says Morgana, looking perplexed from his dining table. ‘She invited me to dinner this afternoon.’
‘You should take her up on that,’ Merlin advises, not looking up from her book. Gaius has been getting on at her for not studying more. ‘I gave her a veritable bucket of Sigan’s enchanted gems for lessons in magic for you.’
‘Oh gods, Merlin. What did you do?’ groans Arthur, looking up with a pleading expression. ‘Tell me you didn’t make some sort of deal with her!’
‘I didn’t make any deal with her, except that last one about Morgana,’ Merlin says in a dutiful manner, meaning every word.
Morgana narrows her eyes. ‘Then what did you do?’
‘Threatened her, obviously. I’m Emrys. That means something, in the magical world.’
Arthur puts his head back down on the desk, thumping it rhythmically against the wood. ‘This is going to end horrendously, I know it.’
‘You need to do what my father said,’ Merlin reminds them both. ‘To break Uther’s enchantment, he must cry a tear of true regret. Then I can get my enchanted gems back and you can get rid of your ugly step-mother.’
‘She’s not that ugly.’
Merlin scoffs. ‘You haven’t seen her in troll-form.’
Morgana grimaces, looking at Arthur. ‘You’re right. This is going to end horrendously. We’ll never get Uther to cry tears of real, undampened regret.’
Laughing to herself faintly, looking up at them both, Merlin teases them, ‘If only your mother was here to shame him into it.’
‘…you don’t think…’
Arthur looks out of his window to the entrance to the Royal Crypt. ‘I think it’s worth a shot.’
‘Ah, my gems! How did you get these back?’ Merlin runs her hands through the carven emeralds and rubies, feeling them pour like liquid honey through her fingertips. ‘It’s been months—I never thought you’d finally get him to cry. How did you do it?’
‘Trust me,’ Arthur says, his eyes haunted, ‘You don’t want to hear it.’
‘You said you loved her.’
‘I did,’ Uther says, eyes flickering. ‘But our relationship has been over a long time. I do not wish to speak of this, Arthur-’
‘No,’ he insists, grabbing him by his arm. Ygraine’s tomb lies in front of them and Arthur cannot bear to look at the sleeping figure chiselled across the lid. ‘I want to know. You say you love the Lady Catrina and you seem besotted at all times. Were you like this with my mother? Did you love her, Father?’
‘I loved her,’ Uther asserts, attempting to take his arm from Arthur’s grip and failing. He glares at his son. ‘You will let me go, Arthur.’
‘No,’ Arthur refuses. ‘Not until you tell me of Ygraine. Not until you tell me of your wife!’
‘She is no longer my wife!’ Uther rages. It’s like a blow to Arthur’s heart, but he only lets a flicker of it show on his face. ‘Catrina outshines her in every way!’
‘Is she better in bed?’ Arthur asks cruelly, forcing himself to go lower than he has ever gone before. ‘Does she even compare? Who was better, Father? Catrina, Merlin or Ygraine? Or how about the Lady Vivienne, or Elaine’s mother-’
Uther backhands him across the face. Arthur falls to the floor, landing straight on his arse and when he looks up, all Uther cares about is the troll. He points at Arthur, saying, ‘Do not debase the Lady Catrina in such ways.’
‘So, she’s better, then?’ Arthur spits. ‘Does she know of your depravities? Does she know about that silver thing in your bedside dresser?’
‘Your mother rather liked that silver thing,’ says Uther, sneering at him. Arthur feels true shock, then, even as Uther advances. ‘She was a whore, just as Merlin was. Only, she never got with child half as well as that girl did. My wife.’ He snorts. ‘If I loved her, it was for her body and the gold it brought to my coffers. Her worth was gold and an army that won me a war.’
‘But- but you’ve spent all this time saying you loved her!’
‘Love is a subjective thing.’ Uther rolls his eyes. ‘Her family has never let me forget that Camelot was built on her. I was never allowed another marriage that brought wealth to my kingdom, lest they steal away her dowry and her son. The Lady Catrina…despite it being a love-match, I’d never be able to marry her if she still had a kingdom to inherit. She’s penniless and it matters not, just as it matters the most.’
His head is full of white noise. Lest they steal away her dowry and her son.
‘You could have had more children,’ Arthur chokes on his words.
‘I tried,’ Uther sneers. ‘All I got were girls and more bloody girls.’
He feels his heart breaking inside his chest. ‘Father,’ he says, tears escaping his eyes, ‘Do you even love me?’
Uther’s expression wavers for the first time, collapsing, and he slowly kneels down beside Arthur’s fallen form, reaching out when Arthur starts to shudder, sobs wreaking havoc across his body. His vision blurs—his back curls. Uther grabs hold, giving him steady harbour and Arthur hates, hates, hates the man in front of him.
‘Despite my personal truths, I’m sorry you doubt my love for you. You will understand one day, what it truly means to be king. I need sons, Arthur—more than just you.’
Uther wraps his arms around Arthur tighter.
Something wet falls upon his forehead.
Much laughter follows the reign of the Troll Queen. For all she wanted power and wealth, the false Lady Catrina’s biggest impact is on Uther’s reputation, his four-month marriage to a magical creature bigger news than even Morgana’s true ancestry.
Uther himself is a walking thundercloud—apparently, anyway. Merlin has a guard twenty-four seven nowadays, Arthur not wanting to give Uther a single chance to take any of his anger out on her. Merlin appreciates the sentiment, though sometimes she wonders what Uther really said to Arthur in the crypt.
But then comes the Witchfinder.
With a rattling cage drawn by horseback, he arrives in the courtyard of Castle Pendragon in a black hat and shifty eyes, which latch onto Merlin as she watches his arrival from a high balcony. The sheer malevolence he radiates is enough to make her stomach turn and Merlin doesn’t let her magic burst through her skin for the rest of the day.
‘Father wrote to him after waking from his enchantment,’ Arthur tells her, after she seeks him out on the training yard. Sweating in the high summer heat, he says apologetically, ‘I didn’t know he was actually going to come here. I just thought Father was writing to him for advice.’
‘No, it’s alright. You’re so deep into your father’s correspondences, it’s not surprising you’ve lost track,’ Merlin waves him off, seeing Leon stop in the middle of his exercises at the sight of her. She turns away from him, for his own good. He can do better than her, anyway.
Arthur stretches out his arm, saying, ‘It’ll be an inquisition. Are all your things packed away?’
‘I’ll hide all my magical jewellery away, but I’m afraid they’ll notice the lack. Aredian seems…thorough.’ Merlin grimaces.
Arthur’s expression matches her own. ‘He is. Go through every piece in your collection—and Morgana and Elaine’s, too. I know they’ve been exchanging things.’ He pauses, before saying, ‘If I didn’t think it too late, I’d have you take down your map.’
Merlin flinches without meaning to, but nods anyway. It’s a suspicious piece.
Magic is so intrinsic to her life, now. Once, there was a time where she’d never be caught dead with anything magical in her possession, but over the past three years, her collection has grown and grown. From the book Gaius first gave her, to the outpouring of magical artefacts from Sigan’s vault…hell, Morgana even has relics stolen from the sidhe assassins! Two staves, just for them! Merlin has been itching to try one out, but keeps getting distracted.
Then there are the more innocuous things that show her magical leanings, like the map on her bedroom wall. Her obviously magical written signature is even in Uther’s very own possession—he knew she came from a magical family the moment he saw it.
And her father, the wanted fugitive…
Things start coming together in her mind. Merlin thinks of Uther’s suspicion, even in the depths of his enchantment with the troll. He saw Balinor, talked to him and saw him standing side-by-side with Merlin herself, who knows for sure that she does look like him in many ways. And her signature-
Merlin covers her mouth with her hand, eyes stinging. Oh gods. He’s figured it out. Uther has figured out the truth. It’s the only explanation. He can’t accuse her himself, not without perjuring himself further—he’s shared his quarters with her and once saw her every day for months. The debacle with the troll has ruined him. His only choice is summoning the Witchfinder, who will ‘uncover’ this debase treachery of his mistress, who, like the troll, has enchanted him to do her bidding—perhaps even enchanted the whole of Camelot. It would a masterful strike. Her pregnancy wouldn’t matter to him if he had to send her to the pyre. Her child could easily be another man’s.
Can Arthur protect us from this? Merlin worries frantically, pressing her hand to her growing bump. She’s nigh on seven months along. Arthur has been, as she said, neck-deep in his father’s correspondences since Uther’s awakening. He’s been busier than he ever has. Could Arthur be too wrapped up in things? Is Uther using his distraction to plot in secret?
Merlin calms herself, then. No. Julius would know if Uther was plotting—Julius watches what Uther does each day. Irregularities would be noticed quickly. But, she thinks, sweating, all it would take is one letter…
She thinks about the girl who was brought to Camelot in a cage. The spring had not yet ended when the bounty-hunter sold her to Uther’s mercy, though he had run the moment it was shown she was not a monster as he claimed. Merlin later discovered through Jonas, of all people, that Catrina had reshaped the girl’s curse into something she could control. One small act of kindness changed her life and the girl was free, now. Merlin sometimes even saw her down in the marketplace.
Merlin wonders how many others could have been saved, had Catrina remained. What was truly so bad about having a troll for a queen? In time, she might have even gotten Uther to lift his ban on magic, influenced Camelot for good. There is a bastet out there alive and breathing, because of Catrina’s actions.
The Witchfinder, no doubt, would have seen right through her. Merlin does not know whether troll enchantments break with death, but men like the Witchfinder who are dedicated to the eradication of magic care little for the opinions of kings. Even if Uther killed him for it, Aredian would have seen Catrina long dead before that happened.
Merlin is abruptly taken from her thoughts as she approaches her room, seeing the door open and guards standing outside of it, looking uncomfortable. ‘What is this?’ she calls out, picking up speed. The guards look up at her approach.
‘Milady, we couldn’t stop them, they’ve got a letter from the king-’
Merlin stands in the doorway, recoiling at the sight of unfamiliar servants searching inside her drawers and her bedsheets, flipping through a glamoured spell-book and rifling through her belongings with impunity.
‘What are you doing?’ she asks them, trying to identify them by face alone and failing. Certainly, they aren’t part of Camelot’s serving staff.
One tall man stops to hold open a scroll bearing Uther’s seal. ‘Witchfinder Aredian has permission from the king to search the quarters of the Royal Household for suspicious items. Please wait outside until our investigation is finished.’
‘This is my room,’ Merlin starts, only to falter when a young woman moves her map, a piece of paper falling out from behind it. What is that? She thinks, eyes glued to the item. Uther’s letter burned, so what…
The woman picks the paper up, reading aloud. ‘You need a new hiding spot. A letter has arrived for you.’
‘…oh gods,’ Merlin sighs in relief, knowing exactly what it means. Julius, you are my saviour. At the looks being turned her way, Merlin creates a cover-story on the spot, faking a shaky smile. ‘The King dislikes my keeping friends from outside of Camelot. Don’t tell him of this, please?’
The tall man wavers, glancing at the folded note from Julius indicating he had intercepted Morgause’s letter for Morgana via Merlin, before saying apologetically, ‘The Witchfinder must be told. He searches only for magic, my lady.’
‘Oh, that’s…alright. I understand.’ Merlin winces dramatically, playing up how much control Uther has over her life, then shuffles backwards into the hallway. While it wasn’t completely nothing to fake her way through that interaction as an abused mistress, Merlin is still intimately aware of her enchanted jewels from Sigan’s tomb taking up residence in her boudoir. Even the sight of them paging through her glamoured spell-book makes her heart pound. If Nimueh hadn’t taught her how to hide them…
‘Milady?’ one of the guards outside her doors approaches her tentatively. Merlin shies away from his outstretched arm automatically, not letting him touch her elbow, but she smiles at him nonetheless.
‘It’s okay,’ she says, though it really isn’t. How can she get away with having so many magical trinkets laid in plain sight?
…oh wait.
I already am.
For a second, it astounds her to think that no-one has recognised her jewels for what they are, but then again, only people with magic—or people like Arthur, who are created with magic—have any kind of talent in sensing it, and Merlin doubts that Aredian’s minions are magical themselves. Merlin has been wearing enchanted accessories for over a year now and no-one has pointed it out.
We could just leave them in our possession, Merlin thinks, already drifting away from her quarters towards Morgana’s. They’ll be none the wiser. The only flaw in that plan is if Aredian has a way to detect magic and even then, those servants were physically searching my rooms for secret stashes.
It takes her some time to get up to Morgana’s quarters, but even from the corridor, she can feel the waves of panic and irritation from inside. Her magic twists up at the idea of her friends and family being so concerned, but Merlin forces it down. It wouldn’t do for any spies Aredian might have in place to see something unusual.
‘Morgana?’ She knocks, entering a moment later. Her guards wait outside and in Morgana’s inner sanctum, Merlin finds Elaine struggling to close a hidden panel in Morgana’s bed. Her eyebrows shoot up. ‘What is that?’
‘Uh,’ Elaine freezes, before Morgana reaches past her to shove something crystal-like further into the empty space, Elaine managing to push it shut after another long moment of silence.
‘I had Gwen help me hollow two of them out for the sidhe staves,’ says Morgana, explaining everything and nothing.
‘Okay,’ Merlin murmurs, ‘and why were you closing it just now? What were you doing?’
The sisters exchange a glance.
‘Are you scheming without me?’ The pregnant witch asks in amusement, looking around and finding all of Morgana’s magical jewellery lying on her desk, suspiciously absent of magic. It takes Merlin a few seconds to piece things together and when she does, her jaw drops. ‘You hid the magic in them? I didn’t even know you could do that!’
‘Catrina said the staves can be powered by intent alone,’ tells Morgana hesitantly, before she starts putting the items away again. She still, however, seems twitchy. ‘So I used them to make magic seem mundane to anyone who looks at them. It’s like a mirroring effect. The more powerful they are, the less powerful they seem.’
‘That’s genius, Morgana. What else did you do?’
‘Nothing.’
Nothing, she says. ‘And why do I not believe that?’ Merlin drawls, looking at Elaine, who now sits primly on the end of the bed. ‘What are you two up to?’
‘Nothing,’ Elaine repeats, before Morgana starts babbling about how her morning was interrupted, dragging Merlin down onto a chair to sit. While grateful for the reprieve from walking, Merlin isn’t distracted as well as Morgana wants her to be. Luckily for the two scheming princesses, however, a guard shows up to summon them to court.
Merlin will figure them out.
She always does.
His eyes are a pale blue and his gaze, to be quite frank, makes her skin crawl. Or maybe that’s just her spawn.
‘You have risen high,’ Aredian critiques, ‘for a peasant girl.’
‘I have.’
‘Too high, some might say. A King’s mistress does not usually come from the serving class and if she does, there are others who might more easily take her place.’ The Witchfinder peers at the steep curve of her stomach for a moment, then sits down in the chair opposite her. A desk lies between them, but it does not make Merlin feel any safer.
‘Uther’s life revolves around Arthur and his wellbeing,’ says Merlin, explaining something she’s sure many know, but have not quite understood. ‘His son—his children—are his pride and joy. When I saved Arthur’s life, I caught his attention.’
‘I heard,’ Aredian dips his head in acknowledgement. ‘You broke a chandelier over the witch impersonating Lady Helen of Mora, then pushed Prince Arthur out of the way of a knife.’
Further unease sets in. ‘Yes.’ Why do you know all that? Usually people just leave it at ‘you saved Arthur’s life’…
‘May I ask, how did you get there in time?’ He queries, almost convivial. A lump suddenly appears in her throat as his gaze remains on her, unwavering. ‘I have come to understand there was some sort of sleeping enchantment involved.’
Merlin struggles to come up with an answer, shaking her head. ‘I truly don’t know, sir. I was stumbling on my feet to the ropes. I’m quick and clever, I know that. I remember feeling at peace, yet…’
‘Yet you sensed something amiss,’ Aredian concludes, still watching her. ‘I will ask you frankly, Lady Merlin. Is there magic in your blood?’
‘I’m a bastard, sir,’ she tells him, shaking her head. ‘I wouldn’t know.’
‘Hm.’ The Witchfinder purses his lips, before standing and offering her a short nod of his head, gesturing to the guards at the doors. ‘Thank-you for your time, my lady. The guards will see you out.’
Merlin stands and curtsies low, like a servant. ‘You’re welcome, Sir Witchfinder.’
Aredian grunts in acknowledgement, waving her onwards and Merlin can’t escape fast enough, though she keeps her pace steady and slow. What is he thinking? Has Uther told him what he knows? Does Aredian suspect that she has magic?
Full of concern, Merlin returns to her quarters. Only when she has shut the door behind her, does Julius step out from around the corner of the bathing area, giving her half a heart-attack. A spell of force is already at her fingertips when she realises it’s him.
‘Julius!’ she exclaims in half a whisper, pushing down her magic’s instinctual reaction to an intruder. It buffers up against her skin like an ocean shore, yearning to overtake it, a high tide seeking prey. ‘What are you doing here?’
‘The letter,’ says Julius, taking a thick envelope from his tunic. Merlin accepts the heavy bundle when he passes it over. ‘I intercepted the messenger. They were subtle, but not subtle enough. Aredian’s folk were already circling and I did as I had to.’
Unease besets her. ‘What do you mean by that?’ Merlin asks.
Julius inclines his head slightly, expression neutral as always. ‘Something you never had a chance to understand is that, as servants to the king, we are held in highest counsel. My loyalty is to Camelot and I am the shadow behind they who holds the throne. In that darkness, I see those who live as I do and the Lady Morgause’s spies are young. Untested in this kingdom that is a new arena to them all. Did you not expect her correspondence sooner?’
Merlin is already taken-aback by his words, her mind struggling to adjust how she sees Julius in her worldview; she does not need questions like that. ‘Maybe, but that’s her business,’ she says sharply.
Her fellow servant does not blink as she presses the letter to her chest, defensive of a woman she has only ever met in dreams.
‘I took the letter,’ Julius says, explicit in his words, ‘and sent her spies on their merry way. Those that refused saw the consequences of their choices. Camelot will not suffer foreign agents inside her walls and it is high time you learned what I do in what little free time I have to spare every day.’
‘You’re a spymaster,’ she murmurs, the pieces finally clicking into place. But everything coincides with something she had already known: ‘And my friend.’
Julius could have stolen the letter Uther sent, taken it from her or read the other spare copies that surely, he knew the true locations of. He didn’t because he respected her—but even before that, when Uther first sent the reply, he made sure Morgana was in the room with her when she received it. His manipulation was obvious. Probably one of the few Merlin had ever seen. Yet, he cared. He may not have in the beginning, but Merlin grew on him like a crustacean.
‘Two things which should never mix,’ Julius confirms, before he tucks his hands behind his back and tells her yet another unknown detail of her life. ‘I assigned Lisbet to you.’
‘Assigned?’
Julius nods minutely. ‘Some of us know our place. Some of us learn and don’t ask. Some are ignorant to the truth. Lisbet is in the first category and she keeps an eye on you on my behalf, for my own sake. My feelings are a blind-spot.’
‘You are my friend,’ Merlin says, almost trying to reassure herself. She looks down at Morgause’s letter and questions him, knowing she had been one to see and not ask, ‘Is she a political player?’
‘Most definitely.’
A new sort of worry fills the cavity in her chest. ‘I gave Morgause permission to test Arthur, somehow, before next Beltane,’ Merlin says, hastily translating for his benefit. ‘Before next spring.’
Brow furrowing—and how is it that Merlin has never seen it before? How Julius’ eyebrows draw closer together when he truly disapproves, in comparison to that clear scowl he always used to wear, now in hindsight a mask of his own making to hide his true feelings—Julius replies, ‘A concerning choice. What was your impression of her?’
‘She had her own agenda, but she was willing to bow to my authority as Emrys,’ Merlin grimaces. ‘Or at least, she seemed to. Nimueh trusted her, I- I think. I think she trusted her. I’ll ask tonight,’ she promises him.
Julius takes her at her word, then says, ‘I tell you this because I need your trust. Your word.’
‘For what?’
Something presses against her mind, her magic swirling. All of a sudden, Merlin knows that fate is on a needletip—on a precipice of sure change. Whatever Julius has to say to her, whatever he is planning to do, it will change the course of Albion’s future forever.
He looks her in the eye and tells her, ‘Tomorrow, Uther will die.’
Once, in the early days of her confinement, Merlin considered regicide. Uther was still so hopped up on his own superiority that he never even considered the swords on the wall—decorative ornaments and prizes of war that nevertheless, still held sharpened edges.
In a particularly insane moment, Merlin took one of those swords off the wall and held it in her hands. It was heavy. She could barely hold it parallel to her arms without it shaking or veering off in a random direction—usually down. Hers were peasants hands, used to the toil of farming and other chores of a homestead. They did not hold the callouses of a knight, who trained with their blades every morning till noon.
The death of Uther Pendragon would have solved her problems, at the price of her life. He was a tyrant and a rapist, she had excused her thoughts. But yet, when she had considered driving the sword through his chest or into the soft flesh of his neck, fear and disgust had swelled within her enough to make her nauseous. She could not kill a man, not even Uther, so Merlin had placed the sword back on the wall and never picked it up again.
Tomorrow, Uther will die.
Julius explains what he wants her to do in a steady voice, repeating himself at least four times before Merlin finally gets over her shock. She holds her face for several minutes, before asking him for one last reprise of his speech.
Her role in Uther’s death is small, yet necessary, should certain allegations be made. Merlin tries not to think of what she will say. The idea of a dead Uther appeals to her on a visceral level, even as her mind fights against the reality of such being true.
‘You must act as you normally would,’ Julius reminds her before departing. ‘Even with a Witchfinder in court.’
Merlin almost wants to laugh at that piece of advice later, when she is voluntarily dining with the royal family and Aredian himself, whose suspicious nature is hidden beneath guile. Uther and he get on famously, but the conversation had between the two men as Merlin, Morgana, Elaine and Arthur sit between them soon proves, as unbelievable as it may be, that Uther is not the most prejudiced against magic in the room.
‘Sorcery is a disease. One may cull the symptoms—the sorcerers, the cursed,’ he says with a rumbling voice ‘—but only once the true heart of magic is stamped out, shall we be free of sorcery’s venom.’
‘I understand,’ Uther says, sombre. ‘I have grown lax, as you have said.’
‘You have,’ Aredian agrees. He tilts his goblet of wine towards him in toast. ‘May such a mistake be rectified with haste.’
Uther toasts with the man and that is when Aredian turns to Elaine, asking her opinion on sorcery and the like.
The young woman graces Aredian with a cool smile, adjusting the cloth napkin across her knees. ‘Magic has been present in the world since its beginning. I suspect, despite your crusade, dear Witchfinder, it shall be there to see its end, also.’
‘Elaine,’ Uther says sharply, but Aredian raises a hand.
‘No, no, let her speak. Such treasonous words would not exit the princess’ mouth, I suspect, unless she had heard them from another. A member of her previous household, perhaps?’
Ice crawls down Merlin’s back. The threat is clear.
Elaine, however, laughs in his face and calls him out in an instant. It is truly a moment reminiscent of Morgana herself and Merlin, in all honesty, wonders if it is something all daughters of Uther Pendragon inherit—the ability to talk with sense and decorum, slipping out of spider’s web with naught but a sentence.
‘Do you mean to accuse my family of criminal acts?’ she asks him, holding her chin high as she stares him down with a smile. ‘How absurd. A treasonous allegation in its own right. Your Majesty-’ Elaine turns to her blood father, beseeching him, ‘The House of Galort and all its members are faithful to the crown.’
Like she has seen before, Uther’s children set him on edge. Elaine forces the king to weigh his children against his beliefs, and this time, he seems to understand that if he lets Aredian mire her family name, it will be yet another strike against his record.
‘Galort has always been a true ally to the crown,’ he says, glancing at Aredian. ‘They have my confidences.’
But Aredian has his own defences, which he is unafraid to use. ‘So did the Lady Catrina.’
‘To be perfectly clear,’ Arthur then interjects, ‘my father was the only one to be enchanted by the troll. Only the powerful magic it wielded caused the situation to deteriorate so far, and throughout the entire affair, we were doubtful.’
‘You broke the enchantment,’ the Witchfinder says, silently demanding clarification.
‘Of course,’ says Arthur. Merlin watches him sup his wine to clear his throat before continuing on to say, ‘To know how to defeat magic, one must be aware of its limitations.’
Aredian narrows his eyes. ‘And to defeat a troll?’
‘True regret,’ reveals Arthur, ‘By way of a tear, as far as I have cause to understand.’
‘You must know much of magic.’
‘Experience brings its own lessons.’
‘Such esoteric knowledge,’ Aredian drawls, ‘cannot come solely from experience, Prince Arthur. Who told you as such, about the troll?’
He is caught in a corner. Arthur stares at Aredian silently, until Uther calls his name in question. ‘Arthur?’ The king looks at his son in suspicion and Merlin comes to the horrified realisation that Aredian is sowing seeds of distrust between Uther and his son, unaware of how wide and deep the chasm has already been dug. Only, until now, Uther has not had reason to see just how independent in thought Arthur has become.
But if there is one thing that can surely rend what little relationship they have in half, it is the idea that Arthur trusts magic.
Nausea rises in her gut, partly from worry and another from the unfairly hard kick to her gut. Good timing, spawn, Merlin thinks, even as she chokes on her own vomit. She violently pushes away from the table to throw up on the stone floor, internally cringing at the idea of one of her fellow servants being forced to clean it up. Arthur is at her side in an instant, arm wrapping around her waist. By the time her stomach is empty, Morgana is there, too, tucking her hair behind her ear as Elaine murmurs instructions to one of the serving staff—Lisbet, Merlin notices, Julius’ little spy. Lisbet vanishes down the corridor to the kitchens seconds later.
Uther clears his throat. ‘Perhaps Merlin might retire.’
‘We all will,’ Arthur says, letting Merlin rest her tired, sagging body against his own. There’s a vague cramping in her stomach that tells her she has to either lie down or have a nice, hot bath. Sleeping sounds like a lovely idea. ‘Good night, Father. Aredian.’
‘Yes, goodnight,’ Morgana says, calling out, ‘Elaine?’
‘I will stay. We can’t all disappear,’ she says, almost joking, but there’s an edge to her voice that tells Merlin she is sacrificing her evening for them—to watch Uther and Aredian, if nothing else. Who knows what they’d converse about during hospitable hours, should they all go.
‘Night, ‘laine,’ Merlin murmurs loud enough to be heard, her mouth full of the familiar taste of acid, with a dash of butter sauce from dinner. Arthur wastes no time in getting her out of there, guards falling in step with the three of them as they depart to the north side of the castle.
‘He’s callous,’ says Morgana, ‘Dangerous.’
‘Not here,’ Arthur reminds her, glancing back at the guards. Merlin doesn’t know who is among them that night, distinctly recalling that her previous favourite, Caridoc, is now squiring for Sir Cador, so silently agrees with Arthur that this is neither the time nor place to be discussing such things.
Morgana reluctantly quiets. It’s only when they arrive in Arthur and Merlin’s shared wing, that Merlin remembers Morgause’s letter.
‘Wait,’ she says, when Arthur tries to guide her to bed. She detaches herself from his side unwillingly, moving across to the mirror. Drawing her magic to the surface of her fingertips, Merlin dips her hand into the glass, taking out the letter to give to Morgana. At Arthur’s raised eyebrows—and Morgana’s curious expression—she elaborates, ‘Julius said my old hiding place was bad.’
‘Wasn’t it behind your map?’ Morgana queries, proving Julius’ point.
Merlin points the letter at her. ‘I don’t want to know how you know that—and here,’ she says, turning her hand over so as to offer the letter instead of pointing it. ‘This is for you.’
‘Who’s writing to Morgana?’ Arthur looks at the letter in interest, only for Merlin to shake her head, brow furrowing as she feels her stomach twinging again.
‘Morgause,’ she says distractedly, rubbing the crown of her belly. The action draws Arthur’s attention to it, an almost panicked expression flitting across his face.
‘Are you alright?’
Merlin waves him off. ‘I’m fine. It’s nothing to worry about.’ As she recalls, she had something like this with Tomas—her mother called it a false labour, to prepare her for the real thing, which Merlin thought was awfully rude of her body. Labour was pain enough…she thinks. Not everything has come back to her, memory-wise, but what she does remember was absolute agony.
It’s not quite the same, Merlin notes, however, keeping that fact in the back of her mind. She’s got two months to go—just enough time for a babe to survive if she’s pressed into early childbirth. Arthur isn’t the person she should be admitting these things to, in any case, if there is something wrong. It’s his job to get Gaius, she thinks with a touch of amusement, smiling briefly.
‘I’ll read this later,’ Morgana says, referring to her letter. Like Arthur, she’s watching Merlin in concern and the witch sighs exasperatedly.
‘I’m fine—really,’ she says, emphatic. The concern only multiplies. She puts up a hand. ‘I swear, if there’s really something going on, I’ll tell you. This is normal. You can ask any woman with children.’
Arthur looks distressed. ‘Why is pain normal? That can’t be right.’ Morgana’s gaze switches to Arthur, then, changing side.
‘Pain is a constant. You’d know that, if you were a woman.’
Merlin snickers when he blanches. ‘Don’t,’ he says, clearly already having had some kind of conversation with Morgana about monthly bleeding that has scarred him for life. Merlin can remember Will’s horrified expression when she told him her cramps usually felt worse than being kicked by a horse.
Using her bedside pitcher to wash her mouth out, Merlin watches her two friends banter and tease each other for a short while, before finally kicking them out of her room. With the nausea passed—with the source of her distress on the other side of the castle—Merlin feels a certain invigoration, ignoring the faint sense of doom in the back of her mind as she summons herself a hot bath.
Laying back in the water, Merlin closes her eyes, relaxing her muscles. It soothes the stinging sensation, which turns into a deep, almost pressing ache in her lower back. Without her permission, Merlin grasps tightly to the edge of the bath in reaction to a ripple of pain through her stomach. She opens her eyes with a groan, which almost immediately turns into a hitched breath, caught between her lungs and her throat.
'No, no, no-'
The bathwater is red.
Lisbet has been working at Camelot since she was a tot, scrambling after her mother in the laundry rooms to fetch soaps and scrubbers, before moving on to become a scullery maid in her own right and then one of the general serving staff. For new workers, it was a steep learning curve, but Lisbet had spent her whole life beneath the feet of nobles and already knew the standards expected by King Uther’s Steward. She knows Camelot better than the back of her hand. Lisbet knows the shadowy world of Camelot’s working staff better than anyone currently in employment, except perhaps Cook and Julius himself—probably one of the reasons Julius recruited her to his network in the first place.
One of the things Julius has her doing is looking after Merlin, of course. So when she stumbles, pale-faced, down the corridor towards the infirmary, Lisbet swoops over to her side immediately and loops an arm around her back.
‘Merlin, what’s wrong?’ she asks, blanching at the answer. In no time at all, she leads the labouring mistress to Gaius and only waits until Hunith has taken her daughter’s hand before scarpering.
Julius needs to know Merlin can’t be his alibi.
Guardsmen saw them walk the halls and it’s only by chance that she sees Uther heading her way through a corner window, guards and knights at his back. Lisbet has to make the choice whether to stall them and risk the king’s wrath or avoid him and let someone else prevent Uther from reaching the infirmary.
It’s a difficult choice, but she makes it.
‘-and Sir Harlon, find Arthur and confine him to his rooms until we know more of the situation-’ she hears him order from behind a closed door, eyes closed as heavy footsteps and clanking armour passes her by. Lisbet sends a mental apology to the gods for abandoning her friend, but Julius has to be told. When she judges the distance to be long enough, the maid exits the small storage room and legs it away.
Where would he be? Lisbet thought furiously, knowing intellectually that it won’t take too long for people to guess that Merlin’s birthing the royal bastard, but also being aware that Merlin already has a history of false trips to the infirmary. And that’s not to say that Julius would miraculously hear about it, either, before it was too late.
As luck would have it, however, Lisbet finds him almost immediately, heading towards the west wing. Practically jumping him, Lisbet grasps his elbow and hauls the taller man into a shadowy corner.
‘Merlin’s in labour,’ she tells him without pause. They meet eyes and she can see the calculation there before he nods.
‘I have a lady to see,’ he tells her, saying, ‘Go spread a rumour that you saw me having a liaison with the Lady Elaine.’
Lisbet’s gasp was near-silent, but it was obvious enough that Julius’ eyes twinkled in amusement. He sent her on her way with a brief push and Lisbet moved on automatic, heading to the kitchens. She lets her shock affect her in a most unseemly fashion, attracting attention the moment she enters the hub of servant life.
Cook is the first to pry. ‘What’s up with you, girlie?’
‘Uh,’ Lisbet says, raising two shaky fingers and pressing down the first. ‘Merlin is having her baby and-’ she puts down the second ‘-I think Julius and the Princess Elaine are having an affair.’
There is instant guwaff and Lisbet is forced to recount her journey with Merlin to the infirmary, and then make up a story of seeing Princess Elaine dragging the king’s manservant into an abandoned room in the west wing. It only takes one recounting and a few miscellaneous details, like Julius’ hand on Elaine’s chest and a toothy grin like Morgana’s, before Lisbet is able to fade into the background of the raucous gossip.
Then the first scream is heard.
On the Isle of the Blessed, a priestess prays to the Triple Goddess for protection, burning a pale curl of blonde tied in twine in blue flame.
‘May your child’s son watch over her daughter,’ murmurs Nimueh, before spilling blood into the bowl before her. ‘May my plea be heard, so that the brother can grow as he did not in life and be guardian to the sister yet to be born. May their rite be sanctified, to show him the way. Born of death, to guard the living…’
The blood twists and turns, creating a three spiralling legs of red. The ashes of hair and twine drop into the miasma, along with a miasma of magic and a dozen blue flowers that grew overnight and never died.
‘Son of Emrys, rise.’
The evening passes bleakly. Gwen keeps company with a frantic Morgana in her rooms, barricaded in by Uther and then let go by Arthur, who nevertheless tells them to stay put. It would not be the first time a royal in Albion had been assassinated during a birth, after all, and Arthur does not want either of his sisters to be hurt in the interim.
Elaine left with Julius some hours ago to scheme, however, though the type of scheme was telling in its type from the way Julius oh-so-brazenly curled his arm through Elaine’s. Gwen has to wonder what the man is doing, never having liked him overmuch, though she knows Merlin and he are friends.
Merlin. Oh, how Gwen wishes she could be with her friend. They can hear her screams throughout the castle and Morgana, for all she paces and frets, refuses to let go of the glowing sidhe staff, whose crystal glows with an omnipresent power.
‘The ground is shaking,’ her lady informs her. It dawns on Gwen that perhaps it isn’t the best idea to put the most powerful sorcerer in Albion through the pain of childbirth.
‘She’ll be alright, though?’
‘Women have been having babies for as long as there have been humans,’ Morgana scoffs, but her eyes are bright and wet. Gwen stands and reaches to enfold her in a hug, nose pressing into her neck. Morgana practically collapses into her embrace, the sidhe staff knocking against her spine as Morgana hugs her back.
What did you dream? Gwen wants to question her—but she is too afraid of the answer to ask.
Uther scowls at the contract on his desk.
Merlin Emrys Ambrosius
Was she a bastard? A daughter of a runaway? Uther purged the House of Ambrose from existence the best he could, but even now he is the one propagating its return. He loves his unborn child—loves the idea of his dead son more, coupled with memories of freedom to do as he wished and love in the eyes of his eldest, now absent—but they will be the blood of the Dragonlords of old. If he does not treat them well, it may be his downfall or even Arthur’s, in days to come.
He lifts the parchment up to the nearby candle, one of the only ones illuminating his quarters that eve. Julius had vanished and the one time he summoned him via a guard, said guard paled under his helm and stuttered out something about Elaine borrowing him. Uther huffs at the thought, slamming the unburnt parchment back down on his desk. Magic, he thinks with a curl to his lip.
The parchment is stowed away in his drawer when a knock comes from his door. When allowed to enter, Aredian is as straight-backed and dour as usual, something Uther appreciates in such precarious times. Sometimes, even a king needs a proverbial whipping for ignoring issues such as these.
‘Your Majesty,’ Aredian bowed perfunctorily, seating himself at a gesture from Uther. A moment of silence passes, the faint echo of his mistress’ scream reaching them both. Aredian comments, ‘You are not at the birth.’
Uther smiles wanly. ‘I went. I was summarily banished by my son, who even now guards the door to the infirmary against me. He and Merlin are…close.’
‘Is it possible he is enchanted?’
Uther thought on it, eyes flickering to his drawer. Merlin indisputably has magical blood, but if she had the power to wield it, he believes she would have used it years ago to escape him. ‘No.’ The king sighs, leaning back in his chair.
‘Aredian, I will be honest with you. Magic may be running rampant in my kingdom, but it is due to my own mistakes that I have not been able to pay attention.’
‘I saw,’ says the Witchfinder, blunt and truthful as ever.
‘Yes.’
Another few moments of silence pass, before Uther looks away, across his quarters. He sees the bed on which Arthur was conceived upon, which slept his many mistresses—Merlin only one amongst them—and even now was perfectly made. He can recognise Julius’ handiwork there, as he can in the way his fireplace is organised and how the bronze bowls of seasonal fruits are perfectly placed so he only has to reach the barest amount.
Truly a loyal manservant, Uther thinks, before seeing a shadow cross his desk from behind. For a moment, he thinks it a cloud, but then the window opens at his back and a bright yellow spark traverses the space between it and the Witchfinder, who is hit summarily in the face.
MAGIC! Uther makes to stand, reaching for his sword, but then he feels cool steel slide into the skin of his throat, an arm wrapping around his shoulders from behind. Breath catching, he stills out of instinct, but he knows the damage is done, feeling blood run down the back of his gullet, the pain hitting a moment later.
He is sat back down in his seat, staring out onto the familiar gloom of his rooms. The steel slips from his neck and the blood spurts out across his brocade jacket onto the stone floor below.
The assassin walks around the desk towards Aredian and for a moment, Uther thinks he must be dreaming. For why else would he see Julius, his most servile companion? Why would he see a gleaming orange amulet around his neck, which he raises in front of the Witchfinder’s eyes in a clear method of enchantment?
‘You will forget everything before I appeared in your line of sight tonight through the window. You will remember everything as I tell you now: you spoke with the king and were given free reign to roam through his quarters. You stood behind him as he told you your pay would be cut to zero if you did not produce results before the birth of his bastard and took your knife from your belt to stab him in the left side of his neck. When he died, you disposed of the knife inside the chimney, knowing there was no way to hide a bloody dagger on your person. Do that now. You will then walk calmly out of his quarters, making sure the guards don’t see within, then silently return to your rooms.’
Even as the world begins to darken and his hearing fades, Uther watches as Aredian takes the knife, kings-blood dripping down the blade onto his coat sleeve. The Witchfinder does exactly as Julius instructs, though Uther feels the barest spark of hope in his chest that Aredian’s will shall prevail over this dark and most evil of magicks.
He feels woozy. His hand shakes as he tries to write using his own blood, to spell out J, but his manservant is nothing if not observant. He returns to Uther’s side to take his weakening hand and even as he finally dies, Uther knows that the hopeful J has been changed.
The letter W, written in blood, is the last thing he sees.
On the Isle of the Blessed, the ghost of Tomas Pendragon smiles.
When her daughter is born, Merlin is far from dissociation. Her mother is by her side, her father guarding the door with Arthur and their loyal knights, and she knows, deep in her soul, that Uther can no longer reach her. So, her mind is clear and bright, pain the only thing threatening to take her sanity that eve, and even that fades as the birth ends and the last flesh leaves her body.
‘Oh Merlin, she’s beautiful.’ Hunith sobs as Gaius washes the girl in a basin of warm water, towelling her off in fresh linens. Merlin feels dizzy with relief—and also blood loss—but a breathless laugh escapes her, anyway. She has a daughter.
‘Malory.’
Hunith’s red eyes crinkle. ‘Like your aunt?’ Merlin nods, before accepting the writhing, mewling bundle from her great-uncle. Gaius is more than a little sniffly himself, but then Merlin looks at Malory’s tiny face and becomes enraptured with the deep pink of her skin and the dark curl of her hair, just like Balinor’s. Her arms wave, jerking, and Merlin lets out a gusty breath that is followed by a billowing heat, magic emanating from baby Malory in waves. Merlin gasps.
‘She’s like me!’ Reaching out with her own magic, she feels the tiny star burning in her daughter’s chest, hearing the faint brush of Kilgharrah’s voice in her ear—his whispered congratulations echoing from the depths of Camelot’s dungeons—before Malory whines louder than before.
The door to the infirmary opens to admit Arthur and Balinor. Behind them, Merlin glimpses Leon, craning around their broad shoulders to get a peek, but the door closes seconds later, and she remembers she kiss she stole from him.
Malory is more important right now, she reminds herself. Her nightdress is soaked, but with the help of her mother, she manages to get the collar down for Malory’s first feed, something she missed out on with Tomas. Her chest is heavy with milk and Merlin is eager to be unburdened by the weight of it all, at least for a while.
‘Merlin…’ Arthur is full of awe and she wants to tease him for the tears he wipes from his eyes, kneeling at her feet, but she’s too exhausted for that. Her father is silent, though his eyes glisten, too. Tears seem to be the theme of the night.
‘Her name’s Malory. Malory Ambrosius of House Pendragon,’ she mumbles, eyes forcibly dragging themselves back to the baby at her breast. Still, Merlin forces herself to at least glance at her father, who lets out a broken sob.
‘A good name!’ He gasps, ‘I am so very proud of you.’
Merlin lets out a strained laugh again, desperately wanting to sleep, but not wanting to let her baby go. Her thoughts spiral back to Tomas, who she never held, never fed, never even named until she was pressed. What would he have looked like as a baby? She can almost picture him in front of her as a man grown, with a smile like Arthur’s but a face like her mother’s, wavy brown hair to his chin and gold flashing across his pale green eyes.
I don’t blame you, the ghost mouths. Merlin wishes it was real, eyes fluttering shut as Hunith gathers the calmed newborn from her faltering grasp. A hand brushes over her hairline, telling her to sleep, and Merlin does, lucidity failing her as Tomas stands guard, an invisible spectre.
He looks content.
Morgana had first discussed the matter with Nimueh during their lessons, questioning all there was to magic. Tomas had come up, of course, whether he could be resurrected or not and likewise schemes. It had been Nimueh’s idea for Morgana to help summon his soul to guard their as-of-yet unborn sibling, though it had to be done in secret, lest Nimueh’s fellow priestesses get word.
‘The Cup of Life exchanges a life for a life, but souls are another matter entirely,’ Nimueh had explained. ‘It can be done.’
And so, they summon him on the night of Malory’s birth.
‘This is…’ Gwen seems unable to find the words, before her hand slips off the pink stone, once enchanted by Cornelius Sigan to ward a child’s crib from tipping. Morgana has long since replaced that enchantment, using it as a focus instead for Tomas’ spirit. Without touching the stone, however, Gwen loses sight of the boy and she quickly presses her fingers to the smooth edges once more.
‘Nimueh says you have powers that reflect what you might have had in life,’ Morgana says to him, getting a silent nod. From the golden sheen to his eyes, Morgana guesses that Merlin’s son might have had the capacity to do many powerful and mighty things with magic, had he lived. She has a fleeting thought then, that she has to ask, tentative though it may be. ‘Do you consider me your sister?’
Tomas’ smile has teeth, eyes glittering like what she says is a great joke. He nods, nevertheless, before looking far through the castle walls, presumably to his charge. Morgana has already met her little sister, if only briefly before Gaius shooed everybody out, the only exception being Hunith. To think, she muses, the moon only rose a few hours ago.
‘I’ll present it to her in a belt of sorts,’ Morgana promises him, pulling herself together. ‘You can’t exactly guard her while fighting the tether all the time. You have to remember though, that Uther is dangerous—you can’t let him get anywhere near her, if you have the power.’
Her brother looks at her in confusion then, frowning. Morgana swallows nervously, not having realised Tomas might not know their father was a danger, only for the tower bells to start ringing in alarm. Morgana looks to Gwen in surprise, but her old friend is already looking at her own late father’s namesake.
‘Go to them.’
Tomas nods stiffly, then disperses into a cloud of silver, rushing through the air as if the very wind guides him. Morgana—tired, but ready for any new crap coming their way—readies herself, then goes to her door, facing the guards waiting there.
‘What’s going on?’
They exchange a look. ‘We don’t know, princess.’
‘Well, that’s no help—go find out,’ she orders the one on the left. They bow, about to leave, when a servant comes careening around the corner at top speed. When she sees them, her eyes widen in shock, before she blurts out-
‘The King is dead!’
‘…what?’ Morgana asks in shock. The servant—Ceila, she recognises, after a moment adjusting to the low light—puts a hand to her chest, stuttering.
‘The King is dead, Your Highness! The guards are being gathered and I was to tend to the fires and I saw him, Your Highness, I saw him! All covered in blood and- and- his neck-’ She gestures violently, babbling frantically.
Morgana stands there in the corridor watching her break down, feeling very far away, Gwen pushing past her to tend to poor Ceila, sitting her down by the wall and ordering one guard to confirm the news, while ordering the other to seek Elaine, who is missing. What if they get her, too? Morgana thought, flinging her mind out and calling for her sister—ELAINE? ELAINE, WHERE ARE YOU?
-a flash of a room crosses her vision, of Elaine in her rucked-up nightdress, messing up her hair even as Julius scrubs red from the seat of his trousers, bloodying the water-
Staggering back, Morgana presses a hand to her mouth. O sister, what have you done? What has Julius done? Gwen soon leads her into her room again, remarkably calm for how much frenetic energy Morgana can see in the seat of her gaze.
‘My father is dead,’ she says to her oldest and dearest of friends, who knows that Morgana hates him with all her heart. It is not the same as when Tom died. Gwen loved her father. ‘He’s dead, Gwen…’
‘Sleep. Try not to dream,’ she instructs, barring their door and tucking her under the covers. Morgana feels like she’s underwater, wonders if this is how Merlin felt every time something new decided to tear her life apart.
…Morgana, what’s wrong?
The princess shuts her eyes at Merlin’s voice in her mind. Oh, Merlin! Merlin, he’s dead, the king is dead! My father, Arthur’s father, Tomas and Malory’s father, he’s dead, Merlin.
He’s gone.
Merlin stares at the veritable gift laying in the cradle by her bed. A gift with her family name and her family hair, whose magic is already blooming like the most glorious of flowers. A princess in her own right and the last child Merlin decides she’ll ever birth: Malory Ambrosius—daughter of Merlin Emrys and Uther Pendragon.
He’s dead, she thinks, leaning across to kiss her daughter’s forehead, hand brushing her soft cheek. He won’t ever touch you or call you his. You’re mine. Forever. Don’t fret, baby. Mama will keep you safe.
There will be more to do in the following days, she knows, but those burdens aren’t hers and Merlin will gladly stand aside as ‘justice’ is served. Knowing Julius, he’ll blame the Witchfinder, taking out two threats in one fell swoop—to which, Merlin can’t exactly say she truly disagrees with the idea—though she’s curious as to how he set the whole endeavour up and who became his alibi, in the end. That was supposed to be her job, after all. The alibi.
It’s hard to imagine what her true life would have been like in Camelot if Uther hadn’t assigned her to his bed, but Merlin can’t imagine it would be anything less fraught with danger, considering how many misadventures she and hers went through to get to this point. Whether it would have had a happy ending in that life will always be something she’ll think about, the what if’s bubbling to life inside her mind in every second moment—but here and now, in the silence of her quarters only broken by the gentle, whistling breath of her daughter, Merlin can’t imagine anything else.
‘I love you so much,’ she says, looking over to the wall where Tomas stands. Her son doesn’t reply—Merlin doesn’t think he can—but he puts his hand to his heart, as if to accept all the love she can give. Merlin can’t apologise, the words sticking in her throat, knowing that she wouldn’t change what happened, but she can copy his gesture before blowing him a kiss. Tomas smiles. It’s all he can do.
Malory sleeps on in her cradle, blissfully ignorant to the darkness of the world, and Merlin wishes she could keep it from her forever, though she knows its impossible. But she can do her best to protect her as long as she’s able and accord their family all the love and respect they deserve. Arthur will need her in the following months, the Once and Future King finally coming into his own, but for now, Merlin can focus on her little Malory.
It sounds like a plan.
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‘Merlin…’
‘Oh, come on!’ Merlin groans. ‘What the hell is going on now, Kilgharrah?’
The old dragon laughs, then tells her. The sorceress sighs, looking back at her baby in fond disgruntlement.
‘What I wouldn’t do for a day off. I’ll deal with it tomorrow—time for Mummy to sleep away the-’ she glances out the window, sighing once more ‘-few hours till dawn. Wish me luck.’
Getting under her covers, Merlin shuts her eyes, immediately on the precipice of sleep…until Malory whimpers. Then cries out. Then begins to bawl her eyes out for her poor, poor mother.
‘Alright, alright—I’m coming, Mally-mine. Mummy’s coming…’
|
They were doing this, they were actually doing this. Jihoon couldn’t believe they hadn’t learned their lesson from the last time. Sure, it had been fun, a bonding experience or whatever Seungcheol liked to call it. But honestly, Jihoon thought some things were best left untold, and naked best bodies left unseen.
Still, they were there already, with the coffee table was pushed aside and the couch pushed back as well to leave the rug free for sitting. Some pillows were scattered around and others placed nicely on a half circle, a contrast that happened when you put Jisoo and Chan to do the same task. There were about seven bags of tortilla chips in the middle of the oddly shaped circle, yet no dip. A result of putting Hansol in charge of food. He was a well intented kid, but often forgetful.
“Are we doing this or not?” Jihoon asked as he plopped down on one of the cushions. Junhui joined his side quickly, with a much giddier expression. If they were truly going through with this stupid idea, he was intent on drinking.
“I thought you didn’t wanna do this.” Seungcheol pointed out with a smirk, watching as his friend shrugged grumpily.
“I don’t. Which is why I wanna get it over with already.” The shorter reasoned, sticking his hands into the grey hoodie that some would clame was many sizes too big. Jihoon didn’t care, he thought it was comfortable.
“Alright, who’s drinking what?” Jeonghan asked as he kneeled down on one of the pillows, Jisoo and Seungcheol joining him by his sides.
“Since when are you the drinking expert?” Mingyu raised a brow, bringing in the glasses and a generous amount of paper towels along with Minghao and Seokmin.
“If it wasn’t for me you’d probably be drinking gas station beer.” Jeonghan accused, and the rest soon joined them as well.
Soonyoung took the spot next to the shorter hacker, while Wonwoo sat next to Jun. Following him was Mingyu, Minghao and Seokmin, with Seungkwan sitting between the latter and Hansol. Chan took the space between his brother and Soonyoung, and Jihoon was sure the youngest would regret that decision after a few drinks.
“Says the guy who once mixed kool-aid and vodka.” Seungcheol teased with a smirk while they all leaned in to get the glasses.
“Excuse me, that is a legit high end drink in France.” The second oldest argued, though even that lie was a bit too ridiculous to buy.
“Do they even have kool-aid in France?” Seokmin raised a brow, looking genuinely curious.
“Well, the french equivalent.” Jeonghan concluded with a wave, finally taking all the drinks out of the bags. Wonwoo did the same with the ones he carried, and Jihoon was honestly afraid to ask how much they spent on it, counting the number of bottles he saw.
“Can I have the beer?” Chan asked, making Jihoon wonder if he was simply being polite or asking Seungcheol for permission. Probably both.
His older brother handed him a long can, which was a bit of a surprise. “Alright, but I’m counting them.” That was more like him.
“You know I’m 20, right?” The younger frowned, opening the can.
“Yet you’re still my younger brother, suck it up.” Seungcheol snickered, ruffling the boy’s hair and laughing when he tried to dodge him. Maybe Jihoon had been wrong, because it looked like Chan was already regretting his seating choice.
“Water for my dearest Shua.” Jeonghan smirked, handing him a bottle of still water.
“Will you ever let that go?” Jisoo complained with a disappointed frown, referring to an old video he clearly regretted making.
“Oh, darling, it’s like you don’t even know me.” The older grinned with an affectionate tap to the other’s cheek.
“I’ll take that.” Seungkwan announced, stealing his friend’s water. “I got a test tomorrow and the last thing I need is a hangover.”
“Are we doing shots?” Soonyoung asked, eyes glinting and excited.
“Shots!” Hansol cheered, raising his hands.
“We do have vodka.” Wonwoo reasoned, raising one of the many bottles. “And tequila.” Oh god, Jihoon was regretting this already.
“Eh, why not?” The hacker resigned, pushing his hair back. “It’s not like this night won’t be a disaster anyway.”
“That’s the spirit!” Soonyoung exclaimed, patting Jihoon on the back a bit too strongly. “Who’s having shots?” A bit over half of them raised their hands, while the others decided to go with something more mellow to start with.
“I’ll have two shots!” Junhui announced with a bright smile, the rest of them staring at him oddly. “Get it? Two shots?” He giggled, thinking too highly of his own joke. The others simply groaned though, accustomed yet still not amused by the other’s sense of humor.
“Hyung!” Seungkwan whined with a pout. “You shouldn’t joke about that!” Junhui was too busy laughing at his own joke however, and despite the silence, Jihoon could see the grin threatening to break Seungcheol’s features.
“Can we at least leave the lame jokes for when I’m drunk?” The short hacker complained, getting the shot glass that was handed to him.
“Alright, let’s make a toast!” The leader announced, raising his can of beer. “To a night we’ll always remember!”
“Though we’ll probably forget.” Jeonghan added with a smug grin, getting a glare in return.
“Jeonghan!” Seungcheol reprimanded, though they all knew that never worked.
“To us!” Seokmin suggested with a bright grin, raising his glass as well.
“To us!” They all cheered before taking their first generous gulp. This was going to be one long night.
——
“Never have I ever…” Hansol stretched out the last syllable, swaying a bit from side to side. Jun could tell he was deep in thought or he had just forgotten what he was going to ask. “Okay, never have I ever slept on the kitchen counter.”
“Our kitchen counter or any kitchen counter?” Jeonghan asked to clarify, though Jun wondered if that truly made any difference.
“Any kitchen counter.” With Hansol’s answer, both Jeonghan and Jihoon took a shot of vodka. Well, a half shot, since they all agreed that game would get them wasted far too quickly. Perhaps not Jeonghan, who was apparently still sober after five shots. Or maybe he was just a great actor, they really couldn’t tell.
“Seriously? Even the floor is more comfortable.” Wonwoo pointed out, raising a brow.
“You think too small, dear friend.” Jeonghan hummed, shaking his head. “Anyone would choose the floor. Only avid sleepers would take the challenge of the counter.”
“Is that really a thing?” Jun blinked, looking down at Jihoon. The shorter only snorted though, which didn’t exactly answer his question.
“Please don’t try to sleep on the counter.” Minghao quickly shot down the idea with a frown. “You’ll either break it or fall off of it. Or both.”
Junhui gasped, honestly offended, though he couldn’t come up with a comeback. Damn alcohol. “Fine.” The older frowned. “Never have I ever started a childhood gang when I was ten and made up my own street name.”
“Traitor.” Minghao frowned, though Jun could only smirk smugly as his friend took a gulp of beer.
“Wait, what street name?” Hansol quickly asked with a chuckle playing in his tone.
“Oh,” Junhui grinned even more, watching as Minghao tried to stop him with the most threatening glare he could muster.
“Don’t you dare.” The younger even added, though it didn’t work.
“Thughao.” Junhui pronounced each syllable with a proud smile, followed by a choir of laughters and one single groan from the victim.
“Thughao? Seriously?” Mingyu leaned forward as he clutched his stomach in laughter, and even a shove from his friend didn’t shut him up. Junhui couldn’t help laughing himself, incredibly amused by the flush on Minghao’s cheeks.
“I was ten, okay?” Minghao complained grumpily. “I’m sure you did stupid shit when you were ten.”
“He still does stupid shit.” Wonwoo provided with a chuckle, resulting in a now also grumpy Mingyu. They were the only two with a sour mood, though.
“That reminds me,” Mingyu cleared his throat, “Never have I ever lied about having allergies to get out of eating things I don’t like.”
Junhui blinked a couple of times, not entirely sure whom that was directed to. It was by his side though that Wonwoo sighed, filling his glass up to half before gulping down the liquid. “You promised not to tell.” Wonwoo complained.
“Technically, I didn’t tell. You’re the one admitting it.” Mingyu pointed out with a half smirk, though the older looked less then amused by his argument.
“Wait,” Jun frowned, looking at the boy beside him as he finally connected the dots in his mind. “You mean you’re not allergic to seafood?”
“No, he’s just really picky about it.” Mingyu explained, and by the roll of his eyes he knew it for quite a while now.
Junhui felt betrayed, utterly devastated. First, because Wonwoo kept such a secret from him. They were friends, good friends, they shouldn’t hide those kinds of things. Second, Junhui really liked sea food.
“Do you know how many times I kept them from buying fish ‘cause you’re allergic!?” Jun whined, head dropping to the side. “All the shrimp we could’ve head, all the haddock…”
“Yah, I never kept you from eating it.” Wonwoo complained, shoving the other slightly.
“But we still didn’t buy it cause he thought you’d get a reaction just from being near it.” Seungcheol pointed out as he gestured to him. Alright, perhaps Junhui had been a little bit overprotective, but he still blamed Wonwoo.
“Don’t worry Junnie, I’ll make us some fried fish tomorrow.” Mingyu offered, and suddenly Junhui already felt so much better. And it probably showed in his grin and straight posture.
“My turn!” Seungkwan announced. Yes, he was still allowed to play even if he wasn’t exactly drinking. After all, it was a group party. “Never have I ever lied about not understanding a language just to avoid a conversation.”
At that, Hansol, Minghao and Jeonghan took a drink. Junhui was surprised Jisoo didn’t, though he reasoned the older was probably too nice for that. Jun himself didn’t take another shot because most of the time he truly tried to understand people as much as he could. Sometimes inconveniently so.
“What?” Hansol questioned after being faced by Seungkwan’s judging stare. “People judge me by my looks all the time, I might as well get something out of it. Jeonghan-hyung is the weird one, he’s not even a foreigner.” The younger accused.
“Okay, in my defense,” Jeonghan raised his hand after drinking. “Any accusation involving lies I have 70% more of a chance of being guilty of it.”
“How is that our fault?” The leader pointed out with a smirk.
“It’s not. But if you want the alcohol to last longer I suggest you choose wisely.” Jeonghan smirked in return, patting the eldest’s cheek smugly.
“Lies or not, there’s not a lot you haven’t done, Han.” Jisoo reasoned. “I mean, judging by he current results.” Junhui wasn’t keeping count, but he did notice the older drank quite a few rounds.
“Fine then, I got one.” Jeonghan wet his lips, crossing his arms. “Never have I ever killed someone. See? There’s plenty I haven’t done.”
Shit. Junhui was sure that was a joke, but he found himself meeting Minghao’s eyes anyway. Did it count? Without realizing, Junhui reached for the bottle before him. He filled his own small glass before offering the bottle to his younger friend. The boy took it with a small nod, and he waited for Minghao to pour his drink before they both downed it together.
The sound of the liquid running down his throat was louder than anything in that living room, and even if he refused to look up from his glass, he could feel the stares on them. He could even hear their questions, wondering how that had even happened.
“Shit, I’m so sorry.” Jeonghan breathed out, and finally Jun was able to look up. Instead of the judging stares he expected, he was met with warm ones.
“Don’t be, you didn’t know.” Minghao reasoned, waving him off. “It’s fine. Like, it sucks, but it’s fine.”
“Were you together…?” The youngest asked with a confused frown. Junhui knew he was already trying to understand what happened, Chan was a smart kid after all.
“No no. It was just a rite of passage kind of thing.” Junhui explained, sort of. He didn’t like going into the details. “It’s the last test before they send you off to work.”
“It’s usually people they have beef with. Snitches or enemies or something like that.” Minghao added, though honestly it didn’t make it any better.
“Wait, but weren’t you like, teens?” Jisoo asked, a frown adorning his usual soft eyes as well. Junhui felt a bit guilty, being responsible for that frown far too many times these last few weeks.
“Didn’t really stop them.” Minghao snickered, shrugging. “Now you know why we’re all fucked up.”
“Excuse me, I’m much less fucked up then you.” Junhui complained, trying to lighten the mood. He knew the others probably wanted to know more, to ask more, but Jun wasn’t sure he was drunk enough for that yet.
“Oh yeah, says the guy who’d forgive a bee for stinging him.” Minghao’s words were a bit slurred as he pointed a finger at him.
“Bees are innocent! They make honey and sex up flowers!” Junhui argued, though unfortunately it sounded more like a whine.
“Okay, no, gross. Don’t talk about bee sex.” Jihoon reprimanded with his face scrunched up in disgust, but Jun had a feeling he was helping them steer the conversation into something knew. The taller couldn’t convey how thankful he was for that.
“Fine, then I’ll retract my statement and say something else.” Jeonghan decided, flipping his hair back. “Never have I ever stole a dear friend’s smartphone, thought I lost it, and bought a new one to replace it thinking he wouldn’t even notice the difference.”
“You knew?!” Soonyoung let out loudly, grasping his own chest.
“Of course I knew. I know everything that goes on in this apartment, Kwon Soonyoung.” Jeonghan pointed out with both pride and spite, sounding as scary as he did whenever he went on a mission. “Especially when it involves my things.”
“But I was careful! And– Wait, what do you mean ‘thought I lost it’?” Soonyoung frowned for a second, only getting a mischievous smirk as an answer. The thief then gasped loudly, clenching his chest once again. “Hyung!”
“You may be a thief, but I told you, I know everything that goes on around here.” Jeonghan grinned smugly.
“But I bought you a new one! I was saving up for a boat!” Soonyoung whined, shoulders slumping. “Why would you even need two phones?”
“Why would you need a boat?” Chan asked with a perplexed stare, though the thief paid him no mind.
“I don’t. That’s why I sold it.” Jeonghan giggled, actually giggled, and Junhui couldn’t help laughing at his friend’s misery as well.
“But, but–!” Soonyoung gaped, trying to come up with words without much success. “You’re evil.” He settled for that, crossing his arms and pouting.
“I was only doing a good job as a mother and teaching you a lesson.” Jeonghan boasted, nudging his chin at the younger. “Now drink up, Soonyoungie.”
——
“And with that I conclude my argument that Lee Taemin is the best dancer this country has seen in ten years.” Soonyoung announced, theatrically putting down his glass and almost smashing it in the process.
“Bravo!” Seokmin clapped as loudly as he spoke, looking genuinely impressed.
“That’s great hyung, but,” Chan interrupted, now in his second can of beer. He was impressed Seungcheol hadn’t had a complain about that yet, though he thought it could be because of the level of alcohol in his blood. He wouldn’t risk asking, of course. “My question was why didn’t we get more chips?”
Because three hours in all the food had ended, and Hansol had already tipped back every bag for any crumbs. The alcohol, however, was still enough to get a baby elephant wasted.
“How the fuck do you manage to put Taemin in every conversation?” Jihoon grumbled, nudging his friend though almost falling onto him from the action.
“Blasphemy!” Soonyoung gasped, pushing Jihoon off and looking at Jisoo for help. “Hyung, tell him!”
“I don’t think that counts as blasphemy.” The older frowned, glancing at Jeonghan for reassurance. The other just snickered though, eyes both fond and amused as he ruffled the boy’s hair.
“Yeah, doesn’t it need to involve god to count as blasphemy?” Reasoned Seungkwan, who was now on his second water bottle.
“Ha!” Soonyoung scoffed, “Taemin is a dance god, so joke’s on you!” He insisted, and Chan wondered if they should maybe worry about his hyung’s obsession.
“Hansolie was in charge of the food, ask him.” Jeonghan provided through the useless conversation, while said boy had seemed to be caught in the midst of some mind opening epiphany. Chan knew better though, the big eyes and confused expression were Vernon’s go-to look for whenever someone called his name.
“Ask me what?” The American boy questioned, clearly not keeping up with them.
“Why you didn’t get more food.” Wonwoo helpfully informed him, while nudging his glass at him for some reason. He tried to act sober, but the youngest could see his hyung was already more on the tipsy side than not. And it was definitely amusing.
“But stores are closed now!” Hansol complained with a pout, looking back at the older.
“I didn’t mean–“ Chan tried to point out, but Mingyu was already cutting in.
“The convenience store is open.” The taller reminded them.
“It’s 1 AM, you’re not going to the convenience store.” Minghao quickly reprimanded, with a grumpy stare and a thick accent.
“Why not?” Mingyu whined, nudging the other and almost shoving him onto Seokmin. The older took that as a reason to wrap his arms around the Chinese boy, who didn’t seem to object.
“Because it’s one in the morning and you’re scared of your own fucking shadow you idiot.” Minghao pointed out, to which Mingyu only stuck his tongue out.
“No one’s going anywhere.” Seungcheol waved his hand around as if his word was the law. In some cases, Chan knew it was, but most of the time it didn’t bother him.
Sure, it annoyed the hell out of him when Seungcheol decided to be overprotective and stubborn, but at the end of the day he was a good brother, and a good leader, so Chan couldn’t complain much. Despite the popular bickering brothers trope, Seungcheol and him got along pretty well.
“What I want to know,” Seungkwan announced, placing a hand on his chest. “Is why can’t we continue with our game?”
Oh yeah, the game. Chan had genuinely forgotten. It was a superlatives game, or something like that, he called it. Something silly, just deciding who was the ‘most’ on random things. It was dumb, but it did provide them with a lot of laughs, though that was also related to how much they had already drank.
So far, they had decided Hansol was the messiest member, ramen was Mingyu’s best food (with a lot of fighting on that subject), and Soonyoung’s feet were the stinkiest. The latter was a conclusion Chan was not happy to act as a judge for. Oh, and apparently, Lee Taemin was Korea’s best dancer, even if that hadn’t even been a topic for discussion in the first place.
“Oh, oh!” Jun raised his hand, the excitement showing in the way he almost bounced on his pillow. “Who’s the coolest hyung?”
“Oooh!” Seokmin let out excitedly, Soonyoung and Seungkwan joining in.
“If you gotta ask is clearly not you.” Wonwoo reasoned, ignoring his friend’s frown.
“Well, neither is you, mister grumpy emo eyeliner.” Jun pointed out childishly.
“Did you tell everyone!?” Wonwoo complained to Mingyu who only blinked a couple of times.
“I didn’t do anything!” He whined once again. Mingyu was one that in spite of how much he drank, he continued as whiny as always. And perhaps a bit poutier. Chan, however, did spot Jihoon barely containing a smirk, and he was certain the hacker was the one to blame.
“Shouldn’t we ask Chan that?” Hansol suggested, and suddenly the youngest felt all eyes on him.
“What?” He blinked, now finding himself not exactly caught up to the conversation.
“He’s right, you’re the youngest.” His brother reasoned, patting his shoulder. “Everyone’s your hyung, so you’re the most apt to choose.” He explained as if he hadn’t gone through three cans of beer already.
Jeonghan frowned at that though, pulling Seungcheol back. “I see what you’re doing.” He pointed out with sharp eyees before softening them for the youngest. “You can’t choose your brother.”
“Why not?” Seungcheol complained loudly, pulling away from his boyfriend with an scandalized frown.
“Because he looks up to you, you’re his older brother.” Seungkwan pointed out, the only sober voice, though that was sometimes doubtful. “It’d be biased, it’s not fair.”
“That’s not fair!” Seungcheol let out, though his shoulders slumped in a way he knew he’d lose the argument.
“It’s okay, I wouldn’t choose him anyway.” Chan shrugged, blinking at his brother’s gasp.
“Chan!” The look on his brother’s face was of utter betrayal, but the younger could do nothing but laugh.
“I’m sorry! It’s just, you’re cool, don’t get me wrong, but you can be a bit cringe-y. I mean, you’re my brother. But you’re also my brother, you know?” In his head it made sense, though from Seungcheol’s incredulous stare, it didn’t do much for him. “Plus, your dad jokes are awful.”
“Guess that rules out Wonwoo and Jun too.” Minghao pointed out, smirking at both of their annoyed reactions.
“The joke’s on all of you.” Soonyoung claimed, and Chan suddenly felt the weight of his older friend on him. The younger grunted, trying to push him off, though that seemed only like a challengefor Soonyoung to him hold on tighter. “I’m clearly Chan’s favorite. Right Channie? I’m the coolest hyung.”
“Actually–“ Chan attempted, his word muffled against the other’s chest. He finally managed to pull back from his hold a bit, looking over Soonyoung’s shoulders. “I was gonna say Jihoon hyung.”
The shorter seemed quite surprised, lowering his glass as he looked back at the younger. Chan wasn’t kidding, though, he meant it. Truly. “I know we’re not like, super close.” Not that they didn’t get along well. Jihoon was just very introverted sometimes, and so was Chan, therefore the boy had a hard time knowing how the older felt about him. “But I really look up to him. He’s hard working, and he’s so good at his job it’s scary.”
The hacker snickered at that, but he raised his glass nonetheless, meeting Chan’s eyes once again. The boy took the hint and raised his can to the glass as well before both of them took a gulp of their respective drinks.
“I won’t say I’m not heartbroken.” Soonyoung began, pulling away with a sigh. “But that was cute, so I’ll forgive you for that.”
“He’s right, hyung is so cool.” Seokmin sighed almost dreamily. “I wish I was more like hyung.”
“Ew, no, we only need one grumpy guy and we already have two.” Seungkwan shook his head quickly, giving a warning stare at Minghao, who seemed to want to protest.
“But maybe if I was meaner people wouldn’t bother me so much.” The older pouted, shoulders slumping. It was definitely a rare sight, seeing Seokmin so down on himself. Not one Chan particularly liked, either.
“Who’s bothering you?” Jeonghan was quick to ask, his protective vein making itself known.
“No one, there’s just this stupid professor who gets on his tail a lot.” Seungkwan explained, rubbing his friend’s back. “Actually, he’s kind of a dick.”
“He says I’m too happy!” Seokmin wails pitifully. “That I don’t take myself seriously, but I do! I’m super serious! Why can’t I be happy and serious?”
“You can. I don’t know who he is, but that guy is a fucktard.” Minghao put it so eloquently, making Chan snicker.
“What’s a fucktard?” Junhui asked.
“I don’t know, a fuck and a tard put together.” Minghao grumbled, waving them off. Chan was certain that was a lot wrong with that sentence, but he knew that wasn’t the point. Also, if there was anything that night taught him was that he shouldn’t try reasoning with drunk people.
“Who is this guy anyway?” Jeonghan questioned, his tone much lighter yet much more suspicious, for some reason.
“Professor Song.” Seungkwan answered, to which Jisoo let out a knowledgable ‘Aah’.
“Yeah, he can be a bit of a dictator.” Joshua so usefully added.
“Haha, dick-tator.” Wonwoo provided, and once again it was only him and Jun laughing at the horrible pun.
“Wait, no. What are you two doing?” Jisoo frowned as he looked back at Jeonghan, only to find him whispering something to Seungcheol.
“What? Nothing. Did we do anything, Seungcheol?” Jeonghan asked the eldest, blinking his eyes a few too many times.
“Not that I know of.” His brother shrugged, and now even Chan was growing suspicious. It was obvious something was going on, by the looks the three exchanged, but the youngest decided not to question. Sometimes it was best not to know.
——
It was closer to dawn than dusk now, and most of them were properly drunk. Thankfully not to the point of being sick, just to the point of emotional confessions and perhaps bumping into walls while trying to go to the bathroom. The games were over, the atmosphere was mellow, and Wonwoo just felt numb. In a good way, kind of.
“I have a question.” Chan spoke out, because that’s what they had been doing for the last hour, asking each other random questions and being as blunt honest as they could be. Some sort of weird truth or dare with no dares involved, because no one could really bother at that point.
“Shoot.” Jun grinned, making finger guns at the boy. “Get it? Shoot?”
“I’m drunk and the joke’s still not funny.” Jihoon groaned, now leaning more onto Jun than sitting, rubbing his face against the taller’s shoulder. Instead of being upset, the Chinese giggled and nuzzled the shorter’s hair. Wonwoo wasn’t sure if Jihoon let him get away with it because it was Jun or because the hacker was drunk. Probably the latter.
“What do you miss most about being rich?” Wonwoo blinked once he realized Chan’s question was directed to him. Well, Mingyu and him, though the younger could still get access to more money if he wished.
“I don’t know.” Mingyu admitted, rubbing the back of his neck while leaning back on his other hand. “There’s not much I miss besides my family. Maybe the kitchen…”
“The garden.” Wonwoo spoke without thinking, taking a sip of water now. He decided to drop the alcohol for a while, so he could try to prevent a horrible hangover.
“Garden?” Hansol looked quite surprised with his big brown eyes. “Why the garden?”
“I don’t know, I just really liked it.” Wonwoo shrugged. “We had this huge ass garden, with plans like, everywhere. Hanging from walls and shit. It was a good place to spend time in.” He pushed his glasses further up, hugging his right leg and resting his chin on his knee. “Plus, it was cool to raise the plants, you know? Kinda weird in a way, to see a living thing growing out of this tiny little seed.”
“Can’t you have plants here?” Seokmin asked, looking either curious or worried. Wonwoo couldn’t tell in his current inebriated stated, and he was sure Seokmin couldn’t tell either.
“I guess, but it’s not the same.” Wonwoo shrugged once again.
“I legit thought you’d say library or some nerdy shit.” Minghao admitted, and Wonwoo threw one of the empty water bottles at him. Unfortunately, his aim was even worse when he was drunk.
“Why did you cut them off, then?” It was Seungkwan who asked now, yet Wonwoo found himself meeting Mingyu’s eyes. He was the only one who knew, and despite the alcohol in his blood, Wonwoo could tell what the younger was trying to convey. You don’t have to tell.
“Eh, might as well come out with it.” Wonwoo sighed, sitting up straight and stretching out his legs, trying to avoid the collection of cans and bottles while he leaned back on his hands. “My parents are loan sharks.”
“What?” Jeonghan asked, eyes wide and matching the looks around him.
“They’re loan sharks.” Wonwoo was always afraid to say it for a reason. He was ashamed of them, ashamed of himself in some way. “They’re the kind of people we try to stop.” He snickered, pushing his hair back. “I couldn’t live like that, knowing where that money came from. I mean I did live like that for so long, but ‘ya know…”
“You’re not like them.” Junhui spoke out, and Wonwoo was impressed that even drunk his friend could read him so well.
“I know, but I’m not exactly right either.” Wonwoo reasoned, frowning a bit. “They’re out there, doing shit, and I… I know, I should’ve told you guys, I should’ve said something. I was just scared, like, as much as I hate them…”
“They’re still your parents.” Jihoon concluded, and the older could only nod in return.
They were bad people, but they were still his parents. And as much as he wanted to take them down, he wasn’t sure he was strong enough. Not yet.
“It’s not your fault.” Seungcheol spoke like a true leader, even after so many beers and a few shots. Wonwoo smiled in return, thankful even for the things that were left unsaid.
“I have another question.” Minghao mumbled, his accent showing in his slurred speech. “How are you feeling?”
This time the question wasn’t directed at him, but at his other Chinese friend. Junhui seemed surprised as well, blinking a couple of times.
“Uh, right now?” Jun looked as confused as he sounded, looking around a bit. “Pretty good, I guess. A bit dizzy.”
“I mean, in general, after all that shit.” Minghao explained, and despite not sitting that close to Junhui, Wonwoo could almost feel him freeze. “Honestly.”
“Honestly?” Junhui asked for confirmation, and he got it in the form of a nod. “Like shit.” His friend chuckled, though it lacked its usual glee.
“Hyung.” Seungkwan called, concerned.
“Let him talk.” Seungcheol ordered instead, nudging his chin at Junhui.
“I don’t know if there’s much more to say.” Junhui admitted with a sigh and a shrug. “It’s just, shit. My body hurts, I hurt, everything is wrong.” Wonwoo could read the concern in the medical team’s stares, but Wonwoo knew the physical pain was the least of Jun’s concerns.
“I mean, I’m fine, I’m promise. But I’m also not, I just…” He did that thing again, where he tried to find the right words to express himself. “It sucks, you know? It fucking sucks. Because I’m hurt, and I know I’m getting better but I still can’t do half the shit that makes me happy, so it doesn’t feel like I’m getting better. And in the meantime you’re all so worried about me and taking care of me, and…”
Wonwoo placed a hand on his friend’s shoulder, trying to get him to breathe. Thankfully he took the hint, thanking him with a small smile. “Don’t get me wrong, I’m thankful, I really am. You guys are awesome. Really, the best friends, fucking awesome. I’m just not used to this kind of attention, I’m not used to people worrying about me, not like this. I’m the one who takes care of people, not the other way around.” His friend breathed out, as if he had that stuck in him for far too long. Perhaps he had. “I’m tired of being a burden.”
“You’re not a burden, hyung.” Mingyu quickly replied, though they were all thinking it.
“I know, I know that.” Junhui smiled small, and Wonwoo could tell already that his friend didn’t want comfort, he just wanted to vent. He was grateful Minghao had seen that. “But I still feel like one, I can’t help it.”
Wonwoo pressed his lips, bringing a hand up to pinch the back of the other’s neck lightly, just to show him he was there.
“Thanks, hyung.” Minghao’s voice was unusually soft, but still as sincere as always. “For tellin’ the truth.”
“Thanks, Hao.” Junhui smiled in return, the grin gaining back some of its warmth.
“This is gonna sound cheesy as fuck, so I won’t say it again. Listen up, fuckers.” Jihoon announced, sitting up straight and raising a near empty bottle of vodka. “I don’t know where I’d be without y’all. So, ya know, thanks.” His words were slurred and his arm was swinging slightly, but Wonwoo grinned at the other’s sincerity.
“Aaawhh, Jihoonie!” Soonyoung cooed, throwing his arms around the shorter and pulling him into a hug. “We love you too!”
“I never said that.” The hacker grumbled, not making much of an effort to escape his friend’s grip. Yep, definitely drunk.
“I got a confession too.” Seungcheol cleared his throat, slapping his own thighs with both hands. “But I’ll do it when we’re sober.”
“What?!” Seungkwan scoffed with a more than displeased frown. “You can’t give us that cliffhanger! I’m sober, tell me!” He whined, his need for gossip showing.
“Nope, we’re telling everyone at the same time.” The leader decided with an over the top nod.
“We? Oh my god, are you all getting married?!” Seokmin almost squealed, looking at the eldest three.
“Pfft, if we were, we’d definitely be announcing it drunk.” Jeonghan grinned, looking much too sober for someone who had practically drank a whole bottle of tequila on his own.
“And I’m pretty sure that’s not legal.” Jisoo reasoned, frowning a bit as if trying to remember something. He clearly didn’t hold his liquor as well as his boyfriend. Wonwoo wasn’t sure anyone did, though.
“It’s not like that ever stopped us from doing pretty much anything.” Minghao pointed out, letting out a giggle.
Hansol gasped then, pointing at the three. “Can I be the ring bearer?” The boy asked with actual hope shining in his eyes.
“Only if you wear a bear costume.” Wonwoo suggested with a chuckle, noticing the giggles that left Junhui as well.
“Hey, it’s our wedding! We decide on the costumes!” Joshua whined, much unlike himself, which only made the scene more amusing as half of them burst out in laughter.
“Okay, okay, I think it’s time for bed.” The leader announced, pushing himself up and only slightly stumbling as he looked down at them.
“Getting cold feet?”Jeonghan teased with a mischievous smirk.
“Shut up.” Seungcheol frowned, failing to hide his chuckle as he lightly kicked the other’s back. “Come on.”
They all groaned together, but agreed it was time to call it a night. Wonwoo would be lying if he said he wasn’t curious about what Seungcheol had to say, though in his current condition he was afraid he wouldn’t be able to give it the proper attention. In fact, he was starting to forget about it already when he thought about the warm bed waiting for him and the promise that it held.
——
Minghao had no idea how he got stuck with cleaning. Alright, he had some idea. It might have had something to do with the fact that the rest of them were surprisingly fast drunks and went to bed far quicker than he expected. Or wherever else they went to. It could also have to do with the fact that although Mingyu could get drunk, his inner housewife was still very much sober, and insisted that Minghao should help him.
“No, no, no.” Minghao grumbled, grabbing the bottles from his friend. “You’re already a danger sober. Grab the pillows.” He ordered, though he knew it lacked his usual bossiness.
What? His mind was hazy and his legs were slow, after so many drinks he believed he was doing pretty well. He’d go back to his usual grumpiness in the morning.
“Grab the pillows.” Mingyu repeated much like a child, yet at least he did as he was told, taking the couch cushions from the floor and placing them back where they belonged. Well, not exactly. Minghao was sure he traded the seat cushions with the back cushions, but the Chinese male couldn’t be bothered. Instead, he continued to take the bottles into the kitchen only to leave them in the sink, hoping someone else would deal with them later.
“The bags too, in the trash.” Minghao pointed out as he returned to the living room to collect more of the bottles and cans.
“Bags too.” The taller repeated once again, taking the empty bags of chips and following him into the kitchen. “Into the… Hao, there’s two bins.”
Minghao snickered at his friend’s antics, watching him stand in front of the two trash bins next to the counter as if he was trying to solve a math problem. “The left one.” The shorter provided, though that didn’t seem to help him much. “The green one.” He added with a laugh.
“Green one!” Mingyu cheered, opening the lid and pushing the bags into the bin, making quite some noise. “Shhh, people are sleeping.” He reprimanded the trash, and Minghao found himself rolling his eyes fondly at him. No, not fondly. Drunkly. Yes.
“Come on, ’s late.” The younger called out, pulling the other away from the kitchen before he began scolding more inanimate objects.
He meant to check his own room first, given in nights like these the boys forgot about sleeping arrangements and just slept in whatever bed they found first. When he was about to open the door, however, he was met with noises that were less than inviting.
“Ugh, why did they take the big room?” The shorter complained with a groan, his older friend now almost leaning onto him with all his weight. “This is your fault you know? If you hadn’t insisted on cleaning we’d have a bed by now.” Minghao pointed out, pushing the other off. As a result Mingyu stumbled backwards, pulling on Minghao’s arm for balance.
“Why? What? Check the other rooms.” Mingyu frowned sleepily, gesturing to the other doors down the hallway.
He didn’t need to check the other rooms. Even in his intoxicated mind he could do the math and know there weren’t enough empty beds. He wouldn’t be surprised if some of the others were sharing. “There aren’t enough beds, you idiot.” The younger scowled.
However, instead of whining like he usually did, the taller chuckled. He actually chuckled, pointy teeth and all. Which of course, prompted Minghao to raise a brow.
“What’s so funny?” The younger questioned, with his friend now practically swaying back and forth with the lack of motor coordination. He placed his hands on the other’s chest to steady him, and perhaps at some other time he’d be more embarrassed by the action, but at the moment he was too drunk and too sleepy to care.
“You’re cute.” Mingyu giggled now, showing how he failed to hold his liquor.
“What?” The shorter frowned, not really catching his words as he also struggled to stand up straight and keep the other up at the same time.
“You’re cute when you’re angry.” Mingyu repeated with an addition and a grin.
If Minghao felt his face warming up, he’d blame it once again on the alcohol. And maybe on the other’s breath. “Shut up.” He put it so eloquently, making Mingyu giggle once again.
With a more annoyed eye roll, Minghao pushed the other off, now not caring if he fell back or not. The clumsy one only seemed to stumble though, which thankfully meant he wouldn’t have to pick a drunk Mingyu up off the floor. Instead, he used his time to fix the couch cushions as well as he could in his sleepy state.
“Come on, you can have the couch.” Minghao gestured mindlessly to said furniture before placing some pillows back onto the floor to make himself a bed. Or something that could act as one.
His friend nodded obediently and almost made himself dizzy. Despite that, he managed to find his way onto the couch, lying down on his side and facing the boy who kicked the pillows around.
“Hao, sleep with me!” Minghao’s head fell back with a groan before he turned to look at the other. As predicted, Mingyu had a pout on his face and hogged over half of the width of the couch.
“We can’t fit there. You can barely fit, you moron.” Minghao reasoned, his sleepiness perhaps turning him a little bit more sour.
“Please?” Mingyu insisted, and the younger knew from the look in his eyes that he wouldn’t let this go. Also, as much as Minghao wished he could deny it, his body would also thank him immensely if he chose the comfortable couch over the hard floor.
“Fine, but scoot over.” He gave in, waiting for the other to push himself further against the back of the couch before joining him.
He wasn’t sure if it’d be worse to face him, or to have his back against him and have the risk of Mingyu spooning him over the night. It wouldn’t be the first time sharing a bed with the other, or in this case a couch, and Minghao knew how clingy he could get. So he settled for the first option, making himself as comfortable as possible yet still lying a bit too close for comfort to the other’s face.
“Your breath smells.” Mingyu mumbled while throwing an arm around him, only proving his point of the boy being too clingy.
“Well, if you weren’t such a neat freak we’d be in our own beds and not breathing in each other’s face.” Minghao grumbled, sleep calling for him even louder now as he finally got to lie down.
“But we needed to clean!” Mingyu pouted, his inner housewife showing once again.
“We could clean after we slept.” The younger mumbled in a tone that was more whiny than angry, so he added it to the list of things he blamed the alcohol in his blood for. “Why did you choose me anyway? Why didn’t you get Shua to help you or something?”
“Because you’re my best friend.” Mingyu spoke as if he was stating that water was wet and Seokmin was loud.
“I thought Wonwoo was your best friend.” Minghao wondered with his brows pulling together slightly.
Mingyu hummed in disagreement, shaking his head lightly though his eyes were threatening to close. His voice was low now too, though perhaps Minghao’s was as well and he just hadn’t notice. “Wonwoo’s like a brother. He’s my favorite brother.”
“You don’t even have brothers.” Minghao scowled, though that didn’t stop the other from continuing.
“He’s my favorite brother.” The taller repeated before yawning. “You’re my favorite person.”
Oh, well, Minghao was perhaps at a loss for words for the first time in his life. What was he supposed to say to that? He wasn’t even sure he could blame it on the booze anymore. But that was all it was, of course. Drinking, it made people sappy and clingy. Even Jihoon had accepted a piggy back ride from Junhui when they left the living room. Everybody got a bit more loving with a little bit of alcohol in their bodies.
“You’re my favorite person too, Gyu.” Minghao added with a sigh, deciding to resign to the sappiness in him as well for just a moment. “Now go to sleep.” It was a short moment, alright?
Mingyu grinned toothily nonetheless, and that was all Minghao saw before turning his back towards the other, deciding his damp breath would bother him too much during the night.
“Goodnight, Hao.” Mingyu called with a yawn, the hand around the other’s waist tired but unmoving.
“‘Night, Gyu.” Minghao replied with a soft tone, closing his eyes and finally surrendering to his sleepiness.
|
JJ looked up as the door to Emily’s room swung open slowly and she smiled as she saw Morgan’s head poke through to look hesitantly into the room. “Hey,” she whispered as she waved him in, mindful of the fact that it’d only been about fifteen minutes since Emily had fallen back asleep after her first wake-up.
He stepped into the room and carefully closed the door behind himself. “How’s she doing?” he asked, glancing at Emily as he handed JJ a bag of food and a Diet Coke.
JJ shrugged. “Okay, I guess. She woke up okay when I checked on her, but she fell right back asleep,” she shared as she peeked into the bag he had given her. Inside was a cellophane wrapped deli sandwich, a pickle, and bag of chips. “Thanks.”
“No problem, figured you wouldn’t be leaving to get some dinner.” He shrugged it off. “Hotch said she thinks you two are married, huh?”
JJ nodded as she unwrapped her sandwich. She hadn't realized how hungry she was until she saw the bag of food. “Thankfully she didn’t say anything about it when I woke her; I hate lying to her, but we both know she wouldn’t handle it well if I told her she was wrong.”
“Probably not,” he agreed. He noddd as he pulled up another chair to sit beside the blonde Communications Liaison. He knew that Emily harbored deep feelings for JJ and he was feeling more than a little protective of his partner’s heart. “Do you want me to stay here with her?”
“No!” JJ answered quickly. Perhaps a little too quickly, she realized, as she caught sight of the devious smirk Morgan was shooting her. “I mean… its fine, really. I don’t mind staying with her. I actually can’t imagine being anywhere else.”
Morgan studied JJ carefully as she ate her sandwich and studiously avoided his gaze. He could tell that she was nervous about something, but didn't know if it was because of what Emily was thinking, or something else. His read on the woman changed daily – sometimes he was certain she returned Emily’s affections, other times he thought it might just be playful flirting with nothing substantial behind it. “Jayj…”
JJ looked up and gave him a tired smile. “Hmm?”
“Emily’s… just…” he started and stopped, as he tried to figure out a way to give the blonde some idea of Emily’s feelings without completely betraying his partner’s trust. This could be just the push they needed to finally stop dancing around eac other, but, at the same time, the potential for disaster here was huge as well.
“I know,” she assured him. She could see that he was genuinely concerned for his friend and felt it was only fair to let him know that she understood. “Believe me, I know. I’m not going to hurt her, Derek.”
He studied her for a moment before nodding. While he still wasn't sure what she was thinking, he could tell that she was telling him the truth. “Okay. Since it’s late and she’s in here anyways, Hotch said we’re going to wait until tomorrow to leave. With the whole memory thing, I think it’s probably a good idea for her to stay overnight here anyways. If she needs further hospitalization we can always get her switched to a place at home. How’s she handling the pain?”
“What pain?” JJ drawled with a smirk. Emily was notorious for taking a hit and ‘walking it off’. “I’m surprised she’s not clamoring to be released.”
He winked playfully. “Maybe she thinks her wife would raise holy hell if she tried."
“Shut up,” JJ retorted, rather enjoying the feeling of being referred to as Emily’s wife, even if it was in jest. “Look, since you’re here, do you mind if I go for a little walk and stretch my legs for a bit?”
“No problem. What time does she need to be woken up again?”
JJ glanced at the clock on the wall. “Um, in about half an hour.”
“Got it. Go do what you need to do and if you’re not back I’ll take care of it. She’ll probably handle it better if it’s one of us waking her up rather than some poor unsuspecting nurse.”
JJ laughed and nodded knowingly. Emily really was the world’s worst patient. “That’s why I told the doctor that I’d handle wake-up duty. I’ll have my phone if you need me.”
“Take your food with you, there’s a nice little bench outside you can sit on to finish it. Good cell reception there too,” he told her. “Garcia wants you to call her.”
JJ groaned. “You told her about the memory thing, didn’t you?”
He grinned. “I like my credit score the way it is, thank you very much. I know better than to withhold information from her. Get a move on Jareau, I’ll keep an eye on your woman for ya.”
JJ stood and grabbed her food. “Thanks Derek.” She smiled warmly at her friend.
He just smiled and nodded his understanding, and leaned back in his chair as he watched JJ leave. “You have jumped right into the fire, my friend,” he informed his sleeping partner once the door had closed behind the object of her affections. “I don’t know how to get you out of this one – but I think you are going to be pleasantly surprised by her reaction.”
+++/+++\+++
JJ found the bench Derek had told her about and sat down with a heavy sigh. She groaned as she pulled her phone out of her pocket and pulled up Penelope on her speed-dial. She reached into the bag to grab her sandwich as the call rang through, and was not surprised when she got one of the quirky blonde’s signature greetings.
“You’ve reached the All-Knowing Loooooove Goddess.”
“Hey Pen,” JJ sighed, as she lifted her sandwich to her mouth and took a small bite.
“Gumdrop,” Penelope cooed. “I hear you got married since we last spoke.”
“God, not you too,” JJ muttered around a mouthful of sourdough and turkey. She looked at the sandwich more carefully as she chewed, it was actually really good.
Penelope laughed lightly. “Couldn’t help myself. Besides the memory thing, how’s our girl doing?”
JJ finished chewing, taking her time, knowing that Penelope would wait, and swallowed before answering. “Fine. I think. Her doctor doesn’t seem too concerned, they’re just keeping her overnight as a precaution because she was unconscious for so long. And the confabulation.”
“That is such a fun word,” Penelope quipped in true Penelope fashion. “How are you doing?”
That is the million-dollar question, JJ thought to herself. “I don’t know,” she replied honestly. “I’m confused. Scared. She looks terrible, Pen. I’m nervous about how she’s going to react once she realizes that we’re not actually married. I mean, I know I’d said that I was going to talk to her after this case, but now all this has happened and I don’t know what to do. Hotch basically flat-out told me that she has feelings for me and Morgan…”
“My Chocolate Adonis,” Penelope interrupted, and JJ could hear the smile in her friend’s voice.
“Right, him,” she conceded. “He was weird when he came into the room just now… kind of like he was warning me to not break her heart.”
“That’s because he’s the strong-sensitive type. Seriously Jayj – Derek and Emily are close, I’m sure she’s talked to him about stuff.”
JJ sighed. "Probably. But what do I do now Pen?”
“What you were going to do before… now you just have to wait until she’s thinking straight. Or, hopefully not straight, in this case – but I think you know what I mean.”
“Penelope,” JJ groaned.
Garcia just laughed. “Look, Jayj, you know I love you like a sister – she tripped your gaydar the first day she got here, and now you know for a fact that she’s interested in you; because if she wasn’t, she wouldn’t think you two are married. Look at all of this as a good thing and a sign that you two are meant to be. And I call dibs on Maid of Honor.”
“For who, me or her?”
“Please, you know my hunk of burning love is going to stand with her when the day comes. Now, go make me proud and take care of your woman.”
“Right after I finish my sandwich,” JJ replied as her stomach growled. “And, Pen… thanks.”
“My pleasure honey,” Penelope answered softly. “Talk to her when you can Jayj, I really don’t think you need to worry about risking your friendship anymore.”
“I will,” JJ promised before she hung up and looked out across the parking lot toward a copse of pine trees lining the road, thinking that she really hoped that Garcia and Hotch were right and that the vibe she was getting from Morgan was the correct one. “Please, please, please let this work,” she muttered to whatever deity was listening, before she set to finishing her dinner so she could get back up to Emily’s room.
+++/+++\+++
Morgan looked up at the clock and sighed as he prepared himself to wake his partner, unable to keep from hoping that this ‘married’ version of Prentiss took to such things better than she normally did. Marriage was supposed to mellow a person out, right?
“Hey, Prentiss,” he said softly, as he reached out to grasp the brunette’s upper arm and give it a careful shake. “Come on, Emily, time to wake up.”
Nothing.
He tried again, squeezing her arm a little bit harder, and shaking her a little more forcefully. “Emily Elizabeth Prentiss,” he ordered in his most authoritative voice. “Time to wake… your… ass… up.”
Still nothing. If anything, he could have sworn that he heard her growl at him.
“Goddamn woman!” he swore softly. She always was a pain in the ass to wake up. He crossed his arms over his chest as he appraised his sleeping partner. When all else fails, there is nothing left to do but pull out the big guns. “Hey, Em, JJ is looking damn fine in that itsy bitsy string bikini.”
Emily’s good eye flashed open as she bolted upright in bed. “Bikini?”
Morgan laughed. "Knew that would work.”
“You ass,” Emily groaned as she laid back down and looked up at her smirking partner. “Where is Jennifer, anyway?”
Jennifer? he mused, carefully concealing his smirk that wanted to erupt. “Pen wanted to talk to her so I told her to go stretch her legs, eat the dinner I brought her, and call Garcia.”
Emily nodded slowly. “Did you get a confession out of Quinn?”
Morgan let out a soft sigh and nodded. “Yeah,” he replied as he leaned back in the uncomfortable chair and laced his fingers behind his head. “Full confession. He’s being transported to his new home as we speak.”
“Good. Did he give you guys any idea of why he did it?”
“Daddy issues,” Morgan summarized, knowing that even severely concussed she would understand.
“The good ol’ daddy issues.” Emily shook her head. “Only surpassed by the monumentally crippling mommy issues.” She was interrupted from questioning her partner further by a soft knock on the door before it swung open silently on well-oiled hingesand she smiled tiredly as she recognized who it was. “Hey, Hotch."
“Emily.” Hotch smiled as he walked into the room carrying two nearly identical black go-bags, which Emily immediately recognized as belonging to herself and JJ. “How are you feeling?”
“Like I got whacked upside the head with a two-by-four.”
“That’s because that is exactly what happened,” Reid quipped as he followed Hotchner into the room. “Where’s JJ?”
Hotch watched Emily carefully, noting the softening of the brunette’s features just from hearing the blonde’s name.
Emily waved a semi-annoyed hand at Morgan. “Muscles, here, sent her away.”
“She’ll be back,” Morgan defended himself. “Trust me Prentiss, you don’t want her sitting in this chair nonstop, they are not comfortable at all. My back is already starting to hurt.”
“That’s because you’re a wuss.”
“Well, technically, the back pain he’s experiencing can most likely be attributed to the…”
“REID!” Emily and Morgan growled.
“Sorry,” the young genius apologized quickly.
“Hey guys,” a new voice entered the fracas, and Emily looked up at its source with a smile that did not go unnoticed by anybody in the room. “Hey, Em,” JJ greeted the brunette softly. “How are you feeling?”
“Better now,” Emily murmured as she caught the blonde’s gaze. Those bright blue eyes never failed to suck her right in, and she was a little concerned about the hesitancy she saw swirling in them. “Come sit by me?”
JJ looked around the room quickly, noticing that the guys had taken the three chairs available before she nodded and made her way over to Emily’s bed. She watched Emily’s face carefully as she perched herself lightly on the edge, wanting to make sure that she was not jostling the brunette too much.
“Come on, Jen,” Emily murmured as she reached out and tugged at JJ’s hip, urging the blonde further onto the bed.
JJ sighed and scooted back a bit further so that she was now actually sitting on the bed beside Emily. “Better?”
“For now,” Emily drawled, as she began rubbing light circles on the small of JJ’s back.
JJ bit back a groan as she fought to keep from relaxing into Emily’s loving touch, and decided that the best way to control the situation was for her to ignore the suddenly wide-awake brunette beside her. “Morgan said that the plan is to fly back tomorrow?”
“Thank god,” Emily sighed. “I hate hospitals.”
The group laughed and nodded knowingly.
“Am I too late?” Rossi asked with a laugh as he sauntered into the room. “Sorry, I got lost. There weren’t any crying nurses for me to follow to her room this time.”
“One time, I made a nurse cry,” Emily said exasperatedly. "One time! And you have never let me live it down!”
JJ laughed and turned to look at Emily. “Em, it might have been one time, but it was three nurses… and a candy striper,” she recalled, her eyes twinkling with amusement. “In an hour.”
“Hey now,” Emily mock growled as she reached out and tickled JJ’s side playfully. “You’re supposed to be on my side Jennifer.”
JJ laughed and easily batted Emily’s hand away. “Watch it, Prentiss,” she threatened as she turned to face the brunette again. She felt her heart skip a beat as she caught sight of Emily’s one good eye looking back at her, full of love with all of the brunette’s infamous walls torn down. “I mean it,” she murmured breathlessly as Emily continued to hold her gaze captive.
Hotch cleared his throat. “You know, I think we’ll head back to the hotel now.”
Reid frowned with confusion. "We just got here.”
Morgan jumped to his feet. “Yeah, I wanna grab a soak in the hot tub. Come on, Doctor Reid-” he wrapped an arm around the skinny man’s neck, perhaps a little tighter than necessary, “-you’re going to come with me and explain that whole red shirt thing again.”
Reid perked up at the prospect of being able to discuss Star Trek. "Okay!”
JJ stared at Morgan. “Be nice to Spence. I’ll call you guys in the morning.”
The men all said their goodbyes and left in a single-file line out the door. Hotch was the last to leave and, as he pulled the door closed behind himself, he looked back at JJ who was watching them leave and Emily who was focused on the small circles she was drawing on the blonde’s back. He gave JJ a wink of encouragement before he shut the door tightly, hoping that he was not doing his two obviously enamored agents a disservice by leaving them alone together in this situation.
“They are being rather thick about this whole thing, aren’t they?” David Rossi asked as Hotch fell into step beside him.
Hotch nodded. “I just hope this doesn’t push them further back into their shells once Emily gets her memory back.” |
“Just ignore the photographers, honey.” Bones commented to Jim as they strode along the hilltop park near Starfleet Academy, looking for a place to picnic. They’d come here before together, after hours, to stargaze a few times, though the park was closed after dark. During the day, the rolling green hills and aspen lined walks filled with families. Across the way, a duck pond, surrounded by cherry blossoms, drew the youngest kids. After days of photo shoots and interviews, it was nice to just be outside, enjoying the late spring day and the sunshine.
Bones carried the picnic basket and Jim carried a blanket in his crossed arms. He’d flat refused to hold hands with Bones and Lockhart, perhaps sensing that Jim seemed frazzled this morning, didn’t push it. After their passionate kiss last night, Jim laid alone on the wide bed, watching the lights of San Francisco sparkle on the water until the sky lightened. He finally slept near dawn, not able to find a path out of this crazy situation that freed him without revealing his secret, shameful feelings and keeping his most precious friendship intact.
“Don’t call me honey.” Jim gritted out.
“For someone who never called me by my name, you are sensitive to the nickname thing. What should I call you?”
“Jim is fine.” Bones looked at him, exasperation on his face, as they shook the blanket out together. Jim immediately flopped down on it. “I don’t like when you call me that because…” Jim tore up clumps of grass and let them fall from his fingers. “Because it was a trick I learned. If I didn’t know…you know… a hookup’s name, I’d fall back on baby, sweetie, honey…”
“Okay, then, Jim it is.” Bones knelt across from him and then sat cross legged on the grass. He wore his perfectly fitting jeans from the photo shoot with a forest t-shirt that made his eyes look green. And Jim’d thought he’d been gorgeous in his cadet reds.
“Darlin’ is ok. You say it different. Your accent…” Jim shrugged and looked off, watching the ducks, feeling the heat creep over his cheeks.
“Okay then, darlin.” Bones fumbled with the picnic basket as Jim glanced around.
“Where are the photographers?”
Bones leaned forward and cupped his chin, tilting his face up until Jim met his eyes. “You have to forget they are here. We’re on a picnic together. How many meals you think we’ve eaten together in the last few years? This is no different.”
Jim wanted to argue that yes, in fact, it was different. It was different because, only last night, they’d kissed for the first time, more passionately than any kiss Jim could ever recall. It was different because he was on a date with Bones, the only person in the world that he had ever wanted to go on an actual date with. It was different because it was his first real date ever. And every second of it was being recorded. And the merciless eye of the camera could bare his very soul. And then where would he be when all this was over?
Instead of saying any of that, Jim sighed and accepted the glass of chilled white wine that Bones handed him. He gulped it down and extended the empty glass to Bones.
“Uh…I think you’re supposed to sip it. I don’t really know much about wine but pretty sure…”
“Just give me a refill.” Jim said, waving the glass at him. “It’s chardonnay, by the way.”
“What is?” Bones said, taking his glass and filling it only halfway this time.
“The wine.” Jim laughed. “I did a stint at vineyard after high school.”
“Really? I had no idea you were into wine.”
“There aren’t that many jobs in Riverside, you know?” Jim shrugged, “And I don’t know much about wine. I wasn’t there long. Got caught with the vineyard owner’s daughter in the storeroom.”
“Only you.”
“Well, she might not have been so mad had I not been having fun with her—instead of her daughter— in the storeroom after each wine tasting class.” Jim laughed at the memory as Bones just shook his head at him.
“Pamela always wanted to go to a wine tasting class, for a date night, but…I never made the time.”
“What’s date night?”
“You know, like married couples, they go on date nights.”
“Why?”
“Why? Because…well, you’re supposed to, I guess. But really, I mean, before marriage you spend all this time dating and wooing this person. And then after you get married, you what? Sit around on the sofa and watch holo-vids?”
“I have no idea what married people do.” Jim sprawled on the picnic blanket on his side, watching Bones. He rarely spoke of his marriage. Neither of them ever talked much about their pasts before Starfleet. Over time, he’d gathered some knowledge, a broad outline, but, for both of them, their friendship had been instantaneous and immediate, no questions asked or needed.
“You talk like you just beamed here from another planet. And I thought you said your mom was married.”
“She was. But she only married Frank to give him custody of me and Sam, after my grandpa died. So she could go back up in the black.” Damn, maybe he shouldn’t have drank that chardonnay straight up on an empty stomach. “What’s in the basket, Bones?”
Bones set out cheese, crackers, grapes. Jim nibbled on a cracker and glanced idly at the paddle boats on the lake. Bones ate some brie and crackers and then they sat companionably for a bit, enjoying the weather. Without conscious forethought, Jim rolled onto his back and put his head on Bones’ lap. Bones stilled and then lowered his hand to Jim’s head, stroking his hair back from his forehead.
“This ok, Bones?” Bones shrugged. “How come you’re such a good actor? You do drama in high school or something?”
“No, kid. I did high school in two years. No time for drama, at least not the on stage kind.”
“Two years?” Jim echoed. After nearly three years of daily togetherness, Jim would have said that he knew Bones pretty well. And he did know the important stuff, his compassion, his kindness, his loyalty. But, since they’d been in such a high-speed, high-pressure whirl since the moment they stepped off the shuttle together, they’d never really had time to just be together, just hanging out, relaxing away from the pressures of their lives. “So, tell me about being a baby genius, Bones?”
“I finished high school at 16 and college at 19. I got married when I was in my second year of med school.”
“Rebellion?”
“Maybe.” Bones shrugged. “Finished med school at 23 and my PhD the next year.”
“And then what happened?”
“My daddy died and I came home to find Pamela in bed with Clay.”
“Sorry.” Jim whispered.
“It’s ok. Seems a long time ago.” Bones gulped his wine and made a face.
“It’s a bit sour. You might like a sweeter one, like a Riesling.”
“I’d like a bourbon and branch.” Bones muttered and Jim laughed up at him, their eyes locking. With a thrill, Jim recalled the feel of Bones’ hands on him last night in the car, possessively pulling him closer as they kissed. They stared at each other, the moment spooling between them, until Jim sat up abruptly, glancing around for the camera crews. He’d kiss Bones again, alright, but he’d be damned if it would be in front of a camera crew to be broadcast to strangers. He grabbed the wineglass out of Bones’ hand and drank it down before standing.
And just then, Lockhart bustled up, leading a camera crew. “That’s it. We’ve got enough footage.”
Jim stalked off down the hill, without a word. “What now?” an exasperated Lockhart exclaimed from behind him. |
Jinx
How do fuck can you manage to lose a person when you just arrived at a party?
Zeri was freaking the fuck out since she lost Orianna and Janna the second they stepped into the house. This happened once before with Janna, it always happened with Orianna so I didn't know why Zeri was worried about her. Sure Janna’s disappearance was weird but Orianna?
“Orianna always fucks off, you shouldn’t be worried.”
“It’s different this time, she was wearing a trenchcoat and acting weirder than usual.”
I took in a deep breath, I hoped for Orianna’s own good that this cockblock was unintentional. If I found out Orianna was simply playing some dumb card game or nerding out over D&D with weirdos, I was going to kill her for making Zeri call me over for such a non-issue.
I wouldn’t put it past them to try to cockblock me, after my last breakup they’ve been not-so-subtly cockblocking me every chance they got. It’s been two months, it was weird that I got over it faster than they did. Sure, it was a three year relationship, but I’m pretty confident in saying that the breakup was civil on both parts. We remained as friends, which was good cause I wasn’t going to let a small thing such as a breakup fuck up years of our friendship.
Janna and Orianna thought it was unhealthy, because ‘You need to talk about it, Jinx’. I didn’t think about it nearly as much as they did, which was good because thinking about it would make it a problem. I didn’t want or need any more of those.
Zeri and I split up to look for them, I went upstairs while she stayed on the first floor.
Privacy was non-existent at parties, people basically fucked in every corner they could find without a care in the world. When I opened a door there were people fucking inside the room, I had grown used to it and this party was no different. Though people weren’t always fucking, sometimes they were playing card games and others doing drugs. The worst thing I ever saw was a pair of dudes dressed in… very kinky and leathery clothes, I quietly closed the door on that one and tried to erase the memory from my head.
As I continued my search for Orianna, I stumbled upon the birthday girl. Ahri looked like she had just ran over somebody and was now trying to hide a dead body, strange for someone who was enjoying her birthday party ten minutes ago. She was holding a water bottle and a toothbrush too. What could’ve possibly caused such an extreme mood swing I wonder?
When she saw me, her eyes lit up. “Have you seen, Lux?”
“Yeah, she was in a room next to the stairs.”
“She was there, she’s not there anymore. I’ve been looking for her like crazy for the past five minute.” Ahri sounded like she was on her last straw.
I was worried about the fact that a very drunk Lux had gotten out of the room. “Did something happen with Lux?”
“She ate some edibles I keep around the house, long-story short she needs to puke them out before she does anything she might regret.”
I calmly replied to the information given to me. “What the fuck do you mean by that? You keep edibles all around your fucking house and expect people not to eat them during a party? Now Lux is quite possibly high and drunk around the house, and you can’t find her?”
“You got that right, but to make things clear I’m only worried because Lux has clearly never eaten an edible in her life. If she dies it’s on me,” Ahri clarified.
“And you were going to give her some fucking water and a toothbrush for what?! That shit isn’t going to help her.”
“The water is for her to drink after I ram this toothbrush down her throat so that she pukes everything out, duh.” Now she sounded mad, which honestly I—
That’s when it hit me, I had unintentionally caused this. I mean not really, Lux could make her own decisions and she was the one who drank all that beer, but I did feel slightly bad over the fact I was the one who told her to play beer pong. My priority at the moment was finding Orianna, though I could also try to find Lux while I was at it.
Ahri continued on her search for Lux.
I opened a few more rooms, explored Ahri’s huge house for a little bit more until an uncomfortable feeling began to grow on me. If anything bad happened to Lux, it would technically be my fault, I clearly handled the alcohol better than she did and I left her alone when I should’ve told her to come with me.
Oh fuck, were Caitlyn’s little talks with me starting to work?
Well, I only had to look in one more room before being finished. The sounds coming from the inside definitely told me Orianna wasn’t going to be there, but I still opened the door out of morbid curiosity.
Good news, I found Janna.
Bad news, I walked in on Janna while she was naked and fucking some white haired girl. We also made eye contact, this was infinitely worse than when Caitlyn walked on me. I force myself to look away, the last time this happened it ended up with me getting in a three year long relationship.
I shut the door. Now I had officially seen two out of my three friends naked. If when I found Orianna she was for some reason naked too, then I could go for the triple kill.
My next move was to text Zeri to tell her that I found Janna and she was doing well, without elaborating on any details. Then I went downstairs to look for Orianna and Lux. If I had to make a guess Orianna was in the basement doing some shady shit and Lux was looking for me.
Amongst the crowd of people, I noticed Ezreal speaking to Fortune and Taliyah. They were Lux’s friends, right? She obviously knew them well enough to accept drinks from them, a true sign of friendship in my eyes. They probably knew where Lux was too.
I swiftly maneuvered my way through the crowd until I reached them. None of them looked wasted, they were actually handling the alcohol better than some people I knew. Except for Lux, she was wondering around drunk without anyone to look after her.
I was a little worried.
“Hey, Jinx how’s it going? Did you and the pretty girl get up to anything… spicy?” Fortune asked as soon as she saw me approaching.
They handled their alcohol surprisingly well. Hell, Fortune was drinking straight out of a bottle of vodka and she had an empty bottle of brandy on the other hand. And I thought I handled alcohol well…
“Have you guys seen Lux?” I asked them, I could barely hear my own voice over the music so I hoped they could understand me.
Ezreal was the first to answer. “I think Ahri was looking for her.”
“I think I saw her going downstairs? I mean to be honest I saw her in a thousand different places at once, but yeah Ahri was looking for her,” Taliyah added.
All of this information was useless, I wasted my time by coming here. Who knew what the hell Lux was up to by now, she could be doing things she would regret for the rest of her life by now while I was wasting time talking to her friends. On that note they were terrible friends for not noticing that she was drunk, high and missing, the only one who was looking for her was Ahri.
When I was about to leave Fortune grabbed me by the arm and pulled me uncomfortably close. “Are you related to Violet Warwick?”
“Yeah, she’s my sister.”
“Tell her I said hi, I was the kid she used to babysit a few years back. Is she still dating that uptight sheriff or is she single?”
This party was making me more uncomfortable by the second. “Uh, they’re still dating and they’re happily in love, I think.”
“You think?”
That was my cue to run in the opposite direction. I knew Vi used to babysit kids back when she was in high school, but I never knew she babysat for rich people, and now one of my classmates was one of those kids. Talk about awkward coincidences.
Vi did a lot of odd jobs before she went off to college, she tried to earn money in order to cover the costs of the stuff her scholarship didn’t. Most of the time she would help people out for free though, it happened a lot with my friends. That way I came to realize Vi wasn’t only my sister, she was basically the big sister of all the kids of Zaun. She took Orianna to her ballet classes when the doctor couldn’t, she picked up Janna and Ekko from school when their parents had to work late, and kept Zeri out of trouble when she messed with the wrong people. I never imagined her kindness would extend to people outside of Zaun, but that was Vi, always full of surprises.
Dad always said she had a heart too big for her own good. Vander disagreed, he said it was our responsibility to help others no matter what, and Vi lived by those words. Silco and Vander couldn’t agree on how to raise us, it was a miracle that they lasted as long as they did. They waited until Vi went to college to divorce, even when I was twelve I could tell it was better for both of them.
They were my main point of reference when it came to romance, the few things I learned from them were the following: Nothing lasts forever, people change like the weather, and marriage was a scam. Actually, I learned that all long term relationships were a scam all by myself.
Love is better when it’s a fleeting feeling.
It’s hard to explain but it gives you a certain type of rush nothing else can, it’s better than drugs or alcohol. It’s the thrill of meeting someone you’re attracted to and trying hard to get what you want, it isn’t until you finally get what you want that you can scratch that itch for good. There’s a thin line between love and lust, I know that very well but playing with fire is only fun if there’s a lingering threat of getting hurt.
My last relationship was something that started off with both of us trying to satiate that need every teenager has, then I fell in too deep and I made it too personal. I had to break things up for our own good, if we stayed together it would’ve been self-destructive.
It was a good breakup, we’re still friends. Yeah we don’t talk about it, but what’s there to say? We dated for three years, enjoyed the time we had together and I broke it off before we hit senior year. Things were a lot less complicated than people made them out to be.
I took my mind off the subject when my phone rang.
Zeri
I found Lux passed out on the dance floor downstairs and Kai’sa’s here trying to wake her up
I thought she was supposed to be with you?
Anyways, I’m gonna stay with her to make sure she’s ok
A lot of the time Zeri was an angel that fell fom heaven, every time I fucked up she found a way to help me fix my problems. Much like Vi, Zeri cared too much about me and I sometimes wished she didn’t. A girl that nice didn’t deserve to be dragged into my problems any longer.
When I went downstairs I was greeted by the sight of Ahri trying to push a toothbrush down Lux’s mouth while Zeri and Kai’sa were trying to stop her. Lux looked half-awake, a good sign.
“She’s not going to die, Ahri,” Kai’sa said. “It’s just weed, at worse Lux is going to wake up with a bad headache.”
“Or a bad codependency on weed,” Zeri unhelpfully added. “Probably not since this is her first time, she just needs some rest.” She corrected the mistake quickly upon seeing Ahri’s terrified face.
I hopped in between them. If someone here was going to take care of Lux while she was high, it was going to be me. I was the one who had to take responsibility over this, plus we could bond even if she was higher than a kite.
“I can stay with her, make sure Lux doesn’t do anything she might regret.”
Ahri and Kai’sa both gave each other a weird look, it was obvious that they didn’t trust me. If I were in their shoes I wouldn’t trust me either.
“I’ll stay with both of them.”
Kai’sa demeanor changed completely after hearing Zeri’s words, she whispered something to Ahri which made her back off. Ahri handed me the water bottle, which I noticed was now only half-full. I took another look at Lux, her face was all wet, that explained it.
“We’re going back upstairs, if you need anything Zeri has my number,” Kai’sa said.
I felt a pang of jealousy at that. Even if I knew it wasn’t my place anymore to care about who she was talking to, I couldn’t help but to feel uncomfortable knowing there were people out there interested in her.
What a horrible fucking friend I was being.
Why was I even thinking about that? I had Lux right here, she was supposed to be my distraction. Sure she was absolutely wasted but I was going to make things work here. Lux needed to be a little more conscious before I tried talking to her.
I was going to ask Zeri a few things before continuing with my plan.
“So, you’re friends with one of them?”
Zeri shrugged. “I wouldn’t say friends, more like acquaintances since we share a couple of classes and got placed in a group project together for biology. She’s very nice.”
“I heard she’s on the track team with Taliyah, weren’t you interested in joining? Kai’sa could help you with that, but it would also mean you’re gonna stay after school with them to practice.”
“Jinx, I am not interested in Kai’sa or Taliyah,” Zeri stated, I couldn’t quite place the tone she was using but she wasn’t pleased. The thing about Zeri was that I couldn’t hide anything from her, we’ve known each other for so long that she could tell when I was trying to get information out of her. She rarely got mad at me for it, Zeri was an open book that told everyone everything about herself.
“I wasn’t implying anything.” I tried hard not to bark the words out. Two whole months had passed, I was moving on and it was natural that she would too.
Zeri rolled her eyes at me, that was new and I didn’t like it. “You should stay with Lux, I’ll continue to look for Orianna.”
“Zeri, I’m sure Orianna is fine. You don’t need to look for her, enjoy the damn party instead.”
She was trying to avoid me— not me, she was avoiding the conversation. A bit hypocritical of her when she asked me why I was avoiding Ekko, and she knew exactly why I was avoiding him. It wasn’t my fault that Zeri liked airing out all of her problems to him, he knew all of the shit that happened in the past three years because of her. It pissed me off, Ekko had no business knowing what happened between us.
“I’m going to look for Orianna,” she repeated, with more force this time. “Stay here to make sure the poor girl you dragged here doesn’t get more wasted.”
Fine, if she wanted to play that game I would too. It’s not like she cared if I hooked up with a pretty girl, obviously we were both past the stage of caring about each other’s sex life. Not that I was going to sleep with Lux, that girl was too drunk to consent to anything.
It
definitely
wouldn’t piss Zeri off if I did, right? After all, we were only friends.
I carried Lux upstairs to the room we were in before this whole mess started. She was mumbling something incoherent, I understood a few things about stars and double rainbows of all things. I had never been put in the position of being the person that had to take care of a drunk. Vi never drank, nobody in my family did, and I was the only one of my friends that did drink. Janna was usually the one to deal with me, now she was busy getting laid so getting drunk wasn’t a good idea.
Did I even want to get drunk? After that travesty of a conversation I had with Zeri, I was sure getting drunk would make things worse for me, and Lux too.
There wasn’t that much beer in the cups, they weren’t even half full. How did she get that drunk? Was it the vodka?
I carefully laid her down on the bed so as not to wake her up. The best thing I could do for Lux was to let her rest, I assumed this was her first time getting absolutely wasted, staying with her through it was the least I could do. I brushed the hair out of her face, Lux had to be one of the prettiest girls I’d ever seen. Sometimes I wondered why so many amazing girls would look at me and say ‘yes, I want that one’ not that I was complaining.
I had gone through two ex-girlfriends in four years. In hindsight maybe I should be worried about the fact I’ve always been in a relationship since I was thirteen. Lux was a nice girl, a part of me didn’t want to drag her into the shitshow that was my life, another part was curious to see what could happen between us.
What did I know about Lux? Apart from her being obviously hot and into me, the things I knew about her were shallow. If I only wanted to get a distraction out of this whole thing between us that was good, but did I want that?
Of course I did, that’s probably what Lux wanted too. I don’t want or need any more long term relationships, and if things didn’t go the way I planned we could always be friends. I can never have enough friends.
“Jinx is that you?” Lux asked groggily, her eyes were half-open.
I chuckled. “Yeah, it’s Jinx.”
Out of nowhere Lux hugged me with strength I didn’t know she had. Surprisingly I found myself hugging her back, Lux was warm, and she smelled like honey and roses. Lux hugged me like she would disappear if she stopped, if I stopped I wasn’t quite sure if she would be alright. A bit after we started hugging she began to cry, it was the subtle type of crying which I wouldn’t have noticed if she hadn’t been whimpering softly into my ear.
The alcohol had gone hard on her, I felt shitty for letting her drink.
“It’s ok, you’re gonna be alright,” I whispered. I copied the way Janna used to talk to me when I got drunk, it used to calm me down.
“Why did you leave me, Jinx?
I stayed quiet, if I had learned anything from the shit I’ve been through it was that people needed to let their emotions out. If Lux wanted to cry her heart out, I would let her do it. According to Vander, in situations like this people needed reassurance that things were going to be alright. When I was little Vi would tell me what I wanted to hear so that I stopped crying, I was going to do the same with Lux.
“I’m not gonna leave again, ok? I was helping Zeri out with something, but now I’m all yours.” I gave her a reassuring smile.
Lux looked at me with puffy eyes. “Is Zeri your best friend?
I had to restrain myself from laughing at the comment. If I said the wrong words I would make everything awkward. Although my feelings towards Zeri at the moment weren’t the clearest, I had the slight suspicion Lux would take things badly if I was honest with her.
“She’s a friend, a good one too. I’m sure you two are going to get along greatly.” The lie slipped past my lips naturally.
“Oh,” Lux mumbled, she sounded tired. “I’m sorry for asking… I think I should go back home, I’m not feeling well.”
I immediately knew what to do, this was the perfect opportunity to get closer to her. “You can come to my place, everytime after we go to a party my friends and I stay at my house. I’d love to have you there, if you want to of course.”
“I— you shouldn’t leave the party because of me, I swear I’m fine.”
“You drank a lot tonight, there’s no way I’m letting you leave all alone.”
A small smile appeared on Lux’s face. “Then I’d love to go back with you, Jinx.”
I guided Lux downstairs, she was still tipsy and I didn’t want to risk her getting hurt. I texted the group chat to tell them I was leaving, to my surprise Orianna was the first one to reply. The fucker said that she wanted to leave too, Janna followed suit with Zeri being the last one to reply. I found it weird, we usually stayed until sunrise, I got the feeling something happened.
Janna and Zeri were speaking on the patio, miraculously Orianna was there too wearing a big ass trench coat. Not only that, Janna had a frown on her face and her arms crossed, now I knew something was off with them.
“Jinx, aren’t you curious as to why we want to leave this early?” Janna asked, impatiently tapping her foot against the ground. I looked at Zeri who was awkwardly smiling, her eyes gave away her discomfort.
I shrugged. “Not really.”
"Orianna, tell Jinx why you were missing.”
Orianna opened her trench coat to reveal pockets filled with various types of candy. “I was doing business.”
“What?” I was confused, they wanted to leave the party because Orianna was selling candy? “You disappeared to sell candy?”
“I was selling candy to some freshmen, and I told them they were edibles. I’ve been having fun watching them act high when they’re just eating cherry flavored gummies,” Orianna explained.
Oh great, Orianna was just doing some dumb shit. I couldn’t be mad at her, I’ve made people much more worried and done worse than selling candy pretending it’s drugs. Why was Janna mad at her for it?
“We also kinda need to leave now or the girls I sold oregano to are going to kick my ass.”
Ah there it is, so that’s why they wanted to leave. Vi made us promise to not get into fights once we transferred to our new school, we had a bad track record so it made sense. Orianna’s weird schemes were often at fault for the fights, now looking back at it I had to admit Zeri’s worry made sense.
“Lux wants to go back with us, she drove me here so we got a gateway car.”
Janna raised an eyebrow and looked at Orianna, who looked back with a mix of astonishment and discomfort. “Can she even drive? I don’t want to die in a drunk driving accident.”
Lux squeezed my hand before speaking. “Jinx can drive us.”
“You’d trust Jinx with your car? Jinx might handle alcohol well but she still drank, I wouldn’t trust her with it.” Ouch that hurt, I mean Janna was right but it still hurt.
“Zeri,” I said without thinking. “She’s a good driver and she never drinks.”
All eyes turned on her, Zeri disliked driving but she was good at it. Zeri hesitated before answering. “I can drive, if that’s fine by Lux.”
“I have no problem with it as long as I’m in the front seat.”
The car ride home was unpleasant. I was sandwiched between Orianna and Janna, the tension was so thick you could cut it with a knife. They were obviously not happy with Lux being invaded, I understood this was usually an ‘us’ thing so them being mad wasn’t all that surprising. If anything I wanted to make things less awkward. Unfortunately I couldn’t look at Janna without remembering what I saw earlier at the party, and I got the feeling Orianna didn’t want to talk to me either.
Why the fuck were they mad when one of them dissapeared to fuck some random girl and the other one selling fake drugs? Between the three of us I was the most responsible, they couldn’t judge me because I was getting over my ex in the healthiest of ways. I knew damn well they wanted Zeri and I to get back together, they really couldn’t understand the concept of us remaining as just friends.
I leaned forward to check on Lux, she had fallen asleep again. I suspected she was the type of drunk that constantly fell asleep, maybe mixed in a little with the sad drunk too. This was going to be a good lesson for the next time she drank, if she ever did.
When we arrived I noticed the lights were off. Each time I told Vi I was going to a party, she scheduled a date night with Caitlyn. It was good because Caitlyn barely noticed how hungover I was the day after, I had to appreciate how Vi was always ready to cover my ass. If Caitlyn noticed she would tell my dads, and I knew the conversation that would follow would get out of control.
I carried Lux bride-style all the way to my room. I had Janna and Zeri make sure neither Caitlyn nor Vi were home, to make sure Vi and Caitlyn didn’t see me carrying a sleeping girl they didn’t know into the house. Orianna and Janna went to the kitchen to grab us a couple of snacks, meanwhile Zeri was getting a couple of blankets for us and I laid Lux on my bed. The room was quiet until Janna and Orianna returned. I guessed Zeri and I didn’t know what to say to each other.
Our usual arrangements consisted of Orianna and Janna sleeping on the sleeper-sofa Vi had gotten them, while Zeri and I slept on the bed. Back when we were kids we all used to sleep in my bed, it was uncomfortable but it was fun. After I started dating Zeri, Vi got all weird about it and told me we weren’t allowed to sleep all together anymore. At the moment I had the dilemma of deciphering how we would sleep with Lux being added into the equation.
I turned away from Lux to face Orianna and Janna. “I guess you two are going to sleep in the sleeper-sofa, right?”
“We’re not going to sleep with Lux if that’s what you’re implying,” Janna stated quite clearly.
I looked at Zeri. “I wasn’t trying to imply that, actually I wanted to ask Zeri if she was fine sleeping on my bed with Lux. I’ll sleep on the floor.”
“I can sleep on the floor,” she replied instantly. “You don’t have to worry about me.”
“I’m not letting you sleep on the floor, in fact there’s actually enough space for the three of us in the bed.”
Zeri didn’t look like she had the strength to argue. That’s how I ended up sleeping in-between Zeri and Lux, truly my brain was working overtime when I suggested the idea. The most fucked part of this was that I had to force myself to acknowledge that Zeri was not only my friend but also my
ex-girlfriend
, and if Lux found out it was going to be tricky to explain without sounding like an asshole.
The room was dark, I felt Lux moving closer to me in her sleep while Zeri kept a reasonable distance away from us.
My mind was telling me to at least try to make things right for once. “Zeri, are you awake?”
“Yeah.”
My mouth was dry, yet I said the words,“I’m not sure what I would do without you.”
No reply at all.
All of the things that happened during and after the party left me… conflicted.
I just needed to sleep those thoughts away.
|
Morioh, Japan. June 16th, 1999.
[default: English / Italic: Italian]
"Mm-mmh. Tell them to be careful, if it leaks we'll have problems.
- I don't think he noticed anything.
- For the moment. But it will be too late when he notices it. I'll say it again, I know it's tempting for the money. But it will fall on us. Especially if it is discovered that I have left. Really, Riz', stop them from doing stupid things.
- They don't listen to me as much as they listen to you.
- Bullshit. It won't work as an excuse. Keep them away from the Boss' little business, that's all I'm asking of you.
- ... very well.
- Thank you. I want to go home and find all my boys.
- ... it's been over a week. Are you progressing?
- Honestly, not really. It's hard to concentrate with Jotaro around. Especially now that his whole family is here.
- Your ex, hm?
- Errh... I don't even know if there's ever really been something between us, but yes, we'll say that.
- Take care of yourself. It's not for me to tell you that, but you know better than anyone that it's on your mission that you have to focus.
- ... I know."
But since she had arrived, she had had trouble applying that. Overwhelmed by emotions of all kinds, she'd almost forgotten why she was there.
"Ah, we're engaged by the way.
- ... eh?"
(Y/N) let out a mocking chuckle.
"I may have lied a little to see his reaction.
- And he believed it? When he's supposed to know you? Everyone knows it's against your principles...
- He's a little slow.
- I can see that
- Oh, hello (Y/N)!"
(Y/N) looked up at the boy who had just greeted her, a big smile on his face. She gave him a small wave.
"Hello Okuyasu. Riz', I have to leave you.
- Take care of yourself.
- Take care of yourself. And of them.
- Yes, capo.
- Mmh, very sexy when you call me that."
She heard him growl on the other end of the line, before hanging up. She bit back a laugh and turned to Okuyasu who was still there, patiently waiting for her to finish her call so he could talk to her.
"Hello (Y/N)!" he repeated.
"Hello Okuyasu. Can I help you?
- Yes! Josuke told me that you gave him advice!
- Um yes?
- Then I came to see you for that! What was the advice? I need it too!"
She blinked slowly and raised her eyebrows, amused by his childish attitude.
"Well... I told him to go out with the person he's got his eye on, give them compliments he wouldn't pay just anyone to avoid misunderstandings, and examine reactions to see if the feelings are shared or not. But in any case, if you want to know if someone likes you, you might as well ask them directly.
- Ooooooh it was to know if someone likes him...
- Yes? Wait, you didn't talk about that? But why did you want advice then?
- Well to please Josuke!"
She sighed.
"I see. You should talk to Josuke directly about it, but yeah, I think he's got his sights set on someone from your high school.
- Ooooooh, I wonder who it is! Alright, I'll ask him! Thank you, (Y/N)!
- Well... You're welcome?
- Hello (Y/N), hello Okuyasu!" Koichi exclaimed as he appeared at the end of the street.
"Yo!" Josuke said at his side.
"Hello boys. Where are you going like this?
- We're going to town to find a birthday present for Jolyne!" Koichi replied.
"Heh... She's technically my little niece, it's up to me to become the cool uncle!" Josuke exclaimed.
"I also want to become a cool uncle!" Okuyasu yelled. "Gotta spoil the little one!
- So I'm coming with you", the young woman announced.
"Do you want to be a cool auntie too?" Okuyasu asked with wide bewildered eyes.
"Haha, no thanks. I leave this title to you."
And that's how (Y/N) found herself going shopping with the three teenagers. She honestly had no idea what to buy a little girl she didn't know. And the boys were absolutely no help, everything distracted them. She couldn't expect anything from them, but at least their good humor was contagious. As she was scanning entire shelves of stuffed animals, she heard them giggling like idiots a few feet away, and that was enough to make her smile.
"Hey, (Y/N)!" Josuke called out.
"Mmm?
- Okuyasu and I are going to the gym right after, would you like to come?
- I don't really know, I have a lot of work.
- Come on!" Okuyasu said. "I bet I can last longer in a race than you!
- Ha! All right, we'll see that. Are you coming too, Koichi?
- Oh, no, sorry. My girlfriend is waiting for me to go to the cinema. But see you tomorrow!
- Haha, she's so clingy!" Okuyasu scoffed. "I'm a little jealous.
- Ah yes?..." Josuke said.
(Y/N) immediately noticed the sidelong glance Josuke had just given Okuyasu. And she finally realized whose attention Josuke absolutely wanted. Koichi greeted them before walking away, and (Y/N) couldn't hide her smirk as she surveyed the two remaining teenagers' attitude towards each other. Josuke met her gaze and he rubbed the back of his head as if nothing had happened.
"Uh... shall we go then?
- Let's go!" Okuyasu said, excited.
"Imma stop at the hotel to get some things first", (Y/N) told them.
When they arrived at the gym a few minutes later, (Y/N) didn't immediately notice who was already there. She was too busy laughing at Josuke's jokes to pay attention to others. But her laugh absolutely did not escape Jotaro's ears as he was busy lifting weights on a bench press. He was distracted and gasped unconsciously. On the machine next to his, Rohan looked at him, noticing that something was wrong with his attitude, before turning to the three bizarre individuals who had just entered. He gritted his teeth and rolled his eyes. He caught Josuke's gaze, who smirked.
"Well? Rohan, what are you doing here?
- It seems obvious to me, doesn't it, Josuke?" Rohan groaned between his teeth.
"Since when do you go to the gym?" Okuyasu chuckled.
"Since forever. I, Rohan Kishibe, owe it to myself to have an absolutely perfect body to be in symbiosis with my genius brain. A healthy mind in a s-
- It's just because there's Jotaro, confess!" Josuke exclaimed.
"..."
Rohan pretended not to be interested in them and their nonsense anymore, but he got offended. Yet, right next to him, Jotaro didn't care. He was trying somehow to catch his breath.
"Hey, (Y/N)! Do you still want to bet?" Josuke asked, thus deciding to ignore Rohan.
"Well yeah, no doubt.
- You're both going to lose!" Okuyasu exclaimed.
Jotaro was certain of that now. (Y/N) was in the same room as him. Besides, when she turned to approach the treadmills, she finally laid eyes on him. Or rather on his sweaty muscles. She let herself be trapped admiring his body for a few seconds before quickly pushing that thought out of her head and focusing on the teenage challenge.
"Are you ready?" Josuke asked. "We'll start easy, and then accelerate more and more! Whoever lasts the longest wins!
- Let's go!" Okuyasu shouted, a bit too loudly.
(Y/N) lit the treadmill under her feet and began to walk calmly, an amused smile on her lips. Her opponents were unaware of her physical abilities. They would have a hard time keeping up.
"Let's speed up!" Josuke exclaimed.
"Can't you be quiet?" Rohan groaned, a few yards away.
(Y/N) looked away to meet his furious gaze, and that's when she noticed that Jotaro had put down his weights to get into a sitting position and take a breather. She quickly turned her head so as not to have to meet his gaze.
"Faster!"
They were trotting at a decent pace, and (Y/N) had no trouble sparing her efforts. And what she didn't know was that behind her, Jotaro was having a hard time taking his eyes off her silhouette. But Rohan had noticed that very well. So he "accidentally" dropped his water bottle on Jotaro who found his t-shirt soaked.
"Oh I am sorry!
- Let's speed up!" Josuke exclaimed.
Jotaro absolutely didn't answer anything, he simply sighed, and expressed his frustration with a dark look. He took off his t-shirt with a quick movement of his arm before coming to wipe the sweat that beaded his forehead with it. A show for Rohan who would have dreamed of being able to take notes for his fiction.
"Wow Jotaro, I see I'm not the only one following the saying 'healthy mind, healthy body'!"
(Y/N) had to force herself not to turn around and look at the two men behind her. She had no desire to lose her bet. She couldn't allow herself any distractions. Not even Jotaro's abs.
"Let's... Let's speed up!" Josuke said, slowly losing his breath.
(Y/N) glanced sideways at the two teenagers, a smile on her face. They were starting to have trouble keeping up. Okuyasu met her gaze and widened his eyes.
"It's not possible! She's not even sweating!"
The young woman let out a small laugh.
"I told you, I will beat you!
- But- But you're actually super strong! You- woooo-"
Okuyasu had missed paying attention. He tripped over the treadmill and fell forward, just barely hitting his forehead hard. Josuke laughed, but he jumped off his machine to help him up.
"Everything fine??
- Yes! But uh... I think we lost", Okuyasu announced, pointing (Y/N) with his finger.
The young woman was still running. And to taunt them a bit, she picked up the pace. The two boys were left speechless, amazed. Which made the Italian laugh, and she had to stop her machine to avoid doing like Okuyasu and trip. When she got off her treadmill, she almost immediately met Jotaro's ocean gaze, who quickly looked away. But (Y/N), instead of looking away, looked down at his bare chest. She felt her ears boil and realized she must be blushing like an idiot. As she was about to go to the locker room to have a drink and above all hide her embarrassment, Rohan stood in front of her, a look of defiance in his eyes.
"These two good-for-nothings were clearly not at your level, (Y/N). But you'll never beat me, Rohan Kish-
- Deal", she interrupted him before he could even finish his sentence, which only frustrated him a little more.
"... Very well. But not in a race, it's a weak test. No, it needs something at my level. How about lifting some weights?"
(Y/N) looked down at the bench press where Jotaro was sitting, before looking down at him and meeting his gaze. She saw him gulp, before he hid his face by wiping his forehead.
"Very well," she finally replied.
"Don't you dare cheat.
- I don't see how."
She lay down on a bench, her back flat and her feet flat on the ground. Rohan looked at her with disdain, before settling down at his own machine. He snapped his fingers.
"Josuke, make yourself useful, put on our weights. And make sure you put the same amount for everyone, if you cheat I'll-
- Okay, I get it", Josuke sighed, rolling his eyes.
With Okuyasu's help, Josuke loaded the two contestants with 10 kg each.
"You must do ten, not one less," he informed them. "Are you ready?
- Ready.
- As ever", Rohan groaned between his teeth, after having checked that Jotaro was watching them.
And he was. He didn't even try to hide it.
"Let's go!"
For (Y/N) who was undergoing mandatory assassin training, there was nothing simpler than lifting 10kg. But for Rohan, whose job did not require his muscles' help, it was already a different story. And they were just getting started. Beside, Jotaro sighed, before getting up to approach the mangaka.
"Your back. Stick it against the bench, you will struggle less."
Rohan immediately followed his advice. And hardly had she finished her series than (Y/N) was offended.
"Hey, that's not fair. He's the one wanting to play this game, there is no need to help him."
Jotaro shrugged and Rohan looked very pleased.
"Thank you, Jotaro.
- I added 10 kg", Josuke announced.
(Y/N) frowned in frustration, before preparing for round two. And when Josuke made them start, she had no trouble doing her series. Rohan followed her, a little late, but he held on thanks to Jotaro's advice. They did four sets in a row. But arriving at the fifth, the young man began to tremble.
"Give up, Rohan," (Y/N) whispered to him, struggling to raise the bar.
"N-Never, I... Ugh... Shit... I- I'm going to let go!"
Jotaro quickly helped him raise his bar, a small consolation for Rohan who was smoking with rage. And Okuyasu laughed while patting the young woman's head, breathless on her bench. Proudly, Josuke announced,
"It's a crushing victory for (Y/N)!"
It was too much for Rohan's ego, who jumped up.
"Ah yes? We will see if her victory is that crushing!"
He added 20kg all at once to (Y/N)'s weight and she opened her eyes wide. She whispered to Okuyasu, who suddenly felt like he was her sports coach.
"... I will never be able to lift that."
But Rohan didn't seem to leave her the choice, an evil and not at all sincere smile twisted his mouth. He was almost terrifying. So, slowly, she grabbed her barbell and lifted her weights. Immediately, she felt that after all the hardships today, her arms wouldn't hold up. She felt them weakening, they were shaking with fatigue. And it became dangerous. As she was in danger of giving up any second, Star Platinum came to lift the weights for her, thus saving her from the immoral challenge that Rohan had thrown at her. He cringed when he saw Jotaro's Stand helping the young woman to finally catch her breath.
"... thank you, Star.
- Ora!" the Stand said cheerfully, patting her on the shoulder.
She couldn't help smiling. Because the Stands were a manifestation of their users' soul. Which meant that Jotaro had just offered to help. And therefore showing a faint sign of his affection. The Japanese met her gaze, then he turned on his heels and disappeared. (Y/N) stared for a long moment at the door he had just left through, before turning to the boys.
"I'm tired, I'm going to the shower. See you at the exit."
After catching Rohan glaring at her, she got up and went to the locker room. A small group of women were exiting as she entered, giving her plenty of room to herself. But as she began to change to go take a shower, she found herself face to face with Rohan who, with a menacing gaze, forced her to step back against the cold wall.
"...you're ridiculous, (Y/N). I know what you are playing.
- ... eh?
- I was there first. Find yourself another guy to seduce."
She blinked slowly, trying to figure out what he was talking about. And she suddenly had a revelation. Which made her let out a small laugh that only frustrated the man in front of her a little more.
"Wait - don't tell me you're talking about Jotaro?
- What do you think?!
- Do you know he's married?
- ... and?
- Oh wow, okay, there's no stopping you."
Rohan shrugged, letting his guard down for a split second. A split second too long for (Y/N) to take out her Stand and slam him against the wall, scythe against his throat.
"I warn you, Rohan Kishibe, this is the last time you dare threaten me."
He met her (E/C) gaze and gulped, suddenly much less proud. That look in her eyes... It was terrifying. And absolutely fascinating. He would use Heaven's Door to-
"Don't even think about using your Stand on me. I'll stop time long before you move.
- ... it didn't even cross my mind.
- Sure."
Unconsciously, Rohan lowered his gaze to the young woman's lips as she was threatening him. She noticed him and rolled her eyes before letting him go.
"Disappear. I've seen enough for today.
- How dare you speak to me in that tone, me, Rohan Ki-
- You really want me to hit you, that's it?
- ... all good, I'm going.
- Thank you."
He gave her one last look before leaving the locker room, a slight smile on his face. Rohan Kishibe was particularly delighted. He had just found someone just as interesting as Jotaro. |
“If you can’t find him, that means it’s not meant to be,” the Nie sect leader said, and perhaps looked a little relieved somewhere beneath the grim scowl that had replaced the easygoing smile he had once had. “Let it be, then. Only…”
“Yes, Sect Leader?”
“I want our borders shut,” he said, his gaze distant, his hands tucked behind his back in stiffest formality. “Let no cultivator pass through; no scion or servant of any other sect, large or small.”
“Sect Leader…?”
“I don’t care what it does to our reputation,” he said, voice flat. “I don’t care if it hurts our commerce, makes everyone laugh at us as cowards – I don’t care about anything like that. That he’s well enough to evade us does not mean he is out of danger. If anyone else should find out…”
He shook his head.
“I have failed him enough already. I will not do so again.” He turned his head to stare at his subordinates. “Shut it down. All of it!”
They saluted, and went to enact his will.
-
Lan Wangji hadn’t been especially impressed with the Nie sect at first.
They were loud and constantly moving yet also guarded and standoffish, as if they couldn’t decide if they wanted people to pay attention to them or to leave them alone. He initially had thought it was arrogance the same way as the Jin sect, wanting to be looked at without wanting to admit it, but after some observation he’d realized that it really wasn’t like that at all. It was a little more, he thought, that they were naturally outgoing and extroverted, innately social in nature, and had to keep reminding themselves that they actually didn’t like any other people.
Certainly that was the impression the Nie sect heir gave off.
Nie Huaisang was Lan Wangji’s age, but he was much less accomplished – he talked a lot, smiled a lot, was a lot, and yet Lan Wangji didn’t think he’d ever actually said a single thing that really mattered. Lan Wangji hadn’t thought much about Nie Huaisang at all other than gritting his teeth and acting as his escort on the Nie sect’s first visit to another sect in years and years, thinking that if Nie Huaisang was any example, the Nie sect’s fearsome reputation for being as straight and unsubtle as their sabers was all a bunch of nonsense. Maybe he would have gone on thinking that, too, except that on the fourth day of their visit he discovered that Nie Huaisang listened as well as talked.
“I’m sorry,” Nie Huaisang said at one point, smiling. “Could you repeat that?”
Lan Wangji hadn’t really been paying attention, and he certainly hadn’t been speaking – he looked at Nie Huaisang in askance, wondering if he’d accidentally said something he wasn’t aware of.
“Your father,” Nie Huaisang clarified, and Lan Wangji tensed. “How often is he in seclusion?”
Lan Wangji frowned, cautious – that was a secret, of course, one of the family secrets. Everything behind what happened with his parents was secret. “Quite often,” he temporized. “He’s trying to focus on his cultivation –”
“That wasn’t what I asked,” Nie Huaisang said, cheerfully cutting him off without making it seem like he was doing that. “My da-ge says that he heard from – from somewhere, anyway, that he wasn’t just in seclusion often but always. He says that your father hasn’t used his sword in years, leaving it to rust on the wall, betraying all his old principles of swordsmanship.”
Lan Wangji bristled, thinking that it was an insult, but Nie Huaisang was looking at him, face open and sincere and, for once, serious, and looking over his words Lan Wangji had to admit there was more truth to it than lies. And wasn’t his uncle always saying do not tell lies?
“It’s not his choice,” he said, trying to defend it even as he wondered who was the da-ge that Nie Huaisang was referring to, since he was supposed to be the only heir of Qinghe Nie. “He has to be there, because of –”
He stopped.
“Because of what?” Nie Huaisang asked. His eyes were too sharp, too knowing, and suddenly Lan Wangji was sure he already knew. “Because of the broken sword buried under his house?”
“…my mother’s,” Lan Wangji said, and knew that he had admitted too much.
Except maybe keeping secrets the way he was supposed to wasn’t actually what he was supposed to do, because Nie Huaisang nodded and said, “My da-ge wouldn’t like that.”
Then he went back to his father and said something about how his da-ge wouldn’t approve of what was going on and the next thing Lan Wangji knew, Sect Leader Nie was striding through the Cloud Recesses with a terrifying scowl, going straight up to the house where Lan Wangji’s father was in seclusion and tearing the door right off the hinges.
“She’s dead already,” he bellowed, voice echoing right down the bones. “You should save your care for the living, or else you’ll blink and next thing they’ll be gone. Gone right along with the dead you’ve already lost. Don’t you dare throw away your chance the way I did!”
After that, all of a sudden, Lan Wangji had a father again.
-
“There are rumors, you know,” Lan Xichen said.
He was having tea in the garden in the small teahouse just outside of the Nie sect lands in Qinghe, the place where the Nie sect usually received its visitors now that the Unclean Realm and most of its surrounding environs were shut off from the world by fiercely patrolling guards. He was with Nie Huaisang, who barely stopped talking, and Lan Wangji, who almost never started; ever since the day old Sect Leader Nie had forced Qingheng-jun out of seclusion and back into the world, they had been the most unlikely pair of best friends he could have ever imagined. Whenever they were together, they fit together like two improbable puzzle pieces that should never have been separated.
When he was with them, Lan Xichen always felt a little lost, a little alone – like there was someone else that should have been there, too, someone who fit with him just right the way they fit together.
Perhaps, he thought, reflecting on what he had heard, there really should have been.
“About what?” Nie Huaisang inquired politely.
“The Unclean Realm,” Lan Xichen said, even though that was obvious there’d be rumors about that – there’d been people trying to sneak into there ever since it had been locked down, even though the Nie sect had announced that they’d imposed orders permitting any trespassers to be killed on sight, no excuses allowed. It hadn’t made that much of a difference; everyone wanted to know what they were hiding. “The – inheritance thereof.”
“Oh?” Nie Huaisang fanned himself lightly. “How interesting. What do the rumors say?”
“That you have an older brother,” Lan Xichen said, and noted with interest that neither Nie Huaisang nor Lan Wangji seemed surprised. “That he’s the real heir of Qinghe Nie. And that he’s…”
“That he’s what?”
“Subject to a curse,” Lan Xichen said, feeling bashful for even saying such a thing. It sounded like a children’s story told in the nighttime, not like anything a cultivator ought to be speaking of.
Except Nie Huaisang smiled a little, his eyes curving into crescents in a grim sort of humor, and he said, “Well, they’re not wrong.”
-
“I trust that this is an illustration of the reason we have rules against spreading rumors,” Lan Qiren said mildly, and noted that Nie Huaisang looked thoroughly abashed for once.
It didn’t happen very often: Nie Huaisang was in many ways utterly shameless, as shameless as his father had always been. As shameless as his mother, who Lan Qiren had met only twice, had been when in search of a snack, and given that woman’s force of personality (and, for that matter, appetite), that was saying something.
“I wasn’t expecting them to start talking about breaking the curse,” Nie Huaisang said bitterly. “I didn’t mean a curse like – like a kid’s story, or something! I just meant, you know…”
The qi deviations, he did not say.
“It could be seen as a curse, if you look at it in the right light,” Lao Nie agreed. He didn’t seem especially perturbed by the fact that his son’s conversation with Lan Xichen had been overheard and then spread out everywhere, nor that the secret of his eldest son’s improbable survival was being gossiped about all over the cultivation world. “It’s quite a reasonable way to describe it, really.”
Lan Qiren shot his old friend a frown. “I trust you’ve heard the rest of it, too?” he asked tartly. “They’re saying that you’d let the entirety of the Qinghe Nie go to whoever succeeded in breaking the ‘curse’.”
“Who says I won’t?” Lao Nie asked, and Lan Qiren turned to him fully to stare: he couldn’t be serious.
Lao Nie caught his glance and shook his head, and in the light he didn’t look grim and angry, the way he always was these days; he looked tired, and sad, and broken. “Oh, I’m quite serious, my friend,” he said. “If someone could bring me back my son, I would give them my head off my shoulders in a heartbeat.”
He was speaking hypothetically, Lan Qiren knew, and yet – with a sinking sensation in his heart – he knew, too, that they weren’t sitting somewhere as secret as he would have liked for a conversation like this. He knew that others had probably heard what Lao Nie had said, and instead of understanding that he was expressing regret for what had happened to his son, they would think…
Well.
They’d think a lot of things.
“Think of your health, instead of your death,” Lan Qiren finally said, shaking his head. He’d been helping Lao Nie for years now, fighting a rearguard action against Lao Nie’s own inevitable qi deviation, trying to win enough time for Nie Huaisang to grow up old enough to take over properly, but it was getting harder each visit, the treatment less effective, the healing slower.
It would not be too long now.
“They’re the same thing,” Lao Nie said, shaking his head. “I should have lost my life years ago, instead of losing him his…it’s been so long, Qiren. Every day I wake up is a day I live for him, not for me – living the way he would want me to, doing what he’d approve of. It’s the least I could do. If someone could bring him back to me…someone, anyone, anyone at all…”
His gaze was distant, and sad. Terribly sad.
“What Qinghe Nie? What Unclean Realm? What inheritance?” he finally said. “There’s nothing I wouldn’t give for that. Nothing at all.”
-
Wen Ruohan was the first.
For some reason, Lao Nie hadn’t been expecting that, though perhaps he should have – the reason he’d first started liking Wen Ruohan so much all those years ago was purely because of how shameless the man was, arrogant and careless of the world in the way only the truly dangerous could be. He’d liked that aspect of his back then, and when he wasn’t lying to himself, he knew he liked it still.
But this?
This was too far.
“How dare you?” he roared, and there was a red haze over his vision of the sort that he knew boded extremely ill for his long-term health. “My Unclean Realm is closed – do you think that you would be welcome? You, of all people?”
Wen Ruohan had forced his way right up to their gate, bringing with him a small retinue rather than the invasion force Lao Nie’s elders were always a little concerned about. As a result, he was now surrounded, surrounded and outnumbered, but he did not seem afraid.
Detestable man.
Lao Nie hated him now. He hated him as much as he’d once liked him.
He hated that he couldn’t hate him more.
“I’m here about the curse,” Wen Ruohan said, and Lao Nie stared at him, utterly speechless. “You did say ‘anyone at all’.”
“You want Qinghe Nie?” Lao Nie asked blankly, though of course he would – Wen Ruohan’s ambitions to take over the entire cultivation world were hardly secret. No, even if that was the first thing that came to his lips, Wen Ruohan’s blatant overreaching wasn’t actually what surprised him.
No, what surprised him was –
“You know it’s not a curse,” he said.
“I do,” Wen Ruohan said, and when he lifted his eyes to meet Lao Nie’s, Lao Nie was surprised to find them bloodshot. Not the familiar sort, the qi deviations of rage the way all Nie sect leaders went eventually, but rather a sort that was even more common than that.
Grief. Sorrow. Guilt.
Regret.
That last one was a word Lao Nie would previously have put money on Wen Ruohan not knowing.
“You said ‘anyone at all’,” Wen Ruohan said again, and it occurred to Lao Nie that that was the part that Wen Ruohan had quoted, the part he was stressing: not the inheritance, not There’s nothing I wouldn’t give, but just that. Anyone at all, Lao Nie had said, and he’d meant it, too. Anyone at all meant anyone.
Even Wen Ruohan.
“Since when do you care?” Lao Nie asked. “You were the one who did it.”
“I did it,” Wen Ruohan admitted. “I was angry at you. I’ve been angry at you for years. I thought I’d cleansed myself of all feeling before you dug the heart out of me, and yet you treated me lightly, giving me only as much of yourself as you wished. I thought that if I could only get rid of you, I could seal my heart up again and be none the worse for it.”
“You would’ve gone mad,” Lao Nie said, feeling irritable. “I told you time and time again, the path of clarity is a dead end. No man can live without feeling emotions. Sorrow may try to trick you into thinking it’s preferable, but in the end...”
Wen Ruohan smiled, humorless. “Sorrow can be very convincing. But that’s not what you asked – you wanted to know why I was here.”
Lao Nie crossed his arms over his chest. “Well, then?”
“You’re still here,” Wen Ruohan said. “My heart is not dead. And I – I nearly murdered a child.”
That brother of his, Lao Nie thought, and he understood.
But what good would his understanding do?
“I have to try to fix it,” Wen Ruohan said. No, not said – he was nearly begging. “Lao Nie, you said anyone. I did it, I acknowledge it. I was wrong. I regret. Let me have a chance to try to fix it.”
“There’s no fixing it,” Lao Nie said, and turned away. “You ran a fool’s errand, Hanhan. He’s not even here.” |
She emerged from the tunnel after what seemed an age but was probably closer to five minutes, judging by the number of times she'd moved each knee on her crawl. Only once had she needed to crouch down lower and worm through on her belly, but it had been a terrifying moment. What if she got stuck here? Nobody would ever know what had happened to her.
It was with huge relief and gratitude that she spotted the light around a bend in the tunnel. The tunnel sloped gently downwards but got taller at the same time, so that by the time she got to its mouth, she could have stood upright. Briefly, before turning the last corner, she considered. Would her captor prefer her to crawl or walk? She brushed the stones off her palms and went back to crawling, knowing the answer.
The tunnel opened into a cave perhaps twenty feet in each direction, strangely symmetrical for what looked on the surface like a natural formation. The ceiling ranged from ten to about fourteen feet above her head, showing the natural variation she'd have expected, but the floor was as flat as a patio deck and the walls were not much rougher. Her mind catalogued these details while her eyes took in the contents of the room.
The centre of the room was dominated by a huge wooden X shape, with iron rings at each of the four points. Not far from that was a piece of furniture reminiscent of the horses she had once jumped over in gymnastics class, though this one had a sharp angle where the padding would have been on those. Around the room were benches, stockades, and other devices Hyori couldn't name. Along one wall was a row of wooden cabinets, closed.
She did not have time to wonder at their contents before Mireu swept into the room. She was still gloriously nude, and in the brighter light of the big room, it was clear the greenish glow to her skin had not been a trick of the light. She smiled at Hyori, a predatory look, and the girl shivered. In two steps she had crossed the room. She took Hyori's chin between two fingers and forced it up until the girl was meeting her eyes.
"Did you enjoy your little trip through the tunnel, toy?" she purred. Not waiting for a response, she pulled her captive to her feet, unlatched the girl's arms, and pushed her toward the X, catching her by the elbow when she almost lost her balance. In moments, Hyori's arms were chained to the iron rings at the two upper points of the X. She could see the locks this time, but it was clear that even if she could have reached them, it would have done her no good. The padlocks appeared to have no keyhole, and she wondered if she was stuck there forever.
She tried to crane her neck around to see what Mireu was doing behind her, but a sharp slap on her cheek dissuaded her. "Your curiosity has already gotten you in trouble today, toy. We will need to work on curbing that."
Hyori wasn't quite sure what that meant, but she didn't have time to think about it. Mireu's hands were once again on her breasts from behind, working the nipples and bruising the soft flesh with each pass of her talon-like nails. She moaned and twisted, wondering why she wasn't protesting.
Mireu next moved her hands to the waistband of the girl's pants. She ran her hand inside them, caressing and kneading Hyari's ass until she squirmed. Then her hands moved to the front and Hyari felt the button being undone and the zipper lowered. When her pants fell off her hips, she came back to herself and stopped moving.
"What's the matter, toy? Not pleased with my little game anymore?"
She screwed up all her courage and said, "Why are you doing this to me?" Her voice, normally forceful to the point where her mother despaired of making a lady of her, now came out on a note halfway between a plea and a moan. Inwardly she cursed. Where was her forthrightness when she needed it?
Mireu stepped back, and the touching stopped. Despite herself, Hyari craved it, and had to force herself not to move her ass towards those devilishly provocative hands. "So, perhaps you're not just some power in a pretty body," Mireu remarked thoughtfully. She leaned in close, her mouth at Hyari's ear, not touching her. "You fell into my lair on a day of power, and that makes you mine," she whispered. "I can do anything I want to you and you can do nothing to stop me. But you're not just any fresh offering. You're the descendant of a witch of my own people, and that means we can help each other, you and I." The tips of her nails brushed Hyari under the leather collar, then raked downwards. Hyari cried out as the nails scored her back in four long tracks, wondering if she were now dripping blood. "But before we can do business, you need to understand your place in this deal. You see, I hold all the power, for you are untrained and bound by my magic. You will have the choice as to how long you serve me, but not how, nor whether to serve. Think on that as I use you for a day and a night, for at the end of that time, you will have a choice to make." Her captor took a step back, then reached down to tug at the pants around her ankles. "Kick these off, toy, or you will have nothing to wear should you choose, tomorrow, to go back to your world," she cooed.
Back? Hyori perked up, and without another thought, kicked off the pants. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Mireu place them, crumpled, into one of the wooden cabinets where her shirt already resided, but she dared not turn her head to look more closely.
The feel of the lash on her back startled her. Her eyes widened and she gasped as its tails wrapped around her body, covering her from breasts to ass in delicious sting. "Let's see how you do with more than a single stroke, shall we?" Mireu cooed. "When you're ready for me to stop, you are to call out "red," but be warned - I will stop this only to start something else." With that she laid the flogger on hard.
Hyori's world narrowed. There was her body stretched taut on its frame, her torso stinging from the leather tails, and a growing wetness between her legs. All else was lost in a haze of pain and pleasure. She hung slack from her chains, writhing with each stroke, tears streaming down her face, praying for it to stop, praying for it to go on forever, moaning and growling and mewling each in turn as the whipping went on and on and on.
When her moans had slowed and her squeaks quieted, the whipping stopped. Hyori barely noticed, lost in the all-consuming waves of pain and pleasure, until a cool cloth was draped over her back. Gently she was patted, each gentle tap causing a renewed spasm, a faint echo of the flogger itself. Behind her, she could hear Mireu's noises, the click of her clawlike nails on the floor, her grunts of satisfaction at each tiny expression of pain from her captive, her harsh breathing, until finally the cloth was removed and Mireu leaned her chin on Hyori's shoulder.
"That was a lovely meal, my toy," she cooed. "And I am pleased that you did not call red. For that, I will grant you a boon. You may ask anything you like, so long as it does not involve going free."
Hyori fought the fog in her brain. A boon? She got to ask for something, and Mireu would give it to her? "May I lie down, Mireu?" she asked.
Her captor laughed. It was not a pleasant sound, and the girl wondered if she'd played into this terrible game. But how could lying down be worse than hanging from these chains? Before she could come up with a way, Mireu's hands were releasing the chains that held her up. She would have fallen had her captor not supported her as she got her feet under her. Her weight supported again, her hands were once again pulled behind her back and fastened there. Muscles long immobilized screamed in agony and she cried out. Mireu ignored the reaction, snapping a leash on the collar and tugging on it. Shakily, still crying, she followed where the blue-green beauty led.
It was only a few steps to a narrow bed. Mireu pushed her face-first onto it, and Hyori fell with a gasp. Next her feet were pulled up and she was turned so her head was toward the head of the bed. Despite the pain in her arms and torso, she began to relax; it was so good to feel her weight supported by the mattress! But her relief was short-lived, for Mireu was not about to let her off so lightly.
Her wrists were released and she was flipped over in one fluid motion. Before she could grasp at her freedom, one hand was fastened to the side of the bed; in a heartbeat Mireu was around the bed and repeating the tie on the other side. Next Mireu took her feet and moved them until the soles were together, forming a diamond with her legs. A couple of twists with some twine and her big toes were joined together.
Hyori was beginning to realize her mistake: she was lying down, but her bondage was just as strict as it had been before. Mireu had granted her boon without giving her the rest she really craved. Mentally she made a bet with herself as to where Mireu would focus her attentions next.
She did not have long to wait. Her captor climbed onto the bed and sat on her toy's feet. Hyori gathered her energy to lift her head, and caught her breath at the beautiful form that was tormenting her. Mireu's skin was not just turquoise; it was almost iridescent, refracting light with each movement, giving the illusion of a diamond-studded hide with the form of a lithe, athletic woman. Their eyes caught, and Mireu smiled, holding her gaze. The questing fingers at her cunt were almost a surprise, for all they'd been anticipated. She moaned again, squirming against the exploring hand. Nobody had ever touched her there before.
Gentle hands caressed her labia, pinching and rubbing. Her hips rocked against the building pressure as the hands circled and rubbed at her clitoris, and she began to pant as fingers entered her and began to tickle. The angle changed. She barely noticed until Mireu's mouth closed over her nipple and began to circle it with her tongue, nipping and biting. She writhed and moaned. The tempo increased, a pounding rock beat in her cunt, a strumming guitar at her clit, until finally the pressure crested and she burst into a thousand pieces.
Her drifting mind snapped abruptly back into her body when Mireu began to crawl up her. "Was that your first orgasm, toy?" she purred.
Hyori shook her head but didn't speak. Mireu frowned. Grasping her captive's chin in her taloned hands (where had the talons been a few moments ago?) she ordered, "You will answer me when I ask you a question, toy."
"I - I have made myself come before, Mireu," Hyori admitted.
"But never like that, am I right?" The triumph in her voice made it clear she already knew the answer, so Hyori gave it to her.
"No, Mireu. Never like that."
She nodded in satisfaction and continued her climb, sitting up as she got to her captive's neck and continuing to slide, until she was over Hyori's mouth. "I gave you a sampling of what to do, toy," she purred as her hands stroked the girl's hair. "Now you get to do the same to me - with your mouth. If you do well, perhaps I will grant another boon."
Hyori hesitated. Mireu's smell was pungent in her nostrils, sweet and sharp and enticing, but very unfamiliar. A sharp slap to one breast brought her attention back to her captor. "I gave you an order, toy," Mireu reminded her, as she grasped one nipple between two talons and started to cut. Hyori cried out, and while her mouth was still open, Mireu positioned herself above it.
Hyori began to lick, gingerly at first, then with increasing fervour as she realized how much she liked the taste. Her tongue circled Mireu's clitoris, and her captor moaned. Encouraged, she kept up that motion, flicking over the hardening bud with her tongue. Gently she sucked, then when Mireu's moans became whimpers, she did it again, biting and sucking by turns. Mireu's whimpers rose to higher and higher pitches as her body gyrated on Hyori's tongue. Finally Mireu shuddered and cried out, spasming over and over again as she gradually sank to lie down next to her captive.
They lay there for several long minutes, not moving. Hyori couldn't, and Mireu seemed disinclined. Finally the strange woman rolled over Hyori and off the bed, standing in one fluid motion. She untied the twine that held Hyori's big toes together, then detached each wrist from the bed, locking them together in front. Then she pulled the girl off the bed.
"You have done well, toy. I have fed on your energies more than on any girl before you. This time you get a real boon, and I will choose it." She led her hostage to the other side of the room, to a long, low cage made of metal. The floor was covered with padding of some substance Hyori couldn't identify, and the bars at the sides and the top had regular slots of different shapes, none big enough to fit through entirely. This she opened at the short end, indicating to Hyori that she was to enter. Wordlessly the girl sank to her knees and crawled in; the cage was too low for her to sit up in it, but just barely long enough to lie straight. Had she been even an inch taller, she would have had to scrunch her body to fit inside. She wondered how many of her predecessors had spent time in this cage with the purpose of making them as uncomfortable as possible.
When she was fully inside the cage, Mireu threw a blanket in with her and then closed it. As she was dealing with the blanket and trying to cover herself, her captor locked it. "Rest, my toy," she crooned as one talon scraped down Hyori's thigh through the bars. "In a few hours, you will serve me again, and then we shall discuss terms. For now, rest."
The lights dimmed, and Hyori settled into the thin padding with a sigh. Her eyes drifted shut.
|
She had watched him most of the night. He sat alone at the bar. Several women had approached him, but he sent them all away. He was hers. She had complete control over him.
From her table in the corner she studied him. His brown hair had highlights of red and hung to his broad shoulders. The black tee shirt he wore accentuated his muscled back and biceps. His faded blue jeans hugged a cute ass and powerful thighs.
She licked her lips in anticipation. She needed to feel him against her. His cock plunging in and out of her. His fingers pulling at her pierced nipples. Her pussy creamed just thinking about it. She resisted the urge to plunge her fingers between her bare, wet pussy lips and taste her own cum. A shiver ran through her and she bit her lip drawing blood.
****
He was being watched. It took all his control not to turn and face her. He could feel her. He could feel her hands on his body. Her nails raking his skin. He surppressed a shudder. He had come here to be alone. His girlfriend had just dumped him and he was nursing a bruised ego. He had been sitting alone at the bar when she walked in. He had watched her as she sauntered to a corner table and sat down facing him.
She had to be the Goddess of Sexy. Her black hair fell in tousled waves down her back. Wispy bangs partially covered her left eye and cheek. Her lips were full and a ruby red. When her deep green eyes connected with his, he felt a jolt rush through him.
She wore a long black cloak that fell to the floor. She crossed her legs as she sat and he glimpsed the sexiest pair of six inch black stilettos heels. His eyes caught hers again before he turned away.
He shifted on the stool trying to relieve his straining cock. Maybe she was just what he needed right now? A rebound fuck. Someone to bury himself in and enjoy the wild ride. And she looked wild. She looked like every fantasy he had ever had. And then some. He wanted to do all the things with her that his girlfriend wouldn't.
Finishing his beer, he made up his mind to go and talk to her. He started to get off the stool when she appeared at his side.
****
"Hello."
Her voice was low and sultry. It made his cock even harder. He shifted again.
"Hi. Can I buy you a drink?"
"Hmmm." She tilted her head as she thought about it, gold hoop earrings rested against her neck. "Maybe later."
He watched as she lifted herself up onto the stool. Her cloak parted and he saw that she was naked underneath. His cock jerked. He sure hoped this wasn't some cruel joke. He was ready to fucking burst.
"My name's Michael."
"Roxie."
Michael said the name over and over in his mind. It was a sexy name. She was a sexy woman.
"Let's get out of here Michael."
Bingo!
Michael all but jumped from the stool. He threw down enough money to cover his tab and helped Roxie to her feet. She was a good foot shorter than his 6'2" even in her heels. He liked when a woman had to look up at him, exposing her throat to his hungry mouth.
"My place or yours?" Michael asked steering her, with a hand at her back, out of the bar and to his truck.
"Mine. It's safer."
Safer? Michael didn't dwell on it. Maybe she did this all the time and had a lifetime supply of condoms. His ex was on the pill so he didn't need them. Shit, he liked a woman who came prepared.
They drove quickly and silently to her house. It was hard to concentrate of the road when she crossed her legs, letting the cloak fall open. Michael swung the truck into her driveway and jumped out. It was an old Victorian that reminded him of the haunted house at Disney. He came around and helped her out and they entered the dark house.
Michael reached out for the lamp when Roxie stopped him. She took his hand and led him up the stairs to her bedroom. With a wave of her hand, candles lit the room.
"What the fuck..."
His voiced trailed off when Roxie faced him and removed her cloak. He sucked in his breath as he got his first good look at her naked body.
Her tits were large and beautiful. Their areolas and nipples were a dusky pink and stood out a good inch and a half. Tiny gold barbells pierced each one and winked in the candle light. She wasn't thin but voluptuous. Her tummy rounded, her hips and thighs fleshy. But it was her bare pussy that captured and held his attention. He could see her juices shining on her pink lips. The swollen flesh of her clit stood out between them. A gold hoop hung from the hood of her bare mound.
She lifted a hand out to him and he groaned. Three inch, blood red nails beckoned him.
"Shit." Michael hissed.
He couldn't believe this. The woman of his fantasies was right before him. Almost as if in a trance, Michael took her hand and brought her fingers to his lips. He sucked each one in turn into his mouth. His tongue flicking the curved underside of each nail.
"Very good Michael." Roxie whispered.
"Who are you?" Michael asked softly.
"Who do you want me to be?" She countered, moving closer.
Michael shook his head, not sure how to answer.
Roxie smiled and rubbed her body against his. She purred.
"I can be everything you desire Michael." She leaned her head back to look in to his blue eyes.
"I know your fantasies Michael. And your fetishes. I can make them all come true."
Michael shook his head to clear the haze that was there. She was in his mind. He could feel her. She was uncovering every hidden fantasy. Every desire.
"Ah.....what a naughty boy Michael." Roxie said as she began to undress him. Her hands lifted his tee shirt, baring his broad, muscled chest.
"Is this what you want?" She asked and raked her nails down his torso.
Michael hissed and looked down. Red streaks of blood marked his chest and stomach.
"How?" He asked looking into her eyes.
No one knew about him. No one knew what drove him wild and crazy. Nails, heels, being clawed and bitten. Just the thought had his cock as hard as marble. Even now his briefs were wet with pre-cum.
"How do you think?" Roxie smiled, her lips lifting to reveal her sharp fangs.
"Fuck!"
Michael's hands came up to her shoulders. To push her away? To pull her closer? He felt her hot breath on his skin as she lapped up the thin rivulets of blood as they ran down his stomach.
"I'm hungry Michael" She said against his skin. "I need to feed." Her tongue circled a hard nipple.
Michael tangled his hand in her long hair and pulled her head back. Her eyes were half closed with passion. Her lips parted. Her breathing rapid. He lowered his mouth to hers. His tongue licking at the corners of her lips. His teeth gently nibbling on her full bottom lip.
"What do you want me to do Michael?" She asked against his lips.
"I..."
"Say it baby. All is allowed. Say it."
"Bite me." Michael said the words softly.
A big smile lit her face. All at once, Michael found himself completely naked. With a push on his chest, he fell back onto the large bed.
Roxie pounced on top of him. She slid her body the length of his. Her sharp nails and sharper heels digging into his flesh. He winced with every gouge, every claw, but his cock hardened painfully with arousal. He loved the pain she was inflicting. It was taboo. It was erotic. It was everything he craved.
Roxie straddled him and surveyed her work. Long, bloody welts cross-crossed his wide chest. Long, bloody gouges covered his thighs and legs. The smell of his blood filled her nostrils. She lifted her fingers to her lips and tasted his blood under her nails.
"Delicious Michael."
Michael couldn't hold back the growl that escaped him. His cock jerked against her wet pussy where it rested over him.
Roxie laughed, deep and throaty, and wiggled her hot cunt over him. She was ready to feed. And to cum.
Raising up on her knees, she reached down and circled his cock with her hand and guided him to her sopping hole. Holding his gaze, she slammed down on his thick cock. They both gasped at the intense pleasure.
Roxie threw her head back, her long hair brushing his bloody thighs. The sting of her hair in his wounds caused him to shudder. He liked the pain.
Michael brought his hands up to cover her large tits. They bounced before him as she rode him. His fingers played at her long nipples, pulling at the barbells.
"Yes Michael." Roxie hissed, her mouth opening, her fangs seeming to grow longer.
"Now, I will have that drink."
Roxie leaned down and nuzzled his neck. Her tongue came out to lick the sensitive skin.
"Roxie." Michael moaned, his orgasm building deep in his balls and aching for release.
Roxie felt her own body start to tighten. She was ready to explode. She opened her mouth and pierced Michael's neck as her pussy started to clench and milk his cock.
Michael roared and bucked wildly beneath her as he erupted inside her clenching cunt. His hands came up to tangle in her hair and held her closer. The pleasure/pain was intoxicating. His cock seemed to spew his hot cum for minutes, filling up her welcoming pussy.
Roxie continued to feed until she felt him go limp beneath her. She sat up slowly and wiped her bloody mouth with the back of her hand. He was delicious, just as she knew he would be. And he was hers. Hers forever. The perfect mate to hunt with. To fuck with.
"Rest my darling." She leaned down and kissed his parted lips.
"Tomorrow, we hunt."
|
System: Nairn Location: Space
By the time Pidge has skipped through the rescue of the Trigamons and found the video feed, quickly identifying the same three aliens that had remained on the ship, everyone else had settled more comfortably in the room. Hunk had retrieved a warm drink for Keith, who was still feeling the effects of the healing pod, practically ordering him to sit in his chair where it wouldn’t matter if he fell asleep or not. But Keith couldn’t fall asleep. Not when Lance needed finding and the fearful curiosity for what had transpired over the past few days, him blissfully unaware while Lance watched the world crumble around him.
Was this all his fault? If admitting to his feelings, at least showing Lance more compassion, more friendship even if it was just smiles and a pat on the back… Would they not be where they were, right now, if Keith wasn’t such a bloody coward? Or would it be worse?
His thoughts were interrupted when he heard Shiro almost arguing with Pidge. “Look, I get it, I said shit things and I need to apologise for them. But you guys don’t need to hear.”“We need to,” Pidge began, but Shiro shook his head. “You don’t get it. I said some really horrible things to him. I didn’t mean to. I was worried about everyone. We were all separated and I…” Shiro dropped his head into his hands, pulling at his fringe for self-inflicted pain. “It’s bad, alright? What I said was unneeded and it was harsh. I don’t want you to hear it.” “I do.”
Hunk stood up, his eyes without their usual warmth. “I don’t care Shiro. We’ve all said things to hurt Lance and drive him away, or we haven’t said them and driven him away nonetheless. But we’re beyond keeping secrets now.” They all looked to him, Pidge’s fingers hovering over the keys. With a subtle nod from Shiro, they tapped the recording to start playing, eyes rising to the floating screen of Shiro waiting by Blue’s paw for a certain injured Paladin. He was the last to enter the Lion Hangar.
[Hey Shiro, you doing well?] Lance had asked as soon as he was close enough to Shiro, easily able to hide the damage inflicted by enemy and explosion alike. [Are you?] Shiro asked, a hand motioning to the boy. There had been laser residue on his right thigh, Shiro naively thinking that that was all Lance procured from ambush. [Just a scratch. Guess the Pirate’s aim is as good as a Storm Trooper when it comes to gun battles.] Lance shrugged. Keith felt his stomach twist. How much pain was he in? Was he seriously going to hide it? Yes, his mind supplied. He did and he would continue to, even as he crossed his arms and pain flashed across his expression. [If you want to talk about what I said, can we do it after I have a shower and a power nap? I’m kind of drained.] Yeah no kidding. But by the way Shiro stared painfully at their teammate, how fervently he had begged them not to watch, Keith knew Lance wasn’t going to get off easy.
SHIRO: [Look, I get you were angry at Pidge—][Not just at Pidge,] Lance muttered, uncrossing his arms. Keith’s stomach flipped again.
SHIRO: [Look—] LANCE: [I had no control of the explosion.] SHIRO: [Unless you set a bomb off yourself, I’m not holding you accountable for that, nor the fact that you were alone on the ship with pirates—]LANCE: [And no way to call for help.] Lance was still angry, despite Shiro’s plans for quiet between him and the team, allowing him time to calm down.
SHIRO: [And no way to contact us, you’re right. But Lance, you have to understand, this could’ve gone a lot smoother if you had cooperated from the start.] The lecture began; the usual Dad talk after a good mission, “could’ve been better.”It wasn’t so bad, so Keith wasn’t too sure what Shiro was worried about.
[Lance, you can’t just fly off in front of everyone when we had a plan in place. Pidge warned us about the jammers, but you didn’t think and went in anyway. And when you got in between the ships.] Then Shiro’s façade changed; both himself and his video recording. While the digital Shiro raised himself up, the real Shiro averted his eyes, looking meek, watching Hunk, waiting for the backlash.
[You know if Hunk had been any closer he would’ve rammed you out the way and gotten hit himself. God damn it, he fucking tried, but lucky for him, Yellow isn’t fast and couldn’t get there. Yellow’s limitations saved him, but if they hadn’t then he would’ve been hurt, Yellow would’ve been damaged too. Black is still banged up from our last run in with these Pirates. And alright it wasn’t your fault…] The anger was a shock of course, fading as quick as it came, but video-Shiro was still talking. [Fine, everything worked out this time. This time, Lance. But what about next time? What about when Pidge has to step in, and they get hurt? What if Allura or Coran suffer the consequences, what if it is Keith who steps in—]LANCE: [Like that will happen.]
And this time it’s Keith recoiling. Sure, he kept Lance at arm’s length to stop his emotions getting the better of him, and sure they fought more than they had a normal conversation but… did Lance really think Keith wouldn’t sacrifice himself for Lance, for any of them? They were family. Of course he would! [It could,] Shiro growled, supporting Keith’s inner rant. The Red looked to his leader, but his gaze returned to the feed, determined to look nowhere else. LANCE: [Yeah, in what universe? If you hadn’t noticed, he hates my guts.] Not true. SHIRO: [He doesn’t hate you, but you certainly annoy him when you don’t take things serious like him, you don’t follow orders like he does, you don’t put your all—][Like hell I don’t,] Lance spat, matching the Black Paladin’s volume.
Glances were exchanged, Shiro ignoring the turns of heads to glare at the recording of himself. It sounded a thousand times worse when he heard it played back to him, watching the obvious lines of exasperation on his face, where Lance only wanted to be listened to, to be heard, to be understood.
When Lance spoke again, his voice was eerily calm. [Look, I get that you and Keith seem to hold each other on pedestals and he’s the perfect soldier for this little Voltron game we’re all stuck playing, but if you want me to be like him, to follow orders without question, you’ve got to realise that’s not me.] SHIRO: [That is beside the point.] LANCE: [Is it?]
Video-Shiro shook his head, trying to return to the matter at hand. [Look, I get that this is fun. Space Pirates, god knows I loved them as a kid, but we’re paladins of Voltron, Lance. We’re not five.] [Except you,] Lance said with a smirk. SHIRO: [Except me— Hey! I’m being serious Lance.] LANCE: [And I’m wondering if you have a point to this conversation.]
The anger was unnerving, particularly know that everyone realised that Lance was serious here. This wasn’t a joke; this wasn’t for anyone’s entertainment. This was him, hitting his limit, reaching his breaking point.
Shiro scowled. Lance stared.
Then Shiro decided to proverbially slap the boy across the face with his words. [Just grow up Lance. You’re meant be a Paladin of Voltron.]
Hunk glares. Keith glares too. Allura removes herself from where the two had been hugging. Shiro says nothing. He stands and moves away to one of the windows, staring out at nothing as his voice carries in the silence, his harsh words repeated, their damage easily heard as Shiro beats away at Lance’s confidence. Just because he’s angry? Yeah so what, no one is there to hold his hand. They’re on Lance’s side. Even Shiro.
LANCE: [Yeah, I get it, I’m sorry. I’ll do better next time.] SHIRO: [Lance—]LANCE: [Honestly Shiro, I understand, loud and clear.]
Lance turns around, to start walking away, but the bow out isn’t excepted. By the window, Shiro’s glare hardens as the recorded him keeps going. [Yes. Stop being reckless. Stop making things more difficult than they already are. You seem to constantly butt heads with Keith for this game of rivalry, and I wouldn’t say anything against it; healthy competition will help you improve your skills. But I won’t ignore it when you’re endangering the rest of the team.] LANCE: [I didn’t—] but Shiro cut him off. [The reason Pidge turned off your Comms was because you couldn’t stop bickering. You took focus away from the mission, in an unknown environment which was dangerous.] LANCE: [And leaving me on mute was the best idea you could come up with?]SHIRO: [Stop challenging everything I say!] The recording was yelling now, Shiro clenching his fists, turning his back on himself. And he’s still not fucking done.
SHIRO: [Just take responsibility for your mistakes Lance, because today, it was your fault. No one else is to blame, not Pidge for cutting communication considering they were patching the problem you caused with Keith.]
SHIRO: [I can’t keep doing this Lance. Every time, you screw up, every time I’ve got to stand here and tell you, you can’t seem to do that. We’re not kids, this isn’t a game, this is war.]
SHIRO: [If Zarkon wins, we won’t just lose the war, we’ll lose Earth, we’ll lose freedom, and we’ll lose lives. Is that what you want?] LANCE: Are you seriously asking me that?] Shiro didn’t reply to that. He just glared.
Everyone watched with breaking hearts as Lance dropped his head and lifted a hand to wipe the tears from his face. [Look if you want me to apologise for my mistakes, I will. But I’m not taking the blame for everyone else anymore. So sorry, or whatever, but I’m tired and I need a shower and sleep.]Lance made to step away, but Shiro grabbed him. Lance shook it off. [I’m tired Shiro. So just… just save it for now, okay?] And he was walking away, no apology, no attempt to patch the growing rift between them.
Pidge was the first to move, stopping the recording for the moment, all eyes on the Leader who pointedly kept his back to them.
“Shiro.” Hunk was the first to speak, his voice icy cold, face emotionless. Shiro turned, matching the expression, apart from red eyes and softer features. “I told you I didn’t want you to hear it.”“And we needed to. You crossed a line.”“I know.” “You blamed him and made sure he knew that you blamed him.” “I know.”
The short clipped answers riled Hunk’s back up even more. “No, you don’t know. You don’t know how hard Lance works, how often he compares himself to Keith, how much he looks up to you. “You were his hero. I practically know everything about you from what he told me back at the Garrison, and there, right then,” he says, jabbing a finger in the direction of the empty screen, “his life-long hero just told him he wasn’t good enough, despite working hard, despite the fact he wasn’t chosen, this position was thrust upon him. Fuck, it was thrust upon all of us and we’re all doing our best.
“But Lance doesn’t have the confidence. He hides it, doesn’t want anyone to think him weak and you didn’t think and blamed him for a problem that wasn’t the result of a mistake he made. Sure, he fought with Keith, that’s a daily ritual for them. But getting muted, getting blown up wasn’t his choice!”
Hunk was yelling, shouting loud, tears streaming down the big guys face, voice cracking. “He loves you guys, so, so much, and that…. That had to be the worst way to tell him… god that must’ve broke his heart.” Hunk wipes his eyes, his anger melting away quicker than rain washing away the snow. Shiro is by his side in three strides, a hand on his shoulder. “You know I don’t mean it. And know, what I said wasn’t appropriate and if I’d take it back I would. I’d tell you guys to hit me if it would make things better but it won’t. You can if you want… But right now, we need to focus on bringing Lance home. “I’m going to do everything in my power to bring him home and apologise. I’m going to make this better Hunk.”
But things wouldn’t be that easy, they all knew that. Even mending the bonds Shiro had unknowingly broken. Hunk shook himself free of the man’s grip, giving the pair space. He didn’t hit him, so that was something, but there was a definitive divide between them.
>>--> -------------------- >>--> <--<< -------------------- <--<<
“Number five; do you have the next clip?” Coran asks. He’s stood beside the console, peering at the screen that’s been minimised by Pidge, who is running the feed at triple speed, trying to get a glimpse of anyone speaking to Lance.It’s painful to see no one talking to him, or noticing the pain on his face as he wanders the corridors. They’ve already seen him steal from Coran’s supply, the Doctor checking himself to find too many vials of Eyre missing, as well as tubs of Eleiryian which had him even more concerned.
“That pink lemonade. Lance was drinking it on Torous,” Keith had said, recognising the liquid when Coran had held up the little capsule. “I thought it was just an energy boost thing, or something Hunk had given Lance. I didn’t realise it was medicine.”“Addictive medicine,” Coran bit angrily, “with serious side effects for Alteans. Although for Humans I wouldn’t know without seeing it firsthand.” There was copious curses for his own stupidity, and the stupidity of Lance who had been overdosing on pain medication. “It can’t be that bad,” Keith had said, but was quickly interrupted. “No no, Alteans are not allowed more than one Decca-Drop a day. It causes extended sleep cycles and numbing of the nervous system. It was all but abandoned when we learned the technology of healing pods.”“And Lance has been consuming this Eyre for how long?” “Who knows,” Coran said angrily. “I didn’t think he even knew what it was; I didn’t think he’d go snooping around. He’s not a child; I shouldn’t have to lock this in a cupboard.” Hunk comforted the man, noting the anger was simply to disguise the concern of just what Lance was going through because of a mistake Coran had made.
“If he was in pain, why didn’t he say anything? Why didn’t he tell me he needed help, that he was hurt?”“Because he didn’t want us to worry.”
Keith’s voice was a shadow of its usual strength, the words forced out like mince meat in a sausage machine. He’s staring at the mini-Lance, tiredness drawing at the corners of his mind. They always felt it after the Pods, and Keith was no different. But the fact that he was refusing to sleep until after they had watched all the clips and heard all the audio feeds was starting to work against his favour, despite the boy’s stubbornness.
But he was still there, staring at the video-him, standing in the hangar where he was talking to video-Shiro. The others were with them, but ignored, the spot light was Lance’s, who had a faraway look on his face, and had been ultimately excluded from the earlier conversation. It would be an understating to say that everyone was feeling absolute shit.
Coran sat at the console, zooming in thrice until the Blue, Red and Black Paladin’s took up most of the screen. The group departed, Keith climbing into the shuttle ready to take them to Torous, and the separate audio feed crackled to life once more with the leader addressing Lance, who still wore a very faraway look.
SHIRO: [Lance? Lance? LANCE!]Lance’s head snapped up, eyes refocusing. SHIRO: [Are you listening?]LANCE: [I got it. I’m ready to go.]This told them, he definitely hadn’t listened to Shiro asking Lance if he was okay, if he wanted to get rest while the Black Paladin took his place and went with Keith to Torous.
SHIRO: [Lance, are you okay?] LANCE: [Yeah, I’m great.] Lance’s façade that remains almost perfect throughout the performance, the only slight twinge to his body when he turned just a little too quickly.
SHIRO: [Lance, I need to be able to trust you.]They see the tiniest motion of a flinch before the moment is smoothes over in a motion of Lance scratching at his armour. He remains uncharacteristically silent, but video-Shiro doesn’t register and keeps going.
SHIRO: [We’ve all got our duties, so it will just be the two of you. And I know that you two have been at ends since yesterday morning, but everyone else is busy. The pair of you will be out of local Comms range for a while, until Coran contacts you. But he’ll be helping Pidge and Hunk with repairs, so he can’t be monitoring you while you’re on Torous.]
Keith is calling out, Lance ready to join him but Shiro grabs him. [Don’t fight with Keith,] he said with stern voice, the words tinted with a warning. [While you’re out there, it will just be the two of you. I get that he gets on your nerves. I find his stubbornness difficult to deal with sometimes too.]Keith looks over at that, but Shiro looks nowhere but the screen, where he continues to admonish the boy who deserved none of the pain he was being dealt. [I get he is at fault too—]LANCE: [Then maybe should be lecturing him instead of me.] He’s angry. Of course he’s angry, but it’s not the normal response he would give when being lectured. Side effect of the Eyre, or side effect of the team’s constant dismissal of him?
SHIRO: [You’re a Paladin Lance. You need to learn not to act so childish and accept that you are also to blame.] Shiro looks like he wants to fall through the floor and be swallowed by the abyss. Keith lets himself hope so for a split second too, but then he ignores it. Ignores Shiro as well. The man deserved his hatred, but he himself had played his part in Lance’s disappearance.
SHIRO: [I have spoke to Keith already, just follow his lead, keep your heads low and we’ll see you back here in a couple of vargas.] LANCE: [Sure thing. See you when we get back.] Then where are you now dumbass?
Lance joins Keith in the pod after that, waving quickly as Shiro leaves and Keith manhandles the pod into flight. “You can skip this,” Keith says to whoever is listening. “We didn’t talk for the entire— or, no, we didn’t really talk until we hit Torus’s atmosphere.”Coran complies and they sit in silence until the wavelengths begin jumping once more.
KEITH: [Wow, what the— What the quiznak was that about?] LANCE: [Sorry, I thought… I think I heard…]KEITH: [Heard what?] LANCE: [I guess it was nothing.] KEITH: [Just a nightmare then.] LANCE: [I don’t get nightmares.] KEITH: [I do.] Keith feels his cheeks heat, making a point of sipping at the empty cup for something to do. His neck burns from the gazes on him, but a firm cough, suspiciously Pidge, pulls the eyes away. The only reason Keith had opened up to Lance was because it was private. He didn’t think they’d ever hear this conversation, this very private conversation between him and Lance. But they’d heard Shiro’s rants, and if anything that was said would help them find Lance then Keith will let them listen to this. But only because it might help find Lance.
[What?] the him-version of recording says and everyone returns to listening. Keith is left to relive it. LANCE: [I was— I was just surprised you told me. I didn’t think you trusted me like that.] KEITH: [What do you mean?] LANCE: [I mean, that is… well it is kind of a big deal to admit.] KEITH: [Not really.] LANCE: [Well, yeah, to me it is. Because anything like that, you wouldn’t tell anyone, let alone me because you think I’d make fun of you or something.] KEITH: [No you wouldn’t. You might dick about, but you’re serious when it matters and I know that personal shit like this won’t leave this shuttle. And I do trust you.]
When Keith opts to sneak a glance at the others, they’re all beaming at him. “Oh fuck off,” he growls. “It shouldn’t need to be said. The fact it does is what’s worrying.” That sobers the smiles quicker than a gunshot.
Keith and Lance’s conversation stops at the interruption of Coran, Pidge and Hunk with their requests, starting up again when Keith’s concerned voice calls out to the Blue, sat right next to him, but not responding.
KEITH: [Are you seriously ignoring me? Lance? Are you listening?]But then Lance is talking and he doesn’t sound as tired as earlier. Or maybe it’s just another act he’s putting on. LANCE: [Huh, what? Sorry, I must’ve dozed off.] LANCE: [So did they tell you what was needed?] KEITH: [Yeah, Pidge and Hunk sent us scans of the equipment. They’re working on a programme that we can use to scan the stuff on Torous to make hunting for parts easier. I don’t know about you, but I’m not sure I’d be able to tell the difference between a phaser emitter and phaser assimilator.]LANCE: [A phaser emitter is the focus point for warp core energy, and helps direct the concentrated energy into kinetic and heat fusion as part of the main engine system, or redirected as weaponry. An assimilator dissipates collected energy in equal, controlled amounts. They’re used in the warp core and engines as emergency shut-down systems or to stop them from overheating or exploding when they’re turned on.]
Everyone blinked owlishly. Looks like Lance was hiding a lot more than just his pain.
LANCE: [Ah, sorry. I guess I spent a lot of time watching Star Trek.] “That little traitor,” Pidge grumbled, their smile somewhat melancholic.
Silence returned then, right up until they’re entering Torus’s atmosphere and the boys work together to land the ship. Keith instructs Lance to help him as they fly through the atmosphere, searching the desolate planet for a place to land. Lance punches in the instructions for cloaking and then they’re landing on the planet’s surface.
[Are we searching together, or splitting up?] Keith’s voice asks while the real Keith grinds his teeth. LANCE: [It will be quicker if we split up. Unless you want me to hold your hand.] KEITH: [Fine, we’ll do this separately.]
KEITH: [We’ll keep the Comms on, so don’t wander too far.] LANCE: [Don’t worry Mullet. We’ll get the stuff and be back on the ship in a couple hours. Just try and find something before I find it all first.] KEITH: [Let’s just stay focused, okay? The sooner we’re done here, the sooner we can get back.] LANCE: [Still, you got to keep up Keith or I’ll leave you behind.] KEITH: [Lance watch out!] Keith remembered watching Lance step backwards off their make ship landing pad, watching the others tense. “It’s okay,” he tells them, “he was just playing a joke on me.” And sure enough, they hear the sound of Lance laughing gleefully; hear the sound of rushing air in his Comms before the release of his jetpack taking him safely to the surface.
Keith wraps his arms around his knees and pulls them under his chin. He doesn’t want to hear what the pirates did to Lance. He doesn’t want to be here for this, to know that he was the closest, the only one there to help Lance and he had failed.
KEITH: [Bastard.] LANCE: [C’mon Keithy-boy. You’ve got to have fun while you’re here. Loosen up a bit.]KEITH: [You think you’re so funny don’t you. Just grow up Lance; we’re not here to play games.] LANCE: [Yes yes I apologise your majesty.]
They split up then, Coran hurrying through twenty eight Dobosh of muttering on Keith’s end and complete silence on Lance’s side. Static starts to become a constant companion after a full Varga, signifying the arrival of the pirates. Or at least their notice of the Paladins in their midst.
LANCE: [Hey Keith, I found us a shield generator.]There’s a pause, Lance waiting for a reply. [Keith? Keith you there? Keith, if you’re there answer me.] And another pause filled only by static and the slow increase of Lance’s breathing. [If you’ve silenced me again, Keith I swear to god I’m going to cut off that Mullet and feed it to the Weblum.]
They can only guess what he’s thinking; their fears confirmed when Lance’s voice breaks. [He’s…. he’s gone.] Panic begins to settle in. [He didn’t! It’s just…. It’s just….] A spark of hope. [The towers! They’re messing with the transmission system.]
[I am sure.] Lance said suddenly, his voice strong, but the way he speaks—[They wouldn’t leave me. They wouldn’t abandon me here.]
It’s painful to hear Lance even considering they’d abandon him. But then Lance’s mind wasn’t in the right place at the moment. He wasn’t to blame for his insecurities.
A trill beep interrupts, but it’s only the storm warning. Lance fades into silence, Keith sill calling out for the Blue that needs to get back to the ship. [Lance? C’mon the storms coming and we can head back to the ship before it strikes. I know we don’t have everything but there’s not much room left on the shuttle. Besides, we can’t do anything in the storm and it’ll save us time if we head back now.] No reply. KEITH: [Lance?] Again silence. [Seriously? Are you blanking me? Because that’s real mature Lance.]Nothing.
Keith started cursing, because that was apparently his fallback and would make everything better. Shiro raises his eyes at a few choice phrases (Iverson’s saggy Y-fronts for one) , but what little amusement is brought sobers quickly. It’s like they’re watching a crappy, B-roll horror film, only they know something is about to happen but they don’t know exactly what. Keith does. He’s already heard the screams that will haunt his nightmares for weeks.
Coran ends up skipping some more, until they hear Lance, and the Altean is back tracking a little until they can find the right spot to start off at.
LANCE: [Keith, can you hear me?] He must’ve heard when Keith called back waveringly, the Blue’s voice filling with ease as he continues. [Oh thank god. If you can hear me, I’ve found a shield generator, but I’m still waiting out the sandstorm. We’re going to need the shuttle to haul it but you probably shouldn’t fly it until the storms blown over. It won’t be long now.]
[I hope you can hear me,] he says after a while, too much emotion dripping into his words, tight with fear as once more, silence takes him.
>>--> -------------------- >>--> <--<< -------------------- <--<<
The sandstorm lasts for three more Vargas, the time spent with the boys periodically calling out for one another, only to hear nothing in return.
Lance left whatever shelter he had find (having been forced to due to the storm) and was already panting heavily into the Comms as he trekked in the hot sun of Torus’s too-big sun.
It was then that Lance started talking to someone, other than Keith, who hadn’t heard the speech through the link due to the jammer. “It doesn’t sound like he’s talking to someone else,” Pidge said after boosting the feed, cleaning the background noise to try and identify a mumbling of words. But without anything to hear, they were still sceptical of Lance’s companion. Whoever it was, they stayed with Lance since leaving the shelter, walking with him as he began searching for Keith.
LANCE: [Do you think he’s even noticed I’m missing.]
LANCE: [Allura can pilot Blue if I’m not there,] the words harsh and angry, before a sudden gasp and a small [Keith?] He was still hiding his true feelings. But it’s not only Lance who was worried, but Allura too, who has thrown here eyes wide, hand clamping on her mouth as she listened to Lance nominate her as his replacement. What had she done?
No one else noticed the Princess’s distress as the feed flickered and noise filled the room. Lance is calling out for Keith again, grumbling something about “summit” and “interference.” But he hears nothing and fear joins Lance in his decent back down the rubble mountain. [No? If they haven’t forgotten me, then how do you explain the silence? Neither Keith or the ship is showing up on the scanner and I’ve just climbed the bloody junk pile to see if it was the towers, and guess what. Still no Keith. Still no ship.] Anger too, if his tone is anything to go by. [He’s gone. He fucked off and left me here. He’s gone and he’s not coming back…] His voice cracked on the last few words.
[What did I do wrong?] Lance whispered, his pain reflecting in the faces of the Paladins that are left with nothing left but to listen at the truth that fills the boy’s heart. [They can’t ask anymore because they’ve abandoned me.] Even if they can’t see him, they know Lance is crying.
[I mean… they can’t have,] Lance says, tone changed to hope, but its weak. He knows it. They know it. [I’m a Paladin. They can’t just chuck me off the team because… because…]They all hear the static, all hear Keith, who has finally heard the Blue Paladin. [Lance? Can you hear me?]But Lance doesn’t respond to him. He’s still caught in his self-doubt, spiralling down, quicker and quicker. [I am needed. They can’t just abandon me.]
“Guys…” Keith said slowly. His mouth moves at first, no sound, but he catches himself and forces out the words. “He’s talking to himself.” Then the shock hits him harder. Lance is talking to himself, because no one else will listen. Because Lance doesn’t want to burden anyone else, or reveal that he thinks himself not worthy as Paladin.
Keith’s voice snatches their attention, his voice filled with fear. KEITH: [Lance! Lance can you hear me? Lance, you’re in danger!] LANCE: [Keith, Keith where are you?]
It’s starting. This is when Lance gets caught. And all they can do it listen.
KEITH: [Lance get out of there— oh fuck!] Thunderous crashes jump from Keith’s feed, his curses shouted out loud, and there’s Lance, calling back.
LANCE: [Keith! I can hear you, where are you?]KEITH: [Lance there’s someone following you. Keep running, I’m coming. Try and get higher. I’m coming now.] LANCE: [Keith you’re breaking up buddy, speak slower.] KEITH: [Run Lance RUN! THEY’VE FOUND YOU!]
Lance is yelling, Keith is shouting. Allura has jumped to her feet, ready to fight, Hunk and Shiro beside her. The Red Paladin is on his chair, burying his head in his hands, trying to block out the sound of Lance screaming for him, begging for his help. He’d been so close and he’d let Lance down.
LANCE: [Keith? Keith!] KEITH: [Lance?] LANCE: [Help.] And he’s screaming, choking on noise to the dark laughter of unknowns that fill the silence and all Keith can do is scream and scream, beginning Lance to talk to him, [Lance, answer me!] “Turn it off,” Keith begs, his own voice still yelling, body enveloped by the same fear. But this time it’s worse, because he knows where the boy is. He knows who took him and that they’re hurting him and that he hadn’t been there to stop it.
KEITH: [Lance answer me. Lance, Lance c’mon!]LANCE: [—th?]KEITH: [Lance! Lance I’m here buddy, where are you.] LANCE: [Keith?] But before recording-Keith can answer, they hears another voice; angry and foreign. [Akola,] it says, and again when Lance keeps calling out for the Red Paladin. A hiss of energy resounds and Keith yells out again, but Lance’s voice is silent.
“Skip it,” Keith bites angrily, his body curling tighter to protect himself from the pain that surrounds him, torn between getting up and storming out or destroy the module so he doesn’t have to listen to the coming torture the pirates forced Lance to endure while Keith searched for his missing teammate.
KEITH: [Lance, c’mon answer me, please!] He knows they’re looking at him with pity but he doesn’t care. He hears his own voice break, hears the pleading and the curses that take him to the entrance of the cave and down into the belly of the beast.
There’s echoing before Lance can be heard; the sounds of his helmet being removed and dark voices echoing into the open transmission link. [What junk is this?][I think they call this Armour.][Bah! It’s no good is what it is. The Culm still got downed by Jo’fir’s gar.]Allura pulls back with a gasp, looking to Coran who simply raises a hand to quieten her. “I know Princess. I know.”“Know what?” But Keith shuts Shiro up with a hiss of air. He hadn’t heard these Aliens speak in what felt like forever, but that hate he felt towards them was still real. Very much real.
[You think I could stab him and the Armour would deflect the blade.][I don’t know? Do it. Besides, I think Ovule wants to kill him anyway.]
Pidge lets out a shriek, covered with their hands at the thought.
[Wait, he’s the Chief’s prize? Then ‘whet,’ I’m not touching him. Chief will kill me if I do anything to him.][We could get Garecht to do it. He seems to think the Culm is his.][At least Ovule might give him a good beating for us to watch.]
There’s shuffling and the voices die down to idle chatter in the background. It’s the only comfort the Paladins have that they’re not hurting Lance, and they take it. Only Keith feels the dread, counting down the seconds until the fighting starts.
Lance begins to groan, only just heard from where his helmet has been taken. He’s been stripped of his upper armour as well, but Keith doesn’t think the team needs detail on Lance’s current predicament.
The boy’s coughing alerts his captures. [He’s awake.] Footsteps sound and Keith closes his eyes, wishing he can’t see the aliens in his memory, watching as one stands over Lance, a weapon under his chin, forcing it up to reveal his neck. They hear laughter, and then [Go on Jo’fir. Do it again.]
The Paladins look to Keith for details, but he bites his bottom lip and says nothing. They’ll figure it for themselves sooner or later.
[Why bother It’s just a ‘Culm.’ Throw him to the Kokachet and be done with it.] [Oh come on Jo’fir. We can have a little fun before we kill him.] The words send shudders through Keith but he ignores it.
[No. Jo’fir cannot kill the Culm. Garecht found it, Garecht keep it.][Oh, are you sure Garecht. Because I’m pretty sure it was Toil on watch.]
Keith’s auditory frequency begins to spike, telling the team that it is now that the Red Paladin has found the Pirates, lying in wait until he can save Lance. Shiro watches him, an unreadable expression on his face at the understanding that Keith had lied to him about the truth of the mission. Whatever. Not like it would’ve changed what had happened.
Lance whispers something, but his words are masked by the alien’s. [Culm is Garecht’s prize. Garecht keep,] it says, loud, right next to Lance who is helpless. Keith knows he’s bound, barely able to breathe from the pain that they’ve inflicted on him, still disorientated as he wakes from unconsciousness.
Noise. Lance groaning then he’s coughing, choking. He retches and no one needs Keith to tell them what the splatter sound is.
[Garecht’s Culm is broken.]More noise, but nothing more to reveal what was happening than the odd hints given from the audio feed. They’re stuck listening to the abuse, mouths left open in horror when Keith explains with a simple “he kicked him in the face.” Because Keith can remember it all, remember it in painful clarity and he fucking hates it.
[Perhaps not as weak as I thought,] says a new voice. And then it’s Lance. [I’m not weak.] His voice is a low, threatening tone, similar to the one the alien used. It didn’t help Lance, but it gives the others comfort and that’s enough for the moment.
[You’re a tough one aren’t you.] LANCE: [You don’t know me.] The backchat earns him a slap across the face, heard clear in the resounding sting. The force of it sends Lance crashing back to the floor in a bout of coughing fits, spitting and spluttering on the air he’s choking on.They can hear the aliens laughing at him again.
Lance is throwing up again, the sound just as painful to the sound of the kicks sent his way. [Broken, broken,] one alien chirps before the sound of Keith’s cursing and more whimpers of pain as Lance is booted in the face again.
Lance tells the frog to [piss off] and it gets him another kick. Lance obviously isn’t one to pick up on hints and tells them to [piss off] again.It’s only the same two curse words, but all the humans are grinning. Allura and Coran are confused, but there strength in Lance’s voice and they know he hasn’t give up fighting. They grin too.
Lance isn’t kicked again; the aliens too busy starting an argument between themselves. At least their attention is off of the Blue Paladin.
[He’s not broken Garecht. Jo’fir just thought the Culm could handle the power of his Gar.] [So what? You said he was Human, Ovule and we’ve all heard of them at least once; furless, small little aliens that are suddenly battling Zarkon on his doorstep for the freedom of the galaxies. I was a little curious of his strength. Frankly, I’m disappointed. I was expecting a fight at least.]
The words are cut off, the sound of Lance suddenly gasping for air. Keith makes a noise in the back of his throat, the others turning to him for answers but the laughter silences them. It’s horrible, like claws dragging over their skin and Hunk is crushing his ears under his palms.
LANCE: [Put me down.] Which explains that they’re manhandling the boy. Of course he’s ignored.
[He’s stronger than we think. The damn thing reeks of Sugkie. Tastes of it too.] Coran paled. “What is it?” Keith asked, but the man shook his head. He simply mouthed “after.”
[And he’s still acting like that?] It’s the other alien, the one that had challenged Lance with his weapon. Or ambushed him and just wanted to see if Lance could hold out against the electric currents. [Damn. I take back what I said, the Human is stronger than I thought.] [Not in strength though.]
Lance is dropped, they hear him gasping for air. [Gereen made a bad choice in choosing you,] they hear an alien tell Lance. [You’re physically weak. Although, if you got away from him, I can’t say that really.]“Get away from who? Who chose him?” Shiro asks, but no one has the answers. Not even Lance, who whimpers from pain for god only knows the reason. The aliens are hurting him obviously, but without the visual feed, they can’t tell. It’s hard to tell if it’s better if they can or can’t see. Keith already knows what happened, but he’s not sure if that’s better than what the other’s imagination is making them see.
[Interesting.][Not fair, not fair,] one alien says, continuing to grous in annoyance, kicking off in another tantrum. [Gereen can’t have Garecht’s prize. Garecht found him. Garecht keeps him.] It’s his turn to cry out, earning a bout of laughter to fill the room. [You don’t get him Garecht. And neither will Gereen. No. I think I’ll keep this one for myself.]
It’s painful to hear, but what else can they do. Pidge tears themselves from Hunk, dumping themselves in their chair as Lance keeps coughing. They’re checking their programming, to see if it’s located Lance’s stolen shuttle, or at least predicted his path. Whatever results light up their screen aren’t good enough and Pidge sets the programme to run again, just as Lance’s voice cuts the sound of the aliens’ laughter. It’s soft, like a whisper despite the abuse he’s gone through already. LANCE: [How?] He’s talking to himself again. Amidst coughing and throwing up, he mumbles to himself in idle conversation.
[Don’t die Human. You’re no use to me dead,] a dark voice sounds, but Lance is too busy talking himself to pay heed. LANCE: [Not badly.]
The quiet stretches out as Lance controls his breathing. Keith is confused by Lance’s words, like he’s answering a question, not just giving himself a little pep talk.
“I don’t think he’s talking to himself.”“What do you mean,” Allura asks, just as Lance does. [What do you mean?]
“I mean, he is, but… not.” Keith doesn’t know how to explain it really, thinking how to tell everyone what he means. “He’s talking to himself but, it’s like he’s talking to someone else. Like he can see someone else. Like he thinks there is someone else there.”
As Keith speaks, Lance starts laughing. They look up to the lines that jump with his words. [Nothing. Not really,] and [Am I not allowed to?]“See,” Keith says. “He’s talking to—”LANCE: [Of course I am. I’m talking to an imaginary being.] Which proves Keith’s theory. But he’s not happy about it.
“Wait, can he actually see someone?”“If the denizen didn’t lie, yes,” Coran said softly, looking as shit as Keith felt. Fearful too. He paused the audio feed, his usual chipper voice solemn. They were all solemn. It wasn’t a bloody party.
“One mentioned Sugkie. It’s a drug, an old drug, mind you, that caused a bit of a problem several thousand years ago. At first it was used in medicine because of its ability to numb the body. But too much numbed the mind, making the participant go into a meditative state.” There was bitterness in Coran’s voice when he spoke, explaining to them all, even Allura who didn’t know of this “Sugkie.”
“The side effects weren’t all that common, but then came scientists and others who strained the drug so that the side effect was sure in a large enough dose.” “But Lance isn’t all out of it,” Pidge points out. “Then maybe he hasn’t had a large enough dose, although if the alien can smell it on him he must have. And we don’t even know when Lance was drugged.”“On Torous?” Hunk asks but Coran shakes his head. “The effects take a while to integrate themselves into the nerves’ system. They’re much like the Olkarion technology in the way that their coding won’t let the meditative state take effect until the mind has been warped by words.”“Words?”
“Words,” Coran repeats. “Sugkie numbs the mind and the senses, opening the host up to brainwashing, usually through repeated phrases or repetitive words. “When this was found out, many planets employed it interrogation purposes, meaning the host would speak without torture. But after a while, too much Sugkie would leave them mindless ghosts.”
Coran scowls again, his hand curling into a fist, breaking his gaze with the Paladins. “It was used to keep races dull and easy to manipulate. Slaves were drugged upon capture and they wouldn’t ever think of leaving as long as the dose was constant, until their minds melted away and Skulks were left.”
Keith felt his stomach twist for a different reason. “So what we saw the Trigamon inject Lance with…”“Sugkie. Most likely. And they’ve been dosing him while they’ve been here, under our very noses.” “But they didn’t take him,” Hunk says, his voice small, eyes wide and crying once again. “They didn’t take him they just drugged him and left him. So why is he gone?”
“Me.”
Heads turn to Shiro. “Me. What I said. I kept on at him, again and again and it pushed—”“We don’t know that—” “Bullshit!”
Allura reeled back, surprised. “If we’re sure Lance was drugged, then there’s me drilling him every chance I speak to him then of course it’s me.” But Allura is shaking her head. “You talked to him twice before the mission to Torous. Did you lecture him again afterwards?”Shiro says nothing but Allura already knows the answer. “No, you didn’t, you said to give him space as soon as he left with Coran to enter the cryo-pod. No one gave him a hard time.”
“So what made him leave?”“That’s what we’re here to learn.” |
Max woke up first, eyes peeling open to see early morning sunlight fade through the American flag draped over the window, bestowing the room with a soft red glow. The smell of marijuana faintly lingered on the furniture from last night but it made Max feel safe rather than disgusted, because it reminded her that she was in her favourite place in the world with the two girls she had been willing to sacrifice everything to save.
With a drowsy smile and tired eyes, Max regarded Rachel on her left and Chloe to her right, both sleeping soundly while she was sandwiched between them on Chloe’s bed. Both of them looked so peaceful when they were sleeping, like everything that troubled them just disappeared in their dreams—unlike with Max. She still had constant nightmares.
A gunshot. Flashes of red. A hand reaching out but not quick enough. Reverse.
Missing person posters everywhere. Broken bottles everywhere. A bullet ricochets. Reverse.
The roar of a train. Reverse.
No more blue. Instead a wheelchair. Overdoses on morphine. Reverse.
A dead body. So much crying. A shot to the head. Wants to reverse, but can’t. So dark. Can’t move. Can’t see. Click. Click. Click. So many photos. Eat shit and die. Gets free. Reverse.
Sacrifice Arcadia Bay or Sacrifice Chloe? Can’t choose. Not a murderer. Can’t lose the love of her life like the love of her life already lost hers.
Finds a way to go back further. No more drugs at parties. Saves the girl which saves all the others. No more dead bodies. No more psychopaths. No more tornado. No more time powers. They made everything go to shit but she felt lost without them. What if there are more gunshots? More flashes of red? More bodies to dig up, then bury once again? What then?
It was constant flashes in Max’s mind. It was essential to Max to remember all those moments she shared with Chloe during that week, but it was a curse to be reminded of nearly everything else. Some nights she would wake up screaming. Sometimes she would thrust out her arm and when nothing happened she didn’t know how to feel so she would just cry. Sometimes even the click of her own camera would trigger her and she’d suddenly be drugged in the dark room again, helpless to save herself or anyone else.
It was always hard, and it was always scary. She had seen Chloe die so many times and the smell of Rachel’s corpse was still fresh in her nostrils. All of it was so recent that it still felt so real, like anything could be repeated at any moment, and it took a lot of coaxing to Max calm down.
But luckily she wasn’t alone.
Originally Max had been sleeping on the other side of Chloe, but after the brunette’s latest nightmare had woken them all up Max was shuffled to the middle and her girlfriends had her feeling safe in moments. Chloe had held her from behind while Rachel petted her hair until she fell back asleep. Because of them she got to wake up the second time happy and refreshed, basking in the warmth of their bodies.
Dog, she loved them so much. Even if she still had her powers she would never have enough time in the world to explain to them how much she loved them.
Slowly and carefully Max detangled herself from their limbs so she could sit up and stretch. She didn’t look at the time. It didn’t matter. Instead she turned to look down at her companions because they mattered more than anything else. She took in Chloe’s soft snoring and the fidget of her fingers, as if she could tell, even in her sleep, that Max was no longer lying there. Her blue eyes shifted to Rachel, whose golden tresses fanned over the pillow messily yet still looked as beautiful as ever, her full, pink lips twitching upwards every so often. The ‘Rachel Amber, Queen of Arcadia Bay’ mask didn’t exist during the times she was with Max and Chloe. She was... just Rachel. And just Rachel was so important.
Max wasn’t sure how long she just sat there watching them sleep. It could have been forever and she wouldn’t have minded. It was moments like these that were the most precious to her; when time stood still. When nothing else mattered except what was right in front of you. When words weren’t needed to describe the sense of serenity. It was just there, and it was beautiful.
Acting on an emotional impulse, Max leaned down and gently kissed Chloe’s forehead. She blushed as she pulled away, knowing that Chloe would love the affection but Max wasn’t used to acting on her urges so openly. Chloe and Rachel—especially Rachel—were the ones that loved giving and receiving physical affection while Max was the shy observer. She loved the attention as well, of course, but was always hesitant to initiate it even though her girlfriends were cool with it.
She was working on it, though.
With that thought, she kissed Rachel’s forehead as well and could swear she saw the aspiring model’s lips form a smile. Max let the kiss linger, because she hoped Rachel knew that she loved her just as much as she loved Chloe. Just because she fell in love with Chloe first and both of them were dating Chloe before they decided to also get together themselves didn’t lessen Max’s feelings any.
Rachel saved Chloe’s life. Rachel was there for Chloe when Max couldn’t be. Rachel helped bring Max out of her shell. Rachel was the best model Max could ever ask for concerning her photography. Rachel gave her butterflies. Rachel made her feel safe. Rachel reminded her every day that everything was okay now. Seeing her eyes, her lips, her hair, her face, her body... seeing her move and just be so real and alive nearly made Max sob every time.
Dog, she loved her.
Feeling tears build, Max wiped them away and hurried out of the room. She went to the bathroom and washed her face, staring at her reflection in the mirror as droplets fell off her nose and the tips of her hair. She brushed out the tangles, never breaking the stare-down with herself. She recalled looking at herself in this mirror before while she wore Rachel’s clothes, that red flannel and rock shirt and ripped jeans. They had felt both right and wrong to wear. They didn’t make her feel like Rachel, but they had made her feel closer to Rachel somehow even if she had never met her, thus making her feel closer to Chloe.
She was wearing one of Rachel’s shirts now, like she normally did to bed. It was black with a blue bird in the middle to match that feather earring Rachel always wore, and just like Rachel with that earring, Max couldn’t fathom wearing anything else.
She finally looked away from the mirror to find her toothbrush in the mess that was this vanity, layered with Rachel’s makeup products and brushes full of blonde and blue and brunette hair. It made Max smile so hard her cheeks hurt. Even though Max and Rachel still had school and lived in the dorms, they were always at Chloe’s on the weekends so their personal items had piled up.
Is this what it would be like for the three of them to live together?
With a bright blush, Max shook her head and travelled downstairs, but that thought clearly didn’t leave because the next thing she knew she was cooking breakfast for her girlfriends to wake up to. Joyce and David were away on a getaway trip that they both so rightfully deserved so the girls had the house to themselves all week.
So for this week... yeah, they basically did get to experience living together on their own. Wowser.
The sizzle of bacon and eggs was so loud that Max didn’t even register that someone had walked down the stairs until a figure was casually leaning against the entrance to the kitchen. Max looked over and felt her mouth go dry.
There was Rachel, relaxed as ever, in her matching black bra and panties that she fell asleep in. The tan skin of her shapely legs, toned abdomen and slender shoulders looked so warm and soft and her messy, yet gorgeous, hair was glowing as the sun managed to glimmer the strands from just the right angle. There was a mischievous twinkle in Rachel’s hazel eyes—and a lot of love.
“That shirt has always looked better on you,” Rachel spoke, her words soft and soothing like silk.
Max opened her mouth to reply but already knew that she couldn’t. Her jaw hung open regardless. Rachel always went to bed in her underwear but... Max was mesmerized by her every time.
So much so that she forgot about what she was doing and was harshly reminded when a spit of grease landed on her arm. Yelping, Max took a step away from the stove and wiped at her arm with a towel, before resuming her cooking slightly farther from the stovetop than before.
Rachel giggled, melodic chirps, before she stepped behind Max and wrapped her arms around her waist, holding her close. “Good morning, my everyday hero.”
Max sighed, leaning back into Rachel, butterflies already in her gut. Rachel called her that every morning after a nightmare without fail. The first time those words had reminded her of that monster of a man, but now they were the most endearing words Max would ever hear. Rachel was grateful for her every single day, because every single breath she took after April was because of Max. Max had suffered so much to save her, and to save Chloe, but Rachel always made sure that Max knew her actions were appreciated and worth it and good.
“I hope I didn’t wake you,” Max murmured sheepishly, cracking another egg onto the steaming pan.
Rachel rested her chin on Max’s shoulder. “I don’t mind being woken up by a kiss.”
Max’s earlier blush returned full force, and she turned even redder when she could sense Rachel smirk. “You felt that?”
“I would never miss a chance to score a kiss from Max Caulfield,” came the smooth reply, along with a brush of lips on Max’s lower jaw. Christ, the things this girl could do to her without even trying. Her face felt hotter than the breakfast she was cooking.
Barely able to handle Rachel’s full attention, Max quickly switched the topic. “Is Chloe up?”
“A dump truck couldn’t wake Chloe up,” Rachel laughed, giving Max space and going through the cupboards to find cups and plates to set the table, graceful as ever. Something about seeing Rachel do this simple and domesticated task made Max’s heart tremble. The blonde looked back at her with another smirk. “Bacon definitely will though. Give her a few minutes.”
Sure enough, as soon as Max popped down the toast, loud footsteps echoed from the staircase. And then there Chloe was in all her morning glory, blue hair sticking in every which direction and her black ‘rock chick’ shirt had some drool on the shoulder. She looked sleepy, but so, so happy, her eyes practically lighting up at the sight of both Max and Rachel.
“What, no wake ‘n’ bake guys?” Chloe questioned with a pout, making Max laugh and Rachel shake her head.
“Last night’s stash didn’t satisfy you?” Rachel asked coyly.
“Like, never,” the blue haired girl chuckled. “But I can forgive you both because of bacon.”
“Told you,” Rachel said to Max, chuckling to herself as she finished setting the table and pouring them all some orange juice. Then she sauntered back into the kitchen and into Chloe’s waiting arms where the two exchanged a brief, sweet kiss. Max felt her heart melt at the sight. Originally the thought of sharing Chloe appalled Max, like she could never imagine being able to do so... and now she couldn’t imagine it any other way. Rachel loved Chloe. Chloe loved Rachel. They both loved her. This timeline, this relationship, this love, was how it was always meant to be.
When the two girls pulled away Chloe asked with humour, “You two talking about me behind my back?”
“Only good things, we swear,” Max said with a smirk of her own, gasping when Chloe gave her a quick slap on her ass. She blushed, but her smile couldn’t be any bigger. “Jerk!”
“Oh you love it,” Chloe laughed, stepping closer to Max. The blue haired punk towered over her by several inches, and her expression softened as she leaned in to kiss Max’s forehead, the warmth of the gesture lingering long after the kiss ended. “Are you... okay? After last night?” Chloe winced, probably annoyed at herself for struggling to get the words out. Chloe often wished that she was better with words and with expressing her feelings regardless of how many times Max and Rachel told her they could always tell what she wanted to say, even if she had trouble saying it.
It was a particularly bad nightmare last night, but seeing Chloe and Rachel immediately come to her aid wasn’t something Max would forget anytime soon.
“I’m okay because of both of you,” Max replied, stretching up to kiss Chloe’s cheek. The blue haired girl looked shocked, lifting a hand to touch her cheek that was slowly getting warmer.
“I know, I’m surprised, too,” Rachel said, grinning as she ruffled up Chloe’s hair further, the punk too stunned to even swat her hand away. Then Rachel’s soulful hazel eyes were trained again on Max, and with both her girlfriends looking at her like that Max felt trapped, yet she also didn’t want to be anywhere else. “Neither of us are complaining, as you can see.”
Then Chloe’s face lit right up, like the star atop a Christmas tree. “Hella yes! Max kisses are best kisses!” the punk declared before holding Max’s face in her hands and peppering kisses all over her, making exaggerated kissing noises the whole time as Max giggled and playfully tried to shove her away.
Rachel laughed loudly. “Excuse you, I’m here, too,” she stated, not even trying to hide that she wasn’t offended in the slightest. Her eyes were sparkling.
“Yeah yours are pretty good too, Rachel,” Chloe said offhandedly, glancing at her as she kept kissing Max ‘cause she knew it would get a reaction. The blonde offered a mock gasp, holding a hand to her chest.
“Just for that I’m gonna drink all your orange juice.” Rachel skipped back over to the table and picked up a glass, it didn’t matter which one, and started downing it. Max could do nothing but watch the scene before her as she turned off the stove, her ears gleeful at Chloe’s burst of laughter and her eyes hypnotized at how Rachel’s throat bobbed as she drank.
“Woman! I will steal all of your bacon!” Chloe declared, and Rachel had to stop drinking and hold a hand to her mouth in case she spat it out from trying not to laugh. Chloe stole the glass and took a long gulp and the girls laughed together, sounding as joyful and carefree as the birds chirping just outside the window. They wrapped an arm around each other and practically had a contest of seeing who could take another sip without sputtering or spilling it.
Max’s heart absolutely swelled seeing her girlfriends so relaxed and happy and alive, and the image burned well into her eyelids as she turned away to fill up three plates with food. She was the only one blessed to see Chloe and Rachel like this. Everyone else thought Chloe was some rash, impolite high school dropout; but she was kind, and really smart, and so loving. No one but Max would ever know that Chloe was willing to sacrifice herself for this town and everyone in it, even if that meant she never got to escape it like she always wanted. And everyone else thought that Rachel was the image of perfection for the wrong reasons, or they believed all those awful rumours spread about her at Blackwell; but Rachel was so hardworking and down to earth, and she had the biggest heart Max had ever seen. When Rachel smiled, she smiled. You could just feel how happy she was, and how happy she was to be near you.
No one would ever know these things about her girlfriends. That was somewhat sad, but it was also okay because Max understood these things, and they didn’t need to be understood by anyone else. Max would do everything she could to support them and love them and treat them right, even if she didn’t have her powers anymore. She used to think those powers were the only thing that made her special, but over time Chloe and Rachel had taught her otherwise.
Her hipster catchphrases made them laugh, even when they were upset. Both of them couldn’t praise her photography enough; they had no doubt Max would get super famous for her talent one day, even when Max doubted herself. They loved it when she played guitar for them, saying it was even more calming than getting high. She asked the hard questions that other people were afraid to ask. She was able to keep them stable when Chloe and Rachel liked to raise hell, creating the perfect dynamic between the trio.
She was special to them just like they were to her.
With a smile, she brought the food over to the table, which calmed her girlfriends down as they all took a seat, Max on one side of the table with Chloe and Rachel on the other.
“Looks good, Max,” Rachel commented kindly.
Max waved off the compliment. “It’s nothing compared to what Joyce could do.”
“Dude. Irrelevant. FOOD!” Chloe stated, already stuffing her face and getting crumbs all over her clothes. Max and Rachel chuckled, amused and in love, before they began eating at a more controlled pace. There were constant sounds of cutlery clinking on plates and juice being slurped and Chloe attempting to talk with her mouth full and Rachel rubbing her back when the blue haired girl ate too much at once, and Max enjoyed every moment.
Chloe finished miles ahead of her girlfriends, leaning back in her wooden chair and patting her belly. “That was amazeballs, Max. I wish you two could get out of Blackhell already so we could do this every morning.”
“Or you could come back and try to graduate,” Rachel teased with a nudge, but there was a hint of realness there.
“Okay Mom,” Chloe groaned, sticking her tongue out at Rachel, who in turn swiped at it with her own tongue, making Chloe laugh. The punk gently slapped the aspiring model’s arm, causing Rachel to do the same, which then made Chloe follow up on her promise to steal Rachel’s bacon and she stuffed the largest piece in her mouth before Rachel could protest.
“I agree.”
Max didn’t even realize she had said the words aloud until her girlfriends quit play-fighting and stared at her. It was silent for a moment other than Chloe’s large gulp of bacon.
“Agree with what?” Rachel asked. “That Chloe should go back to school? ‘Cause she should.” The blonde grinned when Chloe tried to kick her leg under the table.
Max laughed. “That too. You’re super smart Chloe, especially with science. And you’re such a talented artist. I’ve seen your tattoo designs. I know you could do so well.” Chloe bit her lip and looked away, like she always did when she didn’t know how to respond to something that didn’t call for her infamous Price Snapbacks. “What I mean is...” Max licked her lips, suddenly nervous, and couldn’t make eye contact with either girl. “Later on in life, when we’re older and school is done. Every morning... I’d love for it to be like this. For us to wake up together, and I’d cook you both breakfast every day, and even if things got hard sometimes it would be okay because we’d have each other. I... I really love both of you.”
Max chomped on her tongue, staring wide-eyed down at her plate filled with the remnants of toast crumbs and egg yolk. She said way more than she had intended to. She meant every single word but... she may had come on too strong. The three of them really hadn’t been together all that long and that almost sounded like a marriage proposal. Which was appealing to think about—Chloe and Rachel in wedding dresses, hell, or suits, they’d look amazing either way—but, again, too strong and too soon.
But, similarly, Max knew all too well how much it hurt when you lost your chance to say something. She didn’t have her time powers anymore. She couldn’t take back anything she said, nor could she go back and say something she should have said. She still felt pain when she remembered on that tragic Friday when the storm hit that Chloe told her that she loved her and Max, so overwhelmed, so heartbroken, couldn’t even say it back to Chloe in what could have potentially been her final moments.
So, now, in this perfect timeline, she really needed to ensure her girlfriends knew that her love for them was unparalleled.
Anxious yet determined, Max looked up... and was pleasantly surprised at the blushes that had spread on both Chloe’s and Rachel’s faces. Chloe’s jaw had dropped adorably, like she couldn’t even remember how to function, and Rachel was speechless, which was a rarity. In fact, the only time Max had ever seen her stunned to silence was when Max told her what she had gone through to save her.
Max’s face reddened under their prolonged gaze, not sure what to say. She fidgeted, playing with the hem of her shirt, hoping one of them would break the silence soon.
Rachel recovered first, gracefully stepping around the table to wrap her arms around Max’s shoulders from behind. Max felt the gentle pressure of her breasts against her upper back and the warmth of Rachel’s breath against her neck.
“I love you too, Max,” she murmured softly into Max’s ear. Her voice almost sounded watery, but all of Max’s senses suddenly felt on fire so it was impossible to only focus on her hearing. All she could do was smile and nod, absorbing every word. She placed a kiss on the black star tattoo on Rachel’s wrist and the blonde gave her an appreciative squeeze.
That seemed to snap Chloe out of her trance because the blue haired girl’s chair screeched back so she could crawl under the table and lay her chin on Max’s lap. “The same goes for me, Max,” she said, looking up at Max with so much hope and joy and every other positive thing that Chloe deserved to feel. “I’ll always love you.”
Max’s heart pounded painfully in her chest. Those four words were an echo of the previous Chloe and, just like that time, they brought Max equal amounts of love, happiness and bittersweet sadness. She wished she had been able to say it back the first time. She wished she wasn’t always such a coward. She had abandoned Chloe five years ago and she had abandoned her then.
But not this time. Not anymore.
Max smiled down at Chloe, running her fingers through that cobalt hair that Max adored more and more each day. Chloe returned the smile, and that along with the way Rachel was holding her and kissing her head made it hard to remember how to breathe. But she forced herself to do so, because there was a place she had a sudden desire to visit.
“Can we go to the lighthouse?”
Chloe didn’t look surprised by the request. The look in her eyes welcomed the idea, in fact. Chloe loved that place as much as she did. It was a memory to them in more ways than one.
“Did you want to take pictures?” Rachel asked gently. “The golden hour is long gone, but I guarantee you I’m more vibrant than the sun.”
Max giggled, stroking Rachel’s arm. “I know you are. And I could. I bring my camera with me everywhere, anyway. But mostly I just want to... be there.”
Chloe nodded, understanding immediately. “Alright nerds, let’s change and head out!”
“Hmmm, I don’t know,” Rachel drawled, leaning down so she was eye level with Chloe. Her grin turned sultry. “I feel like neither of you would complain if I stayed in my underwear all day.”
Max gulped, those words making her quiver even though they were more directed at Chloe, and cursed inwardly because the blonde no doubt felt every tremble of her body. And it clearly affected the blue haired girl more, because she jolted in either surprise or excitement and banged the back of her head on the wooden table, clattering all the dirty utensils above.
“Fuckin’ shitballs!” Chloe swore, cradling her head as she scampered out from under the table. Rachel was laughing at her playfully, earning her a glare and a pout. “You’re an asshole, Rach. Go suck a dick.”
The blonde’s seductiveness remained present. “I would if either you or Max had one.”
That provided both Rachel and Max with the generous offering of a beet red Chloe Price, who muttered a shy, “Anyway,” before hurrying up the stairs. Rachel chuckled again. Max had heard her laugh so much already today and it was just... beautiful. There was no better sound in the world, except for when Chloe was laughing with her.
Rachel held out her hand for Max and the brunette accepted, her stomach doing flips as the blonde interlaced their fingers and led them up the stairs. They all changed their clothes in Chloe’s room, laughing as the cobalt haired girl struggled to find her beanie amongst the piles of empty beer bottles and dirty garments. Rachel had time to apply her makeup, perfect eyeliner and eyeshadow and toner as always, and after leaving the dirty dishes in the sink to soak and locking up the Price household the three quickly headed out.
Max always felt safe in Chloe’s truck even though it looked like a deathtrap to outsiders. It felt homey to her, though. Unique, vintage, and so definitely Chloe, and the girl was a surprisingly good driver when her negative emotions weren’t in overdrive. And ever since getting together with Rachel and Max, well, Chloe had never been happier.
Max was once again sandwiched between her two girlfriends, with Chloe in the driver’s seat and Rachel on her right. Chloe’s hand rested on Max’s thigh, her thumb gently stroking along her jeans while Rachel rested her head on Max’s shoulder, giving her a generous whiff of the vanilla perfume she had applied after breakfast. Chloe smelled like smoke and weed and men’s cologne in contrast, and it was amazing.
The entire drive was quiet, letting Max enjoy the scents and the closeness of her girlfriends as she watched the beautiful little fishing town of Arcadia Bay pass her by. Blackwell, The Two Whales, the suburbs, the parks, the beach, and every single friendly, rude, flirty, shy, carefree and serious person who lived there.
Everything was so beautiful and alive.
They parked in the beach parking lot and hiked their way up the hilltop to the lighthouse. It was Max’s favourite place other than Chloe’s room, but only when she came here with her girlfriends. If she came here alone, she knew she wouldn’t be able to stop picturing the storm; the logs that nearly crushed her; the lighthouse that nearly crumbled on her; the storm that could have stolen the life of thousands; that butterfly photo that started everything.
But as Chloe and Rachel held each of her hands as they made their way up the final hill, she felt nothing but safe.
Max glanced at the stump that read ‘Max + Chloe BFF Pirates 2008’ and briefly reminisced to her childhood when she and Chloe would always play pirates up here. She missed those days when things were simple, but as she glanced further down the stump she knew she wouldn’t want things to be any other way than how they were right now.
Underneath was carved ‘Max + Chloe + Rachel GFF Heroes 2013.’ Chloe and Rachel had surprised her with it one day and she cried.
The three of them walked over to the bench and as they walked Max was struck with the image of Chloe sitting there in the previous timeline, the sunset making her glow like the angel she was and continued to be. She remembered taking a picture of her, the first one she had taken of Chloe since coming back to Arcadia Bay, and the camera flash didn’t even make Chloe flinch. Even after five years, she was still used to Max’s constant photos and had no quarrel being in them—especially if she had the opportunity to photobomb her selfies.
She should get another photo of Chloe sitting there, even if it wasn’t the golden hour. If Rachel sat next to her, the perfect lighting wouldn’t be necessary anyway. It would automatically become the most beautiful photograph Max had ever taken.
But that wasn’t for today. She didn’t want to see things through her camera today. Every sight, sound, smell and texture she just wanted to experience for herself.
The three girls stood in front of the bench. They easily could have sat, but they stayed standing and stayed silent as they gazed over the beach and the gently rolling waves of the ocean. Seagulls were chirping and flying around. No dead birds. No washed up whales. No freak snowfall. No storm.
Just the morning sunlight marking a new glorious, miraculous day for the little fishing town that Max had come to cherish, for without it, her hands would be cold right now.
She squeezed the warm hands in hers, one with chipped blue nail polish and the other with pristine magenta, making both her girlfriends turn to her. Max’s blue eyes flickered between them, regarding their relaxed expressions and the love in their eyes, and Max remembered another reason why this cliffside was so important to her.
It was here that she had her first true kiss with Chloe. Not because she was double dared to—but because she couldn’t say the words, so she had to show Chloe that she loved her in the clearest way she knew how, so she kissed her. And in that moment, the storm suddenly wasn’t so loud. There was no threat. No time powers. No mind-numbing decisions that would affect her best friend’s fate.
It was just her and Chloe in their own moment of time, and it was beautiful.
And, similarly, this cliffside was also the first place she kissed Rachel. When Max had agreed to enter the relationship as Rachel’s girlfriend as well, it was here she made that decision because no other place could suffice for something that important.
These girls were only alive because of her. In turn, that meant Max was only alive because of them, because she was nothing without them. It’s possible she could’ve still been walking in this world and working on her photography and making friends, but without Chloe and Rachel she would be empty. Arcadia Bay was worth saving, was worth a new sunny morning, because of Chloe and Rachel.
They called her their hero all the time, but really it was them who saved her.
Overwhelmed by that notion, overwhelmed by love, Max momentarily let go of Rachel’s hand so she could cradle Chloe’s face and slowly, tentatively, brush their lips together, just like on the night of the storm, and just like on the night of the storm, the feeling of Chloe’s lips moving against hers made the rest of the world nonexistent. Chloe gently grasped her hips, toying with her hoodie, pulling their bodies closer together. Max felt warmth blossom in her chest as her heart pounded strongly against her ribcage. She stroked Chloe’s cheeks, her beautiful Chloe, and kissed her deeper, only pulling away when she felt a hand that wasn’t Chloe’s stroke her arm.
When Max opened her eyes Chloe looked dazed and pleasantly surprised which made Max feel like she could fly. She was still shy with initiating physical contact, especially kisses, normally okay with less of the intimate touches that Chloe and Rachel shared, but Max knew she would be ready eventually. For now, she just loved being close to them and seeing their faces light up whenever she made the first move. Every time she did it looked like they fell in love with her all over again, as if on a loop; as if Max still had a remnant of her power.
That hand stroked her arm again and Max looked over to see Rachel biting her lip and actually looking a little timid for once. Clearly she was hoping for a kiss as well. Max was happy to oblige, of course, and with Chloe’s hands still on her hips she turned to brush Rachel’s golden mane behind her ear and leaned forward. Rachel met her halfway and Max could feel the blonde smiling into the kiss. Rachel’s lips were more daring, more seductive, and Max felt her knees go weak but she persevered, especially thanks to the support of Chloe’s grip.
When they finally pulled away Max was out of breath and Rachel wore the happiest grin. The blonde smashed her lips against Chloe’s, Max giving a breathy giggle at the startled look on Chloe’s face, and then smiled as she watched her girlfriends kiss, completing their mushy trifecta.
“... That was amazeballs,” Chloe sighed, a dreamy look in her eyes. “I’m literally the luckiest girl in the world.”
“You sure about that?” Rachel chuckled. “I think I’ve reserved that title.”
“Both of you are wrong, ‘cause that title has to be mine,” Max said. Her tone started off lighthearted, but soon turned serious and her eyes lowered. “Even after everything that happened, after the craziness I put you both through, all the stress I continue to put you both through... you’re both still here.”
She was in Rachel’s arms before she even finished speaking, with long fingers running through her hair. “You’ll never be a burden, Max,” she murmured sweetly. “You’re the strongest person I’ve ever met. Even if it’s hard to put your foot forwards sometimes it’s okay, because I’m gonna be with you every step of the way.”
Max nearly whimpered into Rachel’s shoulder. “Really?”
“Really, really.”
“Yeah Max, don’t look so sad,” Chloe chimed in, towering over her girlfriends as she wrapped an arm around each of them. She kissed the top of Max’s head. “We’re never leaving you.”
Max gave a shaky smile, feeling too many things at once, encircling Chloe’s waist as well as Rachel’s so she could be as close to both of them as possible.
When Max was younger she never believed in the concept of true love, or soul-mates, or two or more people who were meant to be together. She had hoped to fall in love one day and have a family, sure, but she was never unrealistic about it. Fairytale types of relationships just didn’t exist. Nothing that perfect could ever exist.
But the current Max believed in all of those things, because nothing could be more perfect than the love she felt emanating from all their strong, beating hearts right now.
“Damn right you’re never leaving me,” Max exclaimed, her growing confidence soaking up her forming tears. She gifted Rachel and Chloe both with a kiss on the cheek, before smirking up at Chloe. “Because if my Captain fails to perform her promised duties,” Max let go of Chloe to hold her hand in front of her own eye, resembling an eye-patch, “then I’ll have to throw ye overboard!”
Chloe gave a wide smile, suddenly full of such childlike delight, and did a mock-gasp. “Shiver me timbers! Not my First Mate!” The blue haired girl suddenly jumped out of their hold, laughing as she ran back down the dirt path. “I will not stand for such mutiny!” she shouted back to them, echoing amongst the throng of trees. Max and Rachel laughed, hurrying after her.
They were nearly at the end of the path when Chloe suddenly stopped and picked up a lengthy stick, holding it in Max’s direction like a cutlass. She pulled her beanie further down her head, as if to be intimidating, but the wide grin on her face just gave Max butterflies. “No one’s allowed to take me hat!” Chloe announced, faking an awful accent that almost had Rachel double over laughing. “Fight me, wench!”
Max felt thirteen all over again and wasted no time finding a stick to match Chloe’s, holding it up defensively. “Avast ye, for I’m about to lay a smack-down.”
Once Rachel was safely out of harm’s way, Max and Chloe smacked their makeshift weapons together, laughing and fumbling and making ridiculous battle cries all the while. Each loud strike echoed on the trees, squirrels and chipmunks scurrying to find shelter from the teens. Eventually Chloe was able to swipe Max’s stick and the brunette yelped, suddenly on the run from her best friend who chased her around, making a comical yell as she wildly waved both sticks in the air.
When Chloe finally caught her Max cried out in surprise and fell to the ground, dirtying her hoodie and jeans but she didn’t care, and Chloe was quick to follow. Both of them were breathing hard from exertion but they were still laughing because everything was just so... good right now. This was how life was supposed to be; fun, carefree, full of freedom and happiness and love.
And as Max looked up as Chloe loomed over her, trapped between her arms, trapped within her gaze, she knew that everything had been worth it. Every hard decision, every fuck up, every rewind and all the torments of each one.
It was all worth it for the loving look Chloe was giving her right now.
Chloe leaned down to kiss her, sweet, chaste, caring, and it was everything Max had ever wanted. The coldness of Chloe’s bullet necklace brushed her chin and Max was quick to rub it, squeeze it, and tug it to pull Chloe just an inch closer. Chloe smiled against her lips, just as Rachel had, and Max knew it was high on her list of favourite things about her girlfriends. There were so many favourite things it was hard to pick favourites out of the favourites.
But having Chloe kiss her so sweetly just because she felt like it, just because she was happy and in love... yeah. That was one of Max’s favourite things.
“Ahem.”
Both girls slowly, unwillingly, split apart to look over at the voice. Rachel had planted herself on the rusting metal fence that led down to the parking lot, swinging her legs back and forth. She was staring right at them, mischief painting her whole expression.
“Now that you two scallywags are done,” she said, her tone husky as she played with her feather earring, “I feel it is best I remind you that I am the Quartermaster of this pirate crew, which means I get to decide who gets fair share of the booty.” The blonde climbed over to the other side of the fence and made sure she had Max and Chloe’s wholehearted attention before she firmly smacked her own ass. “Which means you two better hurry up or neither of you are getting any.”
With a playful parting smile, Rachel walked down towards the parking lot, swaying her hips all the while.
For a moment, between Max and Chloe, nothing could be heard other than the chirping birds and the wind whistling through the trees. And then, just as quickly, Chloe’s face brightened as if she had just snapped out of a trance.
“Our fair lady beckons us!” Chloe shouted, hastily lifting Max into her arms bridal-style like she weighed nothing at all. “Come, First Mate! Let us split that booty!”
“C-Chloe!” Max sputtered, embarrassed but so happy and safe in Chloe’s arms, and her own wrapped around Chloe’s neck on instinct. All she could do was laugh as Chloe tried her hardest to get them to catch up to Rachel. She almost tripped several times and that just made things even funnier. Every so often Rachel would turn back at them and either wink or giggle, or both, and it made Max’s heart race just as much as the wonderful sound of Chloe’s own next to her ear.
Max knew the hard times weren’t over. She knew her nightmares would still be plentiful, she knew bad people still existed in the world, and she knew that the three of them would, very soon, need to start considering their futures. So much of Max’s future was unknown to her, and she felt naked without her time powers to help her remedy any potential problems.
But one thing that wasn’t unknown was that she would be with Chloe and Rachel. She loved them so much, and they loved her, too. They were each other’s heroes. Max had gone back in time so much, sacrificed so much, in order to save them and have them here with her just to celebrate and enjoy the little things in life like cooking breakfast in their nightclothes and playing pirates like they were kids, and Max knew she would go through all those hardships again if it meant protecting her girlfriends.
Max met Rachel’s gaze and felt Chloe hold her tighter, and Max knew that no matter what reality, what future, what timeline, she was sure of one thing.
She would walk with them every step of the way. |
The letter had come unassuming, in a boring, aged envelope. There was no return address, or anything on the front. The envelope was sealed with a grey waxed ‘L’ seal.
The time for your wedding has come. Return to Moorland Manor at once.
-
The paperwork lay forgotten on his desk, buried under the tape recorders that had shown up the moment Jon had entered the room. His tie was tossed off to the side and little hands were wrinkling his suit. Running his fingers through Jon’s dark hair (and ignoring the fact that he could already see strands of grey), he pressed his lips to the crown of Jon’s head.
“It’s okay, dear boy. It’s all been planned out. You needn’t worry your head over this.”
“But-!”
“Hush now. I won’t hear another word.”
-
They both stood in black, matching the relatively large amount of Lukas family members. The only person who wore any sort of color in the room was Jon, looking like a well-off Victorian child in his little dark green suit with lace collar and cuffs. His hair was neatly curled and in a small ponytail with a green ribbon tying it off. The blonde had spent most of his morning getting Jon ready for the ceremony, taking only fifteen minutes to fix his hair and straighten his clothes.
He had no desire to look like he wanted this part, this role. The Lukas’s gave him their money and he provided them with the people and resources they needed.
This…marriage was never a part of the plan, of any plan.
As Nathaniel’s speech began to come to a close, Elias wondered how many wine glasses it would take to bludgeon Peter to death. Stabbing him with the broken stem of one would be too quick for the amount of anger he held, but he wanted the man gone as soon as possible
-
“Papa! Look! I’ve never seen sandwiches so tiny…I can eat it all in one bite!” Chuckling as Jon climbed into his lap with a plate full of finger sandwiches (from the low standing kids’ food table), Elias reached around Jon to take a sandwich and plop it into his mouth, Jon looking horrified as he did so.
“Papa, no!”
“Hmm, I think I’ll take another one.” Jon tried his best to keep his plate away from Elias’s hands, but with his father’s reach almost twice as long as his, he huffed as another one of his snacks was taken.
The two of them were in a corner of the large Lukas ballroom, sitting just by themselves at a table meant for twenty. The entire ballroom held about eight large circular tables in total, which each table holding only about nine people.
Sometimes Elias wondered if those of the Lonely took their God’s domain a little too seriously.
From his vantage point (meaning the entire room), he spotted Peter at a table with Nathaniel and some other Lukas’s, who names did pop into his mind, but he was too annoyed to care. Content that they wouldn’t be making their way over to him and Jon any time soon, he taped the table once and a tape recorder blinked into existence. From the breast pocket of his suit, he pulled out a sheet of folded paper. When Jon looked up from his coloring on the white tablecloth (Elias wasn’t sure where the crayon came from but good for Jon, making a mess of Lukas property), he gave a happy little laugh and clapped his hands.
“Papa, look! A recordie friend!”
“It’s a tape recorder Jon.”
“Recordie friend!”
Shaking his head, he lightly flicked his son on the nose and held out the piece of paper. For all intents and purposes, it did look like a Statement, but it was one that he had gotten from visiting the local library’s spooky story sharing hour for Jon to read when they were away from the Institute and he knew that Statement Hunger was coming soon. While Jon was still only eight, he was still the Archivist and had to be taken care of as such.
“If you are still hungry, you should read this. It’s a short and easy one, but I can help you through it if you get stuck on a word.”
“Okay!” Jon grabbed the piece of paper and moved the recorder closer to him, eyelids lowering as he read the name of the statement giver.
“Statement of Joshua B-“
“Hello!” Blinking fast, Jon’s head jolted up as he was interrupted. Next to him, Elias gave an annoyed sigh and was about to tell off whatever Lukas had decided bother them, but as he turned to do so, he saw no one.
“…hi.” Looking at Jon and following his gaze, Elias saw the source the interruption. Standing behind Jon’s chair was another child, about ten years old. His face was full of freckles, hair a fiery red, and he bore a wide smile.
What a peculiar Lukas.
“Hi! I’m Martin Blackwood! Nice to meet you! Do you have a name? Oh, of course you have a name! Everyone has a name! I’m Martin, oh wait I said that! Uh…”
“…I’m…Jonathan. Jonathan Sims. My papa calls me Jon.”
“Oh! Hello Jonathan!” In his seat, Jon’s ears turned a bright red. Behind them, on the table, the previously turned off tape recorder began to whir. Elias rolled his eyes at the Beholding penchant for gossip, before turning back to the conversation at hand.
“You…you can call me Jon…if you want.” The redhead’s eyes widened, and he moved forward to clasp one of Jon’s hands. Elias almost stepped in, but the blush that spread across Jon’s face as he intertwined his fingers with the other boy’s hand stopped him.
Honestly, it was the cutest thing that Elias had probably ever seen, but if this boy was a Lukas then he needed to brace Jon early on for what would come next.
As Jon showed Martin his drawings (the boy had taken it upon himself to take the seat on the other side of Jon), Elias glared at the tape recorder still present on the table. A tape recorder that now had a blue crayon on it. He wasn’t sure who he would roll his eyes at more today, the Eye or the Lukas’s boastful conversations that he kept “overhearing”.
(He wasn’t even trying to Know, the Lukas’s were just a bunch of try hards.)
As he handed the crayon to Martin, the boy smiling and thanking him, he patted Jon’s head as he retracted his arm.
“I need to go speak to someone-“
“Peter.”
“Yes, I need to go speak to Peter. Don’t Behold anyone while I’m gone and be good. I look forward to seeing what you and Martin have created when I get back.”
“Hmm…okay…”
Placing a swift kiss to the top of Jon’s head, he laughed as his son ignored him for his new friend and began to walk in the direction of his husband.
-
“-routes are fine. The seas have been pretty calm given the time of year but-“
“Ah Elias, hello.”
“Nathaniel, Peter.”
“I see I’m not needed anymore; I’ll leave you two to it then. Farewell.” As Nathaniel walked away, Peter gave a dull laugh.
“I think he caught sight of your glare from halfway across the room, if you ask me. We could have continued to-“
“Well I didn’t ask you, did I?” Setting the whisky glass in his hand down on the table that he was leaning against, Peter crossed his arms.
“What do you want Elias?”
“Oh, is that now a question? I thought you Lukas’s didn’t care what I wanted.” Taking the bottle of wine that was chilling in a bucket on the table, Elias filled up the nearest wine glass and took a large drink. Looking down his nose, he noticed Peter’s gaze and he swallowed hard, finishing the glass. When he looked up from refilling the glass, Peter’s gaze was noticeably darker. Feeling vindictive, he snapped his fingers in front of Peter’s face.
“I asked a question, Lukas. If we are married now, it means that I expect you to answer what you are asked.”
“And if I don’t?”
“Then I will rip it out of you.” Peter huffed at his charged words, purposefully rolling his eyes, as if mocking Elias.
“You talk big for a man whose Institute can’t stand on its own two feet without external “help” and an avatar whose Gods main weapon is a child.” Peter never got to tack on the next insult, as the wine glass in Elias hand, emptied, shattered against his face. As his head whipped to the side, he didn’t miss the fact that despite his very enraged action, Elias’s face was passive.
When Peter shook his head to clear it, as it would take a lot more than a wine glass to injure him in any way, a manicured finger came into his view and tucked itself under his chin. Pressing against his jawbone, Peter felt his body move automatically as Elias pulled him in close.
“I don’t care what you say about me, my Institute, or The Eye in my presence or otherwise. Toss around whatever crude jokes and nasty insults you want, I couldn’t care. However,” The hand not holding Peter’s chin came into the sailor’s line of sight and long fingers came to stop just so in front of his eyes. “If you say anything, anything at all, about Jon, to anyone, I will make it so that you can never hide in your Forsaken again. I will expose every fiber of your being and personally rip out and hand deliver your every thought to The Eye. And when I am done, I will repeat the process all over again, until you are nothing more than a thoughtless husk.”
As he was let go, Peter only had a moment to register the glow in Elias’s eyes, as well as the several other Eyes that had appeared behind him, before a second glass came smashing into his head, with enough force this time to drop him.
Laying on the floor, head slightly swimming, he watched Elias Bouchard-Lukas walk away, his hips definitely swaying more than they had when he had walked over and wiping his wine stained hands on a white cloth napkin. Lifting a hand to his face, Peter grimaced at the feeling of wine seeping into his beard as he thought about how great of an idea it was to marry the other man.
He looked forward to their divorce.
The first of many.
-
(Later, Elias would find out that he wouldn’t need to be having that conversation with Jon. While he had been to busy smashing wine glasses against Peter’s thick skull, Martin had told Jon about how he was only at the wedding because his mum couldn’t find a babysitter and the Lukas’s offered to watch him because he was an avatar in training to the Lonely. He didn’t visit them often, and in fact lived close to the Institute and had a lot of free time so he could visit Jon whenever Jon wanted to see him. Elias didn’t have the heart to tell Jon that one of those statements wasn’t exactly honest, so instead he wrote down their home number, as well as his office number, for Jon to give to Martin. Before they departed, Jon made sure that Martin knew he was always welcome at the Institute and that maybe, one day, he could become an Assistant. Elias smiled at his son, silently cooing about young love.)
|
I cried out as my knees were scraped painfully against the stony ground, "Please, no! Martin, have mercy on me."
The man that dragged me by my chains looked back with pity in his eyes but his mouth remained in a firm line.
"I'm sorry, Jason; but the council has decided you are this year's sacrifice. Now, please be quiet. I'd like to get away before the dragon knows you're here."
We continued up the bleak mountainside and I grew more and more afraid. Each year the city below paid tribute to the dragon that lived atop the mountain in exchange for his services in defending against outside invaders. At first it had been only in treasure, but when the dragon hit maturity his tastes in payment changed. He began demanding a young man with each year's deposit of gold and silver coin. This year, at only the age of nineteen, I had the misfortune of being selected for the "honor" of serving the dragon.
Martin was looking around furtively; they were so close to the dragon's lair now that he would have no chance to hide if he emerged. Quickly, my chains were clipped to a stake in the ground. Martin gave my shoulder a rough pat.
"Good luck."
And then he was gone, sprinting away over the stones.
I sat huddled in my thin deer skin coat, waiting. It seems like an age passed before something stirred on the mountainside. A plume of smoke rose from the dragon's cave, dark and swirling. I watched, sandy blond hair shaking as my body trembled. Then, slowly, as if he was emerging from deep slumber, the bronze colored dragon uncurled from his cave.
Massive wings unfurled. His head swung around and I knew I was being observed. The glittering creature suddenly launched himself into the air, leathery sails letting him glide to where his tribute was waiting. Huge talons touched down with a crunch. I stared up at the massive creature, gulping. His body was thickset, with four long limbs ending in sharp claws. The dragon's neck and tail were long and supple and the former had a graceful curve to it. Aggressive eyes leered at me from under a crown of horns. A few teeth poked out from scaly lips, and a curl of smoke emanated from his mouth. He would have been something beautiful, if it wasn't for the fact that I would more than likely be murdered under his talons within the hour.
Without warning, the dragon stepped forward and ripped the chain free from the stake. His hands were almost the size of my chest. He whipped his head around, fixing me under a severe eye.
"Hold onto my neck, and don't try anything stupid."
His voice was like distant thunder; quiet but with the edge of a threat to it. I complied and reached his arms around the beast's neck. Huge claws clasped around my back and then we were aloft.
Frigid air threatened to slice at my skin the creature shot through the sky. We touched down at the mouth of the cave and the dragon practically threw me to the ground. I grunted as the dragon leaned over me.
"My name is Attor. Yours?" he asked, emerald eyes flashing with what seemed to be curiosity.
"Jason," I croaked, still winded from the rough landing.
"Mmm. Strong name. I hope you hold up to it."
I felt a chill go down my spine at that. Attor stepped towards me and I scurried backward, further into the cave.
"Oh, little Jason, don't be so frightened. I'm not going to kill you."
His breath was not what I was expecting; it smelled sweet as if he'd been chewing on roses.
"W-why do you have me here then?" I asked, voice quivering. He backed me up against a wall.
"Because there are so many more fun things we can do."
My body went ridged at what he was suggesting. Attor leaned in close, so close I could see the flecks of gold in his eyes. He parted his mouth, revealing a forked tongue nestled among dozens of teeth. He breathed out and more sweet scented air enveloped me. My guard was dropping; I could feel it. Something on his breath was working against my panicked mind.
Gentle hands scooped me up and I willed myself to fight but my arms hung limp and useless. Attor carried me further into his lair. There were three passages that met here. My captor took the left. We entered a high-ceilinged cave with a fire smoldering at the far end. Despite that, the air was cold. The dragon set me atop a pile of fabric pieces. I watched, practically immobile, as he threw a few logs on the fire and hissed out a stream of flame to set them ablaze.
"I'll keep you warm; don't worry," he rumbled from across the cave.
As the dragon stomped back to where I was laying, he grabbed a bag from a niche in the wall. I didn't pay much attention to it once he set it down. The huge male encircled me and proceeded to flip me on my back. I was slowly regaining control of my body and managed to lift my arms and slap his muzzle as he leaned to sniff me. Attor jerked back, a grin creeping over his snout.
"I haven't had one with fight in a few years. This should be fun."
The dragon's green eyes were sharp now and his nostrils flared as he drew in my scent. Then, with deft movements, his claws sliced through my coat and shirt. He peeled the layers from me and flung them aside. Next, he tugged off my pants. My cheeks flamed red as he inspected my manhood. His pupils narrowed and his breathing seemed to increase. He grabbed the bag and he snapped at me, no longer seeming to be gentle.
"You will eat this. Trust me, it will make this much more enjoyable for you," he growled, pouring out what appeared to be dried, shriveled berries.
The dragon, seeming much more aggressive now, glared at me and I swallowed the berries. Attor nodded and sat silently, watching. Within a few minutes, I felt a slow burning in my belly that wasn't altogether unpleasant. The warmth slowly spread out and I realized that I'd been given an aphrodisiac. My dick began to rise without any stimulation.
Attor smiled, "There we are. Now, let's begin."
The bronze creature leaned down and brushed his muzzle over my nipples. I felt tingling shoot through my body. His forked tongue slithered out from parted lips and rasped over the sensitive nubs. This went on for a few minutes and I felt a heat building in my groin as the dragon continued his ministrations.
"Attor, please don't do this," I groaned, trying to push his slimy tongue away.
His eyes flashed with irritation and his hands suddenly gripped mine and held them down. His flicking tongue began to move down my belly until I whipped lightly over my dick. My breath caught in my throat. Attor chuckled at my reaction and repeated the movement. My hips bucked without my consent.
"Just let it happen, Jason."
He lapped at my balls, the sensation sending shivers up my spine. Then with a delicateness I didn't think was possible for a creature his size, Attor directed the tip of one side of his tongue to the head of my penis and let it wriggle inside my urethra. At that I cried out, both from pain and pleasure. Never in my life had I felt something like this. He removed his tongue and I mewled in protest, wanting more. Attor laughed at my sudden willingness to participate. Again, my cheeks flamed and I cursed the herbs he gave me.
Suddenly the dragon stood up and I felt my stomach drop. Attor had a massive erection hanging heavily beneath him. The cock must have been almost two feet long. The first foot was rather narrow, though the head still looked large, but closer to his core, the girth increased to be as wide as my upper arm. The whole thing was covered in nubs and it dribbled clear fluid from the tip. And despite my fear I wanted to touch it.
Attor rumbled and flipped me over so my virgin ass was in the air. His tongue lapped along my cheeks, leaving cool trails. One fork cupped my balls, rolling them. The other lightly brushed my asshole and I clenched, suddenly deeply afraid.
"Relax. I will hurt more if you're tense."
I didn't obey his command and remained ridged. "Oh, very well," Attor muttered.
His tongue began to circle my hole, occasionally poking at it. My eyes were screwed shut against the sensation. Without warning he pushed both sides of his tongue against my hole and I cried out as I was ever so slowly split open. Finally, I relented and relaxed my muscles. His tongue pierced my innards and a bolt of pain raced through me. Tears dripped down my face.
"I told you, dear Jason. I'll give you a moment to adjust."
The fire in my ass slowed to a dull pain. Then Attor began to slowly rock his tongue back and forth inside me. I gasped, new waves of pain coming. But then his tongue hit something inside me and a jolt of pleasure erupted, so strong that my toes curled. The sensation of having twin cords of muscles writhing inside of me was indescribable. "Ah. Now we're getting somewhere," Attor said. He removed his tongue from my ass.
Attor stepped forward until his chest was above my back. His engorged member slithered wetly over my thighs. He began to align himself with my hole. His scales were cold except for his chest where he kept his fire inside. I shuttered as his massive cock began to probe at my opening. I tried to relax. He began to apply steady pressure. The pain came on almost instantly as the head tried to force its way in. I felt my ring slowly opening.
Attor gave his hips a small jerk and the head popped inside. I screamed and tried to struggle away. The dragon growled, and I could tell his mind was gone in his lust. His talons grabbed my shoulders with unrelenting strength and pushed me into the pile of fabrics. Then, in one smooth movement, he buried his dick up to the hilt in my ass. I shrieked as I felt my guts move inside me.
He began to stroke in an out wildly, the bumps all along his shaft rubbing my insides. I screamed and screamed, struggling madly to get away. And then he hit that spot again, what I assumed was my prostate, and my scream became one that was mixed of pain and pleasure. His dick began to ram my prostate repeatedly, the nubs on his dick scraping over it. My hips began to buck wildly, desperate for some sort of stimulation to my own cock.
Claws cut into my shoulder as Attor began to jerk even more furiously. His movement was relentlessly delicious. I felt my own blood running down my skin from the cuts his claws had made, and was somehow more turned on by this addition. His left talon slid underneath me and he clutched me to his chest. The dragon rolled onto his side and with his long, supple tail, began to manipulate my penis. My breath became hot pants.
Then Attor stiffened and let out a guttural roar. His dick expanded and I felt hot seed spill into my guts as he reached his climax. The base of his member began to swell rapidly and I thought for sure I would tear. His semen continued to pump into me. The knot settled right over my prostate and his slowing thrusts caused white-hot rays of pleasure to course through my body.
Attor leaned his head and forced the tip of his tongue into my cock and let it wiggle. That was too much; my hips bucked hard and I came with such intensity that my vision darkened to almost nothing. Every muscle in my body went limp as I hung from Attor's grasp.
When the afterglow of my orgasm faded, I realized Attor's penis was still deeply buried in my bowels. The dragon was breathing heavily, though all traces of negative emotion was gone from his face. "Jason, thank you." He muttered. I couldn't say anything; my body was still trembling. After a few minutes his knot deflated and his cock slipped from my ass, releasing the seed in a gush. I shivered as the tip slid once more passed my prostate.
Attor enveloped me in a warm wing and began to lick me clean. "Sleep now, Jason. We will have more fun tomorrow." After what had just happened, I couldn't fight it. My eyes shut and I fell asleep next to the dragon's warm chest.
|
Disclosure: Twilight is the property of Stephenie Meyers. I take the characters out of time and see what happens.
Pre Edit Count – 1,761 Words
Song I listened to for this chapter: More of You by The Goo Goo Dolls
Previously:
Carlisle nods at the information. Then his phone rings, he answers it, and before he can say a thing, a male voice tells him, “Taking care of it, Milord. I got the information as the midget did. Char and I are heading it off. I may need to bribe those I can’t get to physically, but my knower says it will work.”
Thinking it through, Carlisle tells him, “Do what is needed. You know how to access it. And Peter? Thanks.”
A laugh comes through the phone, distinctly female, “You know he aint happier than when he can cause problems with your blessings. And from what he told me, he gets to have a lot of fun this time through. See you soon, Papa!” the phone call ends with that.
Carlisle winces. Bella looks up at him, “Papa?”
He sighs, as his hand rubs the back of his neck. “Funny that. There seems to be a fact that I had not known about…”
Now:
Bella is in the car, looking away as she tries to understand what Carlisle has told her.
Seems he had found a little girl and taken care of her for some years before he could find a family to take care of her. He had done it before meeting Esme, and after making Edward. She had called him Papa, and cried when he had left her.
Imagine his surprise when Peter brought his mate with him to meet Carlisle, and she had jumped into his arms crying, “Papa!!” From then on, it had brought Peter and Charlotte to the coven more often, she wanting to see her Papa. It had also explained why she had been calmer as a newborn, even not knowing what Carlisle was, she saw similarities in Peter and therefore herself when she woke up to her treasured Papa.
Carlisle broke her thoughts, “Does it really bother, my lovely?”
She smiles as she looks at him, “No. It’s just hard to comprehend all these years and how intricately your family is woven together. I admit I am uneasy on how we are going to clean up the mess there, and how are we going to deal with Brad in the family.”
Carlisle chuckles as he shakes his head, then taking her hand in his, kisses it. “I love you, my Bella. You amaze me every day, and I look so forward to being with you in the future.” He glances at her adoringly, and she blushes.
He shakes his head, and then asks her, “Are you okay?”
She looks over at him, and seeing his concerned face, she sighs. “I am fine. That is no longer my life, and I have no need to go back to it. Him knowing won’t change anything. He let Jacob pull his stunts, and all he did was play up Jacob to me. The dream of Billy and Charlie to have their families brought together by marriage was more important than my wishes or health for that matter.”
Carlisle closes his eyes, because while her words are true, there is still a sliver of pain that strikes directly to his mate’s heart and he can feel it. He wants her happy, but he knows it is better for her in the long run to let go of mortals and turn her attention to the immortal world that is to become her home.
He makes himself a promise to try to keep her happy, but answers one of her concerns, “From what Jasper and Edward have told me, Brad was the last person there, and while they made a mess with him and some close hikers, it seems they brought humans to our house. Luckily, they did not go in. No matter how much they tried, they could not pass our markings. So the evidence is already gone, since we didn’t need anything tying us to it.”
Shuddering, Bella asks, “Does it become easier?”
Carlisle turns to her, “What?”
“Dealing with death in that way.”
Sighing, Carlisle tells her, “For me especially, yes. I deal with death in the ER a lot. As a King, unfortunately yes again. While I treasure human life, I cannot command my subjects to stop killing their food source. No matter how strong I am, it just is not possible. I can stop the needless killing of them. There was too much blood for it to be a death for substance. No, this is a blatant attack on me and mine. Jacob may have started this, but these nomads are flaunting themselves, and it is time for them to be hunted. First, I need to secure our home. Edward and Jasper took care of the kill that they left to cover my mark, and the patrols are going to be started, not the ones that were taken as a route for hunting. Evidently it is not enough.”
The last is said strongly, and Bella shudders. She then asks, “What about bagged blood?”
Carlisle looks to her with an eyebrow lifted. She clarifies, “You know blood from all the donations and such. Can’t it be used to feed from without resorting to killing? Since there is no way you guys can keep killing the way you are.”
Thinking it over, Carlisle taps his fingers on the steering wheel. “In the past bagged blood wasn’t fresh enough for us to use. But I can look into it now. What would concern me is the anticoagulant in it.”
Bella shrugs and asks, “How do you deal with it at the hospital?”
He sighs, “Blood transfusion is something I have avoided unless absolutely needed. By the time the patient needs the blood, it is to get their own blood to move. And blood has been separated into its basic components for the body, only what they need of the blood is given, not all of it like in the past. Less chance of there being any issues.” His eyes keep to the road, but glance at her every so often.
She lifts an eyebrow, “So what part does the vampire need to survive?” She wonders.
Carlisle thinks slowly, “I know that we both need erythrocytes or what you would know as red blood cells, leukocytes or white blood cells and thrombocytes.” She gives him a look and he hurriedly translate, “Platelets. Sorry.”
So she asks him, “What makes your eyes gold instead of red?”
He shrugs, “I am guessing that it is the nuclei. Mammals, mature ones lose their nucleus and organelles in order to carry more hemoglobin.”
Thinking, she asks, “Or is it more hemoglobin?” She sits there thinking about her classes on biology until she asks, “Is there any difference from drinking animal or human blood?”
He sighs, “It is harder to drink animal blood. There is always a thirst left over, and we are not quite as strong as we should be for our respective ages. Luckily, there has always been an issue of vampires being able to live long. We fight so much when we meet another that it thins us out. Except lately, there is a population boom happening. Caius thinks it is because we have spread out and there is an alpha here and on the Continent.”
Bella shakes her head, “You will research on your Alpha things and on so much more, but not on your food source? Couldn’t it be that the elder of your race is from when they drank blood? Any vampires during the bubonic plague would have subpar blood, and so on.”
Unable to keep the chuckles from coming out, Carlisle tells her, “I guess we will have some research to do.”
Bella shakes her head and tells Carlisle, “And you will have a newborn vampire. If it is easier to control on human, then why don’t you try it on him? He is going to need all the control he can get.”
His brow furrows, and he finally sighs, “Fine, but I will be drinking it with him. I don’t want him to be caught unaware because he is not used to the thirst.”
Bella is quiet, then she asks, “Will you hate me?”
Carlisle turns to her so fast, the car even jerked, “Never! Why would you think that?”
Not looking at him, she quietly states, “You are saying you will be drinking human blood. Did you not make a promise not to?”
Shaking his head at his mate, “I never made a vow, I only decided I didn’t want to kill. If this works, then not only will I not be killing, but I may be saving lives, and making my coven happier. We may need to own a contact company before it is all over, but no, sweetheart, I am not breaking a promise. If anything, I am upset with myself for not trying it once they made advancements in the blood packaging. Plus, my beast is happy with this idea, it will make you happier when you turn, and anything to do that, makes him happy.”
She looks up at him, and he smiles at her. “Who knows, they add something to the blood, which may mean we may need to mix the types of blood bags they have. But maybe it will turn our eyes another color. If not, then I guess I may have either brown or purple eyes.”
She laughs at the idea, “Brown. Purple makes me think of that horrible author who made up that vampire series and the stupid were-tiger. Purple eyes?”
He shakes his head, and soon they are talking and joking as they make their way home.
When they pull up to their house, Bella stares at it, and when her door suddenly opens, she looks at her mate standing outside. She cautiously gets out, and Carlisle seethes inside that anyone would make his mate hesitate about going into her own home.
Bella looks around, and then says in a small voice, “Nothing, not even the trace of a scent.”
He nods, wrapping her up in his arms. “I told you Edward and Jasper would make sure of it.” Inside Carlisle can smell what happened here, and his eyes turn dark in anger that someone thought they could go against him! He will be teaching a lesson soon to some nomads.
A lesson that they need to learn, and if this is what happens from his old ways, Carlisle will be making sure with the punishment of these vampires, no one will ever go against him again. Or his mate.
Final count, 1,766 words.
Fairfarren~
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One Year Later
Finding Bucky had changed Steve’s whole life around. He may not have believed in soulmates, but now he believed in the power of bullet journals, task managers, and BDSM, because everything that Bucky had brought into Steve’s life, from his firm, perfect ass to his pastel notebooks to his vibranium-threaded jute bondage rope had made Steve’s live immeasurably better.
Case in point, Bucky standing over Steve wearing a pair of assless lace panties while he plucked at his nipples and Steve writhed underneath him, sweating and straining against the intricate shibari tie that Bucky had spent an hour carefully teasing him into. Nothing in Steve’s life before Bucky could have compared to the strange confluence of joy that Bucky had brought into their bedroom on their first anniversary.
And, well. Soulmates may or may not have been real, but sense sharing definitely was. Bucky’s cruel little pinches to his own nipples were threatening to make Steve come before Bucky even touched him.
Bucky kept pinching his right nipple, then smiled evilly down at Steve as he put his cold metal hand into the front of his panties and stroked his own cock. Steve’s cock strained, trying to get even harder than it already was, and his arms pulled tight against the cords holding them behind his back.
“What do you think, sweetheart,” Bucky crooned. “Think we’ve got the exchange nice and warmed up?”
After the first month or so, their sense sharing had become significantly more voluntary, which was a huge relief. First of all, it meant that Bucky was less inclined to bawl Steve out over doing something stupid on a mission and breaking a leg, and secondly it meant that they were actually able to get things done during the day. It turned out that constantly sharing senses with an extremely hot supersoldier who wanted to jump your bones at all times was something of a distraction.
Bucky squeezed his cock again. “Answer me,” he said. “Do you think we’re sharing enough?”
Steve nodded frantically, and tried to breathe through his nose instead of panting around the rope gag that was holding his mouth open.
“And do you like it?” Bucky asked.
Steve blushed. He loved to hate it when Bucky made him answer through a gag. “Yeth.”
“What do you say when you like it?”
Steve rolled his eyes. “G’een.”
“And if you don’t like it?”
“W-ed.”
“Good, sweetheart,” Bucky said, shifting his stance so that he wasn’t standing over Steve’s waist, but was balanced on one foot between his legs, resting the other foot lightly on his straining cock. Steve groaned, trying fruitlessly to lift his hips and feel more pressure on his cock. It felt like he’d been hard for hours. By the end of this, that would probably be literally true.
Bucky lifted his foot away from Steve’s crotch, and Steve whined until Bucky fell to his knees, straddling Steve’s hips and putting his panty-clad cock dangerously close to Steve’s straining prick.
“Do you think you’re ready, honey?” Bucky asked, removing his hand from his chest to place it on Steve’s body and pluck at the nipples there instead of tormenting him with their shared touch. Steve whined and nodded. Bucky hummed and reached behind himself, using the cool tip of a metal finger to gently circle his rim. Steve’s whines took on a sharper edge and he squinted his eyes shut. “How about me, do you think I’m ready?” Bucky asked, and he pushed his finger slowly into his hole.
Steve shouted in response, his cock twitched against his belly and his chest heaved. Bucky smiled, and pushed his fingers deeper, enjoying the hectic flush to Steve’s face. As a rule, Bucky was not interested in bottoming. For one thing, it just didn’t really get him off. For another, Steve really, really, really liked getting fucked, and Bucky was happy to indulge him.
But it was their anniversary, and Bucky wanted to do something special for Steve.
And something special meant “let Steve, the most notorious size queen on the East Coast, feel what it’s like to get fucked with his own monster cock.”
As a day-to-day thing, Steve’s desire to get fucked by toys that bore a striking resemblance to fire hydrants didn’t get in the way of their sex life. Bucky was happy to fist his lover occasionally, and he had a nice collection of sheaths and plugs that he could use to drive Steve wild. But the fact of the matter was that Bucky was not into size, was actually pretty uncomfortable with their medium-to-large toys, and while they could cram a fist into Steve on a lazy Sunday it took a lot of work to get Bucky comfortable enough and limber enough to let Steve fuck him.
Which is why he’d been wearing a thick plug for the previous three hours and had enjoyed watching Steve get more and more aroused by the movements of it inside of Bucky’s body as Bucky neatly and carefully tied him into a complicated harness that put him in the perfect position for Bucky to sit on his cock and ride him like a hobby horse for a few hours.
Steve was trussed up to play dildo for the day, with his beautiful tits framing a star-shaped knot in the center of his chest and a harness framing the thick swell of his pecs in return. The ropes crossed at his shoulders, which Bucky had used as an anchor point to restrain the two-column tie around Steve’s wrists so that his head was pillowed on his arms. The rope descended from Steve’s chest like a bodysuit, crossing over his torso and wrapping from his hips to an intricate tie between his legs that separated to cup his ass like a jockstrap. The whole thing was finished with two simple ties binding his ankles to his thighs.
Bucky hummed thoughtfully, then bent forward and spread Steve’s knees to take the head of Steve’s cock in his mouth while he fingered his own soft, loose hole and tested himself for readiness. Steve moaned around his gag and Bucky lapped up the bitter precome that welled into his mouth.
Bucky loved it when they did this. They didn’t share senses during sex often, but he loved it when they opened up and jumbled together and became something halfway between one soul and two, both living in the same heart even though they moved in separate bodies. He didn’t like getting fucked very much, so Steve didn’t get to fuck him very much. He didn’t like feeling something big and hard moving inside of him. But
he
didn’t like that. Steve did. And right now, Bucky’s body felt a lot like Steve’s body. So he shuddered at the sensation of what felt like his own mouth on his cock, and his body throbbed with arousal emanating from his hole as he fingered himself like he’d finger Steve if he really wanted to make him crazy.
It was making them both crazy right now, and Bucky loved it. Loved Steve. Loved Steve’s tight hole and his huge cock and wanted that huge cock in his own body because Steve’s body was feeling needy and on edge from the thick, unusually short plug that Bucky had given him. It wasn’t enough to provide him with consistent prostate stimulation but it made up for that in the way that it stretched him like he was going to stretch Bucky.
Bucky sat up, pulling his mouth off of Steve’s cock with a flourish of his tongue and enjoying the overwhelming arousal that he could see and feel in Steve. “You’re gonna kill me someday, sweetheart, loving me as much as you do. It’s not natural.”
Steve growled. It was an argument they had a lot. He contended that it was perfectly normal to want to stare at your partner until the sun went out and break the world in half if it made their day brighter.
“But I guess we aren’t exactly certified organic, are we?” Bucky continued. He swiped his hand through a tub of lube and slicked it over Steve’s cock. The thing was a perfect example of how unnatural they were, standing proud and uncut at eight and a half inches, and so thick that Bucky couldn’t close his hand around it. Steve had confided in Bucky once that he’d been circumcised before the serum, and had been shocked when he had opened his pants, and delighted when he’d first gotten his hands on himself.
Bucky could relate. The serum he’d gotten hadn’t regrown his foreskin, but vicariously experiencing the increased sensitivity of the head and the greater glide provided by the easier-moving skin was a nice change of pace when they chose to indulge. That was one of Bucky’s favorite ways to share; watching Steve jerk off with his big hand on his big cock and feeling the encompassing sensation of velvet-soft skin was a decadent indulgence from time to time.
But if he kept thinking like that he’d just put his mouth on Steve’s dick again to feel his tongue stroking inside the foreskin instead of getting down to business. So Bucky knelt up over Steve, reached back to adjust the angle, and nearly had a heart attack.
Steve was going to die. Steve was going to die. Bucky was sitting on his cock and he could feel his own cock filling him up and Bucky’s weight on top of him was pressing him hard against the knot tied behind his balls and the plug spearing him open and Steve was going to die because this sensation was going to kill him and that was okay, that was fine, that was as things should be if it meant that he’d get to keep feeling this forever.
Bucky nearly came before he even had all of Steve inside of him. He’d known, intellectually, that bottoming felt good to Steve in a way that it didn’t feel good to him. He’d known that Steve wasn’t faking his enjoyment when they were having sex, he’d known that there was no artifice in the way that Steve loved to have Bucky inside of him.
He had not known, however, that getting fucked felt like
this
to Steve. It was incredible, intolerable, impossible. He felt like his insides were opening up and being dipped in warm honey before being tucked back under his skin. He felt like there was molten gold flowing through the throbbing places inside of him. He felt like a tight, sweet body was squeezing itself over him as he got filled up so far that he thought he might choke and thought that if he did he might die happy.
“Oh my god,” Bucky moaned, curling his hips and getting hit with a wave of oversensitivity and want and fresh, thick, warm heat that filled his veins as he continued to sink further down on Steve’s ridiculous firepole of a prick. “Oh my god,” Bucky said again, “how do you live like this, Rogers? How are you not asking me to fuck you five times a day if it feels like this?”
Steve was breathing hard underneath him. His eyes were wide and his cheeks were pink, but he still managed to blurt “I
an
,” out around the gag.
Bucky laughed, and rolled his hips experimentally, making both of them groan as that moved Steve inside of him. “I guess you are, aren’t you sweetheart? Jesus fuck, no wonder you need me to keep you full, baby. If I felt like this all the time I’d throw myself out of airplanes too.”
Even as far gone as he was on the onslaught of feelings they were sharing, Steve huffed at that. Bucky had tied him up too well to let him thrust, but he writhed against the restraints and rolled his hips, pushing himself into Bucky and then relaxing back. That gentle, sweet, tiny increase in depth made Bucky’s eyes go wide and made Steve moan. He did it again, letting a careful wave of motion roll through his body and break inside of Bucky before rolling back.
Bucky wasn’t working into it, he was just swaying and panting at the tiny rocking motions, overwhelmed at the twin feelings of discomfort from his own body and ravenous hunger from Steve. “This is so fucking weird,” he said, sitting up slightly to pull an inch or so of Steve’s cock out of his hole before sitting back and taking him in again. God. There was a reason they hadn’t done this before. It was hard to keep your head when an exchange got this intense. Steve nodded in agreement, and his abs tightened as Bucky ground his hips against him. They were barely moving and it felt like the world was shaking apart.
They stayed like that and just breathed and even that was overwhelming. After a few moments Bucky realized that Steve’s breaths had taken on a sobbing quality, and that his eyes were squinted shut over his hot, pink cheeks. “W-ed,” Steve said, and everything else dropped away as Bucky scrambled to loosen the quick-release knots he’d tied into the head harness. The ropes came off easily, and Steve whined as his mouth was cleared. “I can’t,” he said. “I can’t, I can’t, I’m sorry, please.”
Bucky nodded and very carefully leaned forward, pulling himself off of Steve an inch at a time. Steve waited until Bucky was clear before he shut down the connection, and Bucky ended up feeling bereft and relieved all at once. He bent down to kiss Steve, giving and taking comfort as he shuddered through the aftershocks of oversensitivity. When he sat up, Steve was still flushed but no longer seemed to be on the verge of panicking.
“Are you okay, baby?” Bucky asked. He didn’t know if he needed to let Steve up or just give him a break or call the whole thing a bust and make them both some cocoa.
“Yeah,” Steve sighed. “It was just too much - I couldn’t - I don’t know. Too much. Couldn’t breathe. Something.”
Bucky traced his finger over the star-shaped harness he’d tied on Steve’s chest. “Couldn’t move? Does this need to come off?”
Steve bit his lip, taking the time to think about the question instead of immediately deciding to tough it out. Bucky wanted to give him a cookie. One of the best things about their year together was that having someone else to care about made Steve care about himself more as well. Bucky didn’t like it when Steve got hurt, so Steve made an actual effort to not get hurt.
“I don’t want to stop,” he said, “but I think we’re done sharing.”
“Me too,” Bucky agreed. “We can save that for another time. But what am I going to do with this right now?” He hooked his hand into the center of the harness and shook it, moving Steve’s whole body with the strength of his arm.
Steve gasped out a hungry “
oh
,” and Bucky grinned. It turned out that nobody properly tied you up and tossed you around when you were three hundred pounds of muscle, so Steve always got a little glassy-eyed when Bucky manhandled him.
“Now,” Bucky said, “the thing is, I wanted today to be special. I wanted you to know what it’s like to take your own ridiculous dick.”
The scattered bits of Steve’s brain had apparently come back together when Bucky was talking. “It’s not that big,” he said, rolling his eyes and smirking.
“You are not allowed to make that call, because I swear to god I saw you looking lustfully at a two-liter bottle a week ago,” Bucky said, standing up off of Steve and walking to their dresser. He shucked off his assless lace panties as he went.
“Maybe it was just a good-lookin’ bottle,” Steve quipped, then squirmed. “Babe, come back. Don’t get dressed.”
“I’m not getting dressed,” Bucky replied. “I’m getting my contingency plan. If I can’t fuck you with your super-schlong through the bond, I’ll just have to do it with this instead.” He turned around and showed Steve a perfect replica of his cock done in powder blue silicone. The toy had an oddly floppy texture, and had a thick loop at one end, but Steve barely seemed to notice that.
“I - what -
how
?” He sputtered.
“I asked Jarvis to help me reconstruct a model based on what he’s seen in the showers, and then I resculpted the prototypes until they were just right. I sent the mold out three weeks ago. The manufacturer told me it was the cleanest cast she’d ever seen and I figured she didn’t need to know any different.”
“Jarvis helped you make a 3D model of my dick?” Steve asked, his eyes bouncing from the sheath to Bucky’s face and back again. He sounded more perplexed than outraged.
“Uh-huh,” Bucky said, cheerfully squirting lube into the toy before slicking himself up and sliding it over his cock. He carefully tucked his balls into the loop at the end. When the toy had something inside of it all the floppiness vanished. Bucky gave it a squeeze and made a mental note to add “You do You” to the list of his favorite shops on Etsy. “I wasn’t actually sure how well the sensations would translate and I wanted to make sure that I treated you right.” He stroked his hand over the sheath and had to take a second to collect himself. It was just thin and malleable enough that he could easily feel his fingers through it, but stiff enough that its textured inner walls created some suction as it moved over him.
Bucky walked back to the bed and snagged Steve by the tie on his ankle, effortlessly dragging him to the edge of the mattress before picking him up with the same handhold and flipping him onto his belly. Steve made an adorable squeak that transformed into a hungry moan as Bucky’s hands dug into his hips and pulled him to his knees. His body looked beautiful when observed from any direction, but with his hands tied behind his head and red rope snaking down his spine and around his legs he was stunning. The muscles of his back stood out and as he tried to arch his hips the wide base of the thick black plug he was wearing twitched from the clenching of his body.
“Jesus Christ,” Bucky murmured. “Think you could want it any more, baby?”
“Nuh-uh,” Steve panted. “Please, please, Bucky, I need it.”
Bucky stroked himself again and laid his sheathed cock over the base of the plug, nudging it so that it would keep teasing Steve with its almost-enough stimulation. As he did, he marveled at the size of the sheath against Steve’s skin. “I don’t know how in the hell you walk around with this thing every day. Do they charge you to check it when you get on a plane?”
“Bucky,” Steve whined.
“It’s a good thing you like getting fucked so much, pal, I’m surprised you manage to keep enough blood inside you on a regular basis to get yourself hard.” Bucky eased the plug out of his way and tossed it aside. He couldn’t help but stare hungrily at the sweet, soft gape of Steve’s hole for a moment before he slapped over the opening with the sheath.
Steve’s hips hitched and he squirmed, trying to spread his legs even as Bucky held him upright on his bent knees.
“You’re a lucky cockslut, sweetheart. It’s better this way. It’s not like you could use your prick for anything. The only dumb hole silly enough to want it that big is you.” Bucky was tracing the sheath around the puffy, stretched-out rim of Steve’s hole, fascinated by the way it was getting tighter in real time as he watched.
Steve’s back was blushing nearly red enough to match the ropes. He had never exactly said as much but Bucky could tell by the way the feelings always leaked out of him at times like this that being lovingly degraded as a cumdumpster with more dick than brains and no idea what to do with either was at the very top of the list of things that Steve loved that he could never bring himself to ask for.
Bucky balanced Steve with his left hand and reached underneath him with his right, wrapping his fingers around Steve’s cock and squeezing it hard. “I should just take this away from you so you don’t have to worry about it. All you’d have to worry about is staying wet and and ready and too stupid to even say ‘thank you’ when I fuck you with it.”
“Oh my god,” Steve groaned, “Bucky, please, please.” There wasn’t anywhere else that he could go, nothing else that he could do. He couldn’t arch his back further or spread his legs wider, he was already begging. Bucky had denied him enough.
The head of the sheath slipped into Steve with just a tiny push, and the broken noise that Steve let out at that was enough to convince Bucky to push some more. He slid in, smooth and easy, while Steve’s breathing got markedly more erratic underneath him.
There was a lot to be said for fucking Steve bareback - the serum made him run hot and he was always tight and reactive to a shocking degree - but the additional compression from a sheath was a nice bonus sometimes. Between Steve’s over-amped muscles and the added ribbed clench of the silicone, Bucky was barely inside Steve and he was almost ready to blow his load. He couldn’t feel the near-searing heat of Steve all around him, but the muted warmth was made up for by the unnatural suction the sculpted interior of the sheath gave him and it was all Bucky could do to steady his breathing instead of finishing on the spot.
But Bucky was, if nothing else, a stubborn motherfucker. He’d already seen one of his plans fall to pieces, he wouldn’t allow it to happen a second time. He was going to fuck Steve’s tiny little brain into tiny litte pieces with his own big enormous dick or he was going to die trying.
No matter how Bucky chose to fuck him, Steve would always love it. Steve loved Bucky’s cock, he loved Bucky’s hands, he loved Bucky’s toys and Bucky’s voice and Bucky giving him stern orders when he fingered himself in the shower. Steve loved it when Bucky let Steve fuck him, or eat him out, or suck him off. Any configuration of various insertables, orifices, extremities, or emotions was a-okay in Steve’s book. He was easy - anyone could tell you that.
But Bucky fucking Steve with a life-size model of Steve’s own dick while cooing about why he might as well just be a blow-up doll was going to make Steve’s brain melt out of his ears.
It was true - Steve
did
like sex with Bucky any way that he could get it. He just liked it a
lot
when that sex involved something big filling him up and stimulating his superserum-augmented prostate. That damned serum made
everything
more sensitive and the way his thoughts all went gooey and soft when he was getting fucked seemed like a fair trade for the sneezing fits brought on by the detergent aisle of the grocery store.
However, Steve had never considered trying to match up a toy’s size with the size of his own dick, and that was a mistake because his-cock-as-used-by-Bucky was nearly incomprehensibly good. It was a shame that more people didn’t feel like this when they got fucked, because Steve though he might be able to live out the rest of his unnaturally long life cheerfully getting stuffed stupid three times a day on the big, beautiful prick in his ass. He couldn’t even arch his back or hold up his head while he was taking it. Bucky had clamped his hands on Steve’s hips and started slamming in hard and every part of Steve except his rock hard cock had attained the approximate consistency of mozzarella left in the sun. He was drooling, he was leaking, and his eyes were rolled back in his head. Steve was well on his way to the kind of chain orgasm he’d only seen in obviously faked and dubiously sourced videos, and then Bucky wrapped his metal hand around the rope knotted over Steve’s spine and picked him up like a duffel bag.
Steve’s brain switched off and his hole clamped down and everything was confusing and beautiful as he found himself straddling Bucky’s lap backwards while Bucky used the rope harness as a set of handlebars to hang onto so that Bucky could fuck up into him with tight, fluid circles of his hips that made Steve jacknife and scream - which did nothing at all to help him escape the wonderful sensations tormenting him.
“Oh god,” Steve moaned. “Bucky - ah! Please, fuck, please, please-”
“You need me to jack you off, baby?” Bucky growled in his ear, and Steve writhed on him, nodding frantically. Bucky’s hand was still fisted around the knot between Steve’s shoulders and he pulled hard on it, molding Steve against him and making his back arch. His other hand was cupping Steve’s ass, holding him up so his hips didn’t have to move Steve’s whole bodyweight with each fast, hard thrust. “My hands are a little full right now, sweetheart, but you don’t need it anyway. That useless thing is mine now, and even a dumb cunt like you can figure out how to come on my cock.”
Steve must have been right at the edge, because that was all that it took to push him over. He whimpered, gasped, and then came like an earthquake, shaking all around Bucky and turning the world upside down. Steve trembled from head to toe and his hole pulsed around Bucky as his cock jerked and shot streaks of come all over Steve’s chest. His head fell forward and Bucky tasted bitterness through the bond - Steve’s cock had striped his own face with a thick splash of come that crossed from his eyebrow to his chin and had landed partially in his panting, open mouth.
“Fuck,” Bucky growled. “Fuck, baby, you’re so good, so perfect.” He carefully and quickly lifted Steve off of him, and got a whole lot less careful when he threw him down on his back to look at the mess that Steve had made of his own face. “Fuck,” Bucky said again, and pulled the sheath off of himself as he crawled up the length of Steve’s body, stopping when he was straddling the other man’s chest. “Open up, princess,” Bucky said, and as soon as he felt Steve’s soft lips open beneath the wet head of his cock, Bucky thrust inside of his mouth.
Steve choked, then moaned, then
swallowed
. The little shit did not appear to have any kind of functional gag reflex, so once Bucky had ridden his tongue past the initial barrier of clenching muscles he found himself buried balls deep in Steve’s mouth and desperately grinding into Steve’s throat. Steve moaned and tipped his head back, accommodating Bucky as much as he could while he was being held down and face-fucked. Both of Bucky’s hands ended up threaded into Steve’s short hair as his orgasm broke over him. His breath hitched in his chest as his hips stilled and Steve swallowed around him, sucking obscenely.
Bucky curled protectively over Steve and breathed for a few moments until his chest wasn’t heaving with emotion and exhaustion. Then he very carefully pushed himself up to his knees and watched beneath him as his softening cock pulled out of Steve’s beautiful, bruised mouth, trailing thick spit over Steve’s chin and chest as Bucky sat back on his heels.
“Fuck,” Bucky said, looking at the shining sweat and spit and come and tears on Steve’s face. “God you’re gorgeous. Marry me.”
“’Kay,” Steve said, his bright blue eyes hazy and distant over pink-flushed cheeks.
Bucky laughed. “Hey, earth to Rogers. Come in Captain Space Cadet. I’m serious. Will you marry me?”
Steve blinked, and his gaze got a little sharper. “Not if you’re proposing with your dick still dripping on my tits,” he grumbled. “I’m easy but I ain’t that easy.”
Bucky laughed again, and scooted back on the bed so that he could start to loosen the ropes holding Steve down. “You are exactly that easy. Case in point,” Bucky gestured around them. He got the tie off of one leg and briefly massaged the skin there before moving on to the other. Steve didn’t hold the pressure marks from rope for more than a minute or two, but the tradeoff was that he needed basically no recovery time, even from a really challenging position. Once Bucky started on the second leg, Steve was already straightening his leg and arching and flexing his foot to prevent cramps. With the second leg free, Bucky rolled Steve on his front to take care of the other man’s arms. The ties around his body were much more decorative than restrictive, and Steve liked picking apart the knots that he could see.
“But really,” Bucky said. “No joking. Will you marry me?”
Steve grunted as Bucky got one arm free, which he immediately used to push off the bed and roll himself over. He looked a little ridiculous, with one elbow poking up over his head and a half-destructed rope harness on, but he looked goofy and happy and glowing too. “No joking, of course I will,” Steve said, and reached for Bucky with his free hand. He pulled Bucky into a kiss, then pulled away with a grin. “However, no joking, I expect a better proposal than that. C’mon, Barnes. You call me princess enough that you should know I expect to be spoiled.”
Bucky snorted and knocked Steve down on the mattress to remove the last tie on his arm. “Pillow princess, sweetheart. I call you a pillow princess. Because in spite of all your magic muscles and your superdick you still expect me to do all the work in bed.”
With both arms loose, Steve rolled over and grabbed hold of Bucky, squeezing him into a sweaty, sticky, squirmy hug. “Give yourself some credit, pal,” Steve smirked. “It’s at least a little bit of an effort to deepthroat you, even if you weren’t quite as blessed by the mighty hand of science as some of us were.”
Well, he couldn’t very well let that stand. Bucky made an outraged noise and scrambled to pin his incredibly obnoxious, incredibly cute, absolutely impossible fiancee. They wrestled and kissed and joked through getting all the rope off of Steve, then wrestled and moaned through a shower that involved Steve getting slammed against the wall so hard that his head cracked a tile. In retaliation, Steve got a handful of Bucky’s hair when they were drying off and made him watch in the mirror as Steve stood behind him and stroked him and growled filthy things in his ear until he came so hard that they were then forced to clean the mirror.
Eventually, somehow, they both ended up dressed and in an elevator and walking away from Stark Tower still alternating between bickering and kissing. Steve looked bright and cheerful and not overwhelmingly intense about anything and Bucky couldn’t help but squeeze his hand tighter every few minutes just to prove that he was real. Bucky leaned over to Steve and gave him a kiss at the same time as he reached for a door handle and pulled it open, and Steve finally stopped floating around with his head in the clouds long enough to realize where they were.
It was a perfectly unassuming, and perfectly familiar Starbucks.
People were already staring at them from inside.
“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me,” Steve said. “I thought we were going out for breakfast.”
“We are,” Bucky said with a smile. “After coffee. I know how you get when you don’t get your coffee.”
Steve scowled. “Bucky. What if she’s still working here? They had to put her through training - they
told
me about putting her through training. It was a whole thing.”
Bucky stood on tiptoe and kissed Steve’s adorable and permanent frown-line. “She is not working here anymore, I checked before I put in an order for your ridiculous coffee milkshake as an anniversary treat. It’s a special day, sweetheart. I think we should return to the scene of the crime.”
At least two people inside were already pointing phones at them.
“Are you some kind of masochist, Barnes?” Steve said, glaring.
“Oh no,” Bucky said with a laugh. “I think we’ve made it clear that I’m a sadist. C’mon, the drinks are already prepped for pickup. It’ll just be a minute, and I wanted to take an anniversary selfie at the place where we met. You go grab the drinks, I’ll find a good spot for the picture.”
Steve rolled his eyes, but had already melted. That goopy-soft marshmallow heart was going to be the death of him someday.
The feeling of being watched was palpable and uncomfortable, but Steve could handle it. He was Captain America. He could handle a couple people with cellphones as long as none of them were baristas climbing on the counter, and as long as Bucky was there to rescue him if any baristas did happen to suddenly go feral at the sight of a national icon.
Steve glanced over his shoulder and saw Bucky looking into his phone and artfully arranging his hair so that it would look as good as possible in their photo. It was Steve’s considered opinion that Bucky couldn’t actually look bad in photos, but he supposed that if he had that much beautiful-eyes-jaw-smile going on he’d be a vain bastard as well.
His body had managed to make it to the drink bar on autopilot while his brain had been once again occupied with cataloguing Bucky’s best features. At this point it was probably safe to start thinking of Bucky as beautiful-eyes-jaw-smile-dick-man. But then he’d have to add ass. And shoulders. And forearms. And thighs. And hair. And really that would probably get a bit unwieldy so it was probably just best to continue thinking of Bucky as the series of exclamation points and eggplant emojis that popped up in Steve’s brain every time he thought Bucky’s name. He briefly considered asking the barista to draw an eggplant on Bucky’s cup of tea, which is when he saw that there were three things on the counter: a trenta cup filled with a strawberries and cream frappuccino blended with a mocha frappuccino and as much whipped cream as would fit in the rest of the space, a grande cup of Earl Grey with no milk, lemon, or sugar, and a small black velvet box sitting in between the two drinks.
Steve blinked. In the periphery of his vision he noticed that there were quite a few people pointing cellphones at him. He didn’t have the bandwidth to pay attention to them as he reached out for the box and opened it to find two simple silver bands, both engraved with the words “Not Without You”. He picked up the rings with a shaking hand and turned around to look for his absolutely, inexcusably, incomparably horrible fiancee.
“You fucking asshole,” Steve shouted, a broad grin breaking out on his face when he saw Bucky standing only a few steps behind him, beaming and holding a bouquet of roses he’d apparently pulled out of thin air or had bribed a barista to hide behind the creamers. His hair looked irritatingly perfect.
“How’s that for a better proposal?” Bucky said with a smirk, and passed the roses into Steve’s right hand. He took the rings and lifted Steve’s left hand. “What do you say, princess? Is this spoiling you enough?”
Steve smiled softly, and gently pressed his lips against Bucky’s slightly open mouth. “You are still a fucking idiot,” he said. “And that is still exactly what I deserve. So yes,” he lifted his hand a little, and helped Bucky get the ring on. “I’ll marry you.”
The cheering that followed was so loud that it startled both of them. Steve blushed and put the other ring on Bucky’s finger, Bucky cackled and high-fived Clint, who was leading the charge of all the other Avengers pouring out of the kitchen to offer their congratulations. Steve laughed, he cried, he drank his strawberry mocha monstrosity, and didn’t consider going into hiding even for a second after the video went viral.
|
If Percie had understood Telemachus' words clearly, then in a technical sense, he could've refused Eros right then and there. As someone who carried Zeus' blessing, the immortal son of Odysseus had the right to grant his hospitality to those whom he deemed worthy. The aeternae had been afforded no such privilege, and therefore had been stopped short at the property line. But if that was the case, then how could both Eros and Piper cross onto the lawn to make it to the front door? Telemachus had been expecting them; in fact, he was expecting yet another visitor in the morning. Maybe their host had allowed Piper to enter the property so he could extend the formal invitation to her to enter the home as well, but Eros seemed far too important to just be relegated to the same level as demigods. Or maybe love didn't require permission to enter... maybe it barged in, whether you wanted it to or not.
The latter was the case, since Eros didn't bother waiting for the open-mouthed Telemachus to answer before he strode in, the air around him both repelling Percie and attracting her all at the same time. It was a unique paradox; the god was gorgeous, she had to hand it to him. He'd paired his beret with a tight-fitting silk shirt, open at the collar, which highlighted the muscular emphasis of his upper chest. The only thing that held him back was his eyes. No matter how toned and limber his body was, the god seemed permanently stuck with blood red eyes that made him look like a predator on the hunt of his next meal. Those eyes scanned everyone in the room; when they raked over Percie, she felt an unmistakable flush come into her cheeks, as if Eros had just been given the key to every erotic thought she'd ever indulged in. The love god smirked, strutting past Telemachus and pausing at the base of the stairs.
"I do admire what you've done with the place, dear," he cooed at their host, running a thumb on the immaculate white railing serving as the stairs' handrail. "A hint of your Ithacan heritage, while embracing the post-modern sensibilities of this century. It's nice to see change in others, especially when you yourself are incapable of it." The sleek figure of Eros morphed into the polished countenance of Cupid. "Greek or Roman... my mother and I remain ourselves. Only Nemesis shares our predicament; so universal, we are. Love and revenge. Balance and eroticism. Pleasure and retribution."
The god's monologue meandered away, and Cupid once again returned to Eros, removing his beret and spinning it on his finger like a member of the Harlem Globetrotters. Leo and Calypso, still seated on the couch, both scooted away from him, clearly nonplussed at having him here. Frank, next to Percy, seemed to be contemplating shooting the god or falling at his feet and begging for mercy. Neither one seemed likely to do any good. Finally, after several moments of silence, Telemachus found his voice again.
"L-Lord Eros," he stumbled, shifting on his feet in an awkward gesture. "I mean... I'd tell you to come in, but you're already in, so it feels a little redundant now."
"Sadly, redundancy is something I've become acclimated to, darling. My nature is defined by humanity itself; no matter the era, people suffer through the same predicaments, the same mistakes, and the same triumphs. By now, the dance is so familiar, I can perform the steps in my sleep."
Percie decided to make a quip, despite feeling like a slab of meat on display at a butcher shop. "At least warn us before you do," she requested. "As much as I trust you with... well... everything you do, I'd rather not be in range when you start shooting that bow while catching forty winks."
Eros regarded her with something akin to amusement. "And you must be Percie," he remarked, bringing a manicured hand to his hip. "Hymenaios was quite taken with you, when I spoke to him last. Seems he's been running himself silly ever since you graced Olympus with your presence. He does enjoy it when someone shows Hera up; always believed he was the superior marriage god, you see."
"It wasn't hard. I just sat back and got yanked around like an unwanted bag of potatoes. Besides, showing up Hera has been done before. I'm sure you, of all people, know that."
"If you're referring to that whole Troy fiasco thanks to the Golden Apple, then yes, Percie. I do know that."
Telemachus cleared his throat, cutting off the banter between the god and demigod. Percie was grateful to him; as entertaining as a verbal spar with a deity could be, the longer Eros looked at her directly, the more Percie felt like she was having all of her old secrets brought up to the surface against her will. Which... was exactly what he'd done to both Nico and Nicola, now that she thought about it.
"Lord Eros," Telemachus began, managing to put some stability into his tone, "may I ask what brings you here? I've never known you to ever stay in one place for too long. Not after you were able to finalize your marriage to Psyche, of course."
The god sighed at that, wrapping his soft yet strong arms around himself. (Wow; he was good.) "Sadly, what was supposed to be a simple errand has now become a lengthy chore, Telemachus," Eros complained, taking a moment to flash a knowing wink at Leo and Calypso to his right. The Titaness looked like she was about to hide behind the sofa, and Leo was stuck between joining her, or letting the god's beauty mesmerize him completely. He'd be seeing something different than Percie; just like his mother, Eros could alter his appearance to appeal to all who saw him. Knowing Leo, Eros probably looked like a muscular pile of gadgets and cupcakes. "It all started back west, and has now led me to your humble abode," the love god continued, resuming his posture focused on Telemachus. "I do hate to make a bother of myself at a time like this, so I promise I'll be on my way as soon as my task is completed."
"And just what is your task?" Frank asked, one hand on his bow. A whole lot of good that would do them; even if Eros wasn't the marksman to rival Apollo or Artemis, Janice had described him in action to Percie. A shooting match between the deity and the praetor wouldn't end very well for Frank; he wouldn't die, but knowing Eros, he'd probably make Frank fall in love with a watermelon. Or maybe a windmill, if he was feeling particularly peachy.
"My task, Frank, is none of your concern," Eros replied, a snarl coming over his handsome features. "Do sit tight; once my work is done, you can all go back to your pow-wow, or your meeting, or whatever it is virile young demigods do when they're alone in a house together. I kid, of course; I know exactly what happens when those prerequisites are met."
Had Eros been this dirty when he was Cupid, or was that a Greek thing? Knowing her relatives, Percie could see it being the latter. How had Rey phrased it to her, in a rare moment of juvenile humor for him: "The Greeks invented the orgy; the Romans added women."
Calypso narrowed her eyes at Eros, before averting her gaze back to the floor. She at least had the good sense to not get overwhelmed by the god's power. "Does it involve Piper, in any aspect?"
The god seemed miffed at that. "I'm not at liberty to say."
That was enough to bring Leo back to some semi-version of awareness. "So, love isn't a free force, then?" he asked, putting some genuine venom into his voice. "I didn't know there were people bold enough to order you around, Eros. Or maybe you're just a lot more brow-beaten than many know."
That did it. Eros' mouth curled into a sneer. "Watch it, Valdez," he hissed. "If I wanted to, I could make every positive feeling you have for the Titaness wither into vengeful hatred. Or perhaps I'd inflict something of that magnitude to her, instead. Your one real chance at happiness obliterated, all because you decided to pick the worst possible time to be a smartass."
All the vibrancy went out of Leo's face as the threat ended. Percie shivered; she knew love could be cruel, from firsthand experience, but she didn't think it could be quite so... spiteful. All the demigod had done was ask if Eros was bound in his duty, like so many of the other gods. Insinuating that you'd ruin his first-ever try at real affection for a slight so small seemed far too extreme to be real. But it was; Percie had no doubt that Eros would follow through on his warning if Leo didn't hush it. Thankfully, Leo realized that too, and kept his mouth shut.
At least, until a high-pitched beeping sound began emitting from Festus' briefcase mode. The son of Hephaestus looked taken aback by this development, but nevertheless popped open the case, pulling out a familiar device.
"Is that the Interceptor?" Percie asked.
"No; I've changed it, so it's now called the Valdez-ceptor."
Calypso face-palmed. "That's even worse than Interceptor! C'mon, Leo. When I asked you to change its name, I didn't mean for you to just slap your own name on it instead. Copyright doesn't work like that, anyway."
Leo rolled his eyes. "We can debate my creativity, and your lack of helpfulness, later. Right now, it's picking up something." Yes, the device Leo had built to intercept magical communications, and allow him to receive them instead. Percie had already seen it in action once; the real question was who was trying to contact whom, and for what reason? Blue lights sparkled throughout the room, as the... Interceptor (no way Percie was calling it by that new title) did its thing.
The light curled into a rainbow, which meant Iris message. An Iris message sent by yet another familiar face to the demigods present.
Percie had to bite down on her lip to keep from crying out in joy at seeing Jason's face swim into focus. From the looks of it, the son of Jupiter was standing out by the Field of Mars, wearing a desperate look on his face.
"Piper!" he shouted out on his end as the message came through, only to be treated to the sight of Leo instead. "Huh? Leo? Did... did you use that stupid Interceptor again?"
The son of the forge looked offended. "Stupid?! Grace, it's a masterpiece of engineering. And helpful, too. Why, back when Calypso and I were in Germany, we ended up getting to see the season finale of-"
Leo's boasting about his technological prowess died out when Eros leaned in next to him, affixing the Roman demigod on the other side with a twisted smile. "Jason Grace, as I live and breathe. We really must stop meeting like this."
Jason's annoyed temperament was replaced by one of utter loathing. "Eros," he sneered back. "I don't care if this was your idea, or Aphrodite's, but I'm telling you right here and now that if you so much as look at Piper with anything resembling that stunt you pulled with the scepter, so help me, I will-"
"What? What will you do, Jason?" Eros' grin turned harsh. "Curse me to the heavens? Swear some form of revenge? Tickle my tailbone with lightning? Even your father fears my domain; what could you possibly do to get under my skin?"
Jason blanched, his face going red in outrage, but he sputtered to come up with a response. Percie wanted to step in, but what could she do? Fighting love was like trying to fight death; pointless, and doomed to end in failure. But even Death could be curtailed by immortality; Love was stronger than even that.
The god reveled in Jason's distress, before letting his malicious sneer melt into something closer to pity. "My goodness," he purred, putting some sweetened oomph into his voice. "Despite everything she's done to you, you're still as infatuated with her as you always were, aren't you?" Silence confirmed his question. "That's what I thought. In a way, I admire your endurance, Jason. It was that quality that so endeared me to Psyche, you know. But take my words to heart; continue to clutch at what was, instead of focusing on what can be, and you'll lose everything, in your attempts to bring back something that died a long time ago. Nico may have had the strength to come back; but you? That strength will destroy you."
The child of Jupiter went mute for many seconds, before he began seething again. "I... I don't believe you."
"What you believe, and what is, are irrelevant. I will have my due, Jason Grace. Just as you will have yours."
With that, the god snatched the Interceptor out of Leo's hands, and smashed it into the ground, cutting off the message and reducing the gadget to a depressing pile of shards. "Hey!" Leo snapped, real anger coming into his eyes. "That was mine!"
Eros shrugged. "You can make another one."
"Easy for you to say! It took me weeks to find enough obsidian to make that thing's internal clock! Let alone replacing the battery with another wind spirit. I don't think that tribe back in Malaysia is going to be very pleased to find out I used their town's guardian as a power source, until the god of love turned her into a broken pile of dreams and hopes."
Calypso put her hand over her eyes. "Oh, no," she deadpanned, gazing at her boyfriend from under her palm. "Whatever will we do now? If Malaysia's out of the picture, then I guess we're out of luck. No one else wanted to take in a magic-less Titaness and her deranged inventor of a partner."
The love god put up a cheeky smile at their argument, before turning back to the other three. "Sorry you all had to see that... unpleasantness," he said, in some half-hearted attempt at an apology, "but that boy irks me. Every time I run into him, it's either him getting mad at me for letting Mr. di Angelo move on with his life, or him blaming me for everything that went wrong with him and Piper. I had nothing to do with that last one, either."
Percie felt her breath catch. "Moving on... that's what you call it? Forcing Neeks out like that... was something you think was a kindness?!"
Eros met her gaze with a barbed expression. "What else would you call it, Percie? Was I to let him stew on his feelings forever, until he finally couldn't take it any more, and lashed out in a way he could never take back? Unrequited love... is there anything that hurts more than that? As long as Nico kept his true self hidden away in shadow, he could delude himself into thinking that his crush was nothing more than a brief spark of attraction. But I know what crushes look like... and I know what love looks like. Had I not forced him to confront that behemoth inside him, his crush was going to become something much messier. If that day came... no one would be safe. Not you... and not Annabeth."
"You... you're not saying- I mean, he'd never-"
"You say that now, but this is coming from someone who knows him as he is now. Recall how he was going to leave camp, until he finally felt like he had a home there, thanks in large part to the efforts of Reyna and Will. Had he done so, he would've had nothing. Nothing... but his feelings. With no outlet period, they'd find a way to make themselves known." Eros blinked his impressively delicate eyelashes at her. "The boy was a ticking time bomb; a bomb I forced to explode on me, instead of anyone else down the road. He put up quite the fight; I have the bruises to prove it."
Percie put a hand to the wall to steady herself. She did not like getting the runaround from Eros, of all people. "Nevertheless... you admit that you forced him," she repeated. "No matter how noble you might think your intentions were, you put him through so much, for so little gain."
Eros let her words sink in, then just shrugged. "Perhaps I did; but as you say, it could just be speculation on my part. We'll never know... but maybe that's for the best." The god craned his neck up the stairs. "Now, if we're all done sharing our thoughts, I have a job to get back to. Good night, friends." He went to float up the stairs after Piper, but a word from Telemachus stopped him.
"No," their host whispered.
Eros whipped his head around. "Pardon me?"
"I said... no," Telemachus reiterated. "Piper is a guest in my home; as are you, Eros. You shall not see her... without my permission."
The god's face molded into something much more feral. "Permission? You do make the most entertaining jests, Telemachus. I do not seek permission, from anyone. I go where I go; interference is not tolerated."
"Then by all means, un-tolerate me, sir. But I know my rights; even if your status as Love overrides my ability to completely refuse you, I can still provide stipulations. Stipulations that if left unheeded, will allow me to excuse you from my home. Am I incorrect in this?"
Both immortals stared one another down. How Telemachus did not falter at Eros' penetrating glare, Percie couldn't fathom. The god wasn't even close to looking at her, and even still she could feel her willpower draining. Had Zeus ended up making Telemachus a minor god of hospitality, instead of just granting the young man immortality? If so, this house would be his domain... and even Love had to respect that.
To everyone's utter shock, Eros was the first to break the staring contest off, wincing to himself. "Fine," he relented, looking unhappy about having to concede something. "What are your stipulations?"
He'd actually done it; when this was all over, Percie was going to hunt down her world's version of Telemachus and introduce him to some of her mother's seven-layer dip. That was real hospitality. "I will allow you to speak to Piper... but only if you tell us what brought the two of you here, and what you wish to discuss with her," Telemachus clarified.
Eros huffed, a pair of white wings becoming visible in the light of the house for the first time. "If that is what it takes... very well. To answer your first question; my desire to speak to my sister is not one born out of my own goals. Rather, I am here acting as my mother's agent, if you will."
Frank widened his eyes. "Aphrodite sent you after her, then?"
"Indeed. From what I could gather during my mother's unhinged rant, dear Piper and Jason somehow managed to both piss her off and invigorate her at the same time. A most unwise decision, really. Regardless, once she'd calmed down enough to form coherent circumstances, she charged me with tracking her down, and giving her what Mom calls the "Queen Dido" treatment."
"Queen Dildo treatment?" Leo asked, horrified.
The god tossed a frustrated look his way. "Calypso, I'm too far away. Would you mind?"
The Titaness pinched her boyfriend, silencing any more of his misheard repetitions with a sharp squeal.
"Thank you. Now, back to my story; Queen Dido was a Carthaginian queen who fell in love with Aeneas, one of Aphrodite's sons, and ancestor to Romulus and Remus. However, after being spared from death in the Trojan War thanks to the efforts of Aphrodite, Apollo, and Poseidon, Aeneas couldn't stay with her, even though a marriage had been arranged between them by Hera; he had a city to lay the groundwork for, after all."
"Rome," Frank answered.
"Yes. Heartbroken by the loss of her lover, Dido died of misery, but not before she uttered a curse on Aeneas' descendants. Carthage would forever be vile enemies of his children, which would go on to be Rome itself. Thus, the "Queen Dido" treatment was born; whenever my mother finds herself irritated beyond the point of breaking with a mortal, she likes to send me after them. From there, I spurn their loved ones away from them, until all they feel for the ones they once cared for is nothing beyond simple spite and fury."
"And... you were going to do that... to Piper?" Leo questioned, real weight in his voice. No snappy remarks; nothing.
Percie flushed as well, at the barbarity of it all. What, so Aphrodite ended up so incensed by Jason and Piper refusing to be toyed with, she was willing to demolish all relationships her daughter had, be they romantic or not? Love may be a monster, but even most monsters would raise their eyes at that.
Eros didn't seem very thrilled by it, either, though. "Not... if I didn't have to," he replied, to Leo. "I first appeared to her in Camp Jupiter, just as she and Jason were reuniting after they split up again. She didn't even let me say anything; just screamed, sprinted off, hijacked that stupid horse Hazel can conjure up, and led me on the most annoying chase I've ever participated in. I imagine Jason saw me chasing after her, and jumped to his own conclusions."
"And my blessing drew her here, as someone needing respite," Telemachus added. "You were just along for the ride, as it were."
"How apt of you to notice."
Percie wasn't buying it. "So, what? Mommy tells you to put the whammy on Piper, but you disagree? I thought Love was universal; you said so yourself."
The god pouted at her. "Universal. Not indistinguishable. There are many types of love, Percie Jackson. I myself specialize in eroticism; sometimes, that puts me at odds with other deities who share in my domain. Recall my own wife; my mother loathed her, as I adored her. Families always fight the hardest, after all." Despite what she should've come to expect from Eros, Percie detected a hint of sadness in his words. Like he was tired of being his mother's errand boy; of doing her dirty work for her.
"Then... if you're not here to destroy her life, why did you chase her all the way here?" she asked him, moving on to the second stipulation.
Eros sighed. "I wish to attempt a reconciliation, Percie. Aphrodite does not forgive on her own; she will plague both Piper and Jason alike, until she is satisfied. I might be a cruel, vicious god... but even I can see when things become unnecessary."
Frank's voice tightened. "What do you mean... unnecessary?"
The god of love, for the first time, seemed genuinely disturbed. "I dare not speak the full details, but know this: the effort my mother would undertake to see revenge fulfilled on those two is effort that will not pay off."
Calypso regarded him with uncertainty. "And why is that?"
"Because they're already punishing themselves, for their actions to one another. Neither me, nor my mother, needs to do anything... if we want them to ache."
"And... that's what you're hoping to convince Aphrodite of?"
"Yes, Calypso. If she believes Piper is hurting... she'll leave her alone. I know how horrid that sounds... but love and war are much closer than many people like to believe." He gestured at himself. "I am proof enough of that."
His words rang out like a funeral bell. The teens all shared uncomfortable looks between them, as Telemachus considered Eros' answer. "Very well," he acquiesced. "I'll allow you to speak to Piper. As roundabout as you are, I believe you have her well-being as your main concern. However-" their host put on an unflinching grimace, "-should you toe the line beyond the point of reasonability, I shall evict you without a second thought. Am I clear?"
Eros fumed. "Crystal. Does that mean you'll be joining us, in our talk?"
"No."
"No?"
Telemachus put on a knowing smile. "Percie will." The daughter of Poseidon whirled to him in surprise, but he stopped her question with an upraised finger. "From what I can tell, Percie feels quite strongly on this subject. She shall be the judge; tread lightly, Eros. I doubt she will give you much leeway."
How very... cunning of him. Percie made another mental note; when she served her Telemachus her mother's seven-layer dip, she needed to go above and beyond. The good bowl... and the good silverware. "Let's go, pretty boy," Percie teased, moving past Eros up the stairs. "The sooner we start, the sooner we finish. And the sooner we can be rid of you."
Muttering to himself about children of the Big Three, the god of love followed her up, his bow and quiver bouncing with every step. If he wasn't so obtuse, he'd really be a serious match for Alister in this appearance. But that was a comparison for another day. She had a conversation to supervise... and a love god to vivisect, if he turned out to be full of shit. |
Peggy brings a SHIELD excavation team to meet them a few days later.
“What did you tell Nate?” Bucky asks.
“To mind Ana and look after Michelle,” says Peggy. “What do you think?”
“I was supposed to take him to Disneyland next week,” says Bucky.
“Plenty of time for that when this is over,” says Peggy. “You can go every day next spring.”
Bucky looks sharply at her, surprised. It hadn’t occurred to him that now they’ve recovered the Valkyrie, there’s no reason for an annual Arctic voyage.
They dig the shield out first.
“Welcome back, baby!” Howard coos, when two agents bring it into the boiler room for the remaining ice layer to defrost. “I thought I’d never see you again!”
“Yeah,” says Bucky, “that was the big loss.”
“It’s the rarest metal on Earth, so it wasn’t nothing,” Howard retorts.
Bucky doesn’t care if it’s made from metal that’s only found on the moon: he hates that shield.
It takes several more days to recover the body. They cut it out still encased in a large, eerily coffin-like block of ice to keep it preserved on the voyage to New York.
Officially, they haven’t found anything. The deal is Howard gets fourteen days with the body off the books before Peggy claims it for SHIELD and reports it to the rest of the government. Bucky doesn’t like the idea of Howard poking around Steve’s corpse, but he likes the idea of scientists recruited through Operation Paperclip doing it even less. As sick as it makes him feel thinking it, he hopes Howard can strip the body of anything weaponizable (although he’s pretty sure the only way to ensure that is cremation, and that’s something neither Howard nor Peggy will allow).
Bucky calls home as soon as they dock in New York.
“I’m so sorry, pal. I know I said I wouldn’t be gone so long,” he says when Ana puts Nate on the phone.
“It’s okay. Extenuating circumstances,” says Nate. “But now you owe me two days at Disneyland.”
“On different weeks,” Bucky qualifies. “I can’t talk your mom into you skipping two days of school in a row.”
“Deal,” says Nate. “Hey, Dad?”
“Yeah, pal?”
“Do you feel better?” Nate asks softly, and Bucky’s heart aches a little.
“I— yeah. I do.” It’s not true, but he hopes it will be.
“Good,” says Nate. “I’m glad. Michelle wants to talk to you. I love you, Dad.”
“I love you too,” says Bucky. “So, so much. I’ll see you soon.”
That evening he goes to Brooklyn for the first time since he married Peggy and visits Sarah Rogers’ grave.
“Hey, Mrs. Rogers,” he murmurs, sitting down on the grass and leaning against her headstone the way Steve used to do, once upon a time. “It’s been awhile.”
Never mind, dear, it’s just wonderful to see you, he can almost hear her say. He picks a little at a blade of grass.
“I found him. Took me eleven years and a crazy amount of funding from an obsessed millionaire, but I found him. Stark promised once he gets him defrosted he’ll let me—
“God, I’m glad you’re not here to see this.
“I can’t guarantee they’ll let me put him next to you. They probably won’t. They’ll probably build some horrible mausoleum in Arlington or something. I’ll try though, I promise. I know it’s what he’d want.
“I’m glad you didn’t have to lose him, but I wish you’d had a chance to meet Peggy. You’d have loved her. And Nate, and Michelle. It kills me that they’ll never know him. You understand, right? Did it kill you that he never got to meet his dad? I wish I—
“It doesn’t matter. I guess he’s met him now.
“I hope you’re at peace. I hope you all are.”
When he leaves the cemetery he doesn’t feel closure, exactly; but maybe like the constant bleeding of his heart has slowed a little, has started to scar.
-----
He spends the next day holed up in the mansion. Peggy is on the phone with Rose most of the day, keeping SHIELD running and the news of the Valkyrie’s recovery contained. Bucky reads and rereads the same three pages of some cheap Western he assumes Howard has in his library because he’s thinking of adapting it into a film (or possibly already has; Bucky doesn’t track what Howard’s studio does very closely), but it’s impossible to focus long enough to actually follow the story when all he can think about is Steve’s corpse slowly thawing in Howard’s lab.
Howard returns in the early afternoon.
“Oh good, you’re both here,” he says when he finds them in the library.
“You’re back early,” says Peggy, frowning a little.
“How are things at the lab?” Bucky forces himself to ask.
“I’ll tell you in a minute,” says Howard. “I need to talk to you two.”
“Okay,” says Peggy warily. She gets up from the desk and comes to sit beside Bucky on one of the sofas. Howard takes a seat across from them, drumming his fingers nervously against his thigh. Bucky’s arm gives a low hum.
“What do you know about cryopreservation?”
“Deep-freezing organic material for long-term preservation, isn’t it?” says Peggy.
“Close enough,” says Howard. “It’s pretty hot right now, and in recent tests they’ve revived some cryopreserved simple lifeforms upon thawing.”
“That’s fascinating,” says Bucky impatiently, even though under normal circumstances he would find it fascinating. “What’s your point?”
“Due to the conditions of the Valkyrie’s crash, Rogers was essentially naturally cryopreserved.”
Peggy suddenly grips Bucky’s wrist painfully tightly.
“What are you saying?” she breathes.
“Exactly what you think,” says Howard. “There’s a chance we could revive him. Bring him back.”
Bucky and Peggy just stare at him.
“That’s impossible,” Bucky finally chokes out.
“It’s not impossible, it’s just never successfully been done on a mammal,” says Howard, sounding irritated. “But the principle is solid. Your pal Walt’s obsessed with the idea.”
“He’s not my— is this the time?” Bucky snaps.
“What do we have to lose?” says Howard. “Technically he’s already dead. If it doesn’t work, that doesn’t change. But if it does…”
Then what? Bucky’s surprised to realize he’s actually been pretty happy stepping into Steve’s life since the war. He loves Nate. He loves Peggy. He even likes being part of SHIELD. He’s never contemplated the complications of Steve coming back to reclaim those things because Steve was never coming back except in fantasies where logistics simply weren’t an issue.
Of course he wants Steve back. It’s all he’s wanted for eleven years.
But god, what are they going to tell him? What are they going to tell Nate?
“But likely it won’t,” says Peggy, dragging him back to the present. “Of course you ought to try, Howard, but I don’t want either of you getting your hopes up.”
Hope isn’t quite the emotion Bucky is experiencing.
“Do you have everything you need to undertake this?” Peggy asks Howard.
“In terms of equipment, yes,” says Howard. “I’ll probably need to borrow a few SHIELD medics once we’re ready to start the revival process. Mostly I need to keep the government off my ass.”
“I’ll take care of it,” says Peggy. “How much time will you need to prepare before you attempt it? Weeks? Months?”
“Well—”
“We haven’t disclosed the discovery yet,” Bucky interrupts. “Maybe we should keep him cryopreserved until someone finds a way to successfully revive a less complex mammal.”
He’s aware the longer Steve’s on ice, the more difficult it will be to incorporate him into his life, but he truly does want Howard to succeed, and rushing the procedure doesn’t seem to offer the best odds.
Besides, it’ll give him time to think.
“Well someone better do that fast, since I started defrosting him this morning,” says Howard.
“You did what?” Bucky bellows, leaping to his feet.
“For god’s sake, Howard!” cries Peggy. “Do you think anything through?”
“You had no right!” Bucky snarls, advancing on Howard, but Peggy grabs his arm.
“Darling, calm down.”
“He had no right!”
“He absolutely did not,” Peggy agrees, glaring at Howard, who has the sense to look slightly guilty. “But he’s also Steve’s only chance at survival now.”
“We could always call Walt.”
“Oh please!” Howard scoffs. “Walt’s not a scientist, as if he could—”
“Shut up!” Bucky and Peggy snap in unison.
“I swear to god, Stark, if you fail at this and then someone succeeds later—” Bucky snarls.
“I’m not gonna fail, Christ, give me some credit!” says Howard indignantly.
“We all remember the flying car!”
“Are people ever gonna let that go? The car works!”
“The second car works,” Bucky corrects. “If this doesn’t work, we don’t have a second Steve!”
“I’m aware of the stakes, actually, thank you very much.”
“Are you?!”
“I only get fourteen days with the body,” defends Howard. “I had to make a decision fast.”
“And you didn’t have time to make a phone call?” Bucky demands. “I’m sure Peggy would have given you an extension if you’d explained.”
“Yes, but he wasn’t sure,” says Peggy in a low, dangerous voice. She looks at Howard. “Were you?”
Howard doesn’t meet her eyes.
“I didn’t want to take that chance,” he mutters. “But it wasn’t just about that!” he adds, when Bucky and Peggy both begin to indignantly retort. “It was plausible deniability. No matter which way this goes there’ll be a ton of heat for it. You can throw me under bus no problem, crazy Stark, always going rogue—”
“Don’t think we won’t!” Bucky snaps.
“You’re not the only one who cares about Rogers, you know!”
“All you care about is your ego!”
“Stop it, both of you!” Peggy interjects. “We can assign blame later. Howard, use whatever SHIELD resources you need to make this work. I’ll keep it contained as long as it takes. Do not rush this.”
“I’m not rushing anything,” says Howard. “But it’s happening now. I should probably get back to the lab, actually.”
“Yeah, probably,” says Bucky.
“I wanted to explain in person,” says Howard.
“Brave,” Bucky growls.
“Next time ask permission in person,” says Peggy. “Now get back to the lab. I don’t want to see you again until you have news one way or the other.”
-----
They don’t see Howard for several days. Peggy quickly grows weary of Bucky pacing around the house while she’s trying to coordinate things with Rose over the phone, and sends him off to the art and theatre districts in the hope there are enough museums and shows to distract him. It works in the sense that it keeps him out of Peggy’s way, and doesn’t in that it utterly fails to keep his mind off Steve.
Now that reviving Steve is a possibility, he can’t face the thought of it not working. If Howard fails, it’ll be like losing Steve all over again.
But he’s terrified of what Steve’s resurrection will mean for the life he’s fought so hard to build. He took Steve’s girl. He took Steve’s kid.
And as much as he didn’t want them in the beginning, now he can’t imagine giving them up. And what about Michelle? They can’t even pretend they—
Why couldn’t they have found the Valkyrie eleven years ago before everything got so damn complicated?
Not that he wants to erase Michelle. He loves his daughter. And he doesn’t want to pretend he and Peggy don’t have anything. He just wishes...
He doesn’t know what he wishes anymore.
He’s lying awake going over all this for the millionth time several nights later when the bedroom door bursts open.
“What the hell?” Bucky sits up and feels around for the lamp switch. There’s a crack and someone gasps sharply.
“Ow! Shit! Peggy!”
Bucky finally finds the light switch and clicks it on.
“Stark?”
Howard is standing just inside the doorway, rubbing his jaw.
“You hit me!” he says accusingly to Peggy, whose fist is still raised.
“You broke into my bedroom in the middle of the night!” she rejoins. She lowers her fist and pulls Howard’s hand away from his face so she can examine it. “You’re lucky all you have is a bruised jaw. What the hell were you thinking?”
“You told me to come back when I had news,” says Howard defensively.
Peggy whips around to meet Bucky’s eyes.
“Well?” she demands, turning back to Howard.
“I did it,” says Howard, grinning. “He’s waking up tomorrow. I actually did it!”
-----
After Howard walks them through the more relevant details — Steve’s body is functioning normally, he’s in a medically-induced coma, they’ll bring him out of it in the morning — he goes off to get some well-earned sleep in his own bed, leaving Bucky and Peggy sitting in stunned silence for several minutes.
“What are we going to tell him?” says Peggy finally.
“Steve?” Bucky asks. “Or Nate?”
Peggy smiles wryly. “Both, I suppose.”
“Steve will have to be the truth,” says Bucky. “It’ll be worse if he figures it out on his own — and he will figure it out. The only reason no one else has is because everyone who knew us as kids is dead. It’s not subtle.”
“If you’re sure,” says Peggy. “And Nate?”
Bucky hesitates, feeling the surge of possessiveness he used to have for Steve for his son.
“I don’t know,” he says slowly. “It’s complicated, isn’t it?”
“Yes, it’s very complicated,” Peggy agrees. “We had good reasons for beginning this fiction, and even with Steve back, I’d say most of the reasons are still valid. And it’s not entirely fiction anymore, is it? You are his father, in every sense but blood.”
Bucky closes his eyes, overwhelmed with relief.
“Thank you,” he whispers shakily.
Peggy covers his hand with hers, and he turns his over and laces their fingers together.
“You know you’re my best friend, right?” he says after a moment.
Once — for most of his life — Steve had been his best friend. But that had been complicated by all the other things he felt for Steve that went beyond simple friendship.
Not, of course, that his relationship with Peggy isn’t complicated too, for different reasons.
“I mean it,” he continues. “I don’t know— I don’t like to think what I’d be doing or who I’d be if you hadn’t…”
“Emotionally blackmailed you into marrying me?” Peggy finishes with a slight smile, bumping his shoulder lightly with hers.
He bumps hers back a little harder, smiling too.
“I’m serious,” he says. “You gave me a reason to live again. You and Nate… you’re the reason I didn’t completely lose myself after. So whatever happens next, just…” he catches her eye, locks their gazes together: “Thank you.”
Peggy leans over and kisses him briefly, pulling back only enough to rest their foreheads together.
“You’re my best friend too,” she murmurs. “However it started and whatever happens next, what we’ve had and what we have is real. We’re family. Don’t forget that.”
Bucky kisses her fiercely.
“I love you,” he whispers against her lips. “No matter what happens tomorrow, I love you.”
“And I love you,” she breathes. “Always.”
-----
The three of them go to the lab first thing in the morning. It’s in an old SSR building, and they pass through several sets of steel-reinforced secure doors before they finally arrive in a hospital-like area in the basement where they’re greeted by Dr. Claudia Retrosi, the head doctor at the Forge’s medical center and a frequent visitor in Howard’s labs.
“How’s he doing?” Peggy asks.
“Physically he’s in perfect health,” Retrosi replies. “We have to wait for him to regain consciousness to assess his mental state.”
“How long will that take?” asks Bucky.
“Difficult to say,” says Retrosi. “We stopped administering the barbiturates a few hours ago, and his body metabolizes at an incredible rate, so it should be any time now. We don’t want to overwhelm him, so I think only one of you should be in there to start with. I’ll let you decide among yourselves.”
She disappears into Steve’s room, leaving a slightly perplexed group behind her.
“Well obviously you shouldn’t be there,” Howard tells Bucky.
“Why not?” Bucky demands.
“Because the last time Rogers was conscious, everyone thought you were dead,” says Howard. “That’s gonna be one hell of a shock.”
“I hadn’t thought of that, but Howard’s right,” says Peggy. “Probably best to ease him into it.”
“Probably best to ease him into most of it,” says Howard, glancing between Bucky and Peggy significantly.
“I should be in there,” says Peggy decisively, giving Howard a quelling look.
“Of course,” Bucky agrees at once. Even if it could be him, it should be her.
“I’m the one who revived him!” Howard protests.
“And we’re all very grateful,” says Peggy. “But you’re the last person to ease anyone into anything.”
“Fair,” Howard concedes grumpily.
“As you so tactfully pointed out, the more significant changes of the past decade ought to be conveyed gently, so I’d appreciate it if you didn’t blather about our family situation until we’ve had a chance to explain it fully,” Peggy adds.
Howard rolls his eyes.
“What do you think I’m gonna do, Pegs, say, ‘Welcome back, Barnes knocked up Peggy right after you went under’?”
Bucky stiffens at this crude but not inaccurate presentation of his and Peggy’s false history. Telling Steve the truth will be horrible, but him hearing the widely-accepted lie first will be much worse, even if it comes from a more sensitive source than Howard.
“That’s exactly what we’re afraid you’re gonna do,” he says.
“I believe your delicate phrasing just now proves my point,” adds Peggy.
“I have some self-control, you know,” says Howard.
“Wonderful,” says Peggy briskly before Bucky can contend that Howard has never demonstrated any evidence of this. “Now is the perfect time to exercise it.” She kisses Bucky’s cheek. “I’ll let you in as soon as I can,” she murmurs, squeezing his hand.
Bucky and Howard take seats on an uncomfortable wooden bench across from the door. After a few minutes, Howard pulls out his notebook, but instead of writing anything he just taps his pencil nervously against a blank page. It hadn’t occurred to Bucky when they left the house that he might need to bring something to do. He looks around the room, but since it’s not a real hospital, it’s unsurprisingly devoid of newspapers and magazines. He wonders if he has time to run up to the street to buy one.
“This must be awkward for you,” says Howard abruptly.
Bucky snorts. “That’s one word for it.”
“I’m sorry for being such a genius.”
Bucky rolls his eyes, but he appreciates the attempt at levity.
“This is all I’ve wanted for eleven years,” he says honestly, and Howard gives a low whistle.
“Be careful what you wish for, huh?”
Bucky huffs a humorless laugh. “Something like that.”
“I’m sure he’ll understand,” says Howard.
“I know he will.” Steve would understand even if the lie they’ve maintained about Nate’s paternity were true. Doesn’t make it any less complicated.
“Peggy really does love—”
“Stark.” Bucky puts a hand on Howard’s arm. “I appreciate the thought, but don’t try to do the emotional thing, okay?”
“Thanks,” says Howard, looking relieved. “I wish Jarvis were here. I could use a martini.”
“It’s not even eight in the morning.”
“So?” says Howard. “He could pick up some bagels too.”
Alcohol sounds far more appealing than food right now, but Bucky’s not about to admit that to Howard.
“Do you have a newspaper or something?” he asks instead.
“No,” says Howard. “Another thing Jarvis could get for us.”
“You know you could just do things yourself.”
“I didn’t hire a butler to have to do things myself,” Howard counters. “Why don’t you go get a newspaper, if you value independence so much?”
Bucky glances at the door across from them.
“I’m sure you’ve got time,” says Howard. “Even if he wakes up while you’re gone, it’s not like he’s gonna walk—”
The door bursts open; Bucky reflexively leaps to his feet. For a moment Steve stands framed in the doorway, as superhuman as his memorial, and — impossibly — even more beautiful than Bucky remembers. Then he takes an uncertain step forward.
“Bucky?” he breathes, looking bewildered and hopeful and so goddamn vulnerable.
Bucky just stares at him, frozen: he can’t speak, he can’t breathe, Steve is right here in front of him, he’s talking, he’s alive, and Bucky can’t breathe—
Steve reaches out and tentatively places his hands on Bucky’s shoulders. He gasps shakily when they make contact and squeezes, like he expects Bucky to dissolve in his hands.
“You’re—” he breaks off, his right hand convulsing around Bucky’s left shoulder. “What happened to your arm?”
“Nothing,” Bucky whispers; he can’t tear his eyes from Steve’s face, can’t stop drinking him in. “It doesn’t matter.”
Steve yanks Bucky’s left sleeve up, flinching a little when it reveals the cybernetic prosthetic.
“What happened to your arm?” he demands again, louder.
“It doesn’t matter,” Bucky repeats. “Steve—”
Steve practically collapses against him. Bucky’s arms — flesh and metal — come up to clasp him at once.
“I thought you were dead,” Steve mumbles into his shoulder. He’s clinging to Bucky so tightly it would be painful if Bucky weren’t so far past giving a damn.
“Yeah,” says Bucky with a weak laugh. “I kind of thought the same thing about you.”
Steve finally releases him and takes a step back. When Bucky looks up, he sees Peggy smiling softly behind Steve; in the doorway Retrosi is wearing a slight frown, two nurses hovering anxiously behind her.
“What happened to your arm?” Steve asks again.
“I fell,” says Bucky. “It, uh, wasn’t… salvageable. Stark made me a new one. It doesn’t matter.”
“It’s actually a pretty incredible advance in medical technology,” says Howard from somewhere to his right. “We got an award for—”
“Not now, Stark,” Bucky murmurs, his eyes never leaving Steve’s face.
“Stark?” says Steve, momentarily distracted as he seems to notice Howard for the first time. “Howard, hi.”
“Hey, pal,” says Howard, “it’s been awhile,” but Steve has already returned his attention to Bucky.
“You fell,” he says, frowning a little. “From the train, you mean.”
“It doesn’t matter,” Bucky insists. “It was a long time ago.”
“Yeah, Peggy said I’d—” Steve stops abruptly, his frown deepening; he looks around at Peggy, then slowly turns back to Bucky. “How long have I been out?”
Over Steve’s shoulder, Bucky meets Peggy’s apprehensive gaze.
“Look, Steve—”
“How long have I been out, Buck?”
“Captain Rogers,” says Retrosi, stepping forward, “you’ve been through a huge ordeal—”
“How long?” Steve demands.
“Eleven years,” says Bucky softly.
Steve looks stricken.
“Eleven—” He turns toward Peggy again, looking lost. “But we— we were just— years?”
“I know it’s a shock,” says Peggy gently, reaching for his hand. “We’ll explain everything. It’ll be all right.”
“Captain Rogers, if you could just come back in here, we have some tests we’d like to administer,” says Retrosi.
“Yeah,” says Steve hollowly. “Yeah, of course.”
He lets Peggy lead him back through the door, which one of the nurses closes behind him with a soft click, leaving Bucky and Howard alone in the hallway again.
“Well I guess we’ve assessed his mental state,” says Howard. “I told you it would work. It’s like nothing even happened to him.”
“Yeah,” Bucky agrees, because Howard is right: nothing did happen to Steve after he crashed.
The problem is how much happened to everyone else.
-----
Eventually a nurse emerges to more or less kick out Bucky and Howard so Steve can “adjust without becoming overwhelmed”. Howard immediately goes off to his labs to examine the Hydra tech recovered from the Valkyrie, while Bucky reluctantly returns to the mansion and spends the rest of the morning and early afternoon fielding phone calls from various idiots in DC that Rose keeps directing to him since Peggy is unreachable (the one advantage of which is that it mostly succeeds in distracting him from the situation with Steve).
Peggy finally comes back around three, alone.
“I told him,” she says, once she’s ensured the library doors are securely closed. “About us. About Nate.”
Bucky pretends to be interested in placing a pen in exactly the right position on the desk as he asks in the most casual voice he can muster, “How’d he take it?”
“He understands.”
Bucky looks over at her. “That’s not what I asked.”
Peggy sighs and comes around the desk to stand beside him.
“As far as he remembers, five days ago he watched you die. Two days ago he and I…. Now you and I have a daughter together, and he has a ten-year-old son. It’s a lot to take in.”
Bucky nods.
“He’s not angry with you.”
“I’m sure,” says Bucky sincerely. For all his reckless heroism, Steve is ultimately a pragmatist. The baby needed to be protected, and Bucky was the obvious choice for protector. Time passed, emotions developed, the lines between truth and fiction blurred. Everyone did the right thing based on the information they had at the time, and the unintended consequences are all perfectly understandable — even desirable, if it weren’t for the unexpected wrinkle of Steve’s resurrection.
“He’s grateful,” Peggy insists.
“That sounds like him,” Bucky agrees flatly. It’d be easier to feel justified, less guilty, if Steve weren’t so goddamn noble. He can’t defend himself against an attack that never comes.
“I told him I’d send you to pick him up this evening,” says Peggy. “Dr. Retrosi wants to keep him overnight, but—”
“That’s not happening unless she sedates him and straps him down,” says Bucky. It’s comforting that in this way, at least, nothing has changed.
“Mm,” Peggy agrees. “They compromised with a few more tests. He should be ready in a couple hours.”
“You’re sending me alone?” asks Bucky warily.
“I think it will be good for the two of you to have some time together,” says Peggy. She places her hand over his where it rests on the desk. “It’s going to be difficult, but we’ll adjust. This is a good thing.”
“It’s all I’ve wanted,” says Bucky, echoing his earlier admission to Howard. “I just didn’t think it through.”
Peggy nods.
“None of us did,” she says softly. “None of us thought we’d have to.”
-----
Steve is sitting up in bed eating a bowl of bright green jello when Bucky gets to his room that evening. He smiles when he sees Bucky standing in the doorway.
“Looks like you finally got me in a hospital.”
“This isn’t a hospital,” says Bucky, only barely smiling back.
“Right,” says Steve.
“How are you?” Bucky asks, stepping far enough into the room to shut the door, but not moving any closer to Steve.
“Tired of being treated like an invalid,” says Steve. He sets his half-finished jello on the bedside table. “You?”
“Look, Steve, Peggy—”
“She told me,” Steve interrupts. “About the two of you. She showed me pictures of the kids. They’re beautiful, Buck. I’m happy for you.”
“I didn’t plan it.”
Steve looks taken aback.
“I know you didn’t,” he says. “She explained that too. What you did for her and our son. Nathaniel?”
“Nate,” Bucky corrects, irritated. It’s not like it’s hard to remember.
“Right, Nate,” says Steve. “Thank you.”
“I didn’t do it for you,” Bucky snaps, and has no idea why because it’s a lie, an utter lie. It’s the only reason he did it … at least at first.
“Oh.” Steve looks surprised, and Bucky is suddenly furious. “Of course, I didn’t mean—”
“He’s ten,” says Bucky. “He loves to draw, and he hates fractions, and he’d eat cheeseburgers for every meal if we let him, and he takes care of his sister, and he won’t shut up about wanting a dog, and he plays the piano, and he’s learning to surf, which terrifies me, and he makes a point of befriending every kid who doesn’t fit in, and he’s just like you, and—”
And he was mine first. He was mine first, just like you were mine first, and you’re not going to take him away from me the way you let those bastards take you. He’s mine! He’s been mine since he took his first breath, and you can’t have him!
He’s hyperventilating. His arm is roaring. Steve is shouting for a nurse.
“I’m fine,” Bucky chokes out. “I’m fine.”
He collapses in the chair next to Steve’s bed, forcing himself to regulate his breathing. A nurse finally rushes in but Bucky waves her away.
“I’m sorry,” he mutters, his face burning with shame. Steve didn’t deserve that.
Steve doesn’t deserve a lot of things.
“You love him a lot.” Steve’s expression is unreadable.
“He’s my son,” says Bucky simply.
“Yeah,” says Steve. “Peggy told me that too. I didn’t really get it until now though.” He reaches out and grasps Bucky’s hand. “I didn’t know,” he says softly. “I didn’t know when I crashed. Maybe if I had I would have tried harder, I don’t know.”
“Known about what?” Bucky asks. “Nate? Or me?”
“Both, I guess,” says Steve.
Bucky pulls his hand away. Hurt flashes across Steve’s face. He picks a little at the corner of his blanket.
“Tell me about your daughter,” he says finally. “Please?”
“Michelle’s five,” says Bucky, more calmly this time, “and she has every one of us wrapped around her little finger. Not that we mind. We put her in ballet classes a few months ago, but she’s more interested in getting boxing lessons from the Jarvises.”
“Must take after her mom,” says Steve.
“Yeah, she does,” says Bucky, smiling a little despite himself. “She doesn’t take shit from anybody, which might be what I love most about her. And she’s never seen a tree she didn’t try to climb. Nate’s great about that: he’s always right below her ready to catch her if she falls.”
“He learned that from you,” says Steve softly.
Bucky looks up sharply. Steve is smiling a little sadly.
“It wasn’t your fault.”
“No?”
“I’ve blamed you for so many things since they found me,” Bucky admits. “That’s never been one of them.”
Steve frowns a little, staring at the corner of his blanket he’s slowly balling up in his fist.
“I hear you’re a Californian now,” he says.
“Yeah,” says Bucky, deciding not to push it. “Staying in New York just… wasn’t an option, after.”
Steve nods slowly.
“What’d you blame me for?” he says, so quietly Bucky almost misses it.
Except, of course, it’s impossible to miss such a loaded question.
He shrugs.
“Dying, mostly. All the decisions that led up to it — enlisting, volunteering for the serum, picking up the shield — and all the consequences of it — me getting stuck with Peggy and a baby and Stark — but it was the dying I really couldn’t forgive you for.”
“I didn’t know,” Steve says again, but he doesn’t reach for Bucky this time.
“Yeah, I know,” says Bucky. “I’ve always known it was irrational.” He smiles wryly. “Didn’t help.”
Steve releases the corner of his blanket and immediately starts to ball it up again.
“Anyway, turnabout’s fair play,” Bucky adds. “Plenty you can blame me for, now.”
Steve looks up at him.
“I don’t blame you,” he says. “I told you, I appreciate it. Deciding to keep that secret can’t have been easy.”
“It wasn’t at first,” admits Bucky. “Now… like I said, he’s my son.”
Steve nods.
“I’m glad. And I don’t— I don’t want to usurp—”
“We’re not telling him,” Bucky cuts in harshly. “Peggy explained that, didn’t she?”
“Yeah,” says Steve. “Well, she said we’d discuss—”
“You being alive doesn’t change anything,” says Bucky. “We still need to protect him. A secret that huge is way too much to put on a ten-year-old.”
“I get it, Buck,” says Steve quietly. “I’m not trying to take your place. I just want to meet him.”
And that’s what Bucky wants too — what he’s always wanted. It’s killed him all these years that Nate would never know Steve. But now he can…
“Of course,” he says. “Of course you should. I want you to.” I want to want you to.
“Your daughter too,” says Steve. “Michelle.”
“Okay,” says Bucky. He forces himself to grin and claps Steve on the shoulder. “Let’s get out of here, man. Get you some real food and a real bed. We’ll go home tomorrow if the doc clears you for air travel.”
“She will,” says Steve firmly, and for just a second the damage of the past thirteen years fades away and Steve’s just that stubborn-as-hell Brooklyn punk who was once Bucky’s whole world.
-----
Bucky can’t fall asleep that night, which is why he hears the door of Steve’s guest bedroom open sometime after midnight, followed by soft footsteps in the hallway. He waits a few minutes before getting up and following him.
He finds Steve standing at the kitchen counter thumbing through the evening paper.
“Can’t sleep?”
Steve startles almost imperceptibly, but relaxes when he glances up and sees Bucky.
“I’ve slept enough,” he says shortly.
“Nightmares?” Bucky guesses.
Steve gives a curt nod.
“I get that,” says Bucky. “It’s hard at first to not relive it. Dying. That moment before the impact…”
Steve shudders but says, “That’s not my nightmare.”
“It’s not?” Bucky is surprised. That’s all he dreamed about, the first year after. Well, that and—
“I close my eyes and I just see you,” Steve whispers, “falling out of my reach.”
Bucky’s breath catches.
“I told you that wasn’t your fault.”
“I should have jumped after you.”
“No you shouldn’t have,” says Bucky firmly.
“I could have survived—”
“You don’t know that! And even if you did, the train was moving too fast. You wouldn’t have landed anywhere near me.”
“I should have gone back for you.”
“Steve—”
“I should have been able to save you.” The broken whisper is almost inaudible.
“But you couldn’t,” says Bucky softly. “Which means nobody could. It wasn’t your fault, Steve. It wasn’t anyone’s fault. It was just war.”
Steve shakes his head.
“Bucky—”
“Come on,” Bucky interrupts. “We’ll bunk together tonight. Just like old times.”
Steve’s frown deepens but he follows Bucky to the guest bedroom, and when Bucky pulls back the covers, Steve lies down beside him without a word.
It’s not really like old times — it’s a king-sized mattress, so they both fit comfortably without their shoulders even touching, let alone having to lie head-to-toe — but it’s soothing matching his breathing to Steve’s again, and he’s half-asleep within a minute.
As he starts to slide into unconsciousness Steve’s hand closes around his wrist, tight enough to bruise, tight enough to either pull him back from the abyss or go over with him. |
“Ay mi rey, hasta parece que estas enamorado.”
Lance felt a hard scrape against his shin and he jumped. “What?”
Mami laughed and shook her head. “What are you thinking about, m’ijo? You’re barely touching your food.”
Veronica was giving him a not-so-subtle
you’re a dumbass
look. “Oh. Um. I’m waiting on my final test scores to be posted,” he said. Of course, Lance wasn’t worried about his final scores. He knew he’d passed them all with A’s and a high B for that one shitty science class he forgot a paper for.
Really, he was just trying to figure out a day he and Keith could meet. Keith’s texting was just as bad as it was when they first started talking. Lance would go without a reply for a long time before being bombarded with up to fifteen short responses trailing each other. Unless it was later at night, just before their nightly calls, Lance was always waiting on his phone to buzz and alert a new message or dozen.
It sucked because Lance had to change Keith’s name in his phone from
Principe Koala
with a heart emoji to just
Keith
. It felt wrong and it made him a little sad each time he saw the notification.
“I’m sure you did well, m’ijo. You always do. Don’t worry so much. Now both of you go get ready for church or we’ll be late.”
Veronica and Lance picked up their plates and put them in the sink before going down the hall to their rooms. “You know, if you wanna keep it a secret, you could be a little less obvious,” Veronica whispered behind him.
Lance rolled his eyes and went into his room to change out of his PJ’s. Lance always felt a little weird when he went to church. Like he didn’t belong there, or his presence there was somehow wrong. It was a shitty feeling because when Lance was younger, he loved going to mass whenever his abuelita visited or whenever they got a chance to visit Cuba. He used to pray for nearly an hour before bed each night, and even though those habits faded as he got older, he always considered himself a devout Catholic.
At least until Allura’s death. After that, Lance became angry with God, and once his grief mellowed out, he felt guilty for being angry. It didn’t change the fact that Lance wanted so many answers and no one could give him more than, “God’s plans for us aren’t always the same as our plans for ourselves. Only He knows why things happen.” Which to Lance was bullshit, and sometimes he wished he could see God face to face and demand answers and call Him all kinds of names.
Although the anger had nearly diminished, Lance still had his doubts. He was still aware of how angry he’d been, how he refused to go to church again after the funeral until her one year memorial. Lance used to go to mass every Sunday. Now he only went when he was home for vacation and felt too guilty to say no.
Within a half hour, Lance was in the car with his parents and his sister. The smell of a sharp, too strong perfume his mami loved to wear wafted and mixed with the car heater until Lance was fighting carsickness by leaning his head against the cold window. Another message buzzed in, followed by a handful more as Lance unlocked his phone.
Not Christmas, I spend it with my parents
Also the day after w Karina
But any other time??
What abt your parents?
They won’t ask why you’re coming back suddenly?
about**
Lance smiled as the stream of thoughts filled his phone. Then he pressed the box to reply.
I’ll think of something. I’ll text back later though because I’m about to get to church. I miss you. A lot.
He sighed as he made sure his phone stayed silent and looked up, thankful to see that they were about to park and he’d be free from the nauseating mix of perfumes and heater waves. As soon as the car was parked, Lance opened the door and took a gulp of the fresh, December air. He stared up at the church building and its spires and the statues of saints outside. There was a statue of a the Virgen de Guadalupe and a Virgen de Fatima. Inside the building, there was an alcove with the virgin native to Cuba- la Virgen de la Caridad. Lance remembered staring at that one when he was little and the church was too full to sit in a pew. He tried to memorize every thread pattern, every porcelain detail, every dip of the fabric of her mantle. He even wrote a poem about her that his abuelita loved.
Something twisted in him at the sight of the church and made it hard to breathe as he walked in with his family. The place was still so familiar, but also so different. The carpeting had changed. The pews were new. The virgin he was so used to had been moved to a different alcove, and there was a new room for fussy children to be in with their parents.
Lance imagined an indistinguishable voice telling him “Go away. You’re not welcome here.” It was stronger now. Because Lance didn’t only have the weight of his anger and his guilt for turning his back on God anymore. Now he was also carrying the secrets he hid from his parents, the guilt that he felt for being with Keith when he’d learned all his life that he was supposed to fall in love with a woman and only a woman. It made him even angrier in a way. Like God had no right to hate him for who he liked when he had already taken Allura from him.
I deserve to be happy, so fuck you,
Lance thought. Of course, he felt guiltier and even afraid for having thought it.
Lance really wanted to get out of this place.
“Lance?” Lance blinked and looked at his parents His father looked concerned. “Estas bien?”
“Yeah.” Lance cleared his throat and followed his parents toward a pew, his eyes on the white looking Jesus on the cross, staring up in tired agony. He felt torn between anger and guilt, and he hated it.
His mom didn’t say anything to him, but she took his hand. Lance let her because it made him feel small again, that age when he still had to stand on the pew to see the altar, the priest. Lance let her because it felt like an anchor. It kept him from getting swept up in the tumult of contradicting emotions swirling inside of him, like his body was just a vessel for uncertainty and fear.
The mass started, and Lance found himself humming along to familiar songs of praise, aleluyas and glorias falling from his lips when he recalled the words. He even realized he was whispering everything the priest said under his breath, his mouth reciting everything he’d memorized after years of worship.
Every time he came to mass the same questions filled his head.
Why did you take her from me? Why did you kill her so young? She had more to give life. She deserved more. How can you call yourself an all-powerful God if you couldn’t save her? Where is she? Do you even exist? Does heaven or hell?
Now, in addition to those questions, he had more.
Why put Keith in my life if I wasn’t meant to fall for him? Why make me capable of feeling everything I feel for him if everyone says I’m not supposed to? Do you hate me?
It was overwhelming. By the time they were giving the eucharist, Lance found himself on his knees, weak and tired, tears streaming down his face as his grief was renewed, as fear he hadn’t felt before overwhelmed him and anger for the grief and anger for the fear bubbled up in him. He wanted to stomp down the aisle and yell at that stupid cross, he wanted to scream and throw things until he was exhausted.
Somewhere among the questions cycling in his head and tearing him apart, he found new questions, questions which begged for solace and help.
Will my parents be okay with me? How do I tell them? How do I come back here without feeling like I’m falling apart each time? Do I even have the right to ask for your help?
A gentle tap on his shoulder made him jump as he wiped his face. He looked over his shoulder and saw a woman holding out a tissue in her hand. A gentle smile played on her face. Wordlessly, Lance took the tissue to blow his nose and wiped his tears with his jacket sleeves.
“Thank you,” he whispered. The woman smiled a little more and nodded before sitting back and closing her eyes.
As Lance sat back down, his mom took his hand and held it even tighter. He leaned into her, having to crouch a bit because she was shorter. She wrapped an arm around him, hugging him tightly, and Lance shut his eyes.
Mass was over shortly after and as they walked out, Veronica fell in step with Lance. “You okay, manito?” she asked softly. He shrugged. “If you wanna talk, you know I’m here. We can get coffee later to be alone.”
Lance smiled at her. “Thanks, Vero."
Everything around him felt heavy. He wasn't sure if he felt better or worse. Then he pulled out his phone and saw a few messages from Keith.
Hope it goes well
Whenever you're out, I think I have an idea.
We just need accomplices
Lance frowned and messaged back with a series of question marks.
Okay accomplices sounds dramatic.
Point is, Hunk&Pidge stayed right? They can invite you over and we can meet up with them.
That way you're not lying or anything
And we can still see each other.
If you want
Lance smiled as he read the texts. They were almost home, and he noticed his mom kept looking back at him through the faint reflection of the sideview mirror, so he messaged back;
I love that idea. I’d get to see them too. I’ll call you tonight to figure out when <3
Lance didn't even walk into the house before Veronica grabbed him and announced they were going for a coffee.
Mami looked at them suspiciously, well aware that something was up. She could always see right through Lance, always knew when he was hiding something or when he lied. As he grew up, she let him slide with things, but Lance knew. Even now, knowing something was going on, she allowed him his space and nodded. “Okay, m’ija. Just be sure you’re back in time to decorate the tree. Luis and Marco are coming over at five.” Veronica nodded and tugged Lance over to her car.
As they pulled out of the driveway, Lance looked out the window where his parents were talking and following the car with their eyes as they went into the house.
“Do you think they know?” Lance asked, breaking the silence he’d settled into.
“They know something’s up with you. I think the whole church knew that much. But if you’re asking if they know you’re pan, then no. At least I don’t think so.” It was quiet for a bit before Veronica looked at him. “I think they think this is about Allura. I don’t know, maybe it is, but… it’s not just that is it?”
Lance looked out the window and sighed. He wanted to tear this feeling out of his chest. He wanted to claw at it until he excavated all of the rotten pieces in him so he could find that version of himself he wanted to be. The version everyone was comfortable around. The version everyone liked. He wanted to yank this hollow melancholy from its roots and tear it apart so it stopped growing.
“I love Christmas. I love the parties, the music, the food. I love New Year’s and the fireworks and the grapes Mami practically forces us to eat.” Veronica chuckled softly. “I just can’t get rid of this feeling right now. And I want to blame church, but it feels like more. I already miss Keith and we barely left last night. I feel like something’s wrong and I feel like I can’t talk without lying and-” He put his face in his hands. “What the hell is wrong with me?”
“Nothing’s
wrong
with you.” Veronica pulled up to the cafe and parked. But she didn’t get out of the car. “You are still mourning. It’s okay. Stop beating yourself up for being human. And… Keith is important to you. And with the way you are, being unable to tell Mami y Papi about him is killing you-”
“What do you mean the way I am?”
“Emotional!” Lance flinched. “He’s important to you. And when something or someone is important to you, you want to share with the whole world. You’d gather us to hear your favorite poems. You immediately introduced Keith to Hunk and Pidge. Yeah, you feel guilty for hiding it, but you’re also just upset that you haven’t told them yet because honestly, you’re fucking bursting with your affection for that guy.” Lance blushed. “And that’s a big deal. Everyone sees it. Everyone knows it. And I don’t know what happened at church-”
“I told God off,” he answered. Veronica furrowed her eyebrows. “In my head. Sort of like prayer but not. And I think He just sorta let me. Then… I dunno. I felt better. But also worse.” He took a shaky breath and shrugged. “It’s stupid. Because no one has told me anything yet or…. It just felt like I was in a room full of people who would call me names or say things to me if they knew what I felt for Keith. And it made me so angry then I thought they were all hypocrites and I was also mad because I thought of Allura’s memorial and then I panicked because I changed so much from when I was little and-” He groaned and let out a humorless laugh. “Man, what the
fuck.”
“You’ve got a lot going through your head then, huh?” Lance scoffed. “Is it gonna make you second guess being with Keith?”
“What? No! No, absolutely not. I won’t let it.” He ran a hand through his hair. “When Allura died…. I couldn’t breathe for so long. I’d cry and I’d scream and I just…. It felt like I was struggling for any bit of air. I never realized… it still felt hard to breathe. Like there was still a pressure keeping me back or keeping the world dim. When I’m with Keith it’s like… it’s like fresh air. There’s nothing stopping me anymore. Nothing keeping me from taking a breath and relaxing and seeing everything as vibrant and…. That feeling is too good too pure to be a bad thing. It’s too rare to let it go.”
Veronica didn’t say anything for a long time. Not until Lance looked over at her and saw the distant, soft expression on her face. “That almost sounded like a poem,” she said. Lance grimaced and looked away. Veronica took a breath, recognizing the unwelcome topic. “Do you want to come out to them while you’re home?”
Lance bit his lip and glared at the glove compartment. “I don’t know,” he whispered. “I do and I… and I don’t. It’s just too much right now.”
Veronica nodded. “I understand that. And that’s fair. You should tell them when you’re ready. You’re also allowed to enjoy being home.” Lance shut his eyes and sighed. A gentle hand ruffled his hair. “Ya no te apures, flaco. Let’s get some hot chocolate and relax for a bit. Get your spirits back up in time for tree decorating. You know we waited for you to get home.”
That made Lance smile. “Yeah. Okay, that sounds good.” She smiled at him and turned the engine off. They got out of the car and walked into the cafe. The smell of ground coffee beans hit Lance’s senses hard. “So, what’d you think of the performance yesterday?”
“I think you were practically shaking the entire time,” she answered with a smirk. “It was really cool though. Like, damn. I think Keith had the craziest choreography.”
“Right? Especially when he lifts Alexa right up over him, like holy shit.” Veronica’s nose scrunched up for a split second before she turned to order. Lance frowned, patiently waiting until they sat down to wait on their order. “What was that?”
“What? What I ordered? I got us hot chocolates-”
“No the face. When I mentioned Alexa.”
Veronica frowned. “Oh. I dunno I just got a vibe from her.” Lance furrowed his eyebrows. “I didn’t talk to her, so I can’t really say I don’t like her, but….”
“But you don’t like her.” Veronica shrugged. “What’d she do?” Lance tried racking his brain for something Alexa might’ve said or done. There was that Danny Phantom comment, but he didn’t think it was an insult.
“She just seems pushy. That thing she said about tension about tension was unnecessary. People aren’t supposed to point it out.”
Lance snorted. “You did the same when you guys were at my apartment!”
“I’m your sister! Why are you defending her so much, anyway?”
Lance tried to back off a bit, noting the way Veronica seemed to be getting genuinely upset. “No, it’s just…. She’s cool with Keith so she’s around sometimes. I think she’s cool. People don’t normally rub you the wrong way without even talking to you, so I thought…. Don’t worry about it. I doubt you’ll ever have to talk to her except at dance performances if you go with me.”
Their order was called, and Veronica got up to get it. She sat back down and smiled at Lance. “Chocolate heaven at your grasp. So- what are you getting Keith for Christmas?”
The question made Lance freeze. “Fuck if I know,” he groaned. “I’m broke, it’s like a week away, and he never tells me what he wants. I’ve asked him and he just says, ‘I’ve got everything I need.’ Like, no shit, Sherlock, I wanna give you something you just
want!”
Veronica burst into laughter and shook her head. “Well…. Not to meddle, but also it’s kind of killing all of us…. Why not ask if you can be his boyfriend?” Lance felt his face turn red and he looked down at his drink. “Wait.
Wait.
Are you guys official? And you didn’t tell me!”
“Wha- no! Sh!” Lance anxiously waved his hands to get her to quiet down as a few people turned to look at them. “Jesus. No. We’re not. Um. So…. He actually… y’know
popped the question
or whatever.”
“You said no?” she asked incredulously.
“Stop jumping to conclusions and let me finish!” Veronica rolled her eyes. “I said yes. But remember how I said I didn’t want to be his boyfriend if he didn’t know about Allura?” The amusement in her eyes dimmed. Her expression sobered. Then she raised an eyebrow. “I told him I needed to tell him something before we could say… we were official. And I told him about her. What happened and all….”
“I guess he took it well if you guys are still all… well, I mean the way you were yesterday. What happened?”
Lance took a deep breath and let it out all at once. “Oh. Well. I mean. He needed to process. He took his time to let it all sink in. And we talked about it. He was glad I waited to tell him, but also… well, he wasn’t expecting that.” Veronica nodded. “I said I understood if he wanted to retract the question, and he said he didn’t. But he does wanna take time to see how we feel now. Y’know, since he knows and so…. So we’re sort of taking it slow. It’s nice to know he wants that with me though.”
Veronica smiled. “It’ll be a relief when you two finally make it official. But I am really happy to hear that you’re both being so careful and mature about it.” Lance gave her a wide, cheeky smile. “Well, I mean, you have time to think of a gift.” Veronica took a sip from her cup. “So… uh… what’s the deal with Hunk? I thought him and Pidge were supposed to sort of be a thing, but that guy he’s living with…?”
It took Lance a moment to realize what she was saying. “Oh, Roland? He doesn’t have a place to stay, so he’s been staying with Hunk.”
“Huh. Okay.” Veronica didn’t say anything else. Part of Lance wanted to question it, but it was unnecessary. Vero didn’t know the whole backstory, and frankly it was Lance’s to give. “Well, Marco just texted that he’s on his way, so we need to hurry.”
Chugging hot chocolate wasn’t Lance’s proudest moment, but he was dying to see Nadia and Sylvio. And sure enough by the time they got to the house, Marco was helping them get out of the car. As soon as they saw Lance, they ran toward him. Nadia jumped onto him, nearly knocking him off balance as he half carried her. They both started talking over each other, excited to fill their uncle in on the events of the past couple of weeks. Mostly video games and school stuff.
“Hey, let him get inside, you two,” Marco called from the doorway. “It’s cold, get in. Saluden a sus abuelitos.” They stayed clinging to Lance as they walked into the house.
As they stepped in, Lance saw his mom immediately start to search his face. She must have been satisfied with what she found because she gave him a relieved smile and seemed to let out a breath that allowed her shoulders to relax.
She brought out a plate full of cookies which the kids immediately set to devouring. Not long after, Luis arrived with Maya.
As they sat in the living room getting the ornaments and tinsel and lights for the tree, Lance felt that weird melancholy start to gnaw at his chest. He had the urge to curl himself into Keith's chest where he knew he'd be received with strong arms, comforted through the strange unease.
But Keith wasn't there, and Lance had just gotten over the weird feeling. He didn't want to succumb to it again.
"Tio? Is it okay if we still put this one up?" Sylvio handed Lance a clear ornament, decorated with glittering white swirls. His heart clenched as he looked at the pink A at the bottom. "It's my favorite, but-"
"Of course you can. Go ahead," Lance answered through the knot in his throat. He was an idiot. "I'll be right back." He got up and tried to be discreet as he found shelter in his room.
Of course.
Of course.
It was her. She wasn't here, and that's what felt wrong. Last Christmas felt like a blur for Lance. He couldn't exactly remember it, and he never let himself think about it. Their only Christmas together had been Allura's first time in the house. It was the day she gave him his cologne. And she'd made a set of ornaments with the kids, and they'd loved her immediately.
The fact that the concept of missing her had completely eluded him made Lance angry with himself. And he'd yearned for Keith in the midst of it….
No, no, no.
Lance pressed his hands against his head, squeezing as hard as he could. He couldn't handle another crisis. A knock on his door made him tense.
"Flaco? You alright?" Luis.
"Yeah, I'll be right there I just…." He couldn't think of an excuse.
"Can I come in?" Lance didn't answer for a while. Then he stood up and opened the door for him. Luis looked at him sadly, eyebrows furrowed. "You miss her, don't you?"
Lance nodded. "I just… I didn't even realize it until I saw the ornament," he said brokenly. "I told myself I missed Keith. It's like I'm forgetting her-"
"No it's not," Luis interrupted. "Lance, you're just healing. You're letting yourself move on." Lance shook his head. He hated how that sounded. Like he had to leave Allura behind to be okay. "Lance…. If you wanted Keith near you, that's… it's okay. He knows about her now, you can talk to him about this."
Lance frowned. "How do you know Keith knows about Allura?"
Luis shrugged. "He told me…. Last night."
Lance recalled seeing Luis talk to Keith just before leaving. The way he insisted he was just talking about the performance when Lance kept asking what that had been about. He stared at Luis expectantly until Luis sighed in defeat.
"I just…. I told him to be good to you, that's… that's all. I… it sort of hit me when I caught you guys making out that… well this guy is actually… gonna be with you. And I don't know, you guys hadn't done much more than hug when I looked. Seeing the actual…."
Lance tensed. Was he trying to take back his support? Was actually seeing Lance with Keith too strange, too wrong to him? "You don't… actually like the fact that I'm with a guy…."
"What? No that's not true! I just mean…." Luis shook his head and shrugged. "It's weird to me because… because I still think it should be Allura. Like it takes my eyes a minute to recognize why it's not…. It's stupid and it's not even your fault or anything."
Lance looked down at the floor. "Oh."
"Lance, it's okay. I'm gonna get used to it. You know how I know? Because I like seeing you happy, and you're happy with him. I just also don't think that coming to hide in your room to guilt trip yourself is gonna help." He put a hand on Lance's shoulder to get him to look back up. "Why don't you call him? You tend to relax with him."
Lance hesitated. "I don't want to upset him."
Luis frowned. "Not to be a dick, but… if you can't mourn Allura around him-"
"I know, I know. And yeah, that's…. Look, I can't though because the last thing I need is someone eavesdropping and finding out again anyway."
"Ouch. Low blow." Lance winced, but Luis was giving him a small smile. "I'll keep them distracted. I'll make something up. But I think you should talk to him. Or Hunk or Pidge or…. Just don't bottle it up. But that guilt is coming from missing Keith, and that's not fair to you. You can miss them both in different ways, you know?" Lance didn't say anything. He couldn't stop thinking about Keith's comment last week. How it felt like he was sharing Lance. "Look, I'm gonna keep people from coming to your room for the next… what fifteen minutes? You can call him or you can talk yourself in circles. But there won't be any eavesdroppers."
Lance didn't get a chance to say anything before Luis was already out the door. He plopped down on his bed and stared at Keith's contact ID for a while, his finger ghosting over the green phone icon.
Finally he pushed it and put the phone to his ear. After a handful of rings, one got cut off and Lance could hear a slight shuffle.
"Hey, sweetheart. I wasn't expecting to hear from you until later." Keith's voice managed to soothe the ache in his lungs a tiny bit.
"Hey. Yeah, I'm sorry. Is it a bad time?"
"No. No of course not…. Lance, what's wrong?"
Lance let out a dry chuckle. "Who says anything's wrong?"
"You didn't call me príncipe or koala. And I can tell by your tone. It's too soft…. Lovely all the same, but…. What is it? Did something happen?"
The words got stuck in his throat. He wanted to be honest. He wanted to tell Keith how badly he needed his embrace and how guilty that somehow managed to make him feel. But this was still new for them both. Allura becoming a Thing between them was… new still.
They wanted to see how they handled it before being official, but… what if they couldn't handle it? What if it was too much for Keith? What if Lance was too much-?
"Babe. Lance, you there?" Lance gulped. "Your breathing sped up a lot…. Lance what's wrong, you're scaring me."
"I'm sorry." God, he hadn't even said anything and he was already fucking up. "I'm sorry. It's…."
Another long pause. Words refused to come together. Or rather, Lance refused to let the words that came together out of mouth.
"Lance…? Is it… about Allura?" Lance let out a loud breath, collapsing into himself. "What happened?" The question was tense, but the affection was still there.
So Lance let his words tumble out, however messy. He told Keith about the chaos in his head at church, the anger at God and himself and the people there, about feeling better but still weird and then coming home and seeing the ornament and realizing what was wrong and feeling horrible for realizing it so late, feeling horrible for wishing for Keith because it wasn't fair to Keith, and then he started to ramble about how he wasn't a back up and he wasn't sharing, but he just couldn't sort his emotions.
He ended up breathless and half crying between all of his words. Only an occasional sigh or intake of breath told him Keith was still listening.
"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry, Keith-"
"What have I told you about apologizing for these things?" Keith said softly. Lance sniffed. "I didn't know you were religious."
"I'm not doubting what I feel for you."
"I know," Keith assured. "There is nothing sinful about what we have. Except y'know the… premarital sex probably." Lance let out a disbelieving laugh. "But hey, straight couples do that too." There was a slight smile in his voice. "Lance, you told me the day we talked about her that you would always love her. And that…." Another sigh. "It makes sense. Your time together got cut short. So I don't think you'd ever leave her behind. Or forget her. Or 'move on.' The fact that it took seeing that ornament to realize what felt off was probably your brain shielding you from those emotions. I don't think it's moving on or forgetting. I think you're just living. And you have a right to do that, baby. You have a right to live and experience new things."
"You're not upset that I wanted you to hug me when I was missing Allura?"
There was a pause on the line that made Lance's heart clench. "At first it stung a bit," he said honestly. "Like you said… my first thought is asking if I'm… the back up. But I know you, Lance. I know how much you're capable of feeling and I know how sincere the things you feel are. I'm… kind of flattered that you wanted me with you. It tells me you trust me. And the fact that you called to talk about it… well, that means you're comfortable bringing this up with me."
Lance wiped his eyes and felt his heart settle into a steadier pace. "I just… I never want you to feel like you're second best. I know I mention her and bring her up so much more now, but it's because we said we'd be honest-"
"I know, sweetheart."
"It's just… you also said you were scared our relationship would be in her shadow and… and I'm scared I'm turning it into that." Another long pause. This one was longer. It made Lance panic again. "I'm sorry, I just have all of these emotions fucking with my head, and all these thoughts in my head that feel too loud and…. I don't know what to do."
Keith took a shaky breath and cleared his throat. He didn't say anything. After a while, he finally admitted, "I don't know what to respond to that. The shadow thing. Because I am scared of that, but I can't ask you to control your feelings or memories. I won't."
A question built up in his chest, afraid to come out. But he pushed the words out anyway. "If that does happen… will you leave me?"
This time there was no pause. No hesitance. Just a strong, certain, "No. I'm not going anywhere." Then there it was. A slight hesitance. But this one was familiar. It was the pause Keith took before he divulged in something vulnerable. The time he took to talk himself into saying something that inevitably made him blush the second it dropped from his lips. "I care about you way too much to go anywhere."
Lance let out a soft, relieved laugh. "You're amazing, you know that?" Keith's scoffed. "I…. I promise I'm going to work on this. You didn't sign up to deal with my grief, and I know that."
"Pretty boy, I've told you before. You're allowed to be sad. To be angry. To be hurt. I wanted to know these sides of you too. I don't care if I didn't sign up for them." Lance sniffed again and tried to get a grip on himself. He did feel better. Still sad, but… not as heavy. Not as panicked. "Lance?"
"Yeah?"
"I'm gonna get better at this too. At helping you through the hurt. Through missing her."
Lance smiled to himself. He felt his heart swell with the affection he had for Keith. "You already do a pretty great job, you know?" They could do this. They could still work. Even with the memory of Allura being known between them. "I miss you. So, so much."
"I miss you too, pretty boy," Keith whispered. "We'll see each other soon enough. You should enjoy time with your family though. You miss them a lot when you're away."
Lance rubbed his face and wondered how much time had passed since Luis left his room. "Yeah. We're decorating the Christmas tree. They waited for me."
A light laugh made warmth seep through Lance. "That was sweet of them."
There was a certain tone in Keith's voice. Like he was still uneasy. Lance couldn't blame him after everything he'd dropped on him. He just wished he knew what to say to make it go away. "I'll call you tonight, príncipe. And thank you. I always feel a little stronger after talking to you."
Keith hummed. "Cheesy," he teased playfully. "Have fun decorating. I'll talk to you later tonight."
"Okay. Bye, koala." Lance had the pleasure of hearing an embarrassed little groan before the line went dead.
He wiped his face again, knowing it was no use. His eyes would be red and puffy and he'd have a nose like Rudolph's. It always happened when he cried. Still, he took a deep breath and let his body relax with Keith's words. His voice had managed to loosen the pressure in his chest, and his words managed to ease up some of the chaotic emotions.
He could make it through the day.
He got out of his room and heard laughter in the living room. When he walked in, he saw Nadia and Sylvio decorating Marco with ornaments and tinsel. He winced as they pinched his skin, but there was a wide smile on his face.
"Don't forget his face!" Luis reminded, holding Maya in his lap. The kids wrapped the tinsel around Marco's face, cutting off whatever curse word about to be directed at Luis.
Veronica was on the floor, putting wire hooks through the ornaments that needed them, and his parents were sitting back and enjoying Marco's misery.
"There you are, amor," he heard his mom say. Lance looked at her and smiled. Her smile faded a bit at the sight of his expression, but she didn't pry. "Niños, take that off your papi, we gotta decorate the tree!"
Lance stood near the tree, watching as the kids gave the ornaments back to Veronica. He caught Luis' eye, caught the questioning eyebrow quirk, and Lance smiled and nodded. Luis smiled back.
He was certain everyone knew why he'd disappeared for however long it was. It was clear in his face. Thankfully though, no one brought it up. No one asked. No one put him on the spot. They simply worked together to wrap the tree in lights and tinsel and glittering ornaments.
Sylvio tugged on Lance's jacket and held up the clear ornament. "You wanna put it, Tio?"
Lance smiled and lifted him up. "Sure, buddy." He took the ornament. "Where should I put it?"
Sylvio hummed then pointed. If Lance put the sphere there, it would look clustered between other red and gold ones. But it was also near the top, and he figured he trusted his nephew's choice. So he hung it there between the others, and smiled.
Maya and Luis got the honor of putting an angel at the top of the tree. Once the tree was ready, Papá put the little red mantle along the bottom where the gifts would go.
"Listo para Santa Claus," he said with a smile. Sylvio and Nadia's eyes lit up.
After that, Vero and Mami started on dinner. Maya was in the kitchen with them, offering to help, but they insisted she simply keep them company. Meanwhile, Lance, his brothers, and his dad all sat at the table to play dominoes.
Things felt a little normal that way. With cartoons blaring on the TV for the kids, the smell of spices and garlic wafting through the house as quick Spanish and loud laughter made the space come to life. Along with the Christmas decorations, it felt nostalgic and warm. It made Lance's heart mend itself a little more.
---
On Christmas Eve, Lance woke up to the sound of loud bachata music. He groaned and rolled over pulling his pillow over his head.
No one came knocking on his door to wake him up and get him to start cleaning. But that music was loud enough to send its message between all the lovey-dovey lyrics.
Eventually Lance pulled himself out of bed and shuffled to the kitchen. Mami was already wearing neon green plastic gloves that squeaked when she clenched her hands. "What's for breakfast?" he asked with a yawn.
"Ay, m'ijo, we have too much to do today. Get some cereal or waffles para que se te quite el hambre. We'll stuff ourselves tonight." She had her hair up in a messy bun, with curls sticking to her face already.
Lance nodded and grabbed a bowl to pour himself cereal. Vero was already at the table, looking just as disheveled and tired as him.
"This place is gonna be a mess tonight with mud tracks and wrapping paper and beer bottles. I don't get why we can't just clean it like we normally do," she muttered under her breath.
"At least you're not having to deal with the roaches and spiderwebs in the garage," Lance answered through a mouthful of cereal. Vero rolled her eyes. "What time is everyone getting here, Ma?"
"Your abuela's flight lands around three. Marco is picking her up. Everyone should be here by six."
"So why are we awake at nine am?" Lance whispered.
He felt a thwack on his head. "Quit complaining as if we don't do this every year," Mami chided.
Lance winced and rubbed the back of his head. "Ay, Mami, eso dolió."
She rubbed the spot she hit roughly and planted a quick kiss. "Hurry up, I need more hands!"
Within an hour, everyone was scrubbing and cleaning something. Lance, as usual, was outside with his dad, sneaking in an occasional beer between mowing the lawn and sweeping the garage. Around four, Marco came honking down the street, announcing their abuela's arrival.
As soon as she was out of the car, Lance ran to hug her. She didn't visit too often, so when she did, it was always a cause for celebration.
"Mi tesorito!" she crooned. "Look at you, you're a grown man!" Her accent was heavy and Lance loved it. "Aren't you eating at college? Look at you, puros huesos." She poked his stomach and Lance laughed. Same old, same old.
"Come on, abuelita, Mami's inside."
The cleaning was out of the way, but now the cooking took up their time. Lance took the job of an errand runner, passing the aluminum foil back and forth between his parents, sending chopped vegetables to his dad outside and bringing in cokes or beers for anyone who wanted one.
The twins were watching Christmas movies on Disney, occasionally getting their cheeks pinched by Abuelita when they got up for something.
Finally, Lance was able to sit and enjoy a drink with his brothers and his dad in the garage. They were making a large pork, and it was almost ready. The fire from it being cooked kept them warm along with the liquor in his cup. It was a new drink his dad had learned from another coworker, but it was good. Spicy and tangy, with just enough tequila to taste. It made Lance feel relaxed.
Some of the neighbors had also stopped by either for the fire, the smell of the pork, or just in holiday spirit. So the garage was somewhat full of people. Veronica came outside with Maya, and after saying hi to everyone, they set up a long white foldable table. Veronica set up a few air heaters and then right behind them was Mami and Abuelita putting food out. Then the kids with paper plates and silverware to set the table.
Lance didn't know why, but it made him smile. The perfect synch of his family. He took another gulp of his icy drink.
He was thankful that the food was ready, really. Since his cereal that morning, he'd been going off of chips and beer or a mixed drink. He was getting dizzy and he already couldn't really feel the tips of his fingers.
"You good?" He looked over at Marco who had put a hand on his shoulder. Lance nodded. "Mm. Okay. Let's eat." Lance sat down beside Nadia and Veronica.
Even the neighbors got a plate, which answered Lance's suspicions. His dad put another plastic cup full of that red mixed drink he'd been enjoying. "I put less tequila in that. Your mami was watching."
Lance laughed and nodded. "Thanks, Pa. I'm good though. Eating will make the tipsiness go away."
Sure enough once he started stuffing his mouth, his brain righted itself and everything came back into sharp focus. A hundred conversations were going on at once each interrupted by another and occasionally forgotten in favor of a different one.
Lance found himself laughing loudly, the weight that he'd been carrying all week dissipating. Maya was hilarious, and the way she and Luis bounced off each other made for a dinner full of laughter and overdramatic screeches of glee.
After they'd all gotten seconds and even thirds, mami brought out dessert. A large flan and a monster tres leches cake. Lance hated that he always got stuck working outside; he wished he could watch Mami making the desserts like he used to when he was little.
Lance had gone back to beer, which had miraculously refilled the cooler.
"Jesus knows how to celebrate His birthday, amen," Marco said when Lance made the comment. It made them burst into laughter again.
Once the table was full of used napkins and piled up paper plates and whatever remnants that would only last for tomorrow, the conversation had turned into little anecdotes from everyone. Mami was slightly drunk which was funny because it made her giggle at everything. While abuelita didn't like it, she didn't say anything. She just listened to all the stories and folded a napkin over and over before unfolding it and starting again.
Lance smiled to himself. Keith did that too sometimes.
"So we're holding the platform up, sabes? The one Meño cut his finger on. Now the boss wants three people moving it." Lance tuned back into his papá's retelling of the day he told off his boss. "No pero para esto, we got el Maricón with us, so-"
The rest of the sentence drowned out in Lance's ears. He felt everything in his stomach church, only he wasn't about to throw up. His body simply started shaking.
He looked at his siblings. Luis was wincing, glancing at Lance but he kept quiet. Marco hadn't caught on- he was still eating a slice of flan. Veronica was staring at the table.
But none of them said anything.
"Why do you have to call him that?" Lance interrupted. All eyes turned to him. Beside him Veronica subtly tugged his shirt under the table. But Lance had enough alcohol swarming in his head to make him not care for once. He always kept quiet, always let the conversation rise and fall around him, but…. He couldn't just let a slur like that pass.
"Que?"
"He has a name," Lance said, with an edge to his voice.
"Oh, please. Calm down, m'ijo. That's what everyone calls him."
"It's not nice." Lance refused to let this go. It would be the smart thing. Nicknames that were offensive were common, and he'd probably heard his dad talk about this guy before, but…. No. If it was brushed off it made it okay and it
wasn't
okay.
"It's what he is!"
The anger that had been making his limbs shake all gathered as heat creeping up neck and to his face. "That's not the right word!" he shouted.
"Lance, hey-"
"No!" Lance shut down Marco's attempt to interfere. He was making a scene. In front of Maya. In front of neighbors. On Christmas eve. But he couldn't bring himself to care. He'd made it this far. "Just because it's what everyone nicknamed him, you think that makes it okay? You think he likes being called that?" His father narrowed his eyes. Lance never yelled at him. And now he was, and he was doing it in front of people. "Did you ever stop to think even for a second to ask him?"
"Ay, no jodas," he finally answered back, his voice cold. Things were blurring out of focus with how angry Lance felt. He was being brushed off. "Ya cálmate. You've always been so sensitive about things."
Something about the way he said it managed to both break Lance's heart and his resolve.
"Que? Como si fuera maricón?" he hissed.
"Oh my God," Veronica said under her breath. Marco awkwardly scratched the back of his head. Luis had his face in his hands. Mami was struggling to find words to defuse the situation. The neighbors shuffled around awkwardly.
Finally Papá took a deep breath. His voice was measured, calmer. "I didn't say that, Lance."
"You were thinking it." Lance got up, shoving the table hard enough that Luis had to push it back to keep it from tipping things over. Again, Lance couldn't bring himself to care.
He walked toward the door to get back in the house. But he caught Nadia asking, "Papi, what's a maricón?"
"It's a bad word, cariño. We shouldn't use it."
Lance slammed the door behind him and went straight for his room. He felt dizzy. But the wasn't drunk dizzy. It was… fear and anger and confusion.
The guilt began to gnaw at him. Regret about saying anything. He'd embarrassed his family. His abuelita saw him lose it. And Nadia and Sylvio…. Lance only caught a glimpse, but they'd looked afraid. Of course, he'd fuck up Christmas dinner.
There was a knock at his door and without him saying anything, he heard it creak open.
"M'ijo?"
"I'm sorry, Mami. I know I shouldn't have done that, I just…. He wasn't listening."
There was a sigh, then he felt a hand at his shoulder. "Where did that come from?"
Another churn in his gut. Except this time, instead of blurting things out, he kept grinding his teeth together to make sure he shut up.
I like boys. I'm seeing a boy. I've fallen head over heels for a boy.
He imagined himself saying those sentences aloud and winced at the idea.
"Lance?"
He shook his head and did something pathetic.
"I have a friend. Roland. He's gay and he got kicked out of his home for it. So…. It touches a nerve to hear slurs and jokes." Lance cheeks burned. That was a cowardly move. But he wasn't ready. He'd fucked up enough.
"Ay, dios mio," she whispered. "What kind of parents…? Is he okay?"
Lance sniffed. "Yeah he's been crashing with Hunk."
"Ah. Is Hunk…?"
Lance actually laughed at that. Wrong person. Although…. "Um no. Not that I know of at least. But you never know. People find out at different rates." He panicked again and added, "That's what happened to Roland. He just came to terms with it. So."
Her hand tousled his hair. "I understand why you got upset, m'ijo. But you can't talk to your papá like that." Lance sighed. "It's Christmas eve. Come on and have fun with your family. Dance with me! I'm tipsy enough not to notice if you step on my toes."
Lance looked at her. Her eyes were big and slightly glazed. Her smile was still warm. Her cheeks were red from the beer and the cold. "You drunk, Mami?" Would she even remember what happened the next day?
She gasped and pinched his arm. "Claro que no. You know I don't get drunk. Nada Nadamas ando happy." Lance rolled his eyes and smiled. "Well, are you gonna dance with me or not?"
Lance winced, but he let her take his hand and lead him out of his room.
In the garage, the table had been folded back up. The neighbors were dancing and Sylvio and Nadia were both dancing with Marco. Vero danced with Papi and Luis with Maya. Salsa played loudly and had them all twirling, narrowly missing hitting each other.
No one seemed to give Lance a second look when he came back. Just a quick smile as they moved to make more room for dancing.
So he danced. With stiff posture, and continuously looking down at his feet, and steps just a fraction of a second behind. But no matter how awkward he was when it came to dancing, his family loved to dance with him. His abuelita danced with him next. Her steps were always smaller, so that at least made it a little easier for Lance.
"Eres un buen muchacho, tesorito. Don't let that change." Somehow her compliment sounded and felt like a reprimand. "Ahora, let me sit, my knees are hurting." Lance chuckled and helped her sit.
Surprisingly, Maya came up to him next. "Oh, I'm really not a great dancer-"
She laughed. "It's okay, neither am I. I only look good because Luis is a good lead. Come on, it's rude to leave a lady without dancing. Haven't you read Pride & Prejudice?"
Lance perked up a bit and laughed. "Of course," he answered, taking her hand. "Not many people have though."
"I'm a bookworm. Luis found me reading it when we first met and he tried to-"
"Ohh, I remember," Lance said with a wince. "He came to me asking me about it once, but I just told him to watch the movie because I thought he was messing with me. He was trying to impress you."
She laughed and nodded. "He made a fool of himself, he was so confused. But it was cute. So I told him I'd go on a date with him if he actually read the book."
"He stole my copy," Lance muttered. Maya giggled and looked back at Luis where he was dancing with Mami now. "You really love him, huh?"
"Not everyone is willing to read a classic novel for a date. He makes me so happy. Anytime something good or bad happens, he's the first person I want to tell. I can't believe we've dated as long as we have and I still get butterflies when he looks at me." Lance smiled at her. He knew she was practically part of the family now. "And hey, I wanted to thank you. For speaking up earlier. I'm bisexual, so seeing you call your dad out on it…." She shrugged. But Lance had stopped dancing.
He froze right there, staring at her in disbelief. "D-does Luis know?"
She smiled. "He knows about my past partners. I don't know if he fully understood then, but I did find him googling terms a few weeks ago." Her eyes met his, and honestly Lance couldn't tell if she knew or not. "You did a good thing. Even if family dynamics will want to make it out to be a disrespectful one. Just know I really appreciated it."
He nodded. He felt a surge of gratitude that she'd trusted him with that information. That she'd thanked him. That Luis hadn't told her just because she's his girlfriend.
Maya gave herself a spin and suddenly, he was pulled back to reality. "And you say you can't dance," she said punching his shoulder lightly.
Lance had about enough of dancing so he went to sit down and mull over the new information. Veronica sat beside him and kicked his leg lightly.
"You okay?" Lance nodded. "For a second I thought you were gonna come out just for spite." Lance snorted and shook his head. "Well. I took a cute video of you and mami dancing. On an unrelated note, I need Keith's number."
"Don't even think about it, Vero!"
She laughed and tousled his hair. Her eyes skimmed the area. "You excited to go see him?"
Lance smiled and nodded. "I know we talk every night, but…. I think especially after having to pretend I'm not with anyone, it just makes me want to be with him." Veronica gave him a funny little look. "What?"
"You light up when you talk about him. It's cute." Lance blushed. "What'd you tell Mami after all?"
"Half of the truth. I'm gonna go see Hunk and Pidge because Hunk is gonna have a little get together." Veronica smirked. "Which means you're going with me, by the way."
"You don't have to take me-"
"Well I want to. Unless you wanna spend the days hanging with Mami and Abuelita. Which you can, I just… figured you'd like a chance to let loose without worrying about them, y'know? Plus I'm pretty sure my friends think you're cooler than me."
Veronica laughed and nodded. She didn't need to know that Mami had been worried about how much time she spent home. That Mami had asked Lance to take her with him so she could get out and have some fun too.she didn't need to. It wasn't a burden for Lance to have her come along.
Throughout the night, Lance tried to keep more to himself. He danced with Nadia and played cards with Sylvio before they were ushered to sleep so Santa could come. At one point, his father wordlessly offered him a another beer, and Lance took it. He knew it was a peace offering of sorts. As if nothing had happened. Because that was the best Lance could hope for at that moment. By midnight, he was able to slip to the darkness of the front yard to call Keith.
"I was just about to call you," he said as soon as he picked up. Merry Christmas, babe."
"Merry Christmas, príncipe. Did you celebrate already?"
"No we celebrate tomorrow. Based on the loud music in the background, I take it you celebrated today?"
Lance laughed. "Yeah we did. It's pretty fun. Music, drinking, family drama, the ushe." Keith laughed softly. "I owe you a kiss under the mistletoe."
"I've never had one of those," Keith answered. "I'm holding you to it." Lance smiled to himself. "Are you still coming on Wednesday?"
"Absolutely. I'm taking Vero too for the mini party Hunk's throwing."
"Oh. Okay."
"Something wrong?" Lance bit his lip, wondering why it would bother Keith to have Vero there.
"No! No, I'm sorry, it did sound like…. No, I just… I was hoping we could stay the night together, but I don't wanna make her uncomfortable or something."
Lance laughed and felt a smile stretch on his face. "I mean, I don't think she'd mind. We just can't do any of the fun stuff."
"Aw, you mean… no cuddles?" Lance laughed loudly, covering his mouth to muffle it. "I'm kidding. Yeah, I wasn't…. It's not like I'm just looking forward to seeing you for sex. I just miss you."
"Then of course you can still stay the night with me. I plan to cash in the cuddles I've missed."
Keith laughed on the other end. "I'll be happy to pay up." There was a brief pause in which Lance simply basked in his affection for Keith, and he thought Keith was doing the same. Until he spoke again. "So how has today gone for you? In terms of grief?"
"What?"
Keith's voice took on a hesitant quality. "Just… have you been okay? Today? Have you… missed her? A-Allura."
Lance's heart clenched. He knew what it meant for Keith to start this conversation. He knew what it cost him to say her name sometimes. But he was trying. He was trying so hard, and Lance just wanted to kiss him.
"I've been good today. I miss her a bit, especially seeing Luis with Maya. Last Christmas was really rough. But it hasn't felt like grief today, just… nostalgia." Keith hummed. "Thank you for asking me, mi vida. It means a lot."
"I told you I was gonna be better about this. I meant it. No one…." Keith hesitated, and Lance gave him time to gather himself. "No one has ever tried as hard for me as you…. So I'm gonna try for you like I've never tried for anyone before."
"Keith…." Lance felt a knot I'm his throat. "God, I wish I could hold you right now."
"Soon, sweetheart. But hey, go celebrate with your family. I don't wanna take you away too much. I miss you. And I can't wait to see you again."
"I miss you too. I'll be in your arms before you know it," he said, echoing Keith's words from the last time they were together.
Keith chuckled. "Bye, pretty boy."
"Bye, koala." He hung up and looked at the sky. He was freezing, but he wanted this moment. This moment of background Spanish music, drunken laughter, and a dark sky full of clouds. Because until that moment, Lance hadn't realized that he hadn't experienced any sort of pain over Allura. And for once it didn't feel like forgetting.
He
had
thought of her. It just hadn't caused a suffocating pain in him this time.
"Hey. You good?" Lance turned and saw Marco leaning against the mailbox.
"Yeah. Yeah, I really am."
---
Mami made the sign of the cross twice on each of them. "Be careful. Text me when you get there. And tell Hunk and Pidge they're welcome to visit. I haven't seen them since your birthday."
"I will, Mami. And we'll be careful, no worries," Lance said. There was a small voice of guilt in the back of his brain. But he hadn't told any lies. He just held back some information.
"We should go. Traffic will get rough if we dont leave soon," Vero said.
Lance gave Mami a kiss on the cheek before heading to the car. Vero got in and immediately plugged the aux cord into her phone to play music.
It was early enough that they avoided major traffic, which let them arrive about 15 minutes earlier than usual. But instead of heading straight home, he kept driving and waited for the exit to Keith's place.
"You really can't wait, huh?" Vero said from the passenger seat. Lance ignored her.
He finally pulled up to Keith's driveway, behind Adam's car and the car Keith started using. Veronica followed behind him as he started for the door.
He knocked a couple times before standing back, nervously shifting his weight from the balls of his feet to his heels.
Finally, the door opened to a shirtless Shiro that made Veronica squeak behind him. Lance couldn't blame her; the guy was ripped. Shiro smiled and opened the door further.
"Hey! I didn't know you were coming today. Keith just got out of the shower, come in." Lance and Veronica walked in and sat on the couch. "He'll be out soon. Veronica, right?" Veronica nodded and shook his hand.
"Where's Adam?"
"Still asleep," Shiro said. "Oh, before Keith gets here…." Shiro went to the kitchen and ruffled through a drawer. He came back with an envelope and handed it over. "Here you go. I hope they're okay for whatever you're gonna do."
Lance smiled and nodded. "We'll find out! Vero. Can you put these in your bag?" Vero took the envelope and tucked it away as they heard the sound of a door shutting. Lance stood up to stand near the hallway, hidden from view.
"Shiro, how do I get the stupid wrap- holy shit!" Lance pounced to wrap his arms around him, lifting him from the ground, which made Keith kick and squirm as the shock overwhelmed him. Then he seemed to refocus and realize who was holding him. "Lance!"
"Hey, baby."
"Lance!" Keith said again, this time through laughter. "Oh my God, Lance!" He squirmed to get his arms around Lance, burying his face in the crook of Lance's neck.
Lance let him down and hugged him just as tightly. "Miss me?"
"So much," Keith said without hesitating. He pulled back and grabbed Lance's face between his hands, planting a hard, determined kiss on his lips.
Just before Lance could immerse himself completely in it, he heard Shiro clear his throat. "Keith, bud, there's another visitor."
They pulled away, both blushing like crazy as they turned to look at Veronica.
"Oh, hey! That's right, Lance told me you were coming." He peeled away from Lance hold and went to greet her. "Why didn't you guys tell me you were on your way?"
"Duh. I wanted to surprise you." Lance kissed his cheek.
Keith chuckled and nudged him. "Well, mission accomplished. Just give me one sec." Keith pulled away and whispered something to Shiro. Shiro rolled his eyes and went back down the hallway. "So, what do you guys have planned for today before the party?"
"Nothing really. I'm pretty sure Lance planned on spending all day with you," Veronica said.
"What did I do to you? Why must you betray me so?" Lance asked. Veronica laughed as Keith squeezed his hand.
"Okay, well, I gotta get my stuff. I'll be right back." He kissed him again and disappeared down the hall as well.
Lance sat down next to Veronica who smiled smugly at him. "Shut up," he mumbled, himself blush. Veronica smiled wider. "Shut up!"
"Aw, c'mon it's cute. You're both like little lovesick puppies and it's disgustingly adorable." Lance rolled his eyes and waited for Keith to get back.
When he did, he had a duffel bag in his hand. The other immediately found its place intertwined with Lance's.
After a quick goodbye to Shiro, the three of them got into Lance's car. In the time it took to get there, Veronica told Keith about their holidays, thankfully excluding that outburst during dinner, and Keith listened, running his hand through Lance's hair from where he sat in the back seat.
When they got home, Lance excused himself to go take a shower so he could get ready for the party. Keith seemed a bit nervous about being alone with Veronica, but he nodded.
"Can you put my bag in your room?" Veronica asked.
Lance took it, barely containing his smile. He rushed off to his room and grabbed the album and the envelope of photos that were safely tucked in the bag. He went into the bathroom and sat on the floor, getting to work on filling up the album.
The photos were in chronological order thanks to Shiro. One with the agent Keith had since he was little. She was crouching down to hug him and Keith had a shy little smile. Lance wondered how old he was there.
Then there was a gap. The next he saw was an unsmiling Keith with the Shiroganes. Even Shiro looked incredibly younger. After that they became candids. Shiro had taken to doing what Lance had and snapped secret photos when he could of Keith's happy moments.
When he got his motorcycle. When he graduated. A photo hugging his parents. He even managed one of Keith talking to Karina at the dinner the week before. There was something about the joy in his face when he didn't know there was a camera on him.
Lance grabbed the ones he had printed out from his own backpack of essentials. Together on the ferris wheel. An extra copy of their photo booth pictures. A couple where Lance tried to be aesthetic and snapped photos of their hands or their shadows. A few selfies in the late nights when Keith fell asleep before him.
There were still many blank pages. But Lance thought the ones he'd managed to fill said a lot. Even if there was so much missing.
He went back into his room and put the album into a gift bag he'd brought with him before stuffing it with crinkly paper. The gift made him nervous. He wasn't sure if it would have enough happiness to balance out the bitterness he knew might permeate the memories. But he also wanted Keith to know…. Lance bit his lip, already knowing he'd be rambling when he gave it to him.
He put the gift on the corner of his desk, figuring he'd give it to Keith at the end of the night just in case. Then he finally went to take a damn shower.
Once he was showered and changed, he went to the living and found Keith and Veronica huddled together, looking at Veronica's phone. Keith was smiling wide, his eyes full of mirth when they met Lance's as he walked in.
Keith let out a wolf whistle. It was playful enough, but the way his eyes raked over him made Lance suppress a shiver.
"What are you looking at?" Lance asked, ignoring the flush in his face.
"Nothing," Veronica said, putting her phone away. "Can I use your room to change?" Lance nodded, eyeing her suspiciously. She hurried down the hallway, leaving Lance with Keith.
Wordlessly, Keith extended a hand to him. Lance took it and immediately felt himself get pulled toward him. Lance gasped, before he gathered himself and found himself half on Keith's lap and half on the sofa.
"So… I have a gift for you," Keith said softly. "But I don't know if I should give it to you now or not."
"I have one for you too," Lance murmured, his lips close to Keith's jaw. "But I want to give it to you later. After the party."
"Then that's when we'll exchange." Keith ran his fingertips from Lance's cheekbone down to his lips. "Now how about an uninterrupted kiss?"
Lance smiled and immediately leaned forward, his hand pushing into Keith's hair and finding their place at the nape of his neck. He hadn't realized how badly he'd needed this. After the stress of watching what he said at home and feeling torn between grief and guilt and anger and small arguments that amounted to nothing… this peace he found as his lips moved in synch with Keith's was everything he needed for his soul to breathe.
Here in his arms, he could be himself. Here with Keith, he felt no guilt, no shame, no worry. This feeling was good. It was pure and it was… healing.
Keith pulled back slightly, letting their noses brush against each other's. He gave Lance a gentle smile and sighed.
"We've come a long way, haven't we?" Lance whispered. He remembered the days when Keith waited for Lance to make the first move. Waited for cues from him. He remembered when all the comfort was for Keith. When this open expression his face was rare and often followed by a wall coming back up to lock Lance out.
Now he was welcomed with a smile and open arms. And Lance had laid everything out for Keith. No more facades or secrets. Just them.
"Yeah. We really have." Keith kissed his forehead and pulled him closer so Lance could tuck his head against his shoulder. "There's so much good that's happened to me lately which I owe to you," Keith murmured. Lance furrowed his eyebrows, but Keith just chuckled.
Veronica came back all dressed up in a sparkly mid thigh sweater and dark tights with her hair pinned back in twists.
"Ooh, look at you, manita."
"Shut up. I don't go out much, so when I do I go big, okay?"
"No, I'm serious you look great!" Lance insisted. He wondered when the last time she went out even was. He had a bad feeling he knew the answer. "Hunk's get together isn't for another few hours, so do you guys wanna watch TV?" Lance asked.
They ended up watching a few episodes of a crime series before they got their jackets and headed out. Hunk's place wasn't too far from Lance's, so even though they left pretty last minute, they were on time.
Hunk's apartment was decked out with colorful Christmas lights, a small Christmas tree surrounded by gifts, and the smell of freshly baked cookies in the air.
"Oh man, Hunk! This place is like Christmas wonderland!" Lance said, immediately moving to hug him. "Merry Christmas, man."
"Merry Christmas!" Hunk ushered him in and greeted Keith and Veronica with hugs. "Matt and Pidge are on their way. Alexa said she'd be here soon."
"Since when is Alexa part of the friend group?" Veronica asked in surprise, with maybe a bit too much distaste in her tone.
"Well… she's Roland's closest friend, so…. I mean he's staying here so it's only fair to invite someone he knows." Hunk frowned and furrowed his eyebrows. "Is it a problem?"
"No. No it's fine. Sorry I didn't mean to sound so aggressive."
"Uh. Speaking of Roland, where is he?" Lance asked.
"He went out to bring more hot chocolate. He and Pidge have me make some every night so we were out."
Lance shared a look with Keith. It was kind of weird to think of Roland becoming so close with his friends. "Well, pass me the aux cord, you know I'm the best at choosing music!" Lance said, wanting to ignore the discomfort. This was a holiday.
Hunk laughed and gestured him over to the speaker so they could get the bluetooth working.
Then Christmas music filled the space and made the place impossibly cozier.
Veronica had moved to look at the desserts Hunk made while Keith sat on the couch, his eyes on Lance. Hunk went to his room to bring out some games, and Keith took the chance to get closer to Lance.
"Hey, you okay? With Roland…. And Alexa?"
"Yeah, of course. Look, it's… awkward, yeah. But the guy doesn't have his family to spend time with. And I love Alexa. It's Veronica who didn't like her much, but she'll be fine." Keith hummed and stared at Lance. "Honest. I mean it. I just don't know how affectionate I can be with Roland near. Or if he even likes being around me."
"Yeah…. I'll talk to him-"
"No, Keith, it's okay," Lance reassured. "Just… let's enjoy our little holiday party and our time together right now." Keith relented and pulled Lance into his arms just as a knock at the door pulled their attention.
Hunk answered and Pidge and Matt came in wearing ugly… Hanukkah sweaters? They had excessive sequins outlining a menorah and little lights on the candles.
Hunk hugged them each and let them in.
"Hey stranger!" Lance said when he hugged Matt. "I haven't seen you in forever!"
"I know! We gotta catch up. Who's this?" Matt turned to Keith and shook his hand.
"Um. Well, he's… we're…." Lance looked at Keith helplessly, but Keith just laughed.
"They're screwing and they go on dates but they're not official," Pidge said, coming up to hug Keith. "Right, boys?"
"Technically…," Keith muttered.
"Oh. Well cool! Nice to meet you, man." Matt shook Keith's hand and just like that, the moment passed.
Lance looked at Keith who just laughed and shrugged.
The door opened again. "Hey, Hunk I brought two because I wasn't sure- Oh! Hey, Pidge!" Lance couldn't help but gape. He'd never seen Roland… smile. But as he greeted Pidge and met Matt then went to give Hunk the bag of stuff he'd bought, he had a wide smile and… seemed friendly.
Hunk gestured over and Roland turned to look at them. While his smile dimmed a bit, he still seemed much happier than usual.
He walked over and Lance felt himself shrink. The guilt crawling into him made him wonder if he should step away from Keith. Unnecessary jealousy made him notice the way Keith's eyes followed him cautiously and the way Roland's raked over Keith.
While Lance had his own moment of panic, Roland was already greeting Keith with an awkward little hand shake.
"Merry Christmas, guys." Roland looked at Lance, and while he didn't make a move to shake his hand, he did offer a smile.
"Merry Christmas, man," Lance said. "You doing okay here?"
Roland's eyes lit up again. "Yeah! For sure. Hunk's a great roommate and since I'm helping pay rent he says I don't have to move out. May as well finish school then look for a place. I just hope I don't get on his nerves."
Another knock at the door pulled Roland away. Alexa came in and he greeted her with a tight hug. Before she even had a chance to go say hi to them, Veronica came up to Lance with a beer in her hand. "I dunno about you guys, but I'm ready to get trashed."
"Wha- wait, does that make me DD?" Lance asked with a pout. Veronica stared at him as she chugged half of her beer before putting it down and scrunching her face for a second. "Despicable," he mumbled.
"I brought Cards Against Humanity, so every sit your asses down and let's see who has the sickest humor," Pidge announced.
"Pidge, you know what I think about that game," Hunk whined.
"For someone who's won the last dozen times we've played, you complain a lot."
"Damn. I'll challenge that," Alexa said. "We sitting in the floor or the table?"
"Floor because the table is for snacks and drinks," Roland answered. "Let's just push the couches aside."
Before long, they were seated in a lopsided circle with stacks of cards being dealt out. "Who goes first?"
"Our host should!" Lance said. Hunk grumbled and picked up a black card.
The game began and immediately exposed some twisted humor. Lance managed to pick up on a few styles to better play his cards, but with such a big group it was hard.
Keith and Hunk had won most of Roland's rounds. Lance started winning Alexa's after he figured out she was a sucker for any joke about being gay or anything relating to kinky sex. Alexa had most of Veronica's which the latter wasn't too happy about at first, at least until the alcohol started hitting. Of course, Matt and Pidge had most of each other's. While Lance had several of Keith's and Hunk's, Roland was close on his tail.
"You and Roland have such a similar sense of humor that it's driving me nuts, you immature dorks," Hunk mumbled, sliding his card over. Lance snorted and waited for everyone to pile their cards. He was tipsy enough by that point not to give much attention to his muddled feelings about Roland.
Roland was laughing at every card at that point, munching on cookies as he drank from a mixed drink in a plastic cup. "How long've we been playing?"
"Like two hours," Alexa said. "I don't think I've ever played this long. Okay, okay, who wins?"
Lance read the cards aloud, stifling laughter as he read each one. "God you guys are dumb. Okay. Um…. I drink to forget..." Lance looked over them again. "I gotta go with giving birth to the antichrist because that's just…. I mean what the fu-" Lance fell back with laughter, suddenly overwhelmed with how hilarious the card was to him.
"Hell yeah, motherfuckers I won again!" Alexa said. "Gimme card!"
"I need a break from this, I can only take so much crude humor," Pidge said, sprawled on the floor. "I want spiked eggnog."
A chorus of ew's made her flip everyone off.
Veronica hiccupped. "Gotta pee again, be back."
"Your sister is wasted," Alexa said with a smirk.
"Far from it," Vero snapped. She stepped around them to get to the bathroom as Hunk got up to bring them more food.
As tipsy as Lance was, being near Keith was too tempting. He couldn't just sit there a foot away from him. He'd spent long enough away from him and missing him, and now he just wanted to be able to touch him.
So he leaned over and kissed his cheek. Evidently, Keith wasn't expecting it if the little jump he did said anything. He looked at Lance and smiled. "Hey, sweetheart. You doing okay?"
"Mhm. Just wanna…." Lance shrugged and nuzzled in closer until Keith put an arm around him.
"You're warm. Let's go out on the balcony." Lance didn't care where they went. He just wanted to be with Keith. He let Keith lead him to the balcony, and the chill snapped Lance out of his stupor for a moment. "Cold?" He nodded, so Keith brought him into his arms.
"Kiss me."
Keith smiled and pressed Lance against the railing, arms securely around him as he leaned in to kiss him.
Lance didn't let him pull away. He cupped his face and kept him close, kissing him again whenever Keith pulled back. Keith laughed against his lips. "I need to breathe, pretty boy," he said turning his head. Lance simply began kissing his neck. "Oh man. You're a touchy drunk."
"Just wanna be with you. So tired of watching what I say." Keith hummed and used one hand to get Lance to look at him. "I like you so much it's stupid."
Keith smirked. "You become so eloquent when you drink."
Lance rolled his eyes, but it made him dizzy again. "Would you just…." He sighed and leaned against Keith. It felt like his whole body was bursting with everything he felt for Keith, and there was no way words or actions could show it. Ever. And that frustrated him. And it frustrated him that he couldn't show the world, that he'd been too cowardly to just tell his parents, that the most he could manage was snapping at his dad for using a stupid word.
"Hey…. What's wrong?" Lance grumbled and shook his head before hiding in Keith's shoulder. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have laughed at you." Again Lance shook his head. His head wasn't in a space where he could articulate his emotions. "I like you a lot too. But I don't think it's stupid. I think it's the smartest thing I've ever done."
"
Ke-eith."
Lance wiggled closer, making Keith squirm and laugh. "And you say I'm the sap."
He felt a hand course through his hair. It soothed him. Grounded him. "We should get back inside so we don't freeze," Keith whispered. Lance nodded, but they didn't move. They just stood there in the cold, listening to the cars pass and the wind blow. "I know what you're gonna say after I say this, but I wanna say it anyway." Keith spoke into his ear. "But you really shouldn't feel bad that you haven't told your parents about me. Your family matters a lot to you and I don't want the time you spend with them tainted by guilt because of me."
"It's not-"
"I know." Keith pulled back and kissed him softly. "I know. But you can't tell me it's not part of the reason." Lance frowned and slouched against him. "Right now though, you're with me. And that's enough."
"Yeah. It is." Lance kissed him again.
The door to the balcony opened and Hunk told them to come inside for actual food. "We need something salty after all that sugar and all those drinks."
"Yeah we'll be right there," Keith said. Hunk closed the door, and Keith turned to Lance. "You okay?"
Lance nodded. "I'm good. But… one more kiss." Keith laughed, but of course he obliged.
They went back inside, hand in hand. Hunk was serving everyone some spaghetti which Lance thought was not a very Christmassy food. Still, the smell made him scarf it down before he even knew he was eating it. Which didn’t make much sense but in his head it did.
Most of them were on their second serving as they sat around the TV to watch a movie. A classic, really.
"Fun fact- we learned that dance for shits and giggles," Alexa said.
"No way. You know the Jingle Bell Rock dance?" Matt asked.
"Oh not just me," she answered with a sly smile. Her eyes drifted to Roland and Keith.
A chorus of gasps and whoops from the others had Keith going red. Lance shook him. "You gotta dance! You gotta! Please?"
"I don't think-"
"Let's do it! I'm drunk enough, fuck it," Roland said as he got up. Hunk and Pidge cheered him on. Alexa stood up excitedly and pulled him toward her.
"Come on, Keith, we can't do it with just two," Alexa said.
"We can't do it with just three either," he pointed out. "It's four people."
Alexa rolled her eyes and slouched. Lance scrambled to his feet. "I wanna learn! Teach me!"
Hunk, Pidge, Matt, and Vero laughed, but encouraged him with whoops. Alexa and Roland stood on either side of him to talk him through the steps as Keith watched with an amused smile.
"You gotta drop! Drop!" Roland said between laughs.
"I can't dance!" Lance answered as he plopped to the ground. Before long everyone was trying to learn the famous Mean Girls dance, tripping over themselves and completely forgetting the movie was on to begin with.
Lance tripped again on a turn and Roland caught him with a laugh. He helped him get back on his feet, then kept staring at him. His smile slowly got smaller until his expression was suddenly somber.
"Y'know, I get why he likes you so much," he said softly. Lance furrowed his eyebrows and looked around. Keith was helping Pidge learn the moves, oblivious. He turned back to Roland, his eyes still locked on him. "You're really great. And your friends are too. And you're everything he's always wanted."
"Where is this coming from?" Lance asked, trying not to step away.
Roland shrugged. "From being drunk. I know you don't need my blessing or anything like that but- It's stupid I'm just-" Roland groaned. "It still… hurts. But it's at least easier to handle because… you're a good person. Not just to him but in general. To everyone. To me. You didn't have to help him look for me when I disappeared, you didn't have to help me or let your friends help me, you didn't have to have my back when we were at the competition, and…. And he's so happy with you. He deserves that."
Lance's focus became sharper the more Roland talked. Words fell from his mouth desperately like he needed to get it all out while he was vulnerable. "Let's step outside for a bit. Clear your head," Lance offered, nudging him toward the door that led to the balcony.
They stepped out into the chill. Lance shivered, but Roland just leaned against the railing.
"I'm not stupid," Roland continued. "I know you guys hold back around me. And while I appreciate it…. You don't have to. Keith has had to hold himself back a lot already, and he really shouldn't have to with you
especially
around me, so…. So don't." His voice was shaking and it made Lance's stomach twist. "You're really cool, man. And I'm glad he has you. I'm glad he didn't end up with another asshole like me. It might be a lot to ask you, I know, but… it would be cool to be… it would be nice to be cool with you. Since your best friends are kind of my only friends and…. But I get if you don't want me around. So really it's… whatever."
Lance waited to be sure Roland was done talking. "Can I ask you something?" Roland nodded. "You still like him, don't you?"
Roland scoffed and smiled at the street lights. "You want an honest answer?" Lance raised an eyebrow. Roland let out a breath which Lance could see in the air. "The truth is… I loved him." Lance clenched his jaw. "I fell in love with him, and it was the first time I'd felt anything that strong. But it wasn't enough. I didn't love him right or enough or…. I fucked up too much. I fucked him over a lot. It's hard to get rid of that feeling no matter how hard I try to forget it. And maybe it's not as strong anymore, but it's there." Lance swallowed and crossed his arms. "It's because of what I felt for him though… that I'm happy he's with you now. I'd rather have to see him happier than he ever was with me with someone good and kind like you, even if I have to be reminded of it all the time."
"Well. Thanks for being honest…." Roland shrugged and sniffed. "You make me uneasy. It sucks sometimes to be reminded of what he had with you. He told me what it was like. How much he liked you. I'm scared he'll feel it again."
Roland shook his head. "He won't. Trust me."
"You don't know that. Neither do I. Neither does Keith. Okay, I thought I'd never wanna be with anyone again much less a guy and here I am. Hearts are fucking weird." Roland laughed at that for a split second before covering his mouth. Then their eyes met and they were both laughing. Awkwardly, but honestly. "But I know you're a good guy too. Hunk tells me about some of the stuff you guys do. How you help each other study. How you bring him and Pidge food sometimes." Something about the way Roland turned away made Lance curious. "Look, I think it'd be nice to be cool with you too. I just figured you didn't like me."
"I used to wish I could hate you. But you're too fucking nice."
Lance laughed and shrugged. "Just… promise you won't try to take him away from me. He means a lot to me."
Roland looked back at him and nodded. "I wouldn't do that. He deserves better than what I gave him. Than what I was able to offer." Lance sighed. Roland held out his hand. "So… cool?"
Lance waited for an instinct to tell him to turn away. For some voice in the back of his head telling him not to trust Roland. But there was nothing.
He put his hand in Roland's and shook it. "Yeah. Cool." Roland smiled and nodded. "Another question, though."
Roland rolled his eyes. "What?"
"My sister think you have a thing with Hunk."
Roland raised an eyebrow. But even with just streetlights, Lance could see the way Roland's pale cheeks turned red. "That's not a question."
"Well. Do you? Or… do you like him? The way you reacted a bit ago…."
Roland chuckled and poked the toe of his shoe through the bars on the railing. "That transparent, huh?"
Lance felt a weight settle on his chest. "Oh. Dude…. Hunk-"
"Is straight. Has a thing for Pidge. Yeah. I know." He shrugged. "I think I might just be really sad and like… crush on the first guy who's genuinely nice to me, y'know?" Lance bit his lip, searching for something to say. "Relax. I won't do anything. Or say anything. But you can't either. Not even to Keith or your sister."
"That's fair. I won't say anything." Roland nodded. "Um. Can we go back inside? I'm kind of freezing my ass off."
Roland chuckled. "Go ahead. I'm gonna stay out here. I like looking at the clouds at night."
"I'll ask Hunk for a blanket I can br-"
"It's fine. Thanks."
Lance cleared his throat and nodded. "Okay. I'll see you in a bit then." Lance went back inside and saw the others dancing with drinks in their hands, laughing and stumbling over each other.
Except Keith. Keith was by the door to the balcony, his eyes on Lance. "Everything okay?"
"Yeah. Did you hear anything?"
"No. Should I have?"
Lance smiled and took his hands. "Mm. I know we have a no secrets rule, but… I don't think it's for me to tell. Out of respect for Roland."
Keith nodded. "That's fair. But nothing… bad? Nothing I should worry about?" Lance shook his head. "Okay. You seem a little more sober now."
"Yeah, serious heart to hearts and December nights are good at sobering you up."
Keith laughed and nodded. "Well. Come here." He tugged on Lance's hand and led him to the kitchen entrance.
"What is it?" Keith smiled and looked up. Lance followed his gaze and felt a smile spread on his lips.
He looked back at Keith and found violet eyes on him. "I believe I was promised a-"
Lance didn't let him finish. He put a hand at the back of this neck and pulled him into a kiss, smiling all the while. Keith's hands rested on his hips and slowly slid around him in an embrace.
When they pulled apart, all Lance could focus on was Keith and that wonderful smile on his face. To know he caused that, to know he made Keith smile this way was surreal.
"I feel like I'm seeing for the first time when I look at you. Like I'm breathing for the first time when you look at me."
Keith let out a soft breath and touched Lance's cheek lightly. "You have a way with words, pretty boy."
Lance bit his lip. But Keith didn't push. He just kissed him softly and wrapped his arm around him.
When Roland came back in, they were in the middle of a giant game of UNO that he was immediately incorporated to. For a few more hours, the group continued to drink leisurely, catching up or getting to know each other. Veronica was ten times more talkative since she was drunk, meanwhile Lance only got more sober. He knew he had to give Keith his gift, and he wanted to be completely coherent for it.
It wasn’t long before Pidge had knocked out on the couch and the group had calmed down enough to just sit and listen to some music Alexa put on.
“We should get going,” Keith whispered, yawning as he leaned against Lance.
“Yep. Lemme get my sister.”
Veronica was splayed out on the floor, nodding along to the music and mumbling the words under her breath. Lance nudged her, but she only sang louder. He pulled her up as she kept singing and tried to smooth her hair out.
“I’m gonna have such a bad hangover in the morning,” Veronica said, rubbing her face.
“No worries, manita, I got you. But we need to go.” He stayed beside her in case she lost her balance and started saying goodbye to his friends. “I’ll see you guys next year!”
“You’re lame for using that joke!” Alexa called after him.
Keith laughed behind him as he followed Lance out. Lance still had Keith drive just in case.
It was almost three in the morning by the time they got back to the apartment. Veronica immediately crawled onto the couch and fell asleep. Lance brought a blanket out for her and put a trashcan next to her as well as a bottle of water on the coffee table. He tugged her shoes off and took off her glasses for her and set them off to the side.
When he pulled away, he saw Keith looking at him fondly. “What?”
“Nothing.”
Lance chuckled. “What, is there something attractive about me tucking in my drunk sister?”
Keith laughed and took his hand. “Come on, I have a gift to give you.”
Lance let him lead the way to the bedroom and tried not to feel nervous about his own gift. Lance shut the door softly, leaving the hallway light on in case Veronica needed the bathroom at night. He grabbed the bag on his desk as Keith dug through his duffel bag.
He pulled out a neatly wrapped gift with a bow on top. He walked over to Lance and kissed him softly. “Can I go first?” Lance nodded. “I have no idea how you’ll take this. But I really wanted to give you something… important.” Lance took a breath and nodded. Keith handed the gift to him, taking the bag from Lance. “Go ahead. I’ll explain when you open it.”
Lance was careful about opening it. He liked keeping the paper intact for some reason, and it was wrapped so neatly, he couldn’t bring himself to tear it apart.
A nice blue cover stared back at him.
Extravagaria
by Pablo Neruda.
“I’m not… really familiar with poetry, so I had to look up stuff on like… books sites and blogs and…. You said he was one of your favorites. And the first poem you read to me was by him. I didn’t see it on your bookshelf, so…. I thought you might like it.” Lance smiled and started to speak before Keith shook his head. “Before you say anything…. Look at what’s under it.”
Lance moved the book and realized there was something else underneath.
A leatherbound journal with the image of a seashore, half receding foamy waves, half walked-on wet sand. “A journal….”
Keith licked his lips and nodded. “I told you… you should write again. And I know you don’t want to right now, but if you ever do… I thought you might like a fresh journal. Where you could start wherever you wanted to. No old poems, no old writings at all, just… brand new for a new start. Whenever you’re ready.” Keith shrugged. “Maybe it’ll still be about her. Maybe not. But… me giving this to you is me trying to remind you that I’ll be okay with either. Whatever you want to create. I support you.”
“Keith….” Lance stared at the journal and sat down on his bed. He traced a shaking finger over the cover. “It’s beautiful.”
“That poem you read to me- you said it was about how much Neruda loved the sea and how it helped him write. You said you related to it. So I figured having it on the cover could remind you of that feeling.” Keith sat beside him. “Don’t feel pressured though. I know… it’s hard. I know poetry isn’t something you want to do yet. Still, a lot of people seem to miss your writing, and I think maybe you miss that part of you too. This journal will be waiting for the day you wanna use it.”
“Oh, Keith….” The knot in his throat made it hard to try talking even if Lance knew what to say. Instead, he put the book and journal beside him and turned to hug Keith tightly.
“You’re not angry?”
“No! No, of course not.” Lance hugged him tighter, his chin fitting perfectly against his shoulder. “A little sad. Because you’re right.” He pulled back. “I do miss writing. I remember whenever something I say sounds… like a poem. I’ve noticed it’s happened a lot when I’m with you. Or talking about you.” Keith blushed. “I’m terrified of it too. But thank you for these gifts. I haven’t read poetry in a while, and it’s… nice to know I have a journal to start fresh in.”
He swelled with affection when he thought about how much Keith put into these gifts. Researching the book, making the cover of a journal symbolic…. Lance had suffocated those parts of himself, and seeing Keith embrace them felt… like a symbol of hope.
“Okay, my turn, I don’t… I don’t wanna cry so hold on.” Keith laughed as Lance tilted his face up to blink the tears away. “Okay. I also don’t know what you’ll think of my gift to you. But….” He shrugged and gestured at the bag Keith already had in his lap.
Keith smiled and pushed the crinkly, decorative paper aside to stick his hand in and pull out whatever was inside. Lance watched nervously, gripping his own gifts in his hands to tether himself.
He watched as Keith looked at the cover, familiarity smoothing his eyes over. "Stitch," he said with a chuckle. His hands traced the drawing of the little alien in the corner. "You drew this?"
"Marco actually. He helped me. And Luis helped with the script." Keith's hand ghosted over the word
ohana.
"Open it."
Keith turned the cover and the first thing he saw was the photo of him with the woman from the adoption agency. "Where did you get this?" he whispered.
"I had help. Keep looking…."
Keith turned the pages, eyes scanning and hovering. The photo with his foster parents. The awkward family photos of their first dinner, first outing, all in which Keith wouldn't smile, just look at the camera nervously. Candids of him with Shiro or doing something around a house. Quotes from Lilo and Stitch decorated any free space on a page.
There were still gaps, which was what made Lance nervous. He wanted this to be a good thing, not something to remind Keith of what was missing.
But Keith didn't say anything as he flipped through the pages, the memories. His graduation. Him in his dorm on his first day of college. More candids.
Then the more recent ones with his foster parents and Karina. Lance watched Keith's face and saw a smile tug at his lips. Recent ones during dance rehearsal. Or with Kosmo.
And finally the pictures with Lance. The booth, the ferris wheel, sleeping beside each other, lance making stupid faces while Keith was absorbed in a show. Keith laughed softly as he flipped through those.
"You guys take a lot of photos when I'm not looking," he murmured.
Lance bit his lip as Keith looked at a photo of himself laughing with Hunk and Pidge. He had Keith turn to the very back of the album.
The iconic Lilo and Stitch quote was etched into the back by Luis' steady hand along with a little Stitch looking up at the words.
"Ohana means family…." Keith sniffed ad he read the words aloud.
"I know… there's stuff missing and you don't like pictures all the time, but…. I wanted to show you how many people care about you. I wanted you to have a place to keep the good memories, something to keep them more concrete than the bad ones." Lance kept his gaze down and took one of Keith's hands in his. "I know… you've felt alone or guarded for a lot of your life. Maybe it was true at one point. But it's not anymore. You matter to a lot of people. So many people care about you and…." Keith pulled Lance into a kiss. Lance didn't realize he was crying until he pulled back and opened his eyes. "Oh, Keith, I'm sorry, I didn't mean-"
"No, I'm not…." Keith scoffed and wiped at his eyes. "I'm not upset. I just…." He took a shaky breath and held the album to his chest. "It's crazy to think… about how much my life has changed." His expression crumpled as his eyes filled with more tears. "There was a time I thought no one would want me around for long. And this… is proof that it's not true. That I have people…. Thank you. Thank you so much, Lance." He leaned in to kiss him again and Lance cupped his face gently, brushing his tears away with a light stroke of his thumb.
When he pulled away, Keith was still sniffing. While he hadn't cried much, his eyes were still red and glossy. An occasional rebel tear would manage to fall, only to be wiped away.
"You can fill it with more memories. With the things you have on your corkboard."
Keith chuckled. "You saw those?"
"Just our photos. The note you wrote behind it."
Keith hummed and nodded. "I got really lucky with you," he whispered, looking Lance in the eye. "I really thought… I was ready to be on my own for the rest of my life. And then I met you, and I still thought I was gonna end up alone. But you're stubborn."
Lance laughed and kissed his hands. "Good thing I was…. I thought I'd be on my own too. After Allura, I was so certain I'd never want anyone again. And then God put you in my path." Keith raised his eyebrows and Lance blushed. "Sorry. That was kind of weird to say, I-"
"No, hey. No. It's just… you seemed a lot angrier with God before." Keith held his hand tightly, and gave him a smile. "You really think it was God that made us meet?"
Lance bit his lip and thought back to heartbroken nights, filled with pain from losing the person he loved. He thought back to the times he missed her warmth, her touch. Of the girls he slept with to make that empty abyss in his heart a little smaller at least for a little while.
He thought of his anger towards God and the frustration and confusion about being with Keith and being Catholic in his roots.
Then he nodded. "Keith…. I was… adamant about never falling for someone again. I'd made my peace with the idea of being alone for the rest of my life. Nothing more than a one night stand, a friend with benefits. I can't help but think that meeting you when I'd finally decided to be okay with that was God's way of being smug and…." He scoffed. "I don't know. And yeah I was angry, but… you've made me happy. You brought me back to myself and helped me see that I could let someone in again, that my heart could beat for someone again. I don't feel lonely anymore. Or sad. And maybe that was what God wanted for me all along. Even when I was angry."
Keith nodded and Lance wondered if talking about God would make him uncomfortable. He took a breath and pulled Lance's hand to his lips. "I didn't grow up religious. Too many different beliefs with different families. But I think your faith is beautiful. Even when you were angry and frustrated…. I don't know how to explain it, but I thought it was kind of incredible. That you could be angry with God. I just want to be sure… if God is important to you, will that lead to doubts with… with us?" Lance furrowed his eyebrows. "I don't know much about religion, but I know it doesn't tend to be fond of a relationship like… ours."
Lance tried not to be distracted by the fact that Keith had called what they had a relationship. He took a breath and looked at their hands. How nicely they fit together. How steady he felt when he looked Keith in the eyes. The unadulterated affection that swelled in him when he had the chance to hold and kiss him. Pure emotions.
He shook his head resolutely. "No doubts. My faith is still… a little rocky. But I want to believe I'll get it back. I do know, though, that there's no way what we have is bad in any sense. Not when it makes me feel this happy. I'm not ashamed of you. And I never will be. Like I said… God put us together for a reason. He made me capable of… feeling everything I feel for you for a reason. To be with you."
Keith smiled and kissed his cheek with gentle lips. "Okay, sweetheart. But if anything… changes your mind or-"
"I know. I'll tell you. But it won't happen.” Keith let out a little huff but nodded. “Do you need something to sleep in?”
Keith shook his head. “I’ve got it. Ready for bed?” Lance nodded with a yawn. Keith chuckled and kissed his lips.
He got up to grab his duffel bag, and Lance got up to place his new journal on his desk. He set it carefully along the corner, to remember to use it one day instead of letting it collect dust on the shelf. Then he put his new book on his nightstand before stripping down to his boxers and tossing on a light t-shirt to sleep in. He got into bed and opened the Pablo Neruda book, reading the first poem slowly.
While he’d read a couple poems in class and had even read some of his own to Keith, reading ones from an actual book felt different. It felt like a muscle he had to stretch, taking pauses after each line break, reading the enjambments differently than the commas, catching the double meaning within full sentences versus single lines or separated stanzas. His brain was working to let it in again, to immerse him in the words and multi-task to discover meanings, to catch the symbolism, to find the right rhythm.
The bed dipped slightly and Keith laid down beside him, wordlessly tracing a finger along his arm. Lance started to close the book and shift to lay down, but Keith said, “You don’t have to stop reading. I don’t mind the light.”
“It’s okay. I’m tired too. I was just curious.” Keith hummed, but Lance just kissed him and placed the book on his bedside again. He turned off the light and snuggled next to Keith, finding his spot against his shoulder immediately. Soft lips grazed his forehead, and with the warmth of Keith’s arms around him, it was easy to find sleep.
|
You were on your way to have lunch, just outside the repair facility where you worked, when you heard them. Tie fighters. Before you had time to react, to run or to hide, the explosion hit you and you were thrown across the street and against a wall.
Chaos surrounded you. There were cries, dust, and smoke everywhere. You tried to lift yourself from the ground and that's when your head started spinning and you lost consciousness.
Your ears were still ringing from the explosion when you opened your eyes. You instantly regretted it, as bright light hit you and hurt your pupils while you tried to focus your surroundings.
You were in a cell of what looked like a ship and your hands were cuffed.
You sat up slowly, fighting the nausea, when you were surprised to see an imperial soldier moving on the outside of your cell.
Wait a second, surprised?
How on earth could it have surprised you? You should have been able to feel his presence before seeing him… That was awfully strange… but well, you had hit your head pretty hard and you weren't really focused…
Thus, you decided to try to feel him, focussing strongly on your surroundings, on the soldier you now knew was on the other side of the cell, and… nothing.
What was going on?
It was weird how much you were panicking now. Up until this point you had managed to stay calm even though you had almost been killed, some of your ribs were clearly fractured, your head hurt, your ears were ringing, and you had been captured by the empire. But now, you had noticed you lacked a sense, your sixth sense, probably your most important sense, since it helped you see when you were blind, hear when you were deaf, feel everything around you... and you felt alone, helpless.
To top it all off, you were feeling weak, extremely weak.
You tried to move again and you noticed something hard pressing on your neck, you lifted your hands and felt your way around what seemed to be some kind of collar. You couldn't see it, so you didn't know what it was, but you could hear it buzzing. Could that be what was causing the loss of your abilities?
Damn. This was all your fault and you knew it.
When the news of the Empire's fall had reached you, you allowed yourself to believe them. To believe that you could, at last, be free and live a normal life, settle in some remote planet, and not worry about the Empire and the Inquisitors ever again.
Not having to run away sounded so good you allowed yourself to hope… and where had that hope taken you? Into an Empire's cell.
You didn't know how long you'd been there when yet another explosion happened. The trooper, alarmed by it, left the cell bay in hopes of supporting his comrades. You had no idea what was going on, but you could hear the sound of blasters and the soldiers shouting to each other.
Until everything was silent.
"Let's see what we have here" said a male voice when the doors to the cell bay opened. Slave traders. Great. You had already dealt with the likes of them before — been sold by them to be more specific — so you knew there was nothing to be done.
You had to admit a part of you had hoped the New Republic had intercepted the ship, but clearly it wasn't your lucky day (or year, or lifetime).
"Oh, looks like we've hit the jackpot!" He said looking at you "we'll be able to sell you for quite a good amount". You looked at him in the eye, a defiant expression on your face. "Don't look at me like that sweetheart, business is business" he said as he turned around and left.
When the ship landed, they took you to a cell inside of what looked like a hangar. After what felt like a lifetime, one of the slave traders came into the room. He looked more distinguished than the ones that had taken over the ship. His clothes were sophisticated, and his demeanour let you know he was higher class. Probably the head of the organisation.
“You’ve been bought by a very esteemed client of mine” he said "I expect you to behave properly and fulfil all his wishes. His personal guards will get you and escort you to your new home." As he said this four Nikto came in to get you.
You did not fight them, not only because you had no energy left in your body, but because there was no escaping from there. Maybe later, with less people around… but not now.
They took you to another ship and chained you in there. You were exhausted, you had not eaten anything since the tie fighters' attack, and you could barely stand. You sank to the floor and started dozing off.
When you landed, the Nikto awoke you and started pulling from your chains to get you out of the ship. You looked around and saw nothing but sand. You were in what looked like a desert planet which reminded you of Breeka, where you had been sold as a slave many years ago.
What was with desert planets and their love of slave trading?
You were taken inside a building which admittedly looked better on the inside than the outside. The Nikto guards led you through a hall until you reached a door where two other Nikto stood. They opened it and you walked inside a very big room. On ahead of the door was a table and a man sitting in front of it. He looked like the boss, a warlord you assumed, taking everything into account.
A part of you was glad that he was human and not another Nikto or something worse, like a Hutt. You were going to find out soon enough that evil could take any form and be of any species.
_____________
You stopped counting the days after a week, when you realised there was no point in it.
Alexshel (for that was the name of the man who bought you) had given you clean clothes, let you take a bath, and fed you.
At first you thought that, although he obviously wasn’t a good person, he might not be the worst. You had even hoped he took that thing off from your neck — if you could use your abilities again you would be out of this place in minutes. However, you were soon shown how wrong your assumptions were.
He was far from being a decent human being, in fact, he was heinous and had a wicked mind. He not only didn't take the collar off, but he liked you wearing it. It turned him on. He liked the feeling of control it gave him and how submissive it made you look, and he mostly liked how easy it made it for him to choke you with it.
For he liked inflicting you pain more than anything — sometimes he got off just from hurting you — and he mostly loved choking you. More than once you had thought he was going to kill you as you passed out from the lack of oxygen.
After the first week, you could barely move around from the beating, and talking was almost impossible as your throat hurt continuously. Eating or drinking was painful — not that he fed you properly either, he gave you just enough food for you to stand the next beating, but not so much so you could fight him — and your voice was extremely hoarse.
As time went by, you noticed that you could not talk at all. No sound came out of your throat even if you tried and, when you forced it, you only managed to hurt yourself even more.
Days passed and the abuse you received didn't decrease one bit. The only thing that helped you hang on was the thought that it could be worse, for instance, he had not shared you with the Nikto. Yet.
One afternoon, just before he was going to have his way with you — although he had already given you quite a beating — he was interrupted by the sound of shouts and blasters.
"What the pfassk is going on? Put this on, I'm not finished with you" he said, throwing his jacket to you.
He opened the door to ask the guards what was happening. It seemed someone was attacking the encampment. He came back into the room, grabbed you by the hair and threw you to the floor, handcuffed you, and chained you to the wall.
"If you want a job well done…" he said while leaving the room.
You were trying to pull yourself out of your chains when you heard the cannon blaster shooting. You pitied the poor bastard that had attacked for he was, with no doubt, already dead. Lately there had been numerous attacks to the encampment, none had managed much, and all the attackers had been killed. Alexshel seemed to be surprised by this fact but you suspected he had more enemies than he hinted. Why else would he be on this planet in the middle of nowhere, rarely leaving the building?
You started to feel uneasy when the cannon kept shooting. By this time, they had usually killed the attacker and Alexshel was back… not that you wanted him back, in fact, you couldn't really be bothered if he never came back. What worried you was that whoever replaced him could be even worse.
Suddenly, the blaster sounds came to a halt and there was only silence. You fought your chains harder but only managed to hurt yourself even more — stupid device, if only you could take it off —. Then you heard a loud "thump" and steps coming your way. Again, you couldn't stop yourself to hope for the New Republic, as unlikely as you knew it was.
The steps were getting closer to the door and you also heard a beeping sound going faster and faster - an explosive charge?
The door opened and you were surprised to see an IG Unit and a Mandalorian. Of course, you had heard the legends about the Mandalorians but it was hard to process that just one of them, alongside a droid, had managed to wipe out the whole encampment.
They approached and looked down on you. At that moment you were stupidly glad you were wearing Alexshel's jacket. It was three times your size and it fell all the way down to your knees, but at least you weren't completely naked while chained to a wall.
Then, the IG unit raised its blaster and pointed it at your face.
You couldn't believe this was it. After your whole life running, hiding, being alone, and suffering, it couldn't end like this. You were going to die alone, half-naked, and chained to a wall, with no-one to miss you or mourn you… You didn't deserve this ending.
The Mandalorian said something to the droid but you weren't listening. This was the end, and it wasn't a fair one.
You closed your eyes.
You heard a gunshot and a “clunk” and when you opened your eyes you were surprised to find the IG Unit on the ground, smoke coming out of its head, where the Mandalorian had shot it.
He put the blaster away and knelt beside you.
"Are you ok?" He asked as he uncuffed you "Can you walk?"
You nodded.
"Good, follow me" he said as he led the way out. His voice was deep and slightly distorted by the modulator of the helmet.
For a moment you thought about running away, but you were aching, weak, and still wore the weird device around your neck, underneath the jacket. Furthermore, you needed a way out of the planet and you were in no condition to fight a man — for you thought it was a man, though there was no way to know — who had taken down a whole encampment of Nikto.
You followed him.
The two of you had been walking for a while when you heard a slight noise. You were being followed. You wanted to let the Mandalorian know but, before you had a chance, he stopped and signalled you to stay still. That's when they attacked. Three lizard-looking guys jumped out of nowhere and started fighting the Mandalorian. He was fending against two of them when a third got closer to you. The Mandalorian jumped to him and hit him, at the same time pushed you away from the fight making you fall to the ground.
He had already killed two of them when the third one decided to go at you on a full sprint, weapon raised. As he got closer, he suddenly disappeared into thin air. The Mandalorian had vaporised him.
He looked to the ground where a small device with a red light was beeping - the same beeping noise you had heard when the Mandalorian and the droid had gotten close to the door - he took it and destroyed it.
He knelt beside you and took a look at your knees, as if he was assessing the damage of your fall. There were some scratches but, since you were almost completely covered in bruises and cuts, the new ones were barely visible. "We need to move" he said to you as he stood up, turned around, and kept walking. He wasn't exactly gallant nor polite, bossing you around like that, but at the same time he seemed to care for your well-being… not to forget he had rescued you and saved your life.
Generally, you were a good judge of character and could easily determine if someone was worth your trust or not. Then again, that was usually thanks to your special abilities, they helped you see through people and sometimes even know if they were lying or keeping something from you. Right now, though, you had no idea about his intentions and you didn't know what to make of him.
As night fell, you stopped walking, he made a small fire, and gave you some food. You were glad he'd decided to stop for the night since you weren't sure you could have kept walking for much longer.
He said nothing to you at all. He didn't eat nor drink anything, in fact, he didn't even take his helmet off. You had heard stories about Mandalorians always wearing their helmets, but you had always thought it was an exaggeration. You were starting to realise it was just the truth.
After a while, he took a cauterizer out from his belt and started to tend to a wound on his shoulder. Aware that he couldn't reach properly and he most likely couldn't see well with that helmet on, you decided to get closer to him, a bit uneasy, and tried to gesture him that you could help him.
He looked at you for a long moment while he seemed to try to determine if you were skilful enough for such a job. You looked defiantly back at him.
He sighed, "Do you know how to use this?" he asked with a slight tone of scepticism in his voice. You tilted your head in disbelief, sighed, and rolled your eyes before nodding. You got the cauterizer from his hand and got to work. A few minutes later you were done and, although it might have been wrong for you to say it, you had done an exceptional job.
"Thank you" he said and you nodded in understanding. "Rest" he added.
You curled up close to the fire and tried to sleep. It wasn't hard, you were exhausted after all that had happened.
You woke up suddenly from a nightmare, slightly disoriented as where you were until you saw the Mandalorian. He was sitting still and he looked asleep. The fire was still burning so you had probably slept no more than a few hours.
After all these years, nightmares were a recurring occurrence. They were an amalgamation of all the things you had been through, and you hated them. The memories haunted you even when you were asleep.
Trying not to think about it, you turned around and tried to fall asleep again. You suspected you would have a rough day tomorrow.
You woke up when the first light of the day hit your face, nightmare-less this time. The Mandalorian was already up and preparing to go. He gave you some water (which you gladly accepted) and the two of you were on the move again.
Yet again, you spent most of the day walking. In the afternoon, at last, you reached what looked like his ship. You hadn't started thinking about sitting down and resting when you realised a bunch of jawas were dismantling it.
"Get down" said the Mandalorian as he laid flat on the ground. Doing as you were told, you watched him take out his rifle and start shooting at the jawas. He managed to disintegrate a few of them before they got inside their sandcrawler and started leaving.
"Stay here, I'll be back" he shouted at you as he started following the sandcrawler. You saw him attempting to board it, managing to reach the top, and then fall to the ground.
This was your chance to escape, he was down and quite far, even if he came back to his senses you had the upper hand. Yet, you stayed rooted on the spot without being able to make a decision. On the one hand, you didn’t know if you could trust this stranger, he could be as bad or even worse than your previous captor. On the other, he had been good with you and his ship was your only way out — at least for now.
Besides, if you thought about it, where would you go even if you escaped? You were on a desert planet where you had not crossed paths with anyone in two days nor seen anything that looked like a settlement or a town…
Hesitantly, you decided to approach him. He laid completely still and you couldn’t help yourself to think that it would be just your luck that he was dead, leaving you on that planet with a useless carcass of a ship…
When you reached him, you shook him a bit but there was no reaction. You shook him again, a bit more vigorously, and he took a deep breath, looked your way, and then sat up.
"I told you to stay" he said. He was a bit obnoxious - you thought as you gave him a look of incredulity and tilted your head.
"Come on" he said as he stood up and walked towards the ship — or what was left of it. You followed suit.
When you got to the ship, he started looking all over. It seemed to you the jawas had done a great job dismantling it and taking everything valuable. He went inside the cockpit and tried to start the engine to no avail.
Meanwhile, you sat down on the floor to take a look at your feet. You had been barefoot since you left the encampment and your feet were hurting, not only from walking so much, but from the heat of the sand that had burned and blistered them.
He came down from the cockpit and started rummaging around. You ignored him while you assessed the damage of the soles of your feet.
"Here" he said suddenly, handing you over some clothes and a pair of socks. "They are probably too big, but they're better than nothing"
When you took it, you noticed he was giving you some trousers. This meant he was aware of your nakedness and, as you realised this, you felt blood rushing to your face making you blush fiercely. You nodded while looking down, hoping he hadn't seen your embarrassment. You put on the trousers, folding the waistband a couple of times over itself since they were a few sizes too big, and tucked them into the socks so you wouldn't trip over them.
After a few moments looking around the ship, the Mandalorian sighed and started moving. "Come on" he said to you. Again, you followed him, though you couldn't help yourself to think you just wanted to rest.
Night was falling when you finally reached a moisture farm.
"I thought you were dead" said a voice. Then you saw an Ugnaught coming towards you.
The Mandalorian and the Ugnaught, who you knew now was called Kuiil, started talking. You had noticed there were plenty of tools all around and while they were distracted, you took a fusioncutter and hid it in your pocket.
Then, you approached them slowly, while looking around and trying not to look suspicious.
"My ship has been destroyed. I'm trapped here." you heard the Mandalorian say.
"Stripped. Not destroyed. The Jawas steal. They don't destroy."
"Stolen or destroyed — makes no difference to me." the Mandalorian answered back. "They're protected by their crawling fortress. There is no way to recover the parts."
"You can trade."
"With Jawas? Are you out of your mind?"
"I will take you to them. I have spoken." said Kuiil as if he had not heard the Mandalorian's retort. Then, he turned towards you and said, "You must be hungry, let's eat".
After dinner, — which you devoured — you were told by the Ugnaught to get some rest since you were going to meet with the jawas early in the morning. You were all inside a room so you curled up in a corner, pretending to be asleep, and waited.
A while later, when both of them seemed sound asleep, you took out the fusioncutter, turned it on and faced it towards the device on your neck, moving it slowly. You knew you had to be very careful, one wrong move and you'd cut your throat.
Suddenly, the Mandalorian sat straight up and grabbed your hand, pulling it away from your neck. "Stop! What do you think you're doing?"
You struggled against his grip as you tried to make him let go of you.
Kuiil had been woken up by the fuss and was wondering what was happening when he noticed the collar on your neck. He came between the two of you, taking the fusioncutter from your hand and making the Mandalorian release you.
"I think she wants this removed" he said as he came closer to you to take a look at the device. You nodded frantically.
"You could have just asked," the Mandalorian said, "I thought…" he cleared his throat and gave a long sigh "Can you take it off?" he asked the Ugnaught.
"Yes, it shouldn't be hard, but I've never seen anything of the like. It seems there's some kind of current running through it… but I do not understand what's it for"
He took his time with it. You were sure he was trying to understand what it did or how it worked, but after a while he managed to open it and take it off.
As soon as it was off, a wave of warmness washed over you. You took a deep breath as you closed your eyes and let yourself be immersed by it. Finally, you felt like yourself again. You even felt stronger than you had mere minutes ago.
At last, you could feel all these "weird" things you knew only you felt. It was like getting a sense back — in fact, it was literally that.
As you opened your eyes, you noticed that the Mandalorian was looking at you slightly concerned. Concerned? Yes, that was "concern" and you could feel it coming from him even though you couldn't see his face at all. You had a hard time holding a smile at the realisation of this.
Then, you started wondering what was making him feel this way. You were feeling better than you had since you two had met and, even though you were trying to hide your joy, you were quite sure it showed on your face.
"Is this the reason you can't talk?" he asked.
That's when you understood. Even though he had seen your bruised legs and face, this was the first time he was taking a proper look at the extent of your injuries. You knew — even though you couldn't see it — that your neck was in a dreadful state, covered in bruises, cuts, scabs…
You shook your head. "Man" you tried to mouth as you pointed at him so he understood. Then you mimicked the act of choking.
"The man choked you?" asked the Mandalorian. You nodded. As all the things that Alexshel had done to you came back to your mind, you started to feel a burn in your eyes and you felt the tears coming. You clenched your jaw and looked away, as you couldn't hold the Mandalorian's gaze any longer.
You were quite surprised by the range of emotions that were coming to you from him. You could feel a mix of concern, disgust, anger, and something that felt like relief.
"A man?" asked Kuiil "I thought there were only Nikto in there"
"There was a man too" said the mandalorian.
"It's late, we should sleep now. I have spoken."
Glad the conversation was over, as you didn't feel like thinking about it anymore, you curled up and finally got some well-earned sleep.
"You killed the man I assume" asked Kuiil as soon as he thought you were asleep. The Mandalorian nodded. "Good. Someone who does that to a harmless being deserves whatever punishment might come his way. You did the right thing."
"That doesn't matter. I killed everyone there, whether they deserved it or not, that's part of my job" the Mandalorian said. "But he did deserve it."
Kuiil woke you in the morning, though it was so early it was still dark outside — or perhaps it was dark because it was raining nonstop. After eating something quick, you were on your way to meet with the jawas. Luckily for you, you didn't go on foot, wet socks for shoes didn't sound very nice.
When you reached upon the jawas' sandcrawler, Kuiil waved to them while saying something in jawa. "They really don't like you for some reason." he said looking at the Mandalorian.
"Well, I did disintegrate a few of them." You could feel pride in his voice, and you wondered about what part of pursuing a moving fortress on foot, getting electrocuted by a bunch of jawas, and falling from the top of it while unconscious, was he proud of.
Kuiil stopped beside the sandcrawler and turned back "You need to drop your rifle."
"I'm a Mandalorian. Weapons are part of my religion."
"Then you're not getting your parts back."
The Mandalorian looked at Kuiil for a moment and, after a long sigh, he said "Fine". Then he got off the sled and left his weapon there.
Kuiil dismounted the blurrg and added "and the blaster."
The Mandalorian turned around and left the blaster too. "Stay here" he added, looking your way.
They sat for the negotiations and a couple of jawas came near you.
"You understand this?!" suddenly exclaimed the Mandalorian as he blasted a stream of fire from his flamethrower. At this point, you thought it was safe to assume that the negotiations weren't going well.
Kuiil held him back and spoke to the jawas. Meanwhile, the ones that had approached you were getting closer and you didn't really like it, so you moved your hand slowly towards the Mandalorian's rifle beside you.
"Get away from her!" As the Mandalorian shouted this, you hit one of the jawas on the head with the butt of the rifle then, you held it in the right position, pointing it at them. The jawas shouted and scattered, and you put the rifle down, though you didn't let go of it.
Kuiil kept talking to the jawas and suddenly they all started chanting something as he groaned and facepalmed himself.
It seemed they were saying something about an egg. You assumed that's what they wanted in exchange for the parts, since you all got into the sandcrawler to go somewhere.
When you got out, the Mandalorian turned to you. "You're coming with me, I don't trust these jawas."
After walking for a while, you reached a patch of land completely covered in mud. In the background you could see the entrance to a lair.
"Stay here ok?" He said before heading to the lair's entrance.
Nothing happened for a few minutes then, you heard a few shots and, all of a sudden, the Mandalorian came flying out of the lair and fell hard on the ground, clearly thrown out by something. That's when you saw the something that had thrown him out. A big animal, covered in hair and mud, with an enormous horn on its forehead.
The Mandalorian got up and took out his rifle but, when he shot, nothing happened. While he was trying to fix this, the animal charged towards him and threw him flying again, making him lose grip on the weapon. That's when the beast saw you and decided to charge your way. You barely managed to jump out of the way at the last moment, while it hit the rocks behind where you had been standing, with amazing force.
Then it focused its attention back on the Mandalorian. It charged at him and kept pounding him against the ground and, as much as the mud could be cushioning the impact, you couldn't help wondering how was he managing to keep fighting after taking such a beating. He tried using his flamethrower against it to no avail, and then tried to hold it with his whipcord, but he only managed to be dragged around through the mud by the beast. When he let go, the animal charged at him once again and threw him flying through the air.
For what felt like a long moment, he laid still, and you were afraid he might be dead. You focused on him; you could feel his pain as he was aching all over but you also felt he was resigned. Slowly, he tried to get up but, as he realised he couldn't even stand completely, he unsheathed a dagger from his boot.
The animal was charging again and you wanted to shout at the Mandalorian to get out of the way — though you knew you couldn't — when you saw him hold out the dagger in front of him and look down, as if accepting his fate.
Yet, his hands were shaking and you could feel his emotions.
They overwhelmed you and, before you could stop to think about it, you held your hands up and concentrated on the beast, managing to stop it just before it hit the Mandalorian. The animal was strong and it kept struggling against you, stubbornly fixed on hitting the man.
You had to make use of all your energy to hold it, lifting the beast in the air to make it harder to fight against you. But it was still very strong and you were not, at least not at the moment.
The Mandalorian stood up and looked at you bewildered; he was definitely having a hard time understanding what was happening.
You started to feel your strength failing, as you tried to hold you could feel the effort draining you. Finally, darkness took you and you fainted.
_______________
When you passed out, the animal fell to the ground and the Mandalorian took advantage of its confusion and killed it. Then, he headed towards you to make sure you were ok, feeling relieved that you were just unconscious.
He marched back to the jawas carrying both you and the egg. When he got back, the jawas were preparing to leave.
"I have it. I've got The Egg." He shouted, so they would wait.
"I'm surprised you waited." He added to the Ugnaught.
"I'm surprised you took so long. What happened to her? Is she hurt?" Said Kuiil worried.
"No, she just passed out." he said as he carefully lowered you on the sled. "But something strange happened"
The Mandalorian didn't want to explain what you had done in front of the jawas, so he waited until they had all the parts back, and they were on their way to the ship. Then, he proceeded to tell the Ugnaught what he had witnessed.
"Is she still sleeping?" Kuiil asked.
"Yes."
"Was she injured?"
"I don't think so." answered the Mandalorian "Not physically."
The Ugnaught looked back "Explain it to me again. I still don't understand what happened."
"Neither do I."
___________
For a moment you thought you were back at the repair facility you used to work at. You could hear the noise of repair work, the "clunks" and the "clanks", and you thought that, maybe, all that had happened had been nothing but a bad dream.
But you were hurting too much for it to have been a dream.
When you opened your eyes, you were surprised to see it was the middle of the night. Slowly, you sat up and looked around. You were laying in the sled, beside the Mandalorian's ship, which was almost completely repaired.
How long had you been out? You wondered.
"You're awake" Kuiil had approached you while you looked at the ship "we were starting to worry. Here." he said as he handed you some food and water.
You tried to gesture to him that you could help them with the repairs. "You've done enough, now rest. I have spoken."
When morning came, they were finished with the ship and ready to go.
You had reached the conclusion that you had been unconscious at least a few days, maybe a week, mostly because you knew it was impossible that they had put the whole ship together in less time.
You waved Kuiil goodbye as you got into the ship and climbed your way into the cockpit. The Mandalorian stayed back to talk to him and you took advantage to take a look around the cockpit, they had made a surprisingly good job with it.
A few minutes later the Mandalorian joined you in and you took off.
After taking off and setting the course, the Mandalorian showed you where the refresher was and gave you a change of clothes.
You were in big need of a shower; you couldn't even remember when you had had the last one. Once inside the refresher, you looked at yourself in the tiny mirror to assess your condition.
You looked bad, but you were sure you had looked worse. The bruises on your face were starting to fade and looked greenish on the edges. You had a cut on your forehead, over your right eyebrow, and another one on your lip. Your neck was a mixture of purple, green and yellow, and you had abrasions and cuts from the collar’s friction.
The rest of your body was in a similar state, covered in bruises that were starting to fade and half-healed scratches — another sign of how long you had been unconscious.
After thoroughly enjoying your shower, you got dressed in the clothes the Mandalorian had given you. Judging by the size, they were definitely his: the trousers were as big as the ones he had given you before and the t-shirt was also huge, although you were aware this might be just your perception since you were quite petite. Still, it fit you so oversized you could have used it as a short dress, the sleeves were way too long, and the collar fell all the way down to your shoulders leaving them, and the bruises and injuries, exposed.
The Mandalorian was standing outside when you walked out - your hair still dripping while you dried it with a towel. As you saw him you took a step back unconsciously. You had been through hell and, even though you could defend now, he was still a man — or at least so you thought - and you knew first hand what men were capable of.
"I've brought you some food, I'll be in the cockpit, you can rest in there" he said while pointing at a compartment door.
You nodded as he headed towards the cockpit with a bowl of food.
When you heard the cockpit doors closing, you took a look around. The compartment door he had pointed opened into what could be called the sleeping quarters. You climbed up and could only wonder how a man his size could sleep comfortably in there. You were sitting with your head touching the ceiling and, when you laid, there was not much space between your shoulders and the walls. In fact, it was quite claustrophobic and you didn't like it.
You got out and continued snooping around. In your inspection, you found a closet full of weapons, many boxes, and what looked like a carbonite freezing system — although you weren't completely sure about that last one since you had only seen one before in your life, and it was half destroyed.
As you finished eating the porridge-like meal, you headed to the cockpit. You weren't really tired and, even if you were, you had decided you weren't going to sleep in that closet. When you opened the doors, you saw the Mandalorian listening to a hologram message.
"...he's very antsy. Safe passage. You know where to find me." That was all you got to listen before the hologram ended.
The Mandalorian looked at you as you sat on the chair to his right. "You're not going to sleep?" You shook your head. "Then I am. The destination is set and we are on route, don't touch anything."
As he walked past you, you grabbed his arm to stop him. He turned around to look at you. "Where?" You mouthed, signaling the ship's panel.
"Nevarro" he answered, "that's where I live." You nodded and he left the cockpit.
You hadn't heard of that planet before but, in truth, you hadn't heard of too many planets outside of the Cadavine and the Sanbra sectors — except for the very important ones, of course. Being taken far away was a good thing, in fact, it was the best way for you to disappear. Prior to this moment, you had not been able to go too far away, but now, this Mandalorian was taking you to another system for free. You relaxed as you thought about the new start you could have on this planet.
Some hours later, the Mandalorian returned to the cockpit and, without saying a word, he sat down. A few more hours went by in silence when he looked at the control panel, and said "we're almost there, buckle up". You did as you were told and finally, about half an hour later, you were entering the atmosphere of a volcanic planet.
As soon as you landed, the Mandalorian exited the ship, telling you to follow him. He led the way through the streets of the city. You had felt something that resembled indecision coming from him before, but now he radiated determination. He had told you he lived on this planet and you wondered if maybe he didn't do so on his own and, perhaps, he had doubts about taking you there. Be that as it may, it seemed he had made up his mind and you assumed he was taking you to his home.
On your way there, you couldn't help but notice the vast variety of species you were crossing paths with — some of them were species you had never encountered before — and how most of them gave a long look at the Mandalorian.
Soon, you reached a building away from the main street. The Mandalorian knocked on the door and an entry sensor appeared speaking in a language you didn't understand. The mandalorian showed it a card and the door opened.
He entered a dim lighted corridor and you followed him. As you did so, the door behind you closed. When he reached another door at the end of the corridor, he stopped and stood to a side, looking at you. You could feel the presence of other people at the other side of the door but, since you had already assumed he didn't live alone, you didn't pay much attention to it.
"Do you know what a Bounty Hunter is?" He suddenly asked. You didn't know what this was all about, but you nodded. "Then, you understand that this isn't personal" as he said this, he pushed the button to open the door in front of you and you were welcomed with the sight of four storm troopers, weapons raised at you.
Instinct kicked in and you tried to walk back, but you bumped the Mandalorian's chest plate with your head. He had positioned himself behind you so you couldn't escape. You looked at him, a look of despair and incredulity in your face, you couldn't believe he was doing this to you, after you had trusted him!
However, now wasn't the time to think about that. You had to leave this place asap. You could use your powers to push the Mandalorian aside and run, but then the troopers would have a clear shot of you… you had to think of something else—
"Yes. Yes, yes, yes." A man you hadn't taken notice of spoke.
He had been sitting behind a table in the middle of the room, but you were so entailed in the troopers and the betrayal, that you hadn't paid attention to anything else.
"Please, come in" he said smiling.
You walked into the room, the Mandalorian at your heels.
"Your reputation was not unwarranted." He said to the Mandalorian.
"How many fobs did you give out?"
"This asset was of extreme importance to me. I had to ensure its delivery." He said looking at you. "But to the winner…" he added while placing a camtono on the table "go the spoils." He opened it revealing two stacks of ingots.
The Mandalorian approached the table to take a closer look. Taking advantage of their distraction you seized the opportunity.
Before none of the men present could react, you lifted the four storm troopers in the air, crashing them against the ceiling.
"You took off the collar from her?" The man shrieked at the Mandalorian.
Then, you put the troopers down, crashing them again against the floor.
"I didn't take anything off" he said calmly.
Finally, you threw the troopers backwards for good measure, crashing them against the walls behind them and knocking them out.
With a swift movement of your hand, you moved the blasters away from them and you drew one to you, catching it with your right hand and pointing it towards the Mandalorian. He raised his hands. He didn't seem to want to fight you, but you preferred to take precautions.
You walked to the table as the man rummaged around for a weapon to defend himself. He looked at you with fear in his eyes.
You lifted your left hand and he floated from the ground, choking.
"Please…" he said, looking at the Mandalorian "do… something… stop her…"
The Mandalorian didn't move and you pressed harder as he coughed. "Stun her…" he wheezed.
You were so focused on him that it took you a second too long to notice the troopers behind you. As you turned around, they took the shot, and you fell unconscious to the floor.
___________
Once he regained his breath, the man asked another to come. "Dr. Pershing, inspect the asset."
A young man with an afraid look approached you.
"She's a bit malnourished, but healthy nonetheless" he said "Although… her throat's been damaged. She'll recover with time but I doubt she can talk like thi-."
"I don't care if she can talk or not" the man interrupted him angrily. "You know what to do."
They put you on a floating gurney and took you away.
"What are your plans for her?" Asked the Mandalorian as he watched you disappear into the next room with the doctor.
"How uncharacteristic of one of your reputation. You have taken both, commission and payment." The man said as the storm troopers came back into the room. "Is it not the code of the guild that these events are now forgotten? That Beskar is enough to make a handsome replacement for your armor. Unfortunately, finding a Mandalorian in these trying times is more difficult than finding the steel."
The Mandalorian took a last look at the door you had disappeared through. Then, he took the camtono and left.
You opened your eyes slowly. Your head hurt and you didn't recognise your surroundings. Then, the events of the past days came back to you and you tried to sit up, realising that you were strapped to what looked like an operating table.
Both your arms and legs were cuffed to the table, and you soon realised that they had put a new collar around your neck so you couldn't use your abilities.
You looked around the room. There were digital panels all around you but you didn't understand the information they were displaying. At that moment, a round droid approached you. It was floating over you and it reached your outstretched arm to put an IV in it. You struggled a bit but it changed nothing.
"Please don't move, I don't want to hurt you"
Startled, you looked around trying to find whoever had talked. A young man got closer to you. He was wearing dark glasses and a grey uniform.
"If you move around you could hurt yourself and I would have to sedate you." he added.
How could he be talking to you so calmly in that situation? It was like he was having a nice conversation in a bar with a friend, but meanwhile he was prodding your other arm with another IV. You winced when the syringe pierced your skin.
"I am sorry. I really am, but it'll be better for you if you behave and do as you're told" he said with a sad expression on his face "it's the only way I have to keep you alive, otherwise…" He looked over his shoulder.
You understood what he was saying but just going along with it hadn't proven useful before. You needed to get out of there, so you kept struggling until you felt your strength leaving you.
"Dank farrik" you thought as you lost consciousness "he's sedated me".
__________
"No, no, no, no, please. Please. No. No, no."
You heard a male voice pleading, followed by a blaster shot, and some electric sizzling.
You couldn't for the life of you open your eyes. Your whole body felt heavy and you were having a hard time remembering where you were or what had happened. Everything you heard lacked meaning and you had no idea what was going on.
"No, please. Please, don't hurt her." You heard the voice again as you wondered who he was talking about. '"It's just a girl. Please. No. No!"
You heard a struggle as you finally managed to open your eyes. Everything was blurry.
"Please. No. No, no!" Pleaded the voice again.
"What did you do to her?" Said another voice, deep and slightly distorted. A voice that sounded very familiar to you, but you couldn't pinpoint where you had heard it before.
"I...."
"What did you do to her?!" Said the deep voice again, louder and angrier this time. Suddenly you realised, "her" was you and the voice was the Mandalorian that had rescued you… and later betrayed you.
"I... I protected her! I protected her! If it wasn't for me, she would already be dead!" Said the doctor's voice, whimpering as he talked. "Please... please... please, please…"
The familiar helmet appeared in your field of vision. You were very drowsy and just keeping your eyes opened required all of your energy.
"I'm taking you out of here." He said as he released you from the table.
Staying awake was the most you could do and every time you blinked you felt as if you wouldn't be able to open your eyes again. Your eyelids felt extremely heavy.
The Mandalorian lifted you and carried you out of the room. Mustering all the energy you had left, you lifted your arms to grab onto him.
Blaster sounds surrounded you as you kept losing and regaining consciousness.
"Drop the blaster!" You heard a storm trooper shout.
"Wait. What I'm holding is very valuable. Here…" said the Mandalorian as he slowly lowered you to the ground, putting you down carefully.
"Now turn and face me!" Said the trooper. "Stand up!"
Suddenly, you heard a whistling noise, followed by a flash, and you lost consciousness again.
By the time you came by, you could feel the breeze of the night's air on your face, which meant he had somehow managed to get you out of the building.
The Mandalorian stopped walking all of a sudden.
"Welcome back, Mando. Now put the package down." Said a voice you recognised from the hologram message. If you hadn't been so drugged, you would have let him know what you thought about being called "package".
"Step aside. I'm going to my ship." Answered the Mandalorian.
Even though you couldn't manage to keep your eyes open anymore, you could feel the tension in the man holding you.
"Hm. You put the bounty down and perhaps I'll let you pass."
"The girl's coming with me."
"If you truly care about the girl, then you put her on the speeder and we'll discuss terms." The man told him calmly.
"How do I know I can trust you?" asked the Mandalorian warily.
"Because I'm your only hope."
The Mandalorian moved again, slowly, and you realised helping you wasn't worth losing his life. You couldn't help but understand it, why would he risk everything for you, when he barely knew you? In fact, you hadn't even said a word to him, let alone your name.
You wanted to let him know that it was ok for him to leave you there, that you couldn't ask him to lay down his life for you, nor would you hold him accountable. But you could hardly keep your eyes open, and all you managed to do was hold your grip onto him a little stronger.
Completely out of the blue, he started shooting at the same time as he jumped on the speeder with you still in his arms, falling on his back, and cushioning your fall with his body.
Shots were flying all around you as he turned over and laid you carefully on the speeder's floor.
"Drive!" He said but the speeder didn't move "Drive!" he said again, louder this time, and you started to move.
Blasters shot all over the place, hitting the speeder and making sparks fly all around you while you were still, lying on your back, unable to move a muscle. Unable to help, unable to escape… rendered completely useless yet again…
The speeder crashed against something, coming to a halt and forcing you out of your self-destructive spiral of thought. Someone had shot the droid that drove the speeder. Now, everything was silent, except for the sparks and zapping noises coming from the droid.
With the speeder stationary you were exposed and vulnerable but, before you could start to panic, you heard the distinctive noise of the Mandalorian's rifle charging up.
He shot it twice, sending a powerful message, and forcing the attackers into hiding. Everything turned silent.
"That's one impressive weapon." Said the same man that had spoken before.
"Here's what I'm gonna do: I'm gonna walk to my ship with the girl and you're gonna let it happen." Said the Mandalorian, in a surprisingly calm voice given the situation.
"Nah…" the man answered back "How about this: we take the girl, and if you try to stop us we kill you and we strip your body for parts."
Suddenly, the Mandalorian grunted and something fell with a loud thump. You heard an electric discharge followed by a groan, and the shots started flying around again.
"Don't hit the target!"
The Mandalorian moved next to you and you heard him blast a stream of fire from his flamethrower, but he soon ran out of fuel.
He moved closer, until you felt the heat of his body over you. He had placed himself over you, trying to provide you with some protection from the shots with his body. Mustering all your energies, you managed to open your eyes, finding the Mandalorian's helmet mere inches away from your face.
You looked at the black slit of glass, where you assumed his eyes were, although all you could see were your own eyes' reflection. You realised you looked scared, so you tried to harden your expression, to somehow let him know that you were alright, that he could surrender.
At that moment, a big blast came out of nowhere knocking one attacker from a roof. A second later, flying Mandalorians appeared in the air, shooting around.
One of them landed next to the speeder, holding a huge blaster cannon "Get outta here. We'll hold them off."
"You're going to have to relocate the covert." The Mandalorian told him.
"This is the way" was all the answer he gave him.
"This is the way".
As the Mandalorian said this, he grabbed you again and started walking towards his ship. You got there without any more drawbacks but, just as you entered the ship, someone came out of the shadows.
"Hold it, Mando."
The Mandalorian turned to see the same man from the hologram message pointing a blaster at him.
"I didn't want it to come to this. But then you broke the Code." He said.
Before he had time to fire, the Mandalorian shot the control panel of the carbonite freezing system so it released fumes that filled the whole compartment, making it hard to see anything.
The man started shooting his blaster in a frenzy while the Mandalorian turned around, shielding you with his body yet again, and not moving a muscle. When the man stopped shooting, the Mandalorian turned again and shot him in the chest, making him fall back and out of the ship.
He closed the entrance ramp and took you to the cockpit. As soon as he left you in the seat you started to doze off again. You couldn't understand why you were so exhausted, the sedative should have worn off by now.
He started the ship and you were flying away from the planet in mere minutes. When you left the atmosphere he made the jump into hyperspace and turned to you.
"You don't look good" he said while pushing a strand of hair out of your face "What did they do?"
You shrugged. Then, you remembered the IVs in your arms and you showed him the marks.
"The necessary material…" he muttered, then he added in a normal tone "they took blood from you and, by the look of it, they overdid it."
That made sense to you, it explained your tiredness even after the sedative had mostly worn off.
He stood up "I'll bring you something to eat".
Then it popped in your mind, it wasn't just the blood loss but the collar too. You had, in your exhaustion, forgotten about it. Before he left, you grabbed his arm and he turned to look at you.
You pointed the device and pulled from it while mouthing "please", an anguished look in your face.
"I'll take that off, don't worry"
He left the cockpit and you doze off again. "Here" his voice woke you. He was handing you a ration bar and something to drink, he also had some tools in his other hand.
"Let me take a look at that" he said when you took the food. You pulled your hair to the side so he could have access to the device. It took him longer to unlock it than it had taken Kuiil but, after some mumbling and swearing, he managed to take it off.
The relief was immediate. Regaining your senses wasn't as overwhelming as it had been in Arvala-7, since the time spent without them hadn't been so long, but it was still breathtaking.
You felt better and stronger almost instantly, and you focused your attention on the food.
He sat down and looked at you while you ate.
"You look better," he said with a slight surprise in his voice, "I'm sorry for what I did".
You shook your head. You couldn't be angry at him after all that had happened, and least when you could feel so much remorse coming from him.
"Why do the Imps want you?"
In response, you lifted the collar from his hand and made it levitate in front of him for a moment before making it float back to him.
"Your powers?" You nodded, although it wasn't that simple.
You had spent your life running from the Empire, to be more specific from the Inquisitors. What they wanted from you was, as far as you knew, to kill you. But these Imps not only weren't Inquisitors, but they clearly wanted something different from you since they had strapped you to an operating table instead of finishing you. Now, what they wanted exactly you didn't know, although you could make an educated guess...
"And this thing…" he continued, looking at the collar "it blocks them?"
You nodded again, as you tried to somehow gesticulate that it also took your strength away. He seemed to understand.
"How does that work? Moving things with your mind..." You shrugged.
Explaining that you somehow could feel and manipulate an energy that was everywhere and all around, and that it also came from all living things, without being able to speak, seemed way too difficult.
He stayed silent, looking at you — or at least his helmet looked in your direction — as you finished eating.
"Where to?" He asked you, as he opened in the ship's control panel a planet chart.
You looked at it quite puzzled, did he want you to choose a destination? You, who had no idea of where anything was? You looked at him dazed.
"Where do I take you? Do you have any family or friends with whom you can stay?"
Ah, that's what he meant! You shook your head slowly. You had no-one, you had never had anybody.
"Ok… we'll try to find some quite outer rim planet where the Imps won't find you."
That sounded good, you thought, although they always seemed to be able to find you…
"In the meantime, what should I call you?" He said as he pointed to the ship's panel for you to write.
You wrote your name down, he read it and you nodded. It felt weird to hear your name out loud again, after so long.
You pointed at him, it was only fair that he told you his name too.
"Call me Mando" he said. He seemed to find the situation amusing, though you didn't quite get why. Still, you raised an eyebrow at him with an expression of disbelief in your face. Calling a Mandalorian "Mando" sounded ridiculous, and you would have thought he was making fun of you if the man that had attacked you earlier hadn't called him that.
Your train of thought was interrupted when he asked you "Do you know tusken?"
You shook your head.
"It's a complex language with a lot of grunting" he explained "but they also use sign language. I could teach you."
You nodded eagerly. Being unable to communicate was hard and you also wanted to ask some questions to the Mandalorian.
Since you were already feeling better, he agreed to teach you something. He started with the alphabet, that way you could always "spell a word if you don't know the sign", as he said.
You spent the next few hours practicing the signs on your own. He didn't seem to be paying you any attention but he still corrected the form of your hands a few times.
When you thought you had it under control, you tapped him on his arm and asked him for more. Before that, he demanded you to show him first and to spell a few words after. He seemed to be convinced and decided to teach you some basic signs like "I", "you", "what", "where", "thanks", "how"...
Practicing those had you occupied for a few more hours, until you noticed the ship was descending into a planet's atmosphere.
You got up to take a better look and saw a planet whose surface was cerulean in colour and covered almost entirely by white clouds.
"Where?" You asked, proudly using your new learnt sign.
"Quell" he said, "I wasn't planning on leaving Nevarro so early, so we need to refuel and get some supplies. Since I can't go to Keyorin…"
"Why?"
He sighed.
"Keyorin is filled with retired smugglers and bounty hunters. There's always good deals, but I don't think we'll be welcome there"
You nodded in understanding and turned around again to look at the planet. It looked very pretty and its surface seemed to be mostly covered in water. As you got closer, you noticed some places where there were rests of debris scattered around.
As if he had noticed what you were looking at, Mando said "before the Empire, there was a battle in the upper atmosphere."
You landed in a patch of land surrounded by calm waters.
"Stay here" he said "I'll be quick."
You didn't argue with him, in fact, you preferred to stay in the ship. You had never been on a planet with so much water and it scared you - though you wouldn't easily admit it. You knew how to swim, but you were not very good at it, and the sea was treacherous…
As you tried to take your mind off thoughts of water, you started to think about how trustworthy of Mando to leave you alone in his ship. Meaning, what made him think you wouldn't take flight and leave him stranded there?
It was not like you were going to do so, but he didn't know that.
In the meantime, you decided to keep practicing the signs until you nailed them. Being able to communicate was something that you had missed for a long time and, even though you could only talk to Mando, at least you could talk to someone.
He was back pretty fast. You heard the noise of heavy stuff being loaded in the docking bay, and he entered the cockpit a while later.
"We're good to go" he said as he sat in the pilot seat and started the ship.
"Where?" You asked him again. He had said something about finding a quiet planet, but you didn't know if he had somewhere specific in mind.
"Not sure" he said "somewhere quiet where you can hide. We'll have to search." and he jumped to hyperspace.
You started dozing off after a while. He had taught you a few more signs but the cockpit had been silent since.
Still, it was a nice kind of silence, not the uncomfortable kind that sometimes seemed to loom over with some people. You guessed that he was probably used to it, always traveling alone.
Slowly, you started to fall asleep. Somehow, his presence relaxed you, it was like a calming balm, and you couldn't help to lower your defences around him.
When you woke up, you noticed a blanket over you. Mando was asleep in his seat. You were wondering how could he be sleeping with the beskar helmet on, when you noticed that it was the only piece of beskar he was wearing, the chest plate, and the rest of the armour had been removed.
This gesture confirmed your previous suspicions: he trusted you enough to lower his defences around you. This thought made you feel quite proud with yourself, though you couldn't really understand why.
"We are about to exit hyperspace" he suddenly said, giving you a fright. You would have sworn he was asleep, judging by how calm he was.
After exiting hyperspace, he scanned the system for viable planets to stay.
This practice became your normal routine in the upcoming days. Small jumps into hyperspace, scanning the system, and jumping again.
In between, he kept teaching you sign language. He was surprisingly good at it, and he was more patient that you would have given him credit for.
Something that surprised you too was how easy to read he was. Even though you could never see his face, you could very easily feel his emotions.
Usually, reading people's basic emotions like anger, happiness, or sadness, was easy for you since these were harder to control, and shook the energy around you with very distinct patterns. More complex emotions were harder to understand, and you had to know the person a bit to identify the slight subtleties.
However, Mando seemed to be broadcasting them. You had assumed that, since he always wore the helmet, he had never learnt basic social cues regarding how to hide emotions or facial expressions - not that you could see the latter, though.
That said, the fact that you could feel his emotions didn't mean that you could understand the reason behind them. Sometimes he would get angry without apparent reason. When that happened, you were only sure about one thing: your lessons were over for the time being.
After around a week of searching through systems, you found one planet that seemed promising.
"It has some big cities but the rest of the planet seems to be sparsely populated" Mando said.
While you descended into the planet's atmosphere, you saw a big city with huge skyscrapers that stuck out of a fog that seemed to cover the entire planet's surface. But you didn't get near it, the point was to go unnoticed so the least people that saw you, the better.
As you approached its surface, you started to realise something dreadful: the planet seemed to be composed of rocky landmasses covered in green, deep chasms, and big oceans. In fact, most of its surface was covered in oceans.
By the time you landed, night had already fallen. Mando headed the ship towards one of the rocky landmasses and landed there.
"We'll spend the night here and explore the place in the morning" he said.
You nodded, trying to convince yourself that maybe there weren't so many oceans and that you didn't see clearly…
He left the cockpit and you followed him. The weather outside was nice, warm, and humid, and the breeze smelt salty.
He sat on the entrance ramp. You were about to join him, when you noticed you could hear the sound of waves crashing very closely. The night was dark and you couldn't see much around you, but it made you too anxious to relax. You couldn't stop thinking that you didn't know much about the planet and maybe it had sudden storms, or the sea levels rose during the night and covered the land. What if a wave washed over you? What if the sea rose and sank the ship? Wouldn't it be safer then, to stay inside with everything closed?
"I go in, you can eat", you clumsily signed to Mando. He looked at you for a moment tilting his head, then he nodded.
On your way back to the cockpit, you grabbed a ration bar for dinner. Once there, you tried to sleep but you couldn't hold your fears off, and the sound of waves crashing nearby didn't help. By the time you managed to fall asleep, morning came and so did Mando to wake you up.
You went out to explore the surroundings. It was worse than you had expected. Somehow, Mando had managed to park the ship quite close to a cliff that was overlooking the sea. The fall was very high and, at the bottom, you could see sharp rocks being splashed over and over again by gigantic waves.
You walked away from the cliff, feeling a bit nauseous.
After roughly half an hour walking, you started to hear the sound of people talking and the hustle and bustle of a market. When you finally arrived, you saw that it was a small town market. The stalls seemed to sell mostly fishing gear and rain jackets.
Mando headed towards the canteen - which he was able to identify in mere seconds. Once there, he asked for some grub for the two of you. It was some kind of fishy soup and you didn't like fish but still, you ate it.
"I'm going to ask about the place, wait here"
While he talked on the counter with the waiter, you looked around. Everyone seemed to engage in fishing judging by their clothes. Mostly everyone was human, though you saw a few creatures with tentacles in their head.
"There's a small town nearby, we can go there and see if there's a chance they'll let you stay" said Mando when he came back. You nodded in agreement and then followed him.
After a while, you noticed you were heading to yet another cliff. When you had almost reached the border, you realised that he was walking towards a bridge that hung from there joining it with another cliff forth.
He started crossing it but you came to a halt in front of it. The bridge wasn't flimsy per se, but it wasn't very solid either. It was made of wood and rope, and it shook with the wind.
You tried to encourage yourself, but the waves crashing underneath didn't let you move. You were paralysed by fear.
Mando had looked around to find you there, frozen and looking at the chasm. He came back to you. "Come on" he said.
You looked at him, fear showing in your eyes, and shook your head. Finally, you managed to move and walked away from the bridge. He followed.
"What's wrong?" He asked. He didn't sound like it but you knew he was annoyed. You didn't want to admit that you were scared, that you weren't good at swimming, that the sea frightened you… but you had no choice.
"I don't swim" you signed, spelling the last word since you hadn't learned it yet.
He made the sign for you to see, and you repeated it - this had become a habit every time you didn't know a word.
"You don't have to swim, just cross the bridge" he said, a bit more harshly.
You shook your head vigorously and took another step back.
He sighed "Afraid of water? Really?" He asked, less annoyed and slightly amused. You didn't like that he found this in any way funny, so you gave him a glowering look. He looked at you with his head tilted.
"Should have said something earlier… Yerbana is covered in oceans'' he added "all landmasses are joined by bridges like the one you won't cross."
"I'm not going" you told him.
He looked at you for a moment and then nodded. He started heading back to the market.
You followed him, angry with yourself. You knew you were a hindrance for him, he had lost everything he had to help you, and now you had the nerve of being picky… What was worse was that a part of you was happy about it, and that made you even more angry. You had never been this greedy, you were used to saying goodbye to people, to never having a real connection with them yet, you wanted to spend more time with Mando.
You couldn't understand why this was happening. You assumed that it was because you enjoyed his company, because of how easy to read he was, and how at peace he made you feel. It was indeed a nice feeling.
When you made it back to the market he talked again. "Since we are here, we should take the chance to stretch our legs a bit. We'll stay today and be on our way tomorrow, ok?" You nodded.
The two of you spent the day around the market and headed back to the ship before nightfall. You had gotten hold of some food from the area and Mando made a fire to cook it. "You don't have to hide in the ship, the sea is not going to reach us here" he told you jokingly.
You gave him a dark look but he didn't seem to care. You sighed, accepting defeat. He was going to rub it in until the end of your days… Still, he was right, you seemed to be safe from the sea up there, so you decided to suck it up and spend the night outside the ship.
You left the planet in the morning and went back to your routine of searching around systems.
You spent most of your time in the cockpit with Mando, taking a few walks around the ship every now and then to stretch your legs. He didn't talk much but you preferred his silent company rather than being alone. Not to mention that being around him had proven useful in keeping the nightmares away. In fact, you had rarely had any since you started travelling with him.
As days went by, your sign language kept getting better and you were able to form longer sentences. You made use of this to try and convince him of letting you make a few reparations to the ship. You tried to explain that you used to work in a repair facility and that you knew what you were doing, but he didn't budge one bit.
One day, you mustered up your courage and asked Mando something that was bothering you since day one.
"The helmet, you never take it off?"
He looked at you for a long moment, as if he was thinking of an answer.
"I take it off. I did so just a few hours ago." You looked at him with one eyebrow raised.
"You know what I mean" you told him.
"I can never take it off in front of another living thing."
You had already assumed it was something along those lines, since he obviously took it off for eating or showering, but it was still surprising.
"Since when?" You asked.
"I swore the Creed when I was a kid, around ten"
You looked at him wide-eyed. The thought of him wearing a helmet and not letting anyone see his face since he was so young was disheartening.
"No" he said as if he knew what you were thinking. "I was...happy to be taken in. My parents were killed, and the Mandalorians took care of me."
"I'm sorry" you said.
He shook his head, "This is the way".
"What about you?" He asked after a pause "You said you don't have any family or friends?"
You shook your head. He seemed to want to know more, he was curious, though you couldn't understand why would he be curious about you.
"I was sold. Slave." as it had happened many times before, you had to spell the last word but, contrary to your routine, he didn't show you the sign. You looked at him, puzzled.
"You don't need to know that sign" he said, slightly irritated. "How old were you?"
"Five"
He stayed silent for a while and, when he talked again, it was just to let you know that you were exiting hyperspace.
The outcome of the conversation seemed to loom over for some days. Mando seemed to go from angry, to sad, to worried, to angry again. You took for granted that asking about him had made him relieve memories which made him feel that way, and you cursed your curiosity for it.
You welcomed with open arms the moment he found a planet that seemed viable. Getting out of the ship and distracting yourselves sounded like a good idea.
Once you had landed, you took the chance to get some fuel and supplies since you were almost out. You didn't know yet if you'll stay there or not, so all precautions were welcome.
After that, you took a walk around the village. It wasn't very big but it was bigger than the one in Yerbana and it also had a market. You got distracted looking at some clothes, since you were still wearing Mando's. It wasn't like you cared much about what you were wearing, not to mention that his big clothes were very comfy, but you guessed he would want them back at some point.
As you approached a stall to take a closer look, you noticed he started to walk away from the market, clearly heading towards the canteen that he had somehow already identified. You rushed behind him.
It caught your attention that everyone around you turned to look at the Mandalorian with a mixture of feelings. You were aware that seeing a Mandalorian was a rare event and, letting curiosity get the best of you, you focused your attention on the people surrounding you, trying to get a clearer view of the impression he evoked. It was quite entertaining: younglings seemed to find him mostly impressive and a bit scary; adults on the other hand, were mostly worried and wanted to be as far away from him as possible. It was as if the presence of a Mandalorian meant something bad was about to happen. Furthermore, the ones who noticed you were with him seemed to pity you.
You were engrossed in sensing everyone around you when you suddenly took notice of them: troopers. They were close enough for you to feel them but you couldn't see them anywhere. They were relaxed, so they either hadn't seen the both of you yet, or they had but weren't aware of who you were. You decided the first option was the most likely, so you rushed to Mando and pulled him in between the gap of two buildings.
He seemed surprised and confused. Before he could say anything, you put your finger on your lips and shushed him. He was still confused but stayed silent, trusting you.
The gap where you had hidden was narrow and you were pressed against him. Even with all the tension, you couldn't help noticing how much taller than you he was. Of course, you were aware he was taller than you, but you were never so close to him to notice it so much. He looked down at you and your heart started racing just as you noticed the troopers getting closer.
You stayed still as they walked past where you were hiding. The moment Mando saw them, his confusion was gone and he got tense, probably mapping out your next movements. You both waited for a few more minutes to make sure they were far enough — your heart still beating like mad.
"Are they gone?" He asked and you nodded. "Where are they headed?"
"The market"
"Dank farrik" he muttered "we'll have to go around it to get back to the Crest. Come on."
You started walking back to the ship through the village, circling the market. You tried to walk fast but not too much to attract unwanted attention. All your senses were focused on your surroundings, since the troopers were too far from you to feel them anymore. Finally, you made it to the ship and got away.
You were exhausted from using your abilities to that extent and dropped on your seat as soon as you reached it. Mando stayed silent until he made the jump to hyperspace, then he turned to you.
"What was that?"
You looked at him confused.
"How did you know about the troopers?" He clarified.
"I feel them" you answered, hoping that was enough for him.
"How? How does that work?"
You sighed. It was understandable that he had questions — and to be fair, he had only asked once and you couldn't communicate at the time. He deserved answers, but you weren't sure you could give them to him.
"I feel things around" you told him "energy, emotions, danger…" you shrugged. You had intentionally put the 'emotions' part in the middle of the sentence, so he wouldn't take too much notice of it, but it didn't seem to have worked.
"You know what people feel?" He asked, starting to feel uneasy.
That's what you'd been dreading, but you chose to answer as honestly as possible.
"Only when I focus" you felt his relief and you knew it wouldn't last "or when I know the person."
You felt his emotions waver again. He was looking fixedly at you.
"How did you know they were troopers then?"
"All soldiers feel similar" you told him. In fact, it was a bit more complex than that, but that was the main idea.
"Well, that's convenient." he said, no humour in his voice. You gave a small nod. "That takes Garell out of the list then" he added.
He acted like everything was fine but you could sense he was feeling uncomfortable.
Since Garell seemed to have Imperial occupation, Mando decided to travel further outside the Outer Rim and into uncharted territories.
The following days were awkward. Since your encounter with the troopers Mando had been restless around you. He didn't seem to be very happy about traveling with someone that had confessed to be able to feel all his emotions. And you could hardly blame him.
What's more, since then, he had decided to sleep in the sleeping quarters, leaving you alone in the cockpit. That was the precise moment when you realised how much his presence affected you. As soon as you started sleeping alone, the nightmares returned.
As days went by, your emotional state worsened. Not only were you lacking sleep, but you also felt horrible with yourself, and the fact that Mando was wary around you didn't help.
You felt very bad about it all, you had never intended to invade his privacy or to pry on him, but you couldn't really help it.
"Sorgan" he said, after a few days travelling without finding any planets on your way. "Looks like there is no star port, no industrial centres, no population density."
That sounded perfect, and you really needed to get out of the ship and the heavy mood that reigned in it.
"Are there any Imps there?" He asked as you approached the planet.
You looked at him with an expression of wild disbelief. What did he think you were? A trooper radar?
For some reason, this seemed to relax him and this time you didn't just feel it, you could see how his shoulders lowered and his body relieved a tension you hadn't noticed was there before.
Glad about this unexpected outcome, you answered him.
"Too far"
"Hmmm…" he muttered.
He didn't say anything else until you landed, but you could tell he had loosened up a bit and that relaxed you too.
"Let's go out there and have a look around" he said as you left the ship "notice anything wrong you tell me, ok?" You nodded.
Well, at least he still trusted you, even if it was just as a radar.
The whole planet seemed like a big forest; you had never seen so much green together in your whole life.
You walked through the trees until you reached the village. Without hesitation, Mando entered one of the houses which, unsurprisingly, was the canteen. Talk about radars, you thought.
As always, people were surprised to see a Mandalorian and they turned around to look at him when you entered the canteen. He sat at a table and you joined him.
"Welcome travellers. Can I interest you in anything?" The owner asked you.
"Bone broth, for her." Mando told her.
"Oh, well, you're in luck. I just took down a grinjer, so there's plenty. Can I interest you in a porringer of broth as well?"
Mando shook his head "Just the one."
As the woman was about to leave, he added "That one over there, when did she arrive?"
He was referring to a woman sitting alone at a table. She was looking your way and she seemed strong, like a warrior.
"Uh… I've seen her here for the last week or so." The owner said.
"What's her business here?"
"Business? Oh well...there's not much business in Sorgan so I can't say…" said the woman evasively.
Mando tossed her a coin.
"She doesn't strike me as a log runner...well…" she said, taking the coin. "Thank you, sir. I will get that broth to you as soon as possible, and I will throw in a flagon of spotchka, just for good measure. I'll be right back with that."
As the owner left, Mando noticed that the woman he had asked about was gone. He got up and told you to stay there as he left the canteen in search of her.
Keeping track of Mando proved to be easy. After spending so much time alone with him, you had become more sensitive to his presence and you could feel him farther away from you with way less effort.
You ate your broth while you tracked him. He seemed to be ok but after a few minutes he was suddenly startled. This got you worried and you decided to go after him.
As you got closer, you were able to feel the woman too and you realised she had no intention of killing him, she was just wary and confused by his presence there.
When you found them, they were struggling. She seemed to be a good fighter since she was able to keep her ground against Mando. In fact, they were so evenly matched that they both ended on the ground, blasters pointing at the others' head. Though, since Mando wore his helmet, technically he had won the fight.
That's when they finally saw you. You waved at them, as if finding them like that was the most normal thing in the world.
"You want some soup?" Mando asked the woman.
"Sure" she said as the both of them put their blasters away and got up from the ground. She looked at you from head to toe, as if she was measuring you up.
The three of you headed back to the canteen and sat at the table.
"You're a shock trooper, right?" Mando asked her.
"Yes, the name's Cara Dune" she said looking at you with interest.
Mando introduced the two of you and asked about her.
"Saw most of my action mopping up after Endor, mostly ex-Imperial warlords." She said "They wanted it fast and quiet. They'd send us in on the drop ships. No support, just us. Then when the Imps were gone, the politics started. We were peacekeepers, protecting delegates, suppressing riots. Not what I signed up for."
You didn't know what to make of her, she seemed nice but she wasn't very open and it was hard for you to read her. Furthermore, she kept looking at you with wonder but she didn't ask any questions. Surprisingly for you, Mando seemed to like her and you decided to trust his judgement.
"How'd you end up here?"
"Let's just call it an early retirement." She said as she finished her soup. "Look, I knew you were Guild. I figured you had a fob on me. That's why I came at you so hard." She explained.
"Yeah, that's what I figured." Mando said, a smile in his voice.
"Well, this has been a real treat." Cara said as she got up. "But unless you wanna go another round, one of us is gonna have to move on, and I was here first."
As she said this, she turned around and walked away from you.
"Well, looks like this planet's taken." Mando said to you.
You were quite disappointed. The planet looked gorgeous and, even if you couldn't stay, you would have liked to take a walk around or stay a few days… That's when you got an idea.
"The ship needs repairs" you said to Mando hopefully "we stay one or two days?"
"Well…" He sighed. "A couple of days shouldn't be a problem, and I could use some time out of the ship".
"Let me do repairs" you asked him for, probably, the hundredth time.
"I need to see what you can do first, deal?" You nodded.
You were glad you could stay, and eager to show Mando how good you were at your job. In fact, you were already fantasising about him having to apologise and accept your undeniable superiority - though you knew that was never going to happen.
As you got back to the ship, he stored the flagon of spotchka and then made you help him by fixing the ramp, which had been giving you problems since Yerbana. The control pad was malfunctioning and it didn't respond correctly to the commands. Mando had been making it work by hitting it, which in your opinion only made the damage worse - but he was undeniably making it work that way, so you didn't say a thing.
You worked on the circuit system for a while until you managed to rewire it properly. He seemed pleased with the result, meaning you had licence to do as you pleased on the ship.
The rest of the evening you stayed in the cockpit working on some problems you had noticed in the control panel, while Mando was outside working on the hull.
When you headed out of the ship it was already dark and you heard Mando talking to someone.
"It's not enough." He said as he started to walk back towards the ship.
There were two men outside, one of them got a few steps closer. "Are you sure?" He said, "You don't even know what the job is."
"I know it's not enough. Good luck."
The other man also got closer "This is everything we have. We'll give you more after the next harvest."
He sounded quite desperate but Mando ignored them as he opened the hatch and started to walk up the ramp.
"Come on. Let's head back." One said.
"Took us the whole day to get here." The other started to complain, clearly disappointed. "Now we have to ride back with no protection to the middle of nowhere."
Mando came to a halt and turned around when hearing this. "Where do you live?"
"At a farm" said one of them, slightly pissed "Weren't you listening? We're farmers."
"In the middle of nowhere."
You saw where Mando's train of thought was going and started to put your boots on and pick up the few things you had.
"You have lodging?"
"Yeah. Absolutely." They said.
"Good. Come up and help."
In a matter of minutes, you had loaded some provisions into the men's sled.
"I'm gonna need one more thing. Give me those credits." Mando asked them. He turned to you, "If I'm gonna fight, I'll better get some help".
He asked you to stay there for a moment as he headed towards the little town. The two men were very excited about having been able to convince the Mandalorian, little did they know he was just helping them in hopes they'll let you stay afterwards.
After a while, Mando appeared back with Cara by his side. You couldn't help to think they looked good together and, feeling a pang in your chest, you had to face that it was obvious they got along. It was quite hurtful; it seemed so easy for her to hit it off with Mando.
Finally, you got on your way to the farm. Night had already fallen and the three of you were riding the sled.
"So, we're basically running off a band of raiders for lunch money?" Cara asked.
"They're quartering us in the middle of nowhere. Last I checked that's a pretty square deal for somebody in your position." Mando told her. "Worst case scenario, you tune up your blaster. Best case, we're a deterrent. I can't imagine there's anything living in these trees that an ex-shock trooper couldn't handle." She laughed at that.
Since you had met her, you knew something was bothering her. She wasn't as easy to read as Mando, but you could tell that much. Finally, she decided to ask about it.
"What's your deal?" she said while pointing to the two of you "Plus, I haven't heard a word from you yet. Are you mute or something?" She said jokingly.
"As a matter of fact, she is."
When Mando said this, you could tell he was being mean on purpose. He knew she'd feel bad about it and that's why he had said it. You lightly punched him in the arm. "Ow" he said sarcastically.
"Oh, I'm sorry. I didn't mean…" Cara started to apologise but you shook your head, trying to let her know it was ok.
"She says 'it's fine, don't worry'." Mando translated.
"So… you travel together?" She asked.
"Something like that." Mando said.
It was quite obvious she was not going to get much more information regarding that matter, so she didn't ask anything else.
For the first time, you wondered what people thought when they saw you together. Did you look like a prisoner? Was it so rare that you travelled with a Mandalorian?
Absorbed in your thoughts, you laid in the sled next to Mando and looked at the sky. The air on this planet was so clean, you could clearly see the stars between the trees' branches. Mando and Cara talked for a bit more, mostly about the fight they had had before and how they'll have to go another round to settle it. You started to fall asleep to the sound of their voices.
The sun shining on your face woke you up. You had not arrived at the farm yet but you were probably close. Cara and Mando seemed to be still asleep.
With the daybreak light, the woods looked lovely. The sun shined on the trees' leaves and made them look even greener than before. You were in a daze, looking at your surroundings, when Cara talked.
"Beautiful, huh?"
You nodded.
"Yes" said Mando, looking your way.
"I don't need you to translate a nod!" Cara laughed.
When you made it to the village you were welcomed by a bunch of kids running towards you and laughing. You got down the sled and smiled and waved at them. You liked children, they were so pure and honest that being around them was extremely soothing.
"Well, looks like they are happy to see us." Mando said.
"Looks like." Cara agreed with a smile on her face.
A little girl approached you and greeted you with a shy "hi" and a big smile. You smiled back at her. In seconds you were surrounded by the children, who were extremely excited about having new people on the farm.
Meanwhile, Mando and the farmers were unloading the cargo from the sled.
When they were finished, they showed you to the hut where you were going to stay. You followed Mando into it and saw a woman inside who was opening the blinds.
"Please come in." She said "I hope this is comfortable for you. Sorry that all we have is the barn."
"This will do fine."
"I stacked some blankets over here." She added, then she turned to you and Cara with a smile. "Come, I'll show you two to the other hut."
"Wait," Mando said "she stays with me." he added, pointing at you.
"Ah! Of course..." the woman was saying, when the little girl from before popped her head through the door.
"This is my daughter Winta. We don't get a lot of visitors around here. She's not used to strangers." She then turned to the girl "These nice people are going to help protect us from the bad ones."
"Thank you." The girl said with a smile.
"Come on, Winta. Let's give our guests some room." The woman left with the girl and Cara.
The hut was small, mostly for two people, but you were glad Mando had chosen to stay with you. Not only because his presence allowed you to sleep without nightmares, but because it meant that he was at ease with having you around again.
You started to unpack the cargo when someone knocked at the door. It was the woman from before. She took the chance to introduce herself, her name was Omera and, by how she behaved and felt, you were quite sure it had been her idea to seek help against the raiders.
"I've brought you these" she said as she handed you some clothes "I noticed you didn't have… your own" she added doubtfully.
You thanked her in signed language.
"She says 'thank you'." Mando told her.
"You can't talk?" Winta appeared on the door frame, looking at you. You shook your head.
"Why?"
"Winta!" Her mum cut her, surely thinking it was a sensitive matter.
"Do you want to come play with us?" Winta asked, then she turned to Mando "can she come play with us?"
He looked at you and nodded. Winta grabbed your hand and took you out. When you reached the rest of the children, she took the translator role, which was very funny for you.
"She can't talk, so don't overwhelm her with questions!" She said overstating the problem.
"Why can't she talk?" A boy asked her.
"Well… I don't know" she admitted, then turned to you and in a whisper - as if she feared her mum would hear her and reprimand her again - she asked "why can't you talk?"
You sat down on the ground with them, and started to play charades, gesturing everything in a very exaggerated way, so they had to try and guess what you meant.
"A witch?"
"A wizard"
"No! A sorcerer!"
You nodded.
"Took your voice?"
"With a spell!"
You nodded again.
"Woooow…" they all exclaimed.
"And how can you get it back?" a boy asked.
"Well that's obvious isn't it? With a true love kiss!" one of the girls answered.
"Yes"
"Noo"
You kept playing with them until lunch time. It was very fun and easy, and you noticed you were laughing out loud for the first time in an extremely long time.
You went back to the hut after lunch and changed your clothes with the ones Omera had given you. These were your size and fit perfectly but, after such a long time wearing Mando's big clothes, it felt weird to wear something that clung to your body.
Someone knocked on the door and you opened it. It was Mando, he had a bowl of food on his hand, so you assumed he was on his way to eating alone. You smiled at him and he stood still for a second, stunned. You wondered why that was. Perhaps the change of clothes? Maybe the smile? Now that you thought of it, you had never smiled at him before. Still, you ignored it. If you reacted now in a way that let him know you were aware of his reaction… well, you could say goodbye to his calmness around you.
"Enjoy your food" you told him as you left the hut.
"Thanks."
After a while he and Cara approached you. "We're going to take a look at what we're up against." You nodded and they left.
The next few hours you spent them with the kids. They showed you the village, the ponds where they kept the krill, the games they had invented… it seemed fun for them to have someone new around.
When Mando and Cara came back, they looked worried as they rounded up the villagers.
"Bad news. You can't live here anymore." Mando said.
Naturally, all the villagers were shocked and started a ruckus, they couldn't understand why he was telling them that.
"I know this is not the news you wanted to hear but there are no other options." Cara added.
The villagers kept shouting at them "you took the job!" "we paid you!" "You took the money!".
"That was before we knew about the AT-ST." Cara replied.
"What is that?"
"The armoured walker with two enormous guns that you knew about and didn't tell us." Cara told him.
After this, the villagers started to plead, making it obvious they had known about the AT-ST all along and hadn't said a word, as Cara had accused them of.
"We have nowhere to go." Omera said.
"I understand. I do." Cara told her "But there are only two of us."
"No there's not!" One villager shouted, "There's at least twenty here!"
Cara tried to reason with them but they insisted, asking them to teach them how to fight.
"You cannot fight that thing." Cara told them.
You looked at Mando, he seemed hesitant, as if he was trying to make a hard decision. Finally, he spoke again.
"Unless we show them how."
The villagers got extremely excited with that turn of events. However, you saw how Cara looked at Mando as if he was crazy. Truth to be told, you were also wondering if he had gone nutters. These villagers had no experience whatsoever in fighting and, as far as you knew, taking down an AT-ST was not an easy task, even with trained soldiers.
The only reason you could think about that would make him believe this was a good idea was that, if you helped the villagers, you would probably be able to stay afterwards and start anew. You were thankful for that but wondered if it was going to be worth it.
Since the raiders only attacked the village during the harvest, you had around a month to prepare. That meant, only a month to teach a whole village of farmers how to fight.
Cara and Mando started by explaining to them the plan they had, which consisted in luring them into the village and making the AT-ST fall into a pond to render it useless. For this purpose, a big pond had to be dug out and barricades had to be built.
You helped the villagers with those tasks as Mando and Cara tried to teach them hand-to-hand combat and how to fire a blaster.
One thing you had to admit was that the villagers were highly motivated. Sadly, you feared they didn't completely grasp the danger they were about to face.
The only one that seemed to be more aware of the risk was Omera. She proved to be a very good shooter, soldier level - clearly too good for a farmer who'd never hold a gun, as she claimed.
This "innate" ability, along with other details that you had noticed, made you wary around her. You couldn't bring yourself to completely trust her and, if you were being honest, you didn't like her very much.
It was a gut feeling that you didn't understand. Objectively speaking, she was nice and friendly, she gave you no reason to distrust her, and she was very sweet with all of you. Yet, something about her put you off. After having given it a long thought, you came to the conclusion that what made you uneasy was how she had been so trustworthy of all of you from the very start.
If you had learnt something in all this time with Mando, it was that no-one trusted him on the first go. The reaction to his presence was always bad, either fear, wariness, or straight up hate. However, she had been comfortable with his presence from the first meeting; calm and collected, as if he was just another farmer. In fact, she seemed to enjoy his presence, as you had seen the both of them talking alone a few times. This ticked you off.
You had not said anything to Mando about it since you had realised that Omera's presence also made him tense, but you weren't sure he felt the same way about her than you.
"Do you like this place?"
He had asked you after a few days in the farm. You were in the hut, all lights out, and about to fall asleep. Still, the sky was clear and light came through the window, so you could see each other.
"Yes"
"Good. Omera said you can stay here after we finish our job."
You flinched at the thought, not sure if it was due to him mentioning Omera, or the thought of staying here alone again. Whatever it was, you pushed the feeling deep down. The planet was nice and recondite, which meant safe, and you knew from the start that Mando was accompanying you just because he somehow felt responsible for your safety.
You looked at him and nodded. It took you a long time to fall asleep that night, partly because Mando was also awake and restless.
After a bit over a week, Mando rounded up the villagers again. This time it was to give them more specific instructions about what they would be doing during the attack. He had clearly observed their skills and thought of a position for each of them to exploit their strengths to the maximum.
When he finished and everyone went back to what they were doing you approached him.
"What about me?" You asked, since he had not given you any specific instructions and he had neither asked to see how good you were at fighting or with a blaster.
"You'll stay with the children"
You looked at him in disbelief.
"No" you said "I fight"
"No" he said in an imposing tone, making it clear that he wouldn't accept a retort.
But at the time, you couldn't care less about what he wanted. If anyone else had told you this, you could have understood it. You didn't look like you could fight and you knew it, but appearances could be deceiving and Mando had seen you fight.
For Edge's sake! You had saved him from the Mudhorn! He had seen you take care of four storm troopers at once! And you weren't even at your best when that happened!
"I can fight" you insisted, anger starting to show in your face.
He seemed surprised, and you didn't know if it was because you dared to insist or because you looked angry, but you didn't really care. He sighed.
"I know, that's why you'll be with the kids, you'll protect them"
He was trying to appease you, but his unapologetic tone of voice only made you angrier.
You could feel your blood boiling, insulted by his lack of trust in you. If you had been able to talk, you'd have given him a talking-to but, since you couldn't express your anger, it was building up.
You were seeing red. You turned around and grabbed two of the sticks the villagers had been using to train, slamming Mando in the chest with one of them.
"No, I fight"
"I think it's fair" Cara said - you had forgotten about her - "if you win, she's not strong enough so she stays with the kids, if she wins…" she shrugged "nothing you can do"
You nodded.
"No" he said.
You slammed him in the chest again "fight" you repeated, signing at him furiously.
He sighed. "Ok, but don't expect me to go easy on you" he got closer and added "and no funny businesses, understood?" You nodded again.
You walked a few steps away from him and took a fighting stance. Mando had seen you use your abilities in the showiest of ways - making things and people float - and that's what he didn't want you to do right now. Little did he know that wasn't all you could do.
He stood defensively, holding the stick with both hands in front of him. You assumed he was going to wait for you to move, but you were wrong. In a split second he charged at you, swinging the stick towards your head.
You managed to dodge in the last moment, spinning on the spot, and used the momentum to attack.
He stopped you, surprised by your speed. This rubbed you the wrong way. You were fast and strong - much more than what you looked like - and even if he hadn't seen it before, he should have expected it. Why else would you challenge him to a fight?
You kept exchanging blows, none of you giving in. At all times, you were careful to keep your distance from him: you could hold your ground like this but he was stronger than you. If it came to a fist fight, you stood on the losing end.
He had the upper hand, having hit you twice already - though barely. He kept advancing at you, making you back down. There was a rock behind you and he was trying to pin you against it.
As if you were gonna let him.
Swiftly, with no warning whatsoever, you turned around and cut the few steps between you and the rock, using it as leverage to jump over Mando's head, landing behind him. He turned, waving the stick at where your head should have been, but you had crouched as soon as you touched the ground.
He was half turned and unbalanced. This was your chance. You hit him with the stick behind his knees, making him fall to the side. He turned on his back to try and defend himself but, before he had had time to raise the stick, you were on top of him, the pointy end of your stick resting on his neck.
Both of you were panting from the effort.
"I said no funny businesses" he said with a huff. He was annoyed with you.
You shrugged, as if you had no idea what he was talking about. You heard a clapping behind you.
"Well," Cara said with a big smile "that was worth watching. I think we got ourselves a winner"
Mando sighed loudly.
"Ok, you can fight if you do as I say"
You nodded.
"Now get off" he added as he lightly patted you on your leg.
It was at that moment when you realised you were sitting on him, straddling him to be more specific. You got up as blood rushed to your face, looking away so he wouldn't see. You met Cara's gaze, she was grinning, amused with the scene developing in front of her eyes.
"You'll fight with the villagers from behind the barricades" said Mando as he stood "You will not engage in combat, am I making myself clear?" he added in a commanding tone.
Even though you had gotten your way, you were still upset at him and his attitude. Close combat was your forte - you had just shown him - whereas your experience with shooting was extremely limited. You would be of no use shooting from far away, but if he let you get close...
Withal, you knew it wasn't the time to defy him - seeing how affronted he was feeling - so you gave him an ok sign.
"Let's see how good you're at shooting"
He started walking towards where you had built an improvised shooting range.
"She gave you quite a beating" Cara told him teasingly "those were some unbelievable acrobatics"
"Well, she's faster than me and hard to catch, that's all" Mando told her, trying to play down the issue. But Cara kept looking at you quite bemused.
He gave you one of the guns.
"Try to hit the first mark"
You shot and missed by a lot. You caught a glimpse of gloating coming from him, which only irked you more.
You shot and missed again, but by a bit less than before. You kept shooting and missing and, after a while, you heard Cara say, "I'll go help the villagers with the pond".
Of course, watching you miss over and over wasn't entertaining. You clicked your tongue in frustration as you tried shooting again - failing once more.
Mando approached you. He seemed to have calmed down since your fight - watching you fail repeatedly had helped with that.
"You're holding it wrong" he said "Use both hands for support and keep your arms stretched out".
As he was saying this, he came closer to you from behind and corrected your posture. The chestplate tapping against your head startled you - it was almost funny how you kept forgetting how much taller than you he was. Holding your arms straight he said, "try again". You pulled the trigger and, finally, hit the target.
He moved away to your side and looked at you. "Now by yourself"
Taking a deep breath, you did all he had told you, and pulled the trigger. Another success. You turned to him, smiling proudly.
"Good, now keep practicing until you can hit a moving target" he said mockingly.
For the next few days, you kept practicing your shooting, seeing good results. Your aim was way better but it wasn't good enough yet. You knew that it would be very hard for you to hit anything from far away. But it was ok because you didn't plan on shooting.
It seemed like time flew by during the next few days. You had planned to bait the raiders into the village before the next harvest, and that day had arrived faster than anyone wanted.
Mando and Cara were to be the bait, so they left when the sun was setting.
"When we return, we're coming in hot." Mando was saying to Omera.
"We'll be ready."
He turned around and walked up to you. "Take this." He said handing you his dagger. "Just in case, this'll be better than those sticks."
You nodded and he left with Cara.
Him giving you a dagger was almost like telling you to fight, like he was giving you permission - or at least that's what you told yourself.
You helped the villagers take the children into the hut which sat farthest away from the fight. Then, everyone hurried to their position.
The sun had already set and darkness surrounded you. Everyone was tense, eyes fixed on the edge of the forest. Slowly, trying not to be seen by the villagers, you started to move away from the barricades towards the side of the forest. Once under the cover of the trees, you headed for the side of the forest where they were supposed to arrive.
After climbing one of the trees, you waited motionless. It had been less than ten minutes when you heard an explosion.
At first nothing happened. All was silent and dark, except for a small light on the distance where the explosion had occurred. Suddenly, you felt the branches of the tree tremble and heard a thumping noise that was rapidly getting closer and closer.
That's when you saw the trees falling in its wake. It was coming right to the village, and with it also came the raiders, their shouts deafening in the silence of the night.
Mando and Cara were running from the machine, which was on their heels, shooting and missing. They entered the clearing and managed to take cover behind the barricades, but the AT-ST stopped on its tracks before reaching the pond, and started shooting at the villagers, causing havoc.
Meanwhile, the raiders had also arrived at the clearing and were shooting at the villagers too. They had run right beneath you without taking notice of your presence, so you had the upper hand.
Even so, you were aware your plan was risky. Not only because the raiders would kill you if they had the chance, but because you could easily get caught in the crossfire.
Trying to be as stealthy as possible, you climbed down the tree and rushed to the raider closest to you. Giving him no time to react, you covered his mouth with one hand and slit his throat with Mando's dagger.
Before his body had even hit the ground, you were already running for your next target. Moving behind enemy lines wasn't easy, you had to be fast while keeping yourself low to try and avoid any blaster shots that came your way. Running while bending over made you slower but, as long as the villagers shot high enough, you were safe from the crossfire.
As you struggled with another raider, the AT-ST shot at one of the huts, lighting it on fire. Terrified shouts came from behind the barricades but you couldn't see much from where you were. Knowing you couldn't do anything else other than hoping no-one was hurt, you focused on the task at hand.
The battlefield was such chaos that, in a very short amount of time, you had managed to sneak behind five raiders and finish them off. Somehow, the rest of them had not noticed you yet, probably assuming their comrades had been shot down by the villagers.
Soon, the clearing was filled with smoke and it was harder for you to move around or to see what was going on in the frontline. Then again, if you couldn't see the villagers from there, neither could the raiders.
As you were about to attack the next one, you saw from the corner of your eye a glimpse of light reflecting on a piece of armour. Unconsciously, you turned around to look, and saw Cara running from behind the barricade. She was trying to bait the AT-ST to move forward and fall into the pond.
Your distraction lasted no more than a few seconds, but it was enough time for a blaster to hit you. It merely scraped your arm, yet the pain made you stumble and come to a halt, catching the attention of the raider you were going towards.
The smell of burnt hair reached your nose before you had time to process the blaster shot - that hadn't blown your face off by mere inches. With no time to bless your luck, you launched at the raider, pinning the blaster to a side so he couldn't shoot again. The two of you struggled, him trying to raise the weapon while you held it down using both hands.
He grabbed you by the hair with his free hand while you kept wrestling for the gun. "Shit" you thought, as you pictured Mando finding your dead body. A sudden surge of pride filled you; if you died there it would be like telling Mando he was right, like this was your fault because you didn't follow his orders.
"There's no way in Malachor I'll let that happen" you thought as you banged the raider's chin with your forehead - luckily, he wasn't as tall as the Mandalorian.
He was starting to panic at your stubbornness and he tried calling out for help, but his comrades didn't hear him over the clamour of the battle. The field was chaos, shouts filled the air while blaster shots flew all around you. The smoke had got so thick it was hard for you to make out where everything was.
Suddenly, the raider was hit by a blaster in the arm holding your hair. As he winced in pain, you released your right hand from the weapon and plunged the dagger into his stomach. The damage wasn't enough to stop him, and he started to move the blaster to point it towards your face. With a swift movement, you pulled the dagger out and slit his throat from side to side, drenching you in blood.
His body fell, heavy, when a big explosion startled you, flooding the clearing with a warm light. Cara and Mando had managed to bring the AT-ST down and had blown it up. In view of this, the raiders acknowledged defeat and stampeded out of the village and into the forest, a few of them almost running you over in their hurry.
You stood there, panting from the effort, hurting, and covered in blood. Slowly, you turned around and headed for the pond where Mando and Cara were.
Although you couldn't really see much, you could hear the villagers cheering and shouting from happiness, celebrating the well-deserved victory.
As you got closer to the burning AT-ST, you caught sight of a shadow approaching Mando from behind. Without thinking it twice, you threw the dagger at the attacker - using your abilities to make it fly swiftly where you wanted to. It stabbed the raider through the eye socket and he fell to the ground, motionless, just as Mando was turning to face him.
You rushed your pace, reaching them when Mando was pulling the dagger out.
"Good job!" Cara told you, smiling widely. You smiled back but your smile faded fast as you felt Mando's rage.
"I told you not to fight" he said, anger palpable in his voice.
"I'm going to change my clothes and… yeah" said Cara awkwardly, pointing at the village as she left in a hurry. You looked at her back as she left and, slowly, looked back at Mando.
"I wanted to help" you signed before he said anything else.
"From behind the barricades" he said "what were you thinking? You could have been killed out there!"
"Sorry" you signed while trying to look as innocent as possible - though it wasn't very convincing as you were covered in blood - "you gave me that" you added, pointing the dagger "so I thought..."
"I gave you this as an extra precaution, not so you would jump into the battlefield!" He sighed, trying to calm himself while he muttered something you couldn't make out. "Look at you, all that mess to take out what? One raider? Two?"
"Seven"
"Seven?" He looked at you, tilting his head, as if he was deciding whether or not that was plausible. As angry as he was with you, he could not help feeling pleased at this information. "Still, that was a stupid move"
"But I'm fine!"
"You're covered in blood"
"It's not mine" you added with a small smirk, in hopes of diffusing the tension a bit.
"Don't get cute with me" he said while sheathing the dagger. "Come on, if the kids see you like that they'll be scarred for life." He pushed you lightly towards the village and you complied, glad that his anger was slowly fading away.
Once in your hut he took a change of clothes and left you to clean yourself up. Luckily, the raider's blood had splashed mostly on your clothes so you just had to wash your face, hair, and hands. It was disgusting.
As you finished changing your clothes there was a knock on the door. You opened it to find Mando on the threshold.
"You're hurt" He said as soon as he saw you, grabbing you by the uninjured arm and pulling you inside. You sighed, rolling your eyes, and sat on the floor. "Just a scratch" you told him.
"A blaster one" he said kneeling by your side "it could get infected."
Cussing quietly, he started to treat your wound, taking it slow and carefully. Aware as you were of his emotions, you couldn't help smiling at the contrast between his concern for you, and how affronted he was by your actions.
"You're pushing it" he said, looking at your cheeky smile, which vanished from your face as he said that. "You're bleeding" he added as concern replaced his exasperation.
"Not mine" you told him again.
Ignoring you, he grabbed your face with both hands and he moved your head closer to his.
"Yes, this is yours" he said touching your forehead and staining his glove with your blood "did you hit your head against something?"
An image of you, fighting for a gun, and headbutting a raider came to your head.
"Not something, someone" you told him, slightly embarrassed by your brutish ways.
An unfamiliar warm feeling washed over you when he suddenly laughed. You had never once heard Mando laugh. It was like music for your ears, and your heart fluttered as a new and never-felt-before sense of comfort filled you.
"You're unbelievable" he muttered as he started to clean the wound on your forehead, one gloved hand still cupping your cheek.
You were in your own little bubble of warmth and comfort, but still couldn't help to notice a doubtful presence outside the hut, who kept wondering if she should come in or not. Wishing she would just leave, you looked up just before Omera's face peeked through the doorway. She seemed to regret her decision as soon as she looked inside, though you couldn't understand why, as you were very careful not to show your feelings towards her on your face.
"Sorry" she said nervously "we're going to have a small celebration and wanted you to join us".
With a pang of guilt for not having asked about the villagers earlier, you signed to Mando and he translated.
"She wants to know if everyone is fine".
"Yes, a few bruises here and there, but nothing serious" she answered with a warm smile, making you feel bad yet again, for not liking her that much.
"We'll be there in a moment" Mando said, as he held your chin and moved your head to face him, cleaning the cut on your forehead.
Cara joined you as you left the hut, with a wide smile and a bottle of Spotchka on her hand.
"I think we've earned ourselves a break" she said while shaking the bottle.
Singing and cheering could be heard from where you were and, as you got closer, you saw the villagers dancing around a bonfire. They were ecstatic about the victory and seemed to be releasing the piled-up tension from the last month all at once.
Cara sat on a log, a little apart from the group, and the two of you joined her. "I'm not a dancer myself, but that's not a reason to not celebrate!" She said opening the bottle and pouring some of the Spotchka in a glass. She then handed it to you but, as you were about to take it, she moved it away.
"Wait, are you old enough to drink this? I don't want bucket-head here to get angry at me" she said pointing at Mando.
"I'm 26 cycles!" You signed. She looked at you blank and then you both turned to Mando.
"Ah… you want the bucket-head help now, don't you?"
"Sorry, sorry" said Cara with a smile "that was mean, I humbly apologise"
After a long sigh and playing hard to get for a few minutes, he finally gave in.
"She said she's 26 cycles"
"And you believe that?"
"Well, she certainly doesn't look the part"
You were signing at him like mad, but he was just ignoring you. Retribution for disregarding his orders in the fight, you assumed. He seemed to be having a fun time, so you decided it was worth it.
After a few more minutes mocking you, Cara finally gave you the glass, and poured another one for herself.
"I'd offer you some" she said to Mando "but I'm guessing you'd decline it". He nodded. "To us!" She said drinking it in one gulp.
Unlike her, you just took a small sip of the liquor. Although you really were 26 cycles, you had had alcohol only a few times, and never before had you tried Spotchka. It was yummy and sweet, but it burned your throat as you swallowed.
The celebration went on and Cara kept refilling your glass. Mando and her were having a friendly banter, and the villagers kidnapped you for a while to dance. You were having a lot of fun and, when they resumed their dancing, you re-joined Mando and Cara.
The Spotchka had made you a bit light-headed and, since Cara kept refilling your glass, you got to a point where you just had to stop drinking it. By the time you went back to your hut, you could still feel the effects of the alcohol in your system.
"Are you going to leave soon?" You asked Mando once in the hut before he turned off the lights.
The idea of him leaving was upsetting for you. You had chosen not to think about it until after the fight, but now that it was over, you worried he would leave in the morning. The fear, along with the inhibition caused by the alcohol, made you ask before thinking.
You regretted it as soon as you did, but the damage was already done, and you wanted to know.
He looked at you, tilting his head. He took a moment to answer, as if he was choosing his words carefully.
"I'll stay for a few weeks, to make sure the raiders don't come back in retaliation."
"Then… you'll leave?"
"Yes. You'll be happy here but I don't belong." He looked your way for a long moment, then he said jokingly "Don't tell me, you're gonna miss my charming company?"
"Yes" you answered honestly, "I like your company, you are soothing"
"Soothing?"
"The way you feel is calming, nice, helps me sleep with no nightmares. I like it."
"Well, I'm sure there are other ways to help you sleep than travelling with me." He was trying to take the heat out of the matter, but his tone didn't match his mood.
"No, you're different." You admitted "I've never been close to anyone, no friends or family. I'm really going to miss you."
He didn't say anything in a while, and you fell asleep shortly after.
"How long do you plan on sleeping? That's not what I bought you for."
Someone grabbed you by the hair and threw you across the room. You stood up, supporting your weight against a wall, not trusting the strength left on your legs was enough to hold you.
"Such a useless little thing you are."
Alexshel said, as he seized you by the neck and lifted you from the floor. You were choking, air couldn't reach your lungs, and everything was turning dark.
Your eyes opened wide when you felt the sharp cold pain of a metal knife in your insides. You were in a back alley, surrounded by three men towering over you. The sun was high, sweat dripping from your forehead, and you could hear the ruckus from the market on the other side of the street.
"This will teach you not to steal from us again, you karking thug." Said one of the men, punching you on your face before leaving.
Strength left your legs and you fell to the floor; you could taste the blood on your mouth. As you looked down, you saw your hands covered in more blood. You desperately pressed the wound but blood kept pouring out, covering your hands, arms, legs… until eventually everything became red.
The day turned dark and you were in a clearing surrounded by smoke. One raider stood in front of you with his throat slit open, and his blood pouring over you. His eyes showed the same fear that had filled you moments ago, when it was your blood the one gushing out.
Trying to push past the overwhelming fear, you raised your hands to the wound with hopes of stopping the bleeding. That's when you noticed the dagger in your hand, the same one you had used to cause the wound you were now trying to put pressure on. Letting go of the dagger, you looked at the raider yet it wasn't the raider the one looking back at you anymore.
You looked at yourself, your face twisted with pain and fear. Panic took hold of you; you didn't know what to do. Blood kept pouring out and it was your fault, there was nothing you could do, you had done this, you were the only one at fault.
You woke up in a cold sweat, breathing heavily. It was still night, Mando was asleep beside you, and everything was quiet.
Anguish filled your chest, you could hardly breathe, and you felt as if you were being constricted by a massive force. Silently, tears cascaded from your eyes as you kept telling yourself it was only a dream.
By the time you were finally able to calm yourself down, the dawn was starting to break. Laying down, you waited for the morning not falling asleep again.
Mando woke up when light started to come through the window. You faked being asleep since you were rarely up before him. When he started to move around, you feigned being woken up by the noise.
"How are you feeling?"
His question took you by surprise. Had he been awake when you had your nightmare? Had he seen you in that state? You started to panic but tried not to show it in your face as you looked at him quizzically.
"The Spotchka" he clarified seeing your confused expression "it's quite strong."
"I'm fine" you told him, trying to keep an expressionless face.
After a minute or so during which you could feel his gaze upon you, he turned around and went on with his routine.
Days went by but things didn't get any better. You could barely sleep at night due to a mixture of the nightmares, the fear of having them, and the anxiety of Mando finding out.
You were aware of the reason why you were having them - it was quite obvious frankly. Slitting someone's throat and getting drenched in their blood while they looked at you with fear in their eyes had acted as a trigger.
Yet, you couldn't understand why this had brought back some memories from such a long time ago. What's more, not even at your worst had they been so ridiculously recurrent, gruesome, and vivid.
Mando's presence had helped from the very beginning, his inherent calmness somehow imbuing through you and soothing your mind without you even trying. But now, no matter how much you focused on him, it barely did anything. It even felt as if he was not as relaxed anymore, making you worry about the possibility that you might be radiating so much anxiety you were affecting him.
If you had been scared of your nightmares coming back when you had known he'd leave, it was nothing compared with what you were feeling right now; you were terrified of what would happen when he was gone.
About two weeks after the battle, you caught sight of Mando packing up some of the cargo early in the morning. You knew he'd eventually leave, but it brought a lump to your throat when you realised it was so imminent.
You spent the day playing with the children and trying to keep your mind off it. Still, when you saw Cara and Mando sitting outside one of the huts talking, you couldn't resist yourself to get closer and listen. Some of the girls wanted to braid your hair so, using that as an excuse, you sat down quite close to the pair.
The children were quite loud, laughing and shouting, and you could only catch bits and pieces of the conversation.
"With that beautiful young widow..." Cara was saying, looking at Omera.
You felt your heart sink, though you didn't completely grasp why, as you tried to listen to Mando's reply, but you couldn't hear anything over the girls' voices.
"Your hair is so long!"
"We should put some flowers on it."
Not knowing if Mando had answered or not, you looked his way and felt his gaze on you. Turning back to the girls, in a futile attempt to pretend you weren't eavesdropping, you smiled and nodded at the idea of the flowers. They left in a hurry to go and fetch them, allowing you for the first time to listen undisturbed.
"Let me guess, not your type?" Cara asked. You could hear a smile in her voice but, since you hadn't been able to listen properly, you had no idea what they were talking about.
"Something like that" Mando said "You know, we raised some hell here a few weeks back. It's too much action for a backwater town like this. Word travels fast. You might wanna cycle the charts and move on." he added changing topics.
"Look! We found these pretty pink ones; do you like them?"
You nodded and they started to put the flowers on your freshly braided hair. With the ruckus, it was impossible for you to hear more than a few lost words and you gave up.
During the day Mando kept packing up. A few times he seemed to try to approach you to talk but you didn't have the nerve to bid him farewell yet. Hoping he wouldn't leave until talking to you, you kept evading him, using the children as an excuse to run away from him every time he got close.
After one fleeing attempt, you had somehow ended up learning how to identify the types of Krill with the children. Mando was a few feet away, talking to Omera when a shot rang out in the clearing.
Instinctively, you put yourself in front of the kids trying to round them up behind you. Mando had also jumped into action, taking out his blaster.
"Get in!" He shouted at the villagers then, looking at you, he added "get inside with the kids!"
You nodded and rushed them inside one of the huts. Through the window you could see how he got into the forest and left.
Waiting for him to return, you tried to help calming down the kids. After what felt like hours - but was probably not more than ten minutes - he and Cara came back.
"It's all fine" Cara said, calming down the villagers "you can come out now, there's no danger".
As everyone left the hut, Mando blocked your way.
"We have to talk."
Having no idea how to avoid him, you resigned yourself and waited for everybody to leave. The last one was Cara, who gave you a worried look before closing the door behind her.
"We have to leave the planet" he said.
Convinced, as you were, that he was about to say goodbye, it took you a few seconds to process the we in his sentence.
"We?" You signed with a confused expression on your face.
"Yes. That shot we heard was Cara, she was scouting the surroundings when she found a bounty hunter with a tracking fob for you."
"How…?"
"We've stayed here for too long; it was a matter of time they found us with those fobs."
"But…if Cara…" you couldn't think of the sign of shoot at the moment, so you just mimicked the gesture.
"They'll keep coming, so we need to leave as soon as possible." He said while showing you the sign. "I'm sorry."
"No, it's my fault" you told him, and it wasn't just to make him feel better or to not hurt his feelings. They were tracking you, not him. If he wanted to, he could probably stay there and have a normal life but you knew he wouldn't let you go alone. He felt responsible and he had taken it as his duty to take you to a safe place.
"Pack your things, we're leaving now."
You nodded and headed to your hut to pick everything up. When you came out, Mando and the villagers were already loading the cargo on the sled. After a few minutes, you were ready to go.
"Are you sure you don't want an escort?" Cara was asking Mando when you approached them.
"I appreciate the offer. But we're gonna bypass the town and head right to the Razor Crest."
"Well then." She said offering Mando her hand "Until our paths cross."
"Until our paths cross." Said Mando taking her hand.
"And you" she added looking at you and also offering you her hand "be careful."
You nodded and took her hand to shake it, but she suddenly pulled you into a hug and whispered, "take care of him, ok?"
Pulling apart she winked at you with a big grin on her face, making you laugh. You? Take care of Mando? Like he needed anyone to take care of him.
You were about to hop on the sled when someone tackled you at the knees. You looked down to see Winta.
"I'll miss you so much."
The rest of the children had also come to bid you farewell.
"I'll miss you too, all of you" you signed as you looked at Mando. He didn't seem to want to say that out loud but he did anyway.
After a group hug, you finally got on the sled and the two of you headed to the Razor Crest.
"Where now?" You asked Mando, wondering if he had some place in mind.
"I don't know." He sighed "I figured this place was hard enough to find, but I was wrong. I guess we'll have to go back to wandering from one place to another."
Though you didn't want to admit it, you were glad you got to travel around with Mando for a bit longer. Knowing that you would still have his company was a relief and, if you were honest with yourself, you didn't think you could have fit in the village. Too quiet and boring for you.
When you finally got to the Crest, you said your goodbyes to Caben and Stoke, who had accompanied you all the way, and finally got in.
It was the closest thing to being home you had ever felt. You had missed the ship, even though you had really enjoyed your time in Sorgan.
After putting all the cargo into place, you took your seats and finally left the planet.
Maybe it was because you had barely slept for the past few weeks, or maybe because you felt safe and sheltered on your seat in the Razor Crest. Whatever the reason was, you fell soundly asleep after jumping to hyperspace.
You woke up hours later.
If you strained your mind, you were aware you had had weird dreams but no gruesome nightmares, which was more than you could ask for.
"Welcome back. I was worried you wouldn't wake up." Mando greeted you, a smile in his voice.
"I was tired."
"I could tell. Trouble sleeping?"
You shrugged, letting him interpret the gesture however he wanted.
"I know you've been having nightmares" he said turning in his seat to face you "wanna talk about it?"
So, he knew, huh? You wondered for how long had he been aware of what was going on. Had he seen you panicking in the middle of the night? Was he awake when you couldn't fall back to sleep? When you could do nothing but cry until dawn broke?
You shuddered at the idea of him seeing you at your worst, but there was not much you could do now that he knew. After thinking for a moment, you chose to answer honestly. After all, he wouldn't be asking if he didn't want to talk about it.
"Not nightmares, memories."
He gave a long sigh and leaned back in his seat.
"Well… those are worse than nightmares. They don't go away when you wake up."
He didn't say more but you looked at him, waiting. You knew there was more in his mind, and you wanted to hear it. After a long pause he went on.
"Sometimes… I still dream about the day I lost my parents. It's been so long and yet I remember it so vividly." You could feel his pain as he told you this. It was a pain of the likes you'd never felt before and it made your heart ache as you looked down holding your tears. Grief, you assumed as you had never felt this emotion before.
He took a deep breath, trying to get rid of the memory and what it evoked. It almost worked. "We can't run from our past, we have to come to terms with it, accept it, and move on."
Moving on, you thought, that was easier said than done.
He took another long breath as he settled his feelings. "That was probably not of much help, right?"
You gave him a shaky smile, trying to pull yourself together from the wave of pain he had unknowingly subjected you to, and shook your head.
"I figured… well, if you can think of anything I can do to help, just say it."
Gesturing in an exaggerated manner in hopes of amusing him, you acted as if you were thinking and suddenly came up with an idea. He looked at you expectantly.
"Relax. If you're calm, I'm calm."
He tilted his head, amused and wary at the same time.
"Don't look at me like that" you signed to him.
"And how is that?" He replied in a smug tone. "Oh! That's true! I forgot I chose as a partner the only woman in the galaxy who can read my mind."
The realisation that you hadn't seen his face and yet you knew the way he had looked at you, took you by surprise almost as much as him referring to you as "partner". You shook your head.
"I don't read your mind."
"A technicality." He chuckled. "I'm going to get some rest, you're in charge." He said, as he stood up and left through the cockpit's hatch.
Once alone, you replayed the conversation in your head a few times. As short as it had been, it had also been intense. It had given you insight into Mando, and it was the first time the two of you had talked calmly in a while.
It had also left you with a heavy heart though.
Having never been close to anyone, you had neither experienced the loss of a loved one. You knew about grief yet you had never felt it, until now. It was a hard feeling to shake off, not only because it was strong, but also because you could still feel it coming from Mando downstairs.
On the bright side, today had been probably the first time Mando had opened up to you and talked about his feelings. This made you feel you were growing closer, and you liked it.
Also, he had called you "partner". You had been convinced since day one that you were nothing more than a burden for him. It was nice to know that was not the case.
You spent the next few hours holding onto those thoughts.
"We'll need to get some credits if we plan on staying out of the grid like this" Mando was saying as he searched through the control panel's navigational map. A few days had gone by and, although you had gotten some provisions from Sorgan, they wouldn't last long. "I'll need to find some jobs to do."
"I can help" you signed to him.
"I know," he said "but using your powers will attract too much unwanted attention, so you better learn how to shoot."
Although you knew he was teasing you, he wasn't wrong, but it wasn't like you could practice your aim on a ship in the middle of space.
"Tund" he was mumbling "don't know anything about this planet... It looks like a forest or a jungle. Maybe there's some work for us, maybe there's nothing in there… won't know unless we try, right?" he said to you as he set the course.
The planet was quite close and you got there in little to no time. When you got inside its atmosphere, you landed on the outskirts of a town.
The view once outside the ship was shocking. The town looked like a state-of-the-art city that had been swallowed up by a jungle. Yet, everything seemed to be in complete harmony and nothing looked out of place.
"Toongs home world, huh?" Mando mumbled as you walked through the city's streets and crossed paths with some of the natives.
These Toongs were a species shorter than you, with big heads where the torso would normally be, long legs and arms, and three antennae on the top of their heads. Surprisingly, mostly considering how large their heads were, they had very tiny eyes and noses located high up on the head.
As always, Mando headed straight to the canteen and you followed. You couldn't stop being fascinated by your surroundings: modern buildings that looked like part of the jungle at the same time, plants that grew everywhere but were accommodated to form perfect streets, and all the different beings you crossed paths with.
You had never seen anything like it and it was very hard for you to peel your eyes off it all. Walking behind Mando in a deliberate slow fashion, you tried to take in as much as you could, fearful you wouldn’t stay for long.
The shape of the buildings, you noticed, resembled that of a beehive, with vaulted ceilings, and rounded in shape. Yet, they were unbelievably tall – though not as tall as the trees surrounding them, which you noticed were massive. In fact, now that you were having a better look, all the plants were enormous, two and three times bigger than their usual size.
When you finally made it to the canteen, you were surprised to see it was full to the brim and that barely anyone looked at you when you came in. This was certainly not common, since Mando tended to attract a lot of attention. He walked to the bar and you sat in a stool beside him.
"Hey" he said to the Toong serving at the bar "I'm looking for some work."
"If you want business you should talk to Gaktor Kell" he said pointing to a table on the back of the canteen.
He nodded and then looked at you "You stay here ok? The less they know about you, the better."
As he headed towards the table, you realised how everyone sitting there tensed up. You couldn't blame them though, Mando had that effect. After a minute or so - probably as soon as he stated he was looking for business - they relaxed.
You kept an eye on him, as he talked to this Gaktor Kell, monitoring his emotions just in case something went wrong. A few minutes later, he walked back to you and, without even stopping, he said "come on, we're leaving".
He wasn't in a bad mood or worried, so you followed him, confident he had pulled a good bargain.
"So, what's the job?" You asked him as you walked back to the Razor Crest.
"A cargo of spices that should have arrived from Formos seems to have had some issues. They said they had to pull an emergency landing on Asusto and they're stranded there."
"A rescue mission? Sounds nice." You signed with a smile. It was reassuring for you that the job consisted of helping someone instead of killing someone. Mando seemed to follow your train of thought as he answered.
"Yes. Still, the pay was too good for something so simple, so don't get too comfy. I don't think they gave me all the details."
How was it that this piece of information didn't surprise you? With Mando nothing seemed to go as planned and, if there was a chance that something went wrong it would probably happen.
With a feeling of uncertainty that you didn't exactly like, he took off and set the coordinates to Asusto.
A couple of hours later, you exited hyperspace outside Asusto's atmosphere.
"I'm going to land at some distance from the coordinates they gave me." Mando explained as you approached the planet. "We'll have to walk but I prefer if they don't see us coming."
He was uneasy about the mission, you could tell, but he was still confident in himself - which, truth to be told, was quite reassuring for you.
After landing in a small clearing surrounded by vegetation, you headed out of the cockpit. Before opening the ramp though, he handed you a blaster.
"I don't think you'll have to use it" he lied "but it is better if you have it, just in case."
You took the weapon and got out of the ship. Hoping his lie became true, you strapped it to your waist wondering if - if it came to that - you'd be able to shoot anyone with it. Your hesitation didn't only reside in your ability as a gunman but also in that, at that point, you heavily doubted your ability to inflict damage to anyone; at least after the backlash you had experienced from what had happened in Sorgan.
"I'll need you to be alert" he said, joining you outside the ship and closing the ramp "do that radar thing and let me know if you can feel anyone."
You nodded, smiling at the way he had said "feel".
The planet you were on was heavily forested and walking through the vegetation was proving difficult and tiring. Mando was not speaking as he was extremely concentrated in his surroundings - probably thinking you were about to get ambushed.
The temperature was quite high, that plus the humidity, and the effort you were making, was making you sweat intensely. With your soaked clothes clinging unpleasantly to your body, you couldn't help but wonder how could Mando withstand the effort. His clothes were thicker than yours and he also wore the beskar over them - not to mention the helmet - yet, he was leading the way at a good pace, showing no signs of fatigue.
Almost an hour had gone by when you suddenly noticed that you weren't alone. Pulling Mando's arm, you signed to him that there were at least three people in the direction you were heading.
"Ok, try not to make a sound" he told you, signing too. Then, he pointed the blaster on your waist, urging you to take it out.
As you got closer, you informed Mando you could now feel up to four people. A few moments after, you started to hear them.
"Did you hear his voice? He squealed like a gamorrean!" A male voice said as he laughed loudly.
"Yeah, you've said it three times already," another man told him "how about you help us load all this onto the ship?"
"Yes, move your fucking ass already!" A female voice added.
Mando turned around and gestured to you to crouch.
"We're going to circle them" he signed "you go to the right, I go to the left. I'll take the lead, you cover me, ok?"
You nodded and started to walk around the spot where the smugglers were - as you were now quite convinced that's what they were.
When you reached a fallen tree, you finally had a good view of what was going on. The cargo ship that had been hauling the spices to Tund was on the ground, with clear signs of having been attacked. Next to it lay a pile of bodies, you recognised them as Toongs, although it was hard to tell since some of them were covered in blood and torn to pieces.
To its left, there was another ship: a heavily modified Class 720 freighter. Beside it, were two men, one with long hair, and carrying a blaster rifle almost as big as him; the other was huge, with pale-greyish skin, and bald.
They were moving a big container into the cargo bay. As you watched them do so, the female you had heard before came out of the ship. She had pale-green skin covered in black geometrical tattoos.
"Come on! We've been here for hours and there's still a lot to load!"
"I'm sure we'll go faster if you give us a hand" the grey-skinned man told her.
She started to walk down the ship's ramp when you saw a figure walking out behind her. Your stomach turned as you recognised the being as a Nikto. Flashes of what your life had been just a few months ago started to dart before your eyes. You shook your head, trying to get rid of the memories, and focused on the smugglers.
You wondered how any of them could have butchered the Toongs, especially without getting even a drop of blood on them. Worried there might be someone else between their ranks, you focused on your surroundings but got distracted as you saw Mando coming out of his hiding spot, rifle in hand.
They all had lowered their defences, probably confident that no-one would find them there and, except for the man with the rifle, they looked unarmed. Still, you took your aim at the biggest man who looked like the worst threat.
"I believe that's not yours" Mando said calmly, startling all four of them "show me your hands."
They let go of the cargo and raised their hands in the air. Although you knew Mando was a good shooter and they were all unarmed, you were worried. You couldn't stop thinking about those maimed Toongs and how none of the present looked strong or fierce enough to cause such damage.
Still, things seemed to be going smoothly. The four smugglers were obeying Mando's orders with no retort, slowly putting their weapons on the floor and moving away from them.
A bloodcurdling roar echoed through the clearing as a big hairy figure jumped on Mando, squashing him flat on the muddy ground and making him lose grip of the rifle, which flew a few metres away from him.
As you took your aim at the creature, you noticed its face had feline features, it had a thick mane, and its body was covered with fur, yet it seemed humanoid. You missed your first two shots but at least diverged its attention from Mando to you. Finally, on your third try, you hit its arm and it moved away from Mando to take cover.
Seizing the chance, Mando got up lumpishly and moved behind one of the containers to hide from the enemies' shots. The smugglers started shooting your way, since they didn't have a clear shot of Mando, but you were still under the shelter of the vegetation and had already moved from the point at where they were shooting. You ran around the clearing without being seen until you were close enough to Mando. He had already taken out his blaster and, as he saw you, he started shooting back, giving you the chance to cross towards him safely.
"Where did that thing come from?" He asked you. He sounded out of breath and you were worried about the damage that beast could have caused him, although the beskar and the muddy ground had probably cushioned the hit.
You started to sign that you had no idea and that you hadn't felt it until it was already there, when you noticed one of the smugglers was approaching you from your side. Mando tilted his head quizzically, as you had stopped signing all of a sudden.
"One behind me on five" you signed, counting down as the smuggler got closer.
Mando raised his blaster in front of your face and you cowered, as you kept counting back "three… two… one"
Just when you finished the countdown, Mando shot and you heard a grunt behind you and a loud "thump" as a body hit the ground. You looked around and saw the long-haired man laying still.
"Good one" Mando said.
With a faint hope, you started searching the man for his rifle but - damn your luck - he seemed to not have taken it back after having been disarmed. You strained your eyes as you looked around for Mando's rifle. He was keeping them at bay, but you knew he'd have higher chances of getting them with it.
Finally, you located it a few metres away. You could easily retrieve it but not while your attention was split focusing on the four smugglers and their movements. They seemed to be hesitant after what had happened to the man, so it seemed like the perfect moment to unfocus them and get the rifle. Concentrating all your energies on the rifle, you made it fly all the way to you and handed it to Mando.
"Good" he said with relief in his voice "let's see how they like this."
As he aimed, you heard the rifle's distinctive charging noise. You peeked out of your hiding place and fired a shot, trying to bait them out. It worked, and the big grey-skinned man came out to shoot at you but, before he could even start to pull the trigger, Mando shot and he disintegrated in mid-air.
Unfortunately, he wasn't the only one who peeked. The Nikto had also come out from a different angle and had started shooting at you. You shot back and hit him in the shoulder, making him let go of the blaster and hide away.
Before they could shoot at you again, you crouched behind the container. Mando had already charged his rifle and was waiting for them to dare to come out again when something heavy hit the ground just behind you.
You turned to see the beast land on its hind legs and raise a massive paw with long, sharp claws at Mando. Mustering all your energy, you managed to hold it back before it hit him, but the beast was so strong willed it somehow was able to keep moving - although much slower than usual.
During the few seconds it took Mando to turn around and fire his rifle, its claw had almost reached him, regardless of all the effort you were making at stopping it. As Mando shot, the beast turned to dust and you dropped to the floor, exhausted by the effort.
"You ok?" He asked worriedly. You weren't even sure he had noticed you had used your powers for, as exhausting as it had been, the struggle had only lasted a few seconds.
You nodded languishly.
"Ok! We surrender!" The female shouted, as she and the Nikto threw their blasters towards you. They slowly got up, hands raised in the air.
Mando got up, still aiming his rifle at them, just in case they dared to do something foolish. As he noticed you were drained, he offered you the rifle.
"If they move, you know what to do" he said with a threatening voice, enjoying the anguish he was causing them.
He approached them and tied their hands behind their backs. Then he walked to you.
"You stay here, I'll go get the Crest."
"You ok?" You asked him, as he had been hit very hard and his whole armour was covered in mud.
"Yes… but I am in dire need of a shower." He said, a laugh in his voice.
You rolled your eyes at him, and off he went.
It would take Mando almost an hour to come back with the Razor Crest and, although the smugglers were tied up, you knew you couldn't let your guard down.
As beat as you were, you decided to sit on one of the containers while keeping an eye on them, rifle at hand.
You were quite curious about them, well, mostly about the woman. She was from a species you hadn't seen before. Her skin colour, as well as the geometrical markings in her face, were exotic and beautiful. Plus, she was restless, as if she wanted to say something but didn't dare to do so.
She looked at you too, probably sizing you up. After a while, she seemed to make up her mind and finally talked to you.
"Hey! There's no need to keep us tied up like this!"
She waited for an answer but you just looked at her, interested about where this was going to go. Little did she know she wouldn't get any answers from you, anyways.
"Come on! It was nothing personal, just business!"
You looked at her with an eyebrow raised and then pointed with your head at the remains of the Toongs.
"It wasn't us!" The Nikto said anxiously.
"Look, we just joined those guys, we didn't know they were like that! What were we supposed to do? Go against them and meet the same end as those?"
You looked at them for a long moment and then shrugged.
Silence fell over again. She was still on edge since the conversation didn't seem to have gone the way she wanted to.
Time slowly went by in silence. The Nikto was calm and quiet, but the woman was still fretting. You were wondering how long it would take her to go ahead and talk again, when she finally did so.
"How much are they paying you for the delivery?"
Ah! She wanted to cut a deal! Unluckily for her, not only did you have no idea, but it wasn't in your hand to negotiate. You looked at her trying hard not to smile.
"Ok, you don't have to answer. I'm just saying that we had a pretty good deal… I mean, we were hired by spice dealers to steal that" she said pointing at the containers with her head "and those guys pay extremely well!"
She waited for a short moment and then continued.
"Almost all of the cargo is already loaded on the ship. Take off with us, you don't even have to untie us, I'll tell you the coordinates and we can split the reward between the three. Then, we'll go our separate ways and never see each other again."
At that point you couldn't help but smile. Did she really believe you were so naive? Leaving aside the fact that you wouldn't betray Mando, if you wanted to cut a good deal you wouldn't take the prisoners with you so they could stab you behind your back as soon as they got the chance.
"Oh, come on! Don't be silly, do you think the bucket-head won't take the deal if I offer it later? He'll leave you here to rot with those guys, that's what Mandalorians do. They only care about the job and the fight."
You shook your head, still smiling. You knew Mando and he wasn't like that, you were the living proof.
"It's true! That beast-guy he obliterated? He was a Cathar and his species went nearly-extinct because of Mandalorians! They killed them for sport!"
At that point you realised you knew nothing about Mandalorians, so you had no idea if what she was saying was true or not - although that didn't change in any way your perception about Mando.
Somehow, she seemed to notice your brief moment of hesitation and swelled up with confidence.
"Look" she started to say, a strong determination radiating from every pore of her body, "I get it's hard to accept, but he'll betray you as soon as he's got a chance".
A loud noise interrupted her. You looked up to see the Crest hovering over the clearing. After landing, Mando came out from the hangar ramp which he had opened to load the cargo.
"Everything ok?" He asked and you nodded.
"She tried to bargain with me" you signed at him with a smile, as you watched the woman's face when she saw the reason why you hadn't answered her not even once.
"Really? Anything good?" Mando asked jokingly. You shook your head with a fake sad expression. "Lucky me, then."
You started to load the cargo boxes, starting from the ones that were still outside and continuing with the ones the smugglers had already loaded into their ship. Halfway through, you saw Mando talking with the woman - she was probably offering him the same deal as she had offered you. Since you already knew his answer, you couldn't care less about it. Instead, you decided to take advantage of it and, while Mando was acting as an unaware diversion, you headed to the ship's cockpit and tweaked the control panel.
Leaving them stranded there, tied up, felt wrong but untying them and risking the chance of being attacked was not an option. Rather than that, slightly breaking their ship seemed like the best choice: it would take them a while to fix it but they wouldn't die from starvation there.
The smugglers didn't say anything after that and you wondered what could have Mando said to the woman to make her stop trying. She seemed very persistent when talking to you.
A few hours later, you finally finished loading everything in. You were exhausted and dirty and could only think about taking a shower and having dinner - in that order if possible.
"Any ideas about them?" Mando asked you with a huff as he let go of the last box.
"I broke their ship," you told him with a playful smile. He scoffed at you, amused.
"Really?" He said, and you could tell he had raised an eyebrow at you, half surprised, half enjoying it.
"Yes. Not hard to fix but it will take time."
"Ok, you start the ship and I'll take care of them."
You went to the cockpit and did as you had been told. A few minutes later, Mando joined you with the smugglers’ weapons in his arms, and you took off, back to Tund.
The trip back would take a few hours, enough for you to clean up but you could tell Mando needed it more. He had been upset since his suspicions about the mission became true and you could tell he wasn't feeling comfortable covered in mud and sweat, which only added fuel to the fire.
"Go clean up" you told him.
He looked at you for a second and said "Nah, you go."
"I'm fine and you look like trash"
"Thanks, I guess."
Your laugh followed him as he left the cockpit.
By the time he was back, clean clothes and shining armour on, you were about to exit hyperspace so you waved your shower goodbye, at least for the time being.
Once you had landed, you headed back to the canteen and Mando was welcome by a very happy Gaktor Kell. Alas, Mando was not so happy himself. You couldn't hear the conversation from where you were, but you could feel the tension building up.
Mando was irked since the rescue mission had had nothing to do with rescuing. It looked to you like he was demanding a higher reward for the services given, something that didn't seem to please Gaktor whose mood drastically changed from happy to annoyed.
You stood up expectantly as you saw Mando move his hand towards the blaster holster. This gesture didn't go unnoticed and Gaktor's underlings tensed up. For a few minutes they all stayed still as Gaktor talked - you looked at them with bated breath - and all of a sudden, the tension diffused, Mando's posture relaxed, and they shook hands.
"They'll unload the cargo; we can have something to eat meanwhile" he said when he joined you.
"Everything ok?"
He took a deep breath as he sat beside you. "Yeah, I calmly explained the situation and he understood the extra risk we had to take, so he kindly raised the reward."
"You think I'm stupid?" You asked him with a mocking smile.
"No, I truly believe that's how the conversation went." You couldn't help but laugh at that.
"Your payment and the extra for the inconvenience, as we agreed, '' Gaktor Kell said as he approached you with a case of credits. "I'm happy to see that the Mandalorians live up to their reputation. If someone could retrieve my cargo it had to be you."
Mando nodded his head once as a response and Gaktor left.
"Eat." Mando told you.
"Are we staying?"
"No, when the smugglers fix their ship they'll come straight here for us and I'm not in the mood for more fighting. I might not be as nice this time." He sighed and looked at you. "When they finish unloading the cargo we'll leave."
Although you understood, it was a pity you couldn't stay for a while and explore the planet.
While you ate your meal, you thought about what Gaktor had said regarding Mandalorians. What was exactly their reputation? Up to this moment you had just heard legends about what amazing warriors they were but Mandalorians were rarely seen around so you didn't know much more. You wanted to ask Mando but you knew you'd have to wait till the right moment.
When you finished eating, you headed back to the Crest. As soon as they finished unloading everything you took off.
"Shower" you signed when you made the jump to hyperspace and, without waiting for an answer you went downstairs to the refresher.
After a long hot shower you felt warm, cozy, and a little dizzy. The only clothes you had brought from Sorgan were the ones you had just slipped out of, and they were dirty, smelly, and sticky with sweat. You opened the refresher's door just enough to stick your head out and make sure Mando wasn't around.
Wrapping a towel around your naked body - although calling that little piece of cloth a towel was an overstatement - you moved quickly to the wardrobe and borrowed some of his clothes. You got back inside the refresher hurriedly and dressed up.
After patting your hair as dry as you could, you climbed your way to the cockpit and joined Mando, who looked asleep.
"Feeling better?" He said suddenly, startling you as you approached your seat silently, trying not to wake him up. He chuckled quietly.
You nodded, frowning slightly at him, as he had made you jump in a foolish fashion on your way to your seat.
"Where to?" You asked him.
"I honestly don't know" he said with a long sigh as he leaned back in his seat. "The planets I know swarm with scoundrels and bounty hunters…"
He sounded tired and, honestly, who could blame him? It had been way too many months in the standard calendar since you two fled Nevarro. At least when you were in Sorgan you could rest, but since then you had kept moving from one planet to another. It was exhausting.
For the first time, you realised you had never asked Mando what he had left behind when he decided to save you. Friends, family. Did he have any of those? How much had he sacrificed for you? Was it even worth it? The thought about Mandalorians and how little you knew about them popped up in your mind again.
You wanted to ask him all these questions and more, but you didn't know how to bring the subject up. Furthermore, you weren't sure you wanted to know the answers. What if he told you that he had abandoned a whole life to save you? That it had never been worth it?
Another sigh coming from Mando interrupted your train of thought.
"Maybe…" he mumbled as he turned to you "you've never told me where you're from, maybe we could go there."
With a sad smile you opened the navigational chart and searched until you found what now was nothing more than empty space.
"You are from Alderaan?" He asked, surprised.
"I was taken at 5" you reminded him trying to ease his worry "I don't remember it."
As you immediately realised, this sentence had just had the opposite effect since he seemed to be even more concerned than before. It had happened before and you should have been aware that mentioning you had been a slave wasn't the best course of action to calm him.
Approaching the control panel again, you pointed Breeka.
"I lived there until 12" you told him, trying to bring the conversation back to its original topic.
"I don't know that planet" he admitted "how did you leave? I mean… were, were you freed or did you escape? I ..." He wasn't going to let this go and, aside from the concern, you could feel the awkwardness in his voice as he asked about your life as a slave. You couldn't help but think that it was kinda cute.
Mando, cute? That was new. How could you think that when you knew nothing about him? What in the blazes… you didn't even know if he was human! Shaking the thought off you answered him.
"My… owner" you signed spelling the last word. This time you didn't wait for him to show you the sign and went on - Mando had been adamant about not teaching you words related to slavery - "died, so I left the planet."
Although that was true, from a certain point of view, you were purposely omitting key parts of the story. Like how you had returned home from the market to find Imps knocking on the front door; how you had decided to sneak around the back and watch the scene develop from a window; how they had asked for you and when your owner hadn't told them they had killed him; or how you ran away, completely terrified, and got into the first shuttle that left the planet using the few credits you had left from doing the groceries.
The image of the cloaked woman that had murdered your owner in cold blood, haunted your dreams ever since. Not to be misunderstood, your owner wasn't a saint but he didn't deserve what had happened to him either. You knew how other slaves were treated - or mistreated - and you knew you were lucky, as long as you followed orders and didn't cause any trouble your life was quite easy.
As time went by, you found out that the cloaked woman was an Imperial Inquisitor and, for some reason - you inferred it had something to do with your abilities - she wanted you, possibly dead but you hadn't stopped to ask her.
Whatever the case was, you had never wanted anything to do with the Empire, so every time you spotted a storm trooper you fled the planet you were on without looking back. This was the main reason you had no friends. How could you make friends when you didn't know how long you were staying? What if they met the same fate as your owner? You couldn't take the risk, therefore you rarely socialised and when you did, you made sure to be as harsh and unfriendly as possible.
"How? I mean… you were just a kid, how did you manage?"
"Hardly" you answered honestly "stealing, taking any job, barely eating… surviving."
There was a long silence finally interrupted by Mando.
"Do you think anyone would recognise you there?" He asked, pointing to Breeka.
"No, it was too long ago."
"Good, then it's decided." He said as he settled the course.
"How did you manage?" You dared to ask. He looked at you tilting his head, slightly confused "after your parents" you cleared up.
"Well… I wasn't alone. The Mandalorians took care of me, they trained me in the Fighting Corps and then I joined the Tribe, in Nevarro."
"Do you have a family?" You knew you were trying your luck here, but curiosity had gotten the best of you.
"The Mandalorians are my clan, my family by creed" he said solemnly looking at you "I was a foundling so I always felt like I didn't really belong, that's why I've tried to make sure the foundlings had anything they needed since they're my family too."
He didn't seem upset in any way about your questions so you kept going, hoping he'll stop you if he got uncomfortable.
"You say 'clan' and 'creed' ... I don't understand" you told him, having to spell those two words since you didn't know them yet "Are those words like family? Are Mandalorians close?"
He gave a long sigh as he brooded over the question.
"Mandalorians are bound by their creed and code. When they took me in I trained with the other younglings and, when I came of age I swore the creed and got my helmet. Fighting is part of our culture and identity, so we spent most of the time training and fighting, not so much bonding or making friends." He looked at you again, as if he was thinking about your question once more. "I guess, if you talk about the traditional meaning of family, those words don't mean the same thing … It's a different kind of family. We care about, help, and protect each other - as they helped us when leaving Nevarro - not because we're particularly close but because it's part of our creed."
"So you don't have friends?" You asked confused.
"Mmm… I guess not. I have comrades, people with whom I work well and I like them better than others."
You looked at him, frowning. It was hard to picture how he could have grown up surrounded by people who were his family, but not be close to them at the same time.
He chuckled quietly while looking at you, something in your expression seemed to be amusing him and you looked his way, confused. This had happened before, Mando was easy to read but sometimes his reactions and emotions made no sense to you.
"I just thought … I suppose that makes you my first friend."
This took you completely by surprise and you felt your face warm as blood rushed to it.
"We're friends?" You asked him flustered.
"Of course." He said boldly "I wouldn't wander the galaxy for someone who wasn't a friend."
So this was what having a friend was like?
Well, you had never had one so you couldn't know for sure but it made sense. It was quite obvious that you liked Mando, you enjoyed his company and being around him. In fact, you had assumed that you had bonded with him because his presence made your nightmares go away but now that you thought about it, it was quite obvious that it was the opposite: your nightmares had subsided because of your bond.
This bond might also explain why you could read him so easily or why you had had such a hard time accepting that he was going to leave you in Sorgan.
You looked at him, excited about this newfound information and about deciphering what having a friend was like, only to realise he was fast asleep - this time for real.
Slightly disappointed, you turned in your seat until you found a comfortable position to fall asleep. It took you a while to nod off since you couldn't stop thinking about how lucky you were to have finally found a friend, but after a while you relaxed and fell into a dreamless sleep.
During the next few days Mando insisted on having some sparring sessions. He said that being inside the ship for so long had taken a toll on his speed and reflexes, that's why the Cathar had been able to take him down. Low key, you thought that the Cathar was simply faster and stronger, and had had the upper hand from the start - although there was no need of telling Mando this.
He also believed that some training would be good for you since he didn't really like that you used your powers - as he called them - to fight.
"If you do a triple loop mid-air or finish three guys bigger than you all by yourself, it's bound to attract some attention." He had said, and he wasn't wrong.
Therefore, the training had begun. You already knew how to fight but it was hard not to rely on your speed or agility since Mando considered both as using your powers. It was also hard to explain to him with only signs that you couldn't switch these abilities off, they were a part of you, natural like breathing.
"That was better" he said after a few days training "first time without acrobatics" he added jokingly.
You rolled your eyes at him as you sat down. He had no idea how hard it had been for you not to do "acrobatics". It was like asking someone to run as fast as they could while telling them not to move their legs too much at the same time.
However, he seemed pleased and now that you had a grasp on how to control your abilities during a fight it was less likely that you'd mess up. After grabbing some food, you headed back to the cockpit, giving Mando some privacy to eat and wash himself.
The Crest was en route to Breeka and, although you had made the jump to hyperspace, the trip was going to take about a week. Unfortunately, as you were just noticing, there was no way the remaining fuel you had would to be enough for the trip. When Mando got back, you pointed at the control panel to let him know and you weren't surprised to see he was aware of this setback.
"Yes, we're going to have to make a stop" he said calmly as he looked through the planets on the chart. "This place looks sparsely populated, a swampy forested planet with scattered cities."
"A lot of water" you told him, clearly concerned.
"Don't worry, we won't get near it, I promise."
You couldn't help but smile at the solemnity with which he said this.
After a couple of days filled with sparring sessions - during which you rapidly improved your control over your skills - you exited the hyperspace and approached the swampy planet. As you looked at the control panel to make sure all the indicators were within the normal limits, you noticed for the first time the name of the planet you were heading for: Rodia. A flash of images of reptilian looking guys with green skin, large round eyes, snouts, and antennae flooded your mind.
So, this is where Rodians come from, you thought as you approached the planet's atmosphere. Every single Rodian you had met during your life had been a bounty hunter or associated with them, but of course that didn't mean the whole species was like that. Still, you couldn't shake off the feeling that you shouldn't stop there.
Well, you couldn't shake the feeling off but you could certainly ignore it for as long as you were on the planet. Luckily for you, this was going to prove to be easy since, as you approached the surface of the planet, you got distracted by the scenery in front of you. The planet was a swamp, no doubt, but the cities were encased with domed transparent shields that looked like huge bubbles.
You were wondering how you were going to get inside the dome, when Mando followed a vessel that was approaching it. As it got closer, the shields opened up a big enough gap for the ship to go through and you just tagged along. Once inside, you could see how the city was built over the swampy surface. In fact, it was quite spectacular how clean and modern everything looked taking into account you were still in a marsh.
"Ok, while they refuel the ship let's get some food" Mando said as you landed.
You nodded excitedly. Freshly cooked food was an unusual commodity and you could do with some of it.
On your way to the canteen - because you knew that following Mando would always take you there - you walked through grey paved stone streets, with magnificent buildings adorned with astonishing glass windows four and five times taller than you. Because of the open streets and the colour of the pavement, everything looked very neat and tidy, and the shops on the lower floors all had beautiful displays of their products. Realising that you were falling behind, you rushed yourself to get to Mando. Withal, you couldn't help but get distracted again as you walked past a bookshop with actual books on display - books per se were rare enough to find but on top of that these ones were also gorgeous.
"I thought you were hungry" said Mando from behind you; he had walked all the way back to you.
You looked up to see his reflection on the shop's window, he was looking at you with his head tilted in confusion. Turning around to face him you nodded.
"Of course I'm hungry!".
"Ok..." he said dubiously, as if he couldn't understand why you would stop to look at a shop when you were hungry "then let's go".
Once you got to the canteen you sat at the bar. People looked at Mando curiously, as always, but they didn't stare as much as in other places you had been.
"One soup" Mando said to the waiter droid.
"Can I get you anything else?"
"Just the soup".
As you waited for the food, you took a look at those inside the canteen. Most of them were Rodians although there were a few other species too. The door opened and a group of five came in, they weren't anything out of the ordinary so you didn't pay much attention to them. That was your mistake.
You were halfway through a sentence to Mando about a family of Rodians two tables away, when you felt the mixture of hostility, excitement, and agitation coming from the men who had last entered the place.
Mando looked at you confused since you had suddenly stopped signing, but his confusion lasted a second as he too noticed the men. He reached for his blaster and you did the same. In a split second the men had surrounded you, blasters out, and you were all pointing at each other.
"Hello Mando, didn't expect to run into you here" said one of the bounty hunters. "Why don't you put down your blasters and we can have a civilised talk?"
"I don't think so" said Mando.
One of the men was right behind you and took the chance to grab you by the neck and aim his blaster at Mando, using you as a shield. As he did so, Mando aimed his blaster at him.
"Come on, you don't want the little girl to get hurt, do you?"
Ugh. Little girl? You were struggling to remember why you shouldn't use your abilities in public as you felt his disgusting breath brushing your face. He wasn't even pointing the blaster at you, meaning you could probably break the hand he had around your neck in mere seconds. You looked at Mando trying to calm yourself down because, although you knew you shouldn't, you were about to lose your temper.
"We have you five to one." One of the bounty hunters added.
"I like those odds" Mando replied.
Five to one meant they weren't counting you in those odds and that was going to be their mistake.
Timely, the waiter droid chose that moment to bring your soup. Your nice, delicious, and boiling bowl of soup. Concentrating on the droid's legs, you focused on holding one in place, making the droid trip and lose its balance. The bowl of soup flew through the air and at the same time, you threw your blaster to Mando. The soup made a weird U turn mid-air — that you hoped no-one had noticed — and fell right on the face of the man holding you, scalding him.
With a howl of pain, he let go of you and you took the chance to kick his leg back and smash his head on the counter. He fell to the floor and didn't move again.
Meanwhile, Mando had taken hold of the blaster you had thrown at him and had shot down simultaneously two of the distracted bounty hunters. He got the third before he managed to find shelter but, unfortunately, the fourth one had been fast enough to find cover and was shooting at Mando.
As he kept shooting at the man to keep him at bay, he gave you your blaster back, grabbed you by the wrist with his free hand, and pulled you towards the door.
"Come on! We have to go now!"
Once out, you ran to the closest street and hid. After a few minutes of waiting for something to happen, anything, it seemed safe to assume that the man was not chasing you down.
"Are you ok?"
You nodded and, as you lifted your hands to ask Mando the same, you noticed he was still holding you by the wrist. You couldn't help but blush slightly.
"Sorry" he said as he let go.
"You ok?"
"Yes, but we should head back to the Crest and leave ASAP" he said angrily.
On your way back to the ship, you kept looking back every few steps worried that the man was following you but luckily it didn't seem that way.
Hurriedly, you got to your seats and Mando took off. In mere minutes you were outside the planet’s atmosphere and Mando was about to make the jump to hyperspace when another ship appeared out of nowhere and started shooting at you.
"Karabast" Mando muttered as he started manoeuvring the ship to dodge the shots while you held on to your seat as best you could.
"Hand over the girl, Mando." Said a man's voice through the ship's comms at the same time as one shot hit one of the engines of the Razor Crest. "I might let you live then." he added darkly.
The ship got hit again and again and, suddenly, one of the engines burst into flames. Reaching the control panel on your side, you turned down the engine, managing to put out the fire, and then restarted it. It seemed to be working but you didn't know how long it would last.
"Hold on." Said Mando as he started rolling the ship to avoid the shots. "Come on!"
The fighter kept following you closely and shooting at you. Thanks to Mando's wild manoeuvring he wasn't being able to hit the ship's weaker points, but he was not giving up.
Mando seemed to be overwhelmed when the man talked again through the comms.
"You know, I can bring you in warm... or I can bring you in cold."
That's when it happened. All of a sudden, Mando's distress and anxiety vanished, giving way to pure rage.
He hit the brakes of the ship, throwing you hard against the control panel and making the fighter overshot you, ending up in front of you and in the Razor Crest's crosshairs.
"That's my line." Mando said as he shot the ship down.
As the ship exploded, Mando's rage started to dissipate the moment he looked at you. You were sprawled over the control panel where you had been flung, your ribs aching. Worry took the place of the little anger he had left inside.
"Are you ok?" He said rushing to you. You just nodded as you stood up, your rib cage throbbing with pain. "I thought you were buckled up".
"It's ok, I'm fine." you signed sitting back on your seat as all the lights on the control panel flickered.
"We're losing fuel."
Without warning, the ship lights turned off as well as the engines and you were engulfed in darkness and silence. Mando started to fiddle around trying almost every switch with no luck. Finally, he got up and turned on the emergency power, managing to power the ship back up.
"We have to land" he said as he started approaching the closest planet.
You didn't say anything as you were trying to assess the extent of the damage your ribs had suffered. Nothing seemed to be broken but the pain was quite strong.
"This is Mos Eisley Tower. We are tracking you." A voice said over the comms as you approached the planet's surface "Head for bay three-five. Over."
"Copy that. Locked in for three-five."
The ship's navigational chart indicated you were entering Tatooine's atmosphere. You barely knew the planet, since you had only spent a few days there many years ago, waiting for a shuttle to take you off world; but you knew it was essentially a big dessert.
The pain in your ribs had been steadily increasing to the point where breathing hurt so much it was hard to believe you hadn't broken anything, but you were positive that was the case. As Mando approached the docking bay, you focused on letting go of the pain while keeping a deadpan expression. You knew he was feeling responsible — a feeling of remorse mixed with anger filled the air around him, so thick it was impossible not to notice — and knowing you were in pain will only make him feel worse.
When you were finally settled down in the bay, he turned to you.
"How hurt are you?"
"I'm fine, a bit sore."
"Are you sure?"
When you nodded you could feel the relief emanating from him, casting the remorse away but not the anger. The ship was in quite a bad shape so it made sense to you that he remained ill-tempered.
He stood up, walked to the hatch outside the cockpit, and down the stairs. You followed him stoically but, as you started to go down the stairs, the growing pain in your ribs made you lose balance and you slided down, getting caught by Mando at the last moment as his mood worsened drastically.
"You should stay here and rest" he said, leaving no room for argument. You nodded and walked to his sleeping quarters where you sat as you watched him leave.
As soon as he was outside you heard a very loud female voice telling him something about droids. You couldn't understand what they were saying but she seemed upset with him — funny considering Mando was extremely angry too and about the explode at any time given.
Laying back with your legs dangling outside while looking at the ceiling, you started mortifying yourself. If you had just buckled up you wouldn't be feeling so much pain and you wouldn't have to stay there, doing nothing, while Mando was off into some adventure. Yeah, sure, he'll probably just head to the canteen and talk to some guys but that was still better than staying in the ship grounded.
You closed your eyes for a moment trying to relax your body.
A noise woke you up. You opened your eyes startled as you cursed yourself for falling asleep. Mando was probably back already. You sat up and an immense pain coursed through your body, cutting off your breath. While you tried to remember how to breathe, you saw the source of the noise: a small droid had gotten inside the Crest. When it saw you, it made a screeching noise and ran out of the ship.
Slowly, you stood up and as you were about to get to the exiting ramp, a woman armed with a blaster came in through it. You raised your hands with pain, wondering if she was another bounty hunter. It would be just your luck to have to confront a bounty hunter when you were hurt, unarmed, and alone.
"Now, now. Well…" she said as she put down the blaster "what are you doing here? Did that bounty hunter leave you all alone?"
You shook your head and tried to explain but she looked at you with a vacant expression.
"I have no idea!" She suddenly shouted at one of the droids "all right, do you understand me?" she added slowly and loudly.
You nodded, unable to repress a smile.
"Good! Would you like some food? Are you hungry?" You nodded again and she turned to one of the droids "Fetch us something to eat! Quick!"
She gestured to you to follow her and you did so with a wince of pain as you moved — you were stiff and sore from having been lying down. She looked at your slow movements curiously and, when you were finally out of the Crest, she turned to you.
"Ok, let me see what's going on because you certainly don't look well" she said as she reached for your shirt to have a look underneath.
You held the fabric down as you shook your head. First of all, you were fine and second, you didn't even know this woman, she needn't see you half naked.
"Come on" she said, pulling the shirt up with surprising strength, leaving your torso exposed. "Mother of moons! What did that Mandalorian do to you? Poor girl…"
You shook your head and tried to explain that she was wrong with her assumptions but she didn't pay any attention to you.
"Come with me, I've got an ointment that'll help with the pain."
Accepting that struggling was pointless, you followed her and let her do as she wished. She put an ointment over the already forming bruises and you could feel an almost instant relief. Then, one of the droids brought you some food and you sat down to eat, surprised at how hungry you were.
"I'll look after you, don't worry about that Mandalorian. Peli Motto is here. We're a team now." She said with a reassuring smile, heading out right afterwards.
You couldn't help but feel gratitude for her, even though she had gotten it all wrong, but the sentiment was more than enough. Now, you only had to explain the misunderstanding to Mando before she could get to him.
"HEY!" You heard him shout just at that same instant "Where is she?"
While you got out to the hangar to explain the mix-up to Mando, you heard Peli Motto shouting at him.
"She's with me now! So don't think I'll let you put another finger on that poor girl!"
"Another finger?" Mando asked confused as you came out "I didn't—"
"Of course not!" She said cutting him mid-sentence "You left her in that ship, without food, and covered in bruises, but you didn't do anything, right?"
"I tried to explain," you signed to Mando as the woman kept ranting at him "she didn't understand!"
"You're covered in bruises?" He asked angrily at you, completely ignoring Peli Motto's reprimand. "You said you were fine."
"I'm fine!" You signed as you looked at him anxiously, needing him to understand that you weren't lying to him, that you weren't as hurt as it looked.
"Let me see." he said, moving a step closer to you. You shook your head as you took a step back. If he saw the bruises, he'd assume you were more hurt than you were admitting, he'd think you were lying to him, and he'd feel distraught, blaming himself for your pain.
He stood still for a moment looking at you, feeling dejected and upset. Peli Motto was staring at the two of you in silence, although you weren't sure when she had stopped shouting. Then, he turned around and walked away.
"I got a job" he said as he headed outside the hangar "you stay here."
You went after him and tapped him on the back so he would look at you, but he deliberately ignored you. He was avoiding looking at you so you couldn't communicate with him, which was something extremely hurtful and he knew it.
When he was opening the building's front door to leave the place, you grabbed him by the arm and pulled hard — or at least harder than you should have, given your body's state — and finally made him look your way.
"I'm going too!" You signed effusively, breathing hard from the effort of running after him.
"No. You're of no use to me hurt and covered in bruises" he retorted at you.
He was being cruel on purpose, you realised that now. Probably payback for what he believed was you lying at him. You looked at him frowning, infuriated, and feeling worthless. Although you weren't aware that your expression resembled more that of a hurt little child who was about to start crying.
"Hey, Mando. Whaddya think? Not too shabby, huh?" A young man with two speeders talked to him, drawing his attention to the two bikes. Mando approached him to inspect them.
"Whaddya expect? This ain't Corellia." He added looking at you and Peli, who was standing right behind you. "Ma'ams." He added nodding at the two of you.
Without another word, Mando got on the bike and the two of them sped off, leaving you standing there like an idiot.
"Come on" Peli Motto said, gently pushing you inside. "I'm sorry, it seems I misunderstood the situation."
You shook your head, as it wasn't her fault at all that Mando was being an unreasonable prick.
"Ok, we need to fix this. I don't understand your hand language" she said gesturing exaggeratedly "but there must be a way for us to communicate— Aha! Do you know how to write in basic?"
You nodded and she handed you a datapad.
"So, what's the deal with you two?" She asked curiously, raising her eyebrows in an intriguing way.
"We're traveling together" you wrote down.
"Oh. That's all? He seemed too concerned for you to be just fellow travellers…"
"We're friends" you wrote "and now he's angry because he thinks I lied."
"Oh honey, but that's what you did."
You shook your head. "I'm fine! This is nothing, I've been worse and he knows. I'm not lying."
She looked at you for a moment and gave a long sigh.
"Well, I should get back to work. I can't use any droids so this will take a lot longer than it should… What's the deal with him and droids, anyway?"
You shrugged. You had noticed Mando's aversion to droids but had never asked why.
"I can help" you wrote for Peli Motto to read "I've worked in a repair facility before."
"Do you know how to fix engines?"
You nodded.
"Good. Then you can get started with the right one while I finish repairing the fuel leak. But don't think I'll make you a price just cause you're giving me a hand! You shouldn't have to if I could use the droids, so this is only fair... You know it's costing me a lot of money to keep these droids even powered up."
The pain from the hit had greatly reduced thanks to the ointment so it wasn't as painful for you to move around as before. Plus, you had always had a high pain tolerance so it wasn't like you had to stay put. In fact, you could be helping Mando with his job right now if only he had let you join him…
As time went by, you started to feel more and more discomfort and, when the suns started setting, the pain forced you to stop working. You had dinner with Peli Motto and played some card game with her and the droids — she wanted to gamble but you owned nothing to bet with — before going back to the ship to get some sleep.
You climbed to the cockpit with difficulty and sat on your chair. Mando hadn't said how long he would be gone, damn, he hadn't almost said anything to you before leaving. He was being unreasonable and childish, and he always let his emotions take the best of him. Whenever he got angry or upset, he threw reason out the window and acted without thinking. In fact, that was the whole reason why you got injured in the first place!
Pain shot through you as you sighed.
Raising your shirt, you took a look at yourself. The skin covering your ribs was dark red, turning slightly purple at some places. You were suddenly reminded of the first time you had looked at yourself in the Crest's mirror, many months ago, covered in bruises and cuts after who knows how long of continuous abuse and humiliation.
Yet, you couldn't remember your body hurting much at that point as you walked through miles of desert following Mando. Not as much as now anyway. You must be growing weak.
With another long painful sigh, you made yourself comfortable in your seat and eventually fell asleep.
When you woke up, your body was stiff and the bruises had turned a purple colour. You went to fetch Peli Motto so she could give you a bit more of that ointment, otherwise you didn't think you'd be able to help with the repairs.
The day went by quite fast since you were enthralled with working on something you liked so much but, as afternoon fell, you had to stop due to your body aching again. You were outside of the Crest when someone entered the facility shouting.
"Help! You have to hide me!" You looked around to see the young man Mando had left with yesterday. "She's coming after me!"
"Ok, calm down! What's going on?" Peli asked as she approached him.
"We— the job— we had to capture this other bounty hunter" he said with a quavering voice "we were approaching the place the fob marked when she shot— I don't know from where or with what but, when I looked at Mando he was… I mean— the shot had gone through the armour and…"
You stopped listening because what he was saying made no sense. There was no way Mando could be dead nor that the beskar could be pierced… right? You started panicking at the thought.
"He wasn't moving" you heard the guy say.
How could someone like him survive something that Mando couldn't? No, Mando had to be alive. You closed your eyes and focused on him and only him. You were aware that you had a strong bond, you just had to give all you had, concentrate on him and only on him, ignoring everything else…
Closing your mind to every distraction you could feel your reach increasing farther than ever before until, suddenly, you sensed that familiar presence. You were relieved as you felt he was alright, in fact, he was not only fine but quite angry.
Cutting your connection with him, you came back to the repair facility and heard a thud behind you. You turned around just in time to see the young man shoot his blaster, set on stun, at you. As you fell down, you felt your head hitting something just before losing consciousness.
You opened your eyes slowly. Your vision was blurry and you couldn't make out what the dark shape you were looking at was. Your hands were cuffed behind your back and your right eyelid felt sticky as you blinked rapidly a few times, trying to clear your sight, until you could perfectly see the gun barrel of the blaster that was being held in front of your eyes.
"Oh, you're finally awake!" the young man holding the blaster said.
He pressed the gun against your temple, making pain surge from that point. You seemed to recall hitting your head when falling, which explained both the pain and the stickiness you felt in your face. He put his face closer to yours.
"I was starting to worry" he added with a smile that didn't reach his eyes.
Looking at his fake smile all you wanted to do was hit him, hurt him as much as you could, but with the gun resting on your head any sudden move could easily mean him pulling the trigger and your head getting blasted away. You were going to have to wait for him to get distracted if you wanted to get out of there in one piece.
"Don't look at me like that. This is all Mando's fault for leaving you alone, injured, and unprotected. In fact, you should be happy I'm the one who found you." He gave you a stern look. "I don't intend to hurt you, and not only because the bounty on your head is higher alive. Can't say the same for Mando, though."
You knew the look on your face had given you away the moment he turned his serious expression into a mocking smile.
"Oh! Don't tell me you two are like that!" He said as he laughed without joy. "Then you're an even better bait than I had anticipated. Don't worry, I'll make sure you don't feel lonely after I've finished him up." He added as he stroked your face. You moved away from his touch, disgust marking your expression.
"Come on up" he said suddenly, tugging at you forcibly to your feet, blaster still fixed on your head. As you stood up, your head started to spin and you lost your balance. He grabbed you firmly around your ribs — which throbbed with pain under the pressure of his hard grip — without the gun leaving your head for a second. You felt weak and nauseous, your whole body aching, as he half-carried you, half-dragged you to the ship's entrance ramp.
"Do your bit, will ya? He's almost here" he said, looking at a blinking red dot on his wrist link. "I put a tracker on him," he added proudly "you should never trust someone you just met, I'm proof of it."
The two of you stood there, at the entrance of the ship, still, for a few minutes but nothing happened. You were asserting the risk of pushing him back with your powers when you felt Mando's presence inside the repair facility.
"Come out Mando! I know you're here!" the young man shouted suddenly.
For a moment, nothing happened and you started to wonder if maybe Mando had some trick up his sleeve but then he came out from behind a cargo box, pointing his blaster at the young man who was using you as a human shield.
You gave him an apologetic look. Knowing you had been tricked by this prick was excruciating enough to add the chance that Mando might get hurt because of it.
"Took you long enough." The young man added with a humourless laugh. "Looks like I'm calling the shots now, huh, partner? Drop your blaster and raise 'em."
Mando did as he was told, dropping the blaster to the floor, and raising his hands.
"You're a Guild traitor, Mando, and I'm willing to bet that this here" he said, grabbing you hard enough to make you groan in pain "is the target you helped escape."
Mando's anger was overwhelming and you were surprised the guy couldn't tell he was playing with fire.
"Fennec was right. Bringing you in won't just make me a member of the Guild, it'll make me legendary!" he laughed. "Now, you're going to make this easy for me and you're going to take that annoying helmet off."
If you had thought Mando was angry before, there were no words to describe how he was feeling at that moment. He stood still and you could feel his rage radiating from him and going through you. It wasn't a nice feeling. Then, he slowly started to raise his hands to his helmet.
"Good. Hurry up, and don't try anything or she's dead."
It was impossible that Mando would take off his helmet, that wasn't the way! Yet, he certainly seemed to be about to do it and you couldn't let him, not for you. You tried to struggle against your captor, ignoring the pain in your ribs, but there was nothing you could do with a blaster resting on your temple.
Mando unlatched his helmet and it made a depressurisation noise. You kept struggling while trying to think of a way to stop him when all of a sudden something exploded on your left.
Startled, the guy turned his whole body around without letting go of you nor moving the blaster away from your head. He noticed his mistake quickly and turned his head to look back at Mando — surely expecting him to have his blaster back — but Mando hadn't moved an inch and his hands were still in his unhooked helmet.
The guy was on edge, you could feel it. He wasn't sure if this was a diversion tactic from Mando or if maybe there was someone else there.
"What was that?" He asked Mando "What are you—" another explosion came from behind him and this time he instinctively moved the blaster away from you and pointed it towards the source of the noise.
That was the moment you had been waiting for. Using your powers, you pushed him back, trying to get him to release you but the bastard didn't loosen his grip on you. He flew backwards, taking you with him. After hitting the ship's side he finally let go of you but, although he was lucky and fell down back on the ramp, you didn't. With your hands still cuffed behind your back you couldn't break your fall on the edge of the ramp — your knees banging on it — nor grab onto anything to stop yourself from slipping to the ground 6 feet below.
You fell on your back so hard that all air left your lungs, your hands got crushed under the weight of your body, and it took you a few moments to regain your breathing. Meanwhile, all you could hear were blaster shots followed by utter silence. You wanted to stand and go take a look but your body was not responding, pain shooting through it like an electric shock as you could only manage shallow breathing.
Then you heard Mando calling your name. A warm feeling filled your chest when you heard his modulated voice calling you for he rarely called you by your name since it was just the two of you on the ship. His figure appeared, bending over you.
"Are you ok?" He asked worriedly.
You gave a little nod since you could barely move. He carefully helped you to sit up and freed your hands from the handcuffs.
"What happened? How…?" Of course he couldn't understand how that nobody had managed to take you down.
You went on to explain how he had tricked you and made you let your guard down, problem was — as you were just noticing — that your right hand had got crushed under you and moving it was proving to be very painful.
With a small whimper, you grabbed your wrist with your other hand and looked at Mando. You felt like crying, you had been tricked and had got hurt, you had put Mando in harm's way, you had no idea what had happened to Peli Motto, and to top it all off now you couldn't communicate. You sulked while Mando helped you on your feet, carrying most of your weight himself.
"It's okay. We'll take a look at that in a moment, but we should take our leave first" he said in a calm voice that didn't fit his mood at all "there's a chance he might have informed the guild and that they're already on their way."
He left you leaning on a cargo box to approach the guy's body and search him through. After a moment he came back to you with a small coin purse on his hand. Worried as you were about Peli Motto, you tried to sign Mando about her and he seemed to understand because he nodded at you and walked to the building. A few moments later, you could hear her angry voice and you felt relieved.
"So, I... take it you didn't get paid." She said looking around, as if the scene was the most common thing in the world.
"That cover me?" Said Mando giving her the purse he had just taken from the body.
Judging by her expression it was obviously more than enough.
"Yeah... yeah this is gonna cover you." she turned to you "I'm glad you're not dead, here—" she added giving you the ointment can she had used on you previously "you're gonna need it."
You smiled at her with gratitude as Mando helped you up the ramp.
"All right pit droids! Let's drag this outta here!" You heard her say as the ramp was closing. "I don't know. Drag it to Beggar's Canyon."
With much care, Mando helped you up the ladder and into the cockpit, leaving you slowly on your seat and buckling you up. Then, he started the ship and took off, leaving the planet in a few minutes and making the jump to hyperspace.
Mando turned to unbuckle you the moment the ship entered hyperspace.
"Let me see that" he said with a low, calm voice. Then, he got closer to you and took a look at the cut on the side of your head.
Even though you could tell he was upset and quite distressed, he proceeded slowly and trying not to hurt you. He cleaned the wound and covered it with a small bandage, then he gently wiped the blood from your face with a wet cloth. When he was finished, he took the ointment you still had on your hand and put it away. Carefully, he then took both your hands in his and started examining them, making you flinch in pain at his touch.
He was sullen, acting silent and methodically through all of it, so you were glad when he finally talked.
"They don't look broken, this one's just bruised" he said, letting go of your left hand and focusing on the right "but this one's worse and it'll probably swell."
He grabbed the can back and, without taking off his gloves — which were already stained with your blood — he dipped his fingertips in the ointment and carefully applied it on your hands before bandaging the most damaged one.
Part of you wished he had taken off his gloves. You told yourself it was only out of curiosity, to finally be able to see a part of his body and confirm that he was, in fact, human. Although you couldn't help imagining the touch of his hands and the feeling of his warm skin against yours. You quickly pushed that thought to the back of your mind.
"Let me check your ribs." He said, drawing your attention back to the present.
"I'm ok" you managed to sign with the uninjured hand.
"No, you're not!" He replied bitterly, finally letting out in his voice some of the anger you knew he was feeling.
"You angry" you signed clumsily, emphasising it with facial expressions.
He took a breath and then let it out in a long sigh, as if he was trying to calm himself down.
"Yes, I am." He finally admitted "But not at you, at myself."
You tilted your head — like he usually did to you — and waited for him to go on.
"I shouldn't have left. Not the way I did, not while you were injured. It's my fault in the first place that you got hurt." You shook your head but he went on. "Yes, it is. I got angry and lost perspective. Didn't even give you time to brace yourself before manoeuvring and you got hurt."
Although you wanted to say something to make him feel better, he seemed to need to get this off his chest, so you let him go on.
"I'm… not used to taking others into account. To consider how my actions may affect them or how theirs— yours affect me."
He paused for a long moment while he played absentmindedly with the bandages in his hands.
"I've made many mistakes these past few days. I want to atone and I hope you can forgive me." He finished.
There was nothing you could say — not only because you physically couldn't — that would make him feel better. You didn't blame him at all for what had happened but if you told him, he wouldn't believe you. In fact, there was only one thing that had bothered you in the past few days and that you felt you had to say to him, even if it was in a clumsy way.
"Don't look away when I sign again" you said half-signing, half-gesturing. He stayed silent for a moment, as if trying to decipher what you had just said.
"You're right, that was wrong. I… I will never do that again."
You nodded and then gave him a gentle smile. He looked less agitated, although it still seemed to be a long way to go before you could say he was completely fine.
"Well, let me see your ribs." He said after a bit.
Having thought you had already dodged that bullet, his insistence bothered you. You wanted to take care of it yourself, although with your hands mangled and bandaged up you couldn't really manage. Still, you could just leave it alone, the pain wasn't as bad anyway.
By this you didn't mean that you didn't like Mando tending to you — quite the contrary if you were being honest — but you wore nothing underneath the oversized shirt and, one thing was letting Peli Motto see you like that (she was a woman like you, after all) and another completely different one was letting Mando do it.
Shaking your head again, you tried to take the ointment from him but he recoiled and the movement caused a sudden and painful spasm on the muscles around your ribcage. With a groan, you hugged yourself and internally spouted all the curses you knew.
"Come on" he said with a soft, gentle voice.
After thinking about it for a moment and letting out a long sigh, you finally raised your shirt slowly, careful not to lift it so much as to show your breasts. You gasped when you felt the cold balm against your skin and shivered lightly, feeling your face flush with embarrassment.
As he gently spread the cream on your skin, you wondered if it would have been warmer had he used his bare hands on you. The thought of it made your face feel hot and, as you blushed wildly, you pushed the thought, yet again, to the back of your mind.
He was nearly finished when you realised he had, almost imperceptibly, tensed up during the course of it and you thought — even more embarrassed than before, if possible — that maybe he had seen you turning red when he touched you.
"Ok, that's it?" He asked, his voice thick, as he moved away from you.
You nodded while you put your shirt down, hoping your face had returned to its regular shade. Mando seemed normal again and you started thinking you might have been reading too much into it.
"Good, then I'm taking a shower". He said as he abruptly got up and left the cockpit.
You were starting to worry he might have drowned in the shower when he appeared back, carrying both some food for you and his bag. You were starving, unable to pinpoint exactly how long ago it had been since you ate for the last time, and suddenly realised he probably wasn't taking the longest shower ever, but must have been eating before coming back up with food for you.
While you devoured your rations happily, Mando sat back on his chair and started searching through the bag.
"We've got no credits" he sentenced after a few minutes.
"We work" you signed after putting the last piece of food in your mouth.
"Where? We can't risk it going somewhere we don't know..."
You looked at the planet chart while Mando seemed lost in thought. Breeka was still an option, although knowing the planet as you did, you weren't too sure you'll be able to find any well-paid work. Trigalis was close by but it was infested with bounty hunters, pirates, and smugglers. It wouldn't have been a bad option for Mando to find a job if you two didn't have a bounty on your heads.
As you kept thinking, Mando approached the control panel and set a destination. You looked at him confused.
"I know some people that'll surely have a job for me" he said.
You could tell he was hesitant about it but he didn't add anything else. Instead, he went through the bag once again and took a big rectangular package from it.
"I got this for you before… before we argued," he said as he handed it to you "I don't know if you'll like it but seemed entertaining. I thought, since we can't spar, you might get bored."
Clumsily, you opened the package to find an old book. It was thick, with hardcovers, and an embroidered title "Myths and legends through the galaxy".
"Thanks!" You told him with a beaming smile.
He just nodded and settled into his chair, breathing deeply after just a few minutes, fast asleep.
You were delighted, you had never owned a book because they were very rare and quite expensive. As you opened it and went carefully through its pages, you remembered that Mando had said you were out of credits. How much had he spent on it just to make you happy, you wondered? You couldn't help but think that it was a very sweet and heart-warming gesture.
---
After a couple of days, you were feeling better and your body barely hurt anymore except for the hand. Furthermore, although you still had trouble communicating, you were getting the hang of it. The only setback was that for you to express yourself, you had been forced to resort to the excessive use of facial expressions and gestures. This seemed to amuse Mando to no end and made you feel even more ridiculous, if possible.
After having taken a shower, you were downstairs sitting on a cargo box and trying — to no avail— to put the bandage back on your hand, when Mando came down the ladder. He looked at you for a moment before taking the bandage from you and beginning to wrap it, in a much more effective manner, around your swollen hand.
"We're almost there. We need to talk." He said when he finished.
He had kneeled in front of you to help you and remained in that position while he talked, his hands not letting go of yours. He was feeling anxious about whatever it was he wanted to say, you could tell.
"These people, I used to work with them a while ago. They're not good people." He took a breath and went on. "We didn't part on good terms and they'll do anything for a bounty. Anything."
He looked you in the eye as he got a bit closer, his hands still placed over yours. You looked back at the black slit of glass where you knew his eyes were, although you could only see yours reflected.
"I know you don't like it but I need you to stay hidden. If they see you, if they find out about the bounty, they'll kill me and take you without a second thought."
A part of you wanted to fight him, to tell him — as you had done many times before — that you could take care of yourself but, at the same time, you could feel how worried he was. He had never felt this worked up about something before and you really needed the money. If staying hidden could ensure that, you decided it wasn't the time to fight.
Slowly, you nodded once still looking at where you thought his eyes were and, after a small sigh, you closed your eyes and leaned your head forward, resting your forehead on his helmet. It was quite cool and the closeness felt very nice. He quietly chuckled, muttering something in a language you didn't understand.
"Stay inside my sleeping quarters until I come for you." He said before standing and climbing up the ladder.
When you entered the tiny room, you were not surprised to see that everything you could possibly need - a blanket, your book, food, something to drink - was already there. A very small part of you was bothered at how easily Mando could get you to do whatever he wanted. He had you at the palm of his hand, you thought as you laughed softly.
It had been a couple of hours since you had hidden inside Mando's sleeping quarters. The ship had landed shortly after and you had been hearing a lot of noise coming from outside. Not only that of footsteps of very different people — judging by the sounds — but also of cargo boxes coming and leaving.
Suddenly, the ship took off. You had assumed you were going to a specific destination where Mando would join these "people" on a mission, but since you could tell it wasn't just the two of you inside the ship, you guessed the mission somehow included the ship. Judging by Mando's mood, he hadn't anticipated that either.
Purely out of curiosity, you sharpened your ears to try and hear these people as well as you focused on what you could feel about them. Mando was in the cockpit and there were three people down there with you: one seemed to be angry while the others were more relaxed, focused. They were also talking quietly, but you couldn't make out what they were saying.
After a while of nothing happening, you started to lose interest in them and turned back to your book, only to realise a few moments later that you hadn't taken into account how you were supposed to go to the bathroom if the ship was crowded with people who weren't supposed to know you were there. Well, since you could tell if someone was there or not, maybe, after you landed, you could risk an excursion.
You were strategising your future trip to the bathroom when Mando came downstairs. He was upset about something. The noise of a door closing and voices rising reached you, as well as the feeling of the angry guy getting riled up. Luckily, one of the other two seemed to intervene in a much calmer tone and managed to diffuse the tension a little bit.
Unfortunately, it didn't last long.
Someone said something that gave way to a burst of laughter in which Mando did not participate. You sharpened your ears again, trying to get what they were saying. A female voice talked but you didn't quite get what she said, only how she said it, with a cruel tone and malicious intent. Whatever it was that she said, it made Mando uncomfortable and seemed to fill him with guilt and resentment.
You got closer to the door after hearing something about a helmet followed by more laughter.
"You ever seen his face?" A male voice said.
"A lady never tells." You heard the female voice answer in a way that left little to the imagination. An unpleasant feeling welled in your chest as you started to hear a thumping noise — your own racing heartbeat — in your ears.
"Aw. Come on, Mando. We all gotta trust each other here." The man said insistently "Just lift the helmet up. Come on. Let's all see your eyes."
At that point you had to admit you were amazed with Mando's self-restraint, you could feel his blood boiling and yet he was saying nothing. You two must really be in need of the money, you thought.
"I'll do it!"
Then, the sound of a fight breaking reached you. Something or someone hit the compartment door hard and when the fight seemed to be over, the door suddenly slid open, exposing you to all the inhabitants of the ship.
For a moment, you all looked at each other without saying anything. Closest to you was the man who had been mocking Mando, behind him was a female Twi'lek, and the third man — the angry one — you couldn't see, but you knew he was around the corner.
"Whoa! What is that?" the man asked, surprised. "You get lonely here Mando? Got yourself some company?" He chuckled.
"Yeah. Something like that." Mando answered and you had to use all your self-restraint not to raise an eyebrow at him in disbelief.
The angry man had finally come out from behind the corner and you saw that he wasn't a man, he was a Devaronian with red skin and even taller than Mando.
"Didn't take you for the type." The man went on. "Me, I was never really into slaves. Yeah, I didn't have the temperament. Patience, you know?" He chucked again and you looked at him with a deadpan expression although you were picturing how many of his bones would break if you tossed him around a bit.
"I mean, I tried, but never worked out." He went on and you started thinking how thick he could be to not notice the tension in the air. "But I'm thinkin' maybe I'll try again with this cute one." As he said this, he approached you but, before you did anything, Mando got in between you two.
"Huh? I guess not. Stingy." He laughed and so did the Twi'lek.
"See, I know who you really are." She smiled, licking her teeth as she looked at you.
Mando was fuming and, at the same time, he seemed to feel guilty about something you were not quite understanding, although you figured it had something to do with what the Twi'lek had said. He turned to you.
"You ok?" He signed instead of talking so you assumed he didn't want the others to understand.
"Yes. Good hiding." You managed to sign.
You could feel the others gaze on you and, when you heard the Twi'lek chuckling again, you couldn't stop yourself. Choosing to spell almost every word just so he wouldn't misunderstand anything because you couldn't sign properly, you asked.
"A Twi'lek? That's your type?" You told him with a condescending smile.
"Don't push it."
Funnily enough, you could feel shame coming from him though you didn't know if it was because you were spot on about his type or because of the Twi'lek herself.
You were about to pick a bit more on him when someone talked from the cockpit.
"Dropping out of hyperspace now."
Since you hadn't sensed anyone else there, you assumed it was a droid — although it seemed unlikely that Mando had let one inside the ship, let alone piloting it.
"Commencing final approach, now. Cloaking signal, now."
As the ship came out of hyperspace, it made a sharp jerk and all of the passengers tripped and almost fell, including you, who almost fell out of the cot and to the floor had Mando not been in the way.
"Engaging coupling now."
While the droid was saying something about the Crest scrambling the signature, Mando handed you a comlink.
"Keep the channel open" he signed.
"All right, we got a job to do. Mando, you're up."
Mando turned around and opened a hatch beneath the Razor Crest. All of them got in and you were left alone in the ship — lest the droid.
As they moved through the ship you were coupled on, you felt Mando's presence grow weaker and weaker until you couldn't sense him anymore. It was unsettling to sit there doing nothing, not knowing what was going on. You started fidgeting with the comlink Mando had given you, wondering how little he trusted these people to go to that extent.
Well, he seemed to be well acquainted with the Twi'lek. If he found her trustworthy enough to fuck her then he should trust her enough on the mission too, right? Your ears started ringing again at the thought of it.
Trying to shake the image from your mind, you got out of the cot and started wandering around the ship, restless. You could hear the droid upstairs talking with them and finally, after much thought, you climbed the ladder to the cockpit so you could properly hear it.
"Zero to Mayfeld. Zero to Mayfeld."
"What?" The man's voice answered through the comlink.
"I've detected a New Republic distress signal homing in on your location. You have approximately 20 minutes."
"We only need five."
Great, you thought, they had been able to mess up the whole mission in less than ten minutes. That was probably a record of some sort. You got down the ladder and started walking around again.
After a few minutes you couldn't stop yourself and climbed the ladder up again to try and hear if they were already on their way.
"Zero, we got Qin." Said the man.
You felt relieved since that meant they were on their way back but your relief lasted too little as you heard the droid answer back.
"I found some information on the Mandalorian. From the Bounty Hunters Guild."
Shit, now you were in big trouble. As fast and silently as you could, you got down the ladder and back into the cot, closing the compartment door behind you. If the droid had figured out you were wanted by the Guild you had to warn Mando but, how? You looked at the comlink in your hand without knowing what to do. It had been a good idea of course, if only you could talk.
After a long moment thinking about what to do, you pressed the comm button twice, making it beep, and waited. You were about to lose your patience when, finally, a voice answered.
"Missed me?" Mando's modulated voice said and you couldn't help but chuckle. "Hey, I'm gonna need your help, press once if you're still there."
Following his instructions you pressed the button once.
"Good, I need you to take care of the droid, make sure it doesn't take off with the Crest."
You beeped once again.
"When you're finished, let me know."
Good. This was what you needed, permission to break that stupid droid who knew about the Guild. Unfortunately, while this was going to be fun, it was also going to be fast. Crashing droids was like crashing junk — and you used to do that for sport, just to train your abilities.
You got up the ladder once again but this time you climbed it all the way up.
"Zero to Mayfeld. Mayfeld, do you copy? It seems comms are no longer functioning, therefore you cannot hear me." You smiled, that must be Mando's doing. "You are on your own."
The droid got up and turned around, meeting you head-on. It raised its blaster at you and you smiled at him and then waved, making it hesitate. The instant you noticed it slightly lowering the blaster, you twitched your fingers and it flew from its hands. While the droid was still failing to comprehend what was happening, you closed your fist and its body started to break apart, sparks flying everywhere, until it crumbled on the floor.
Pressing the comlink's button twice you, once again, waited for Mando's reply. After a few minutes you tried again but nothing happened. Anxiously, you started to worry.
You walked to the hatch in the floor and then away from it about five times, trying to decide if you should go inside the other ship or not. On the one hand, Mando not answering probably meant something had gone wrong and you should go help him, on the other, leaving the ship alone didn't seem like a good idea, what if those guys came back and left without you?
In the end, your worry for him was stronger than any reasoning and you decided to go in.
Popping your head first through the hatch, you looked into a white corridor that was lit in red with white lights flashing every few seconds. After making sure there was no one there, you climbed down the ladder.
Making a great effort, you managed to sense and locate Mando so you started walking towards him through the maze this ship was.
You were in a hurry to reach him as you could feel he was distressed but at the same time you had to make sure you were stealthy enough. After all, you didn't know what exactly you were walking into.
Just when you were about to turn around the corner leading to the corridor he was in, you saw there was someone else there and stopped in your tracks, peeking around the corner.
It was the Twi'lek, she was standing still and calm as if waiting for something. Then, she swiftly turned around and started throwing daggers at Mando — who was at the other end of the corridor — at such speed it was surprising he was managing to deflect them. The daggers bounced in his armour until one of them found a gap in it and managed to pierce him, sinking deep in his skin. Mando groaned in pain as he pulled the dagger out.
That was the moment when you completely lost it.
Before you could think what you were doing or what had gotten into you, you ran out of your hiding spot and grabbed the Twi'lek by the lekku, pulling her back.
She didn't like that. After stumbling a few steps and regaining her balance, she hissed at you, her eyes full of hatred and something else you couldn't decipher. You positioned yourself between her and Mando and waited.
Both of you stood still for a moment in the red light and, when the lights flashed again, she charged at you. She was fast, but you were faster. Synching your movements with the next flash of light, you twirled on your feet just as she was about to reach you, narrowly dodging her. The moment she ran past you, you kicked her in the back, making her lose her balance yet again. She turned around so furious she seemed to have completely forgotten about Mando because, when she was about to throw one of her daggers at you, he easily grabbed her by the neck and reduced her.
"What slave comes to save her owner?" She said looking at you. After a second, you saw the realisation in her face. She chuckled. "Oh..."
With a tilt of his head Mando gestured you to follow him. You walked to a cell, he opened it and pushed the Twi'lek inside, closing it behind her. The Devaronian was also there, unconscious.
"Don't you dare leave us here!" the Twi'lek shouted as you walked away.
"There's two more left," He said to you. Then, he looked at you for a moment and added "why are you barefoot?"
You shrugged. You had been so preoccupied about him that you had completely forgotten that you were not wearing your shoes though, truth be told, you could move better like that than with the boots you had.
"Well, we must stop them from getting to the Crest. Come on."
You followed suit behind him until you got to a corridor in which the man the droid had called Mayfield was. You two hid behind the corner when he looked your way, then you heard him shoot at something. Taking advantage of his distraction, Mando approached him from behind. You had to admit that you were glad you weren't this Mayfield guy — or any enemy of Mando for that matter — because Mando coming at him from behind like that, with the red lighting, and the flashing lights, was quite a scary sight.
In barely no time, Mando had knocked him out and, after leaving him in the cell with the others, you made your way back to the ship. Mando had said there were two more left, so that meant there was still someone else wandering around. Just before you got to the hatch, you saw yet another Twi'lek about to climb the ladder up. With a gesture Mando told you to stay back as he approached him.
"Qin." He called him.
"You killed the others."
"They got what they deserved." Mando answered cryptically.
Both of them took their blasters out and pointed them at the other.
"You kill me, you don't get your money." The Twi'lek told Mando. "Whatever Ran promised, I'll make sure you get it, and more." He bargained.
He seemed to have realised he had better chances surviving like that than dueling Mando so, as a sign of him committing to honouring his word, he lowered his blaster.
"Come on, Mando." He scoffed "Be reasonable. Huh? You were hired to do a job, right? So do it. Isn't that your code? Aren't you a man of honor?" As he said this he put his hands together waiting to be cuffed.
Mando signaled you to approach him and gave you the handcuffs, still pointing the blaster at the Twi'lek. You took them and put one of the cuffs around his wrist, tugging it to his back and forcefully pulling the other one so he was handcuffed on the back.
"Come on. How am I going to get up there?"
You shrugged and climbed the ladder into the ship. Once up there, you heard Qin struggling to follow and grabbed him around one arm to help him up. Mando got there last and closed the hatch.
"Keep an eye on him." He said, giving you the blaster and then heading to the cockpit.
In less than a minute the ship was uncoupled and had made the jump to hyperspace. The Twi'lek had sat on the floor and you kept the blaster locked on him as you sat on Mando's cot. Although this gesture was enough to keep him at bay and not trying anything stupid, you were aware that it was nothing but a ruse on your part. Not only were you absurdly bad at firing, but you were holding the blaster with your left hand — your non-dominant hand.
"So, what are you? New partner?"
Of course, you didn't answer.
"He doesn't even make enough to buy you some shoes?" He laughed at his own joke.
You hadn't met many Twi'leks in your life but if all of them were like the two you had encountered today, the best thing you could say about them was that they had a very unique sense of humour.
After a moment or two, he seemed to realise you weren't going to engage in small talk with him so he stayed silent. When you exited hyperspace and after landing, Mando came down from the cockpit and, as the ramp opened, took the handcuffs off of Qin.
He got out of the ship smiling widely and went on to hug another man.
"Go upstairs, we're leaving in a moment" Mando said to you as he followed behind the Twi'lek.
From where you stood you could see him acting stiff and uncomfortable as he spoke to the man and, after a short moment, he turned around and came back into the ship. Once in the cockpit, he gave you the credits he had been paid and started the ship, rapidly leaving the hangar bay.
As you were flying away from the space station, three New Republic X-wing starfighters exited hyperspace — narrowly avoiding you — and blasted the station.
You looked at Mando alarmed, but he didn't even flinch.
"He must have taken the tracking beacon with him." He said calmly as he made the jump to hyperspace. He then reclined on his chair, tired.
"I knew it would be a bad idea." He sighed.
He seemed so tired you didn't even try to refute him or pull his leg a bit. You looked at him while he rested, surprised he didn't want to talk about what had just happened, when you noticed a glimpse of red out of the corner of your eye and then saw the small puddle of blood forming right beneath him.
Alarmed, you followed the trail of blood that was falling from his elbow to the floor up to a wound in his chest. You recalled the dagger the Twi'lek had thrown at him and how he had groaned in pain. At the moment, you hadn't thought the wound was that bad but judging by how much he was bleeding, you had been wrong.
You tapped him softly in the arm so he would look at you and that's when you noticed he seemed to have passed out. Starting to panic, you shook him harder — a little too much perhaps — and he straightened up quite abruptly, grunting in pain as he moved.
"What?" He asked, confused.
"You're hurt!" You signed, pointing at the wound and the blood, panic settling in.
"I'm fine." He said drowsily, groaning softly as he reclined again.
Gosh, he was such a bad liar.
Ignoring him completely, you got closer and started inspecting the wound but it was between two armour plates and, with the fabric of his shirt in the way, you couldn't really see anything.
"Take it off!" You told him, pointing at the armour and pulling from the shirt.
He looked at you, tilting his head, and you were reminded of a few days back when you had been extremely reluctant to do the same in a way too similar situation.
You looked back at him with an expression that clearly said "What are you waiting for?"
With a resigned sigh, he started unfastening the armour but, due to the pain, his movements were so slow you soon lost the little patience you had left and began to help him, removing his belt and the armour plates closer to you. He held your hand to stop you when you started doing so, a part of you expecting him to tell you to stop or to say something about the sacredness of his armour, but after a beat he let you go on, saying nothing about it.
When you had managed to take off all of the beskar in his upper body, you began to raise his shirt. He must have been feeling really weak, you thought, if he was letting you do as you wished with no opposition or retort. You pulled the shirt over his head, careful not to take the helmet with it.
Even with all that was going on, you couldn't help but feel relieved when you saw his torso and you finally had visual confirmation that he was a man, no doubt about it. A man covered in blood and with already forming bruises all through his body. Yet, you weren't as concerned about those as you were about the bleeding injury.
All you had in hand to wipe the blood was the shirt you had just taken off of him, so that's what you did. With a quick look you confirmed your fears, the wound was deep, very deep, hence why it was bleeding so much.
Losing no time, you grabbed the box where he kept the bandages, ointment, and everything else needed to tend to his injury.
"You don't need all that," he said, handing you the cauterization tool "just use this, it'll be fine."
You shook your head.
"Too deep. I have to sew it." You signed, feeling a pang of pain in your hand as you did so. You were so stressed you had forgotten to be careful when moving it.
Dread filled you. You tried to keep a deadpan expression while you disinfected the cut but, if signing was already painful, how in the universe were you going to stitch him? It was not an easy task and it required certain skill and dexterity, both of which you did not possess at the moment.
Still, you didn't have much of a choice. Either that or letting him bleed out, and you knew way too well that was not an option. Pushing the feeling down, you went on, searching for a needle and a thread.
When you were about to start sewing, Mando grabbed your hand to stop you.
"You know what you're doing right?" He asked, his voice thick.
Moving back a little, you lifted your shirt to show him a big scar you had on the side of your body. Then, you pointed at yourself to let him know you had sutured it and waited for his answer. He just nodded.
Truth to be told, your knowledge was limited. Meaning, you knew what you were doing but you hadn't had much practice. But he didn't need to know that.
As you were about to put the needle through his skin, you noticed your hand was shaking. Well, if you could use your powers to jump higher or hit harder, then they should be useful in this situation too, right? If you couldn't use them to help someone you cared about, what did you want them for?
Taking a long breath to calm yourself down, you focused on the pain and on releasing it, then you started suturing the cut.
Letting go of the pain allowed you to move your hand as if you weren't injured, though you knew it would hurt twice as much later. Still, it was worth it. After some minutes that went by way too slowly, the wound was closed and there was no more blood pouring out of it. Mando hadn't complained even once, thought you had heard him grunt softly a few times.
When you had covered the wound, you took a deep breath to calm yourself down. None of this would have been necessary if only you had some bacta or stim-shots. Well, if he hadn't bled to death already, he wouldn't be doing it in the near future.
Now, it was time to focus on the less significant damage.
He let out a surprised gasp — stirring something strange inside you — when you started to touch his torso, but relaxed fast when he realised you were feeling him searching for broken bones. Luckily nothing seemed fractured, although you couldn't be sure there were no small fissures in the bones.
Taking off the now covered in blood bandage of your hand, you reached for the ointment — thank the stars for it — and started applying it on the patches of skin that had already turned dark red.
Now that you were calmer, you had the opportunity to take a closer look at his body. He was in pretty good shape, — he had to be, given his occupation — the muscles of his torso were defined but still he wasn't too beefy. He didn't look much smaller without the armour, and that said a lot.
His skin was tanner than you would have expected for someone who never took his clothes and armour off, but it was also covered with scars. Some looked very old but others were more recent. You easily spotted the one in his arm that you had helped him cauterize many months ago, when you had met for the first time.
He didn't have much hair other than on his arms, some on his chest, and a fine line running down from his navel and disappearing inside his trousers. You had to restrain yourself as your eyes carelessly followed the trail of hair down.
Feeling your face hot, you realised you couldn't help but stare as you kept applying the balm.
In your whole life, whenever you had been close to a half-naked man it had been because he was about to or in the middle of raping you. Therefore and logically, you hadn't had the slightest interest in their bodies. In fact, all you wanted was for them to be as far as you as possible.
This was different. You couldn't put your finger on the exact reason why, but that's just how it felt.
Perhaps it was because you were being deliberately slow, but suddenly you could feel his eyes on you, watching your every move.
Feeling your pulse quickening and your body hot, you stopped abruptly. Trying to act naturally, you closed the ointment can and walked downstairs to fetch him a change of clothes.
It took you a moment too long to figure out what your heart racing and your face and body feeling hot meant: you were aroused.
It had been so long since you had felt this way you hadn't been able to recognise the signs. Now that you had, you were aware it had been the same when he had touched you a few days ago.
Embarrassment filled you.
Not that there was nothing wrong with feeling like that but you couldn't comprehend why now, why with him.
The heat of his skin and the feel of his body still lingered in your hands and, if you closed your eyes, you could even see his torso… You shook your head and took a few long breaths, trying to steady your pulse and push the image to the back of your mind.
Dank farrik! How were you supposed to look Mando in the face — or the helmet — after this? What in the blazes was wrong with you?
All right, thinking about it objectively, it had nothing to do with Mando. It was nothing more than a physical reaction to an external stimulus. A stimulus you hadn't had before: a man that wasn't a threat, that treated you well, that showed you affection, that was surprisingly enticing…
Enough!
You told yourself — convinced yourself — it meant nothing.
When you were able to think straight again, you climbed the ladder up with the change of clothes and handed it to him.
"Thanks" he said thickly.
After all the scolding you had given yourself downstairs, you couldn't take your eyes off him until he finally covered himself.
Sod it! You thought.
Ashamed of yourself, you tried to keep busy cleaning up the chaos that had formed in the cockpit. When you finished, you grabbed a clean band and tried to bandage your hand. Still, you couldn't help but keep thinking about what had happened and so you were purposely avoiding looking at Mando, although you could tell he had noticed something.
"Let me" he said, pulling you out of your engrossment.
Then, he grabbed your hand to take the bandage and you unconsciously flinched at his touch. Yet, he said nothing and carefully bind your wrist.
"I'm fine" he said when he was finished, his voice soft and low. "You can relax, I'm not dying today."
Oh. He thought you acting weird was because you were shaken after what had happened. He was so very wrong but you were not going to be the one correcting him. You just nodded.
"Sleep" you told him. Your hand was starting to hurt again, but you couldn't care less.
He leaned back in his chair but seemed to have no intention of falling asleep. At least not yet.
"You did great, especially given the state of your hand. It barely hurt." He chuckled softly and you noticed his voice sounded clearer.
He was still trying to get you to calm down. Although him being so nice just made it harder for you to relax and stop thinking about… well, about what you shouldn't be thinking.
"How did you get that?" He asked after a moment, pointing to your side where the scar you had shown him earlier was.
"I was caught stealing" you signed, glad the conversation had shifted to a different topic. "Punishment."
"How old were you?"
"14."
"And you sew yourself?"
You nodded.
He gave a long sigh. "I'm surprised you're still alive." He finally said.
You laughed, releasing much of the tension you were feeling and showing him a winsome smile. He seemed relieved and you could feel him also relaxing.
After a few minutes, his breathing slowed and deepened, letting you know he was already asleep.
Alone with your thoughts, you kept going back and forth between thinking about what had happened and reprimanding yourself for doing so. In the end, you decided you had to distract yourself, so you went downstairs to get your book.
Many hours later, you finally fell asleep.
You were sitting on Mando's lap, straddling him. His shirt on the floor where you had thrown it a moment ago and his hands, big and warm, underneath your clothes, caressing your back.
Slowly, he raised them, pulling your shirt up over your head and leaving your upper body completely exposed to him. You rested your hands on his chest, feeling his heart beating hard and fast.
How did you end up like this?
Your hand was hurting and he was going to bind it then, how had you winded up in this position?
You tried to reason what had happened... but his hands were moving over to your breasts, playing gently with your nipples, and you lost track of your thoughts.
"Mando" you whispered.
He grunted softly and, grabbing you firmly around the waist, he straightened up so that your heads were at the same level. You could feel his eyes on you as he pressed you down against him, grinding his bulge along your crotch. Unconsciously, your hips started rocking on him, rubbing on him, a faint squealing sound leaving your mouth as you did so.
His chest was heaving under your hands and you could hear his breath quickening through the modulator in his helmet. Little by little, he moved one hand down from your chest to your trousers' waistline, slowly reaching inside.
You moaned at the touch of his hand on your skin, on your belly and reaching down. Your cheeks flushed with embarrassment as you saw your face reflected on the visor of his helmet. Flustered, you lowered your head, resting it on the crook of his neck.
Absent-mindedly, you raised your hips to make room for his hand while you kissed his neck, tasting him, down to his collarbone. He exhaled hard, moving his hand inside your pants, teasing you, caressing the inside of your thighs up and down, purposely stopping before reaching too high.
You felt hot, like your body was on fire; you were dripping wet and he could feel it. Your breath was coming shallow as you whimpered weakly when his hand reached higher.
"Mando" you moaned in his neck "please…"
He gulped loudly.
"Hey"
Your eyes snapped open, blinking quickly as you tried to focus your sight. Mando was standing in front of you, a bowl of soup in his hand. Startled, you sat upright, your book falling to the floor, your heart about to burst out of your chest.
A wet dream, huh? How long had it been since you had had one of those? A part of you felt relieved about it, if you were having one of those it meant that you were overcoming, albeit little by little, what you had gone through. Still, it was extremely embarrassing it had been with Mando.
"Sorry" he apologised for waking you up "I brought you food."
Shaking your head, you took the bowl of soup and buried your face behind it in an attempt to hide yourself from him. He sat on his chair. He moved around with ease, almost no trace of the stiffness of the night before. If you didn't know him so well, you probably wouldn't have noticed the slight rigidity lingering on his body.
He smelled fresh and you could tell he had taken a shower. A flash of images from last night mixed with your dream came swirling to your head. In a rush, you gulped the soup down, burning your tongue in the process, and got up.
Although you were trying to act as natural as possible — and you truly believed you were nailing it — just as obvious as his physical condition was to you, your oddness was to him. Still, he said nothing as you left downstairs to the refresher.
Inside it, it smelled just like he did but much more intensely. For a moment, immersed in his aroma and with the pictures of your dream still roaming freely on your head, you thought about it. You thought about letting your hands run down your body, following the water stream from the shower, exploring every inch of it, and getting a much-needed release. Then, you turned the shower handle to cold, feeling the nerves on your body screaming in pain and your muscles twitching and trembling. It was sheer agony, you thought, as you swallowed air in large gulps. Just what you needed.
Let's be honest, you couldn't touch yourself thinking about Mando. It somehow felt like you were betraying him and, if you were feeling weird enough now, how would you feel after doing that?
Turning off the water you reached for your towel. Your body was shaky, every cell of your skin tingling, and your mind felt clearer. After washing your clothes with more cold water — the only efficient way you knew to clean bloodstains — you came back to the cockpit feeling calmer and way more composed.
When you sat on your chair, you noticed the book had been placed carefully over the control panel. In your rush to get out of there you hadn't even picked it up from the floor, but Mando had. You were steeped in guilt, bitterly regretting what you had dreamed, thought, and almost done.
You turned to him, to ask him how he was feeling but, as you tried to move your hand, sharp pain rushed through it. The cold water had numbed it for a while but with the flow of blood returning, it felt like burning.
"You ok?" He asked, concerned. Another pang of guilt hit you.
You nodded and pointed at him.
"I'm fine. I like that balm, we should get more." He said, a smile in his voice.
You giggled — your first honest laugh in what seemed like days — and you could feel a weight lifting from your shoulders.
"Come on," he said with a sigh, as he put his hand out in front of you "let me see."
You placed your hand on his, glad he was wearing his gloves again. You didn't want to know what the heat of his skin in yours could do to your recently regained self-restraint.
"This looks worse than before. What have you been doing?"
Your eyes drifted to his chest, where you knew his freshly stitched wound was. He sighed, guilt filling him.
"You should have just burned it. That's what I always do and I've gotten this far."
And that's how you're covered in scars, you thought.
Frowning dramatically, you shook your head in disapproval. You could feel him rolling his eyes, even though you couldn't see him, and that made you laugh again.
"You laugh, we'll see how long that lasts. I'm going to splint it so you can't move it. I'm afraid that's the only way it'll heal."
Shaking your head lightly you pulled your hand away, staring at him with a pleading look.
"No talk?" You signed, trying to get across to him that if he did that, you'd have no way to communicate.
"I'm sorry but it's the only way."
Your face screwed into a pout, glaring at him, though it didn't last long: you were aware it wasn't his fault. Still, if being able to communicate only through signing was not frustrating enough, not being able to communicate at all was so much worse.
You placed your hand back on his.
Mando didn't know this, of course, but you had always been quite the talker. You enjoyed silence and had no problem staying in it for hours, but you also liked talking. In fact, there had been one too many instances where you had let your mouth run away with you and it had always ended in disaster.
At this thought, you couldn't help but wonder what would have happened if you and Mando had met while you could still talk. With his little patience at the time and your lack of self-preservation instinct, he would have put you inside the carbon freezing chamber during your first hour together. You couldn't help but smile slightly at how things had developed. Who knows where you'd be right now if you had been able to provoke Mando with your out-of-the-line way of talking.
A shiver ran through your spine as you remembered where he had taken you — and later rescued you from.
Well, you thought as you looked at him bandaging your hand, things hadn't ended up like that and at least you could still spell things with your left hand. Now, it relied upon how patient he was with that.
"There you go." He said, proud of his job. "How does it feel?"
You tried to move your hand to no avail, only your fingers had some mobility left.
"No answer? Rude." He joked.
You frowned and showed him your middle finger. He laughed loudly and you couldn't stop your lips from twisting into a smile, glad you had left behind the awkwardness your dream had caused.
"I've been thinking," he said after a while "we should drift around until you're feeling better."
You looked at him, amused at his statement, a small frown on your face. Then, raising an eyebrow with incredulity, you pointed at yourself and mouthed exaggeratedly "Me?". He nodded and you shook your head, pointing at him, mouthing "You!".
"Me?" He retorted teasingly "I'm perfectly fine, never been better."
You poked him with a finger on his side, where you knew he had a big bruise, making him groan in pain. Then, you looked at him again, your eyebrows raised and a cheeky smile on your face.
"Ok, ok. I can use some rest too."
You chuckled.
"But don't do that again."
Still smiling, you reached out for the book.
"That any good?" He asked.
You nodded.
"What's it about?"
He was talkative, you liked that. Although you'd like it better if you were able to answer back properly. After a second, you pointed at the title of the book "Myths and legends through the galaxy".
The second you did this, you thought it was an extremely stupid action. Of course he knew the title, he had been the one who bought the book. Silly you.
To your surprise, he bowed down to look at it.
"Ah, seems interesting." Then, after looking at your incredulous face, he added while shrugging "I didn't look at the title when I got it."
This made you laugh again.
"It was the only one they had and you seemed to like the ones in Rodia so…" he added defensively.
With a smile lingering in your face, you handed the book to him so he could read it if he wanted to, but he pushed it back to you.
"Thanks, but I'm not much of a reader."
That made sense, since he didn't even own a datapad — which was quite the unusual thing. You wondered how he had kept himself occupied between jobs before, without any form of entertainment in there.
Well, you thought, keeping the ship working might certify as some kind of hobby.
You were thinking of a way to ask him this, that didn't imply spelling one by one every single word, when a hologram message suddenly appeared on the control panel.
The man that had tried to bargain with Mando when he rescued you from Nevarro — the same one Mando had shot out of the ship — was, in the shape of a hologram figure, on the display of the control panel.
"My friend, if you're receiving this transmission that means you're alive." He started talking. "You might be surprised to hear this, but I am alive too. I guess we can call it even."
You looked at Mando, surprised by the 'my friend' bit.
"A lot has happened since we last saw each other." The holomessage went on. "The man who hired you is still here, and his ranks of ex-Imperial guards have grown. They have imposed despotic rule over my city, which has impeded the livelihood of the Guild. We consider him an enemy but we cannot get close enough to take him out."
He made a pause.
"If you would consider one last commission, I will very much make it worth your while. You have been successful so far in staying off their hunters, but they will not stop until they have their prize."
That was you, you guessed. Mando stirred in his seat, uncomfortable.
"So, here is my proposition: return to Nevarro. Bring the girl as bait." Mando shifted his position again. "I will arrange an exchange and provide loyal Guild members as protection. Once we get near the client, you kill him, and we both get what we want."
He smiled, like what he had just said was the easiest thing ever.
"If you succeed you keep the girl and I will have your name cleared with the Guild, for a man of honour should not be forced to live in exile. I await your arrival with optimism."
The hologram message finished. You looked at Mando, he was agitated, his broad shoulders tense.
It was an extremely bad plan, you thought, so many things that could easily go wrong… Yet, if it worked, it meant you wouldn't have to keep on running. Although, it would mean you wouldn't have to keep on running, so there'd be no reason for you to stay with Mando.
He'd go back to his bounty hunting job for the Guild and you… you'd go back to being alone in some backwater planet. Your heart clenched at the thought of being alone again. These past months — had it been a year already? —, as dangerous and uncertain as they had been, had also been the best of your life.
You didn't want to go back to what you had before but you knew it wasn't fair for Mando. He'd given up everything to protect you because — only the stars know why — he'd deemed it as the right thing to do. The least you could do now was help him go back to the life he had.
"If you succeed you keep the girl" those words resonated in your head, maybe he'd want to still have you around afterwards. You had the right to hope.
You turned around to him and, before you even got the time to start trying to sign, he talked with an imposing tone.
"No. Don't even think about it."
He stood without warning and left the cockpit, seething and leaving no room for argument. You followed him down to the cargo hold, having to grab him by the arm so he would look at you again. The expression on your face when he turned seemed to stir something inside him because he was suddenly filled with guilt.
"I'm sorry." He apologised with a husky voice. "But I can't believe I have to discuss this with you. I know what you're gonna say and we're not doing that. I don't trust him nor the Guild. It's a trap, you know it as well as I do."
Nodding at what he was saying, you looked at him sternly, trying to let him know with just your stare that you didn't agree with him.
"No." He said again, in a thwarted and angry voice. "I haven't roamed the galaxy these past months just so I could hand you back to him in the end."
Warmth filled you when he said this, so much that you almost agreed with him. Almost.
"Best option" you signed.
This seemed to push him to the edge because when he answered his voice sounded strained, as if he was trying to hold back all the rage and frustration you could feel flowing through his body.
"No, it's not! Once we get there we'll be captured, you know this. It's just the two of us, injured to boot, against who knows how many of them. You can't even hold a blaster, for kriffs sake, what will you do when we're attacked?"
As an answer, you made one of the many tools that were lying around float and hit him in the helmet, raising your eyebrows to emphasise it.
"Ow!" He exclaimed at the clanking noise that had resonated inside his helmet.
He looked at you in silence for a long time, sizing you up, but it didn't seem to be enough. At that moment you wouldn't have needed to feel his emotions to know how agitated he was, his whole body was so tense he looked even bigger than normal.
"Ok, you can be scary. Changes nothing. We'll be outnumbered."
Scary? Did he just seriously say that? There was no trace of humour in his voice nor his attitude, so he must've really meant it. It took you a moment to get over the shock that statement had caused you.
"Ask help?" You finally suggested.
He tilted his head, still looking at you, considering your idea, so you went on. Half-signing, half-spelling, and after a long while, — during which Mando waited surprisingly patiently — you managed to form a sentence.
"If we're more and it's a trap, we can fight. If it's not, we have extra help."
He started pacing back and forth across the cargo hold, his turmoil palpable in every move he made. After a while he finally stopped and let go of a long sigh.
"I will consider it only if we can get help from someone we trust."
You nodded with a smile, glad he was taking your suggestion into consideration.
Then, he stared down at you for a very long moment. You would have felt nervous, even scared by the stillness and silence of the towering Mandalorian, if you couldn't sense what he was feeling so clearly. Aside from the disgruntlement the holomessage had caused him, he was troubled, almost sad. You looked back at him in confusion. You couldn't pinpoint what part of the conversation had made him feel that way but you somehow had the need to apologise.
"We should set our course then" he said, turning around and climbing the ladder back up to the cockpit, leaving you standing there, dazed.
After a bit, you followed him back up. He had set course to Sorgan and an anxious feeling kicked in. Were you going back for Omera? In truth, she had proven herself a great shooter and you knew there was more to her than what you could see — not sure if you wanted to know about it though — but you didn't want to ask for her help.
You moved restlessly in your seat, bothered by your own thoughts, Mando's mood, and his last comment about you. Pfassk! Sometimes you hated being able to sense him so well because, at this moment you couldn't understand the swirl of emotions that was going on inside him, and that drove you crazy.
Agh! Just a few minutes ago you were joking, the atmosphere was relaxed, and your biggest worry was how to ask Mando about his hobbies. Now, none of you were talking and the tension was so palpable that you could cut the air with a knife.
He stood up and headed out of the cockpit "I'm gonna get something to eat."
"I get that this is not the kind of life one would want to lead" he suddenly said, standing in the doorway without looking your way "but I don't want us falling into a trap for no reason. I'll try my best to make it work so you can go back to your everyday life."
This threw you off balance and it took you a moment too long to process what he meant by it. When you did though, you shook your head emphatically but he had already started to go downstairs.
He thought you wanted out.
Kriffing Mandalorian! How could he even think for half a second that you wanted to leave? Hadn't you told him a million times that you had nowhere to go and no-one waiting for you? Hadn't you made it clear enough that you wanted to be with him? A flash of your dream suddenly came to your mind.
Well, not like that, — you thought — in his company.
You sighed loudly, it seemed you hadn't been clear. You had to let him know that was not the case. In fact, you needed to make sure he understood that you didn't want, by any means, to leave him unless he told you so. Walking back and forth in the cockpit, you tried to work out how to tell him that. It frustrated you endlessly that he was taking so long to eat when he normally did it in almost no time. So much so that you had the urge to get downstairs to fetch the stupid bucket-head.
Ok, you had to calm down. After taking another long breath, you sat back on your chair and tried to relax. Meditating used to help before, so you tried. At first it didn't help at all because you could feel Mando's distress from up there and it overwhelmed you, but after a while — when you worked out how to block him out — you finally managed to relax.
You emptied your mind and directed your attention to the flow of energy surrounding you instead of the one coming from him, managing to intensify the control over your own emotions and slowly achieving a sense of harmony. You deeply submerged yourself in the energy swirling around, purging the negative emotions that overfilled you.
"You're making things float."
With a loud gasp, you opened your eyes and were startled to find him looking at you from the entrance. At the same time, you heard the tinkling noise of small metallic pieces falling to the floor of the ship. You had been so enthralled, not only had you unconsciously made things float, but had not been able to notice him coming back to the room. How long had he been there?
"Sorry" you signed with an apologetic expression, remembering how he had said that you were scary when you used your powers. Suddenly, you were all worked up again and your meditation had served for nothing.
He took a seat and you hesitated for a moment before finally pulling from his sleeve to make him pay attention to you.
"I like it here." You clumsily signed.
He looked at you tilting his head, a mix of confusion, anticipation, dejection, shame and a bunch more of emotions radiating from him in an insane way, but said nothing.
"With you." You added with a gentle smile, just to make sure he completely understood what you were trying to say.
This time around, his emotions calmed and were clear to you as day. You sensed the happiness your statement had caused in every fibre of his being and couldn't help smiling widely at the feeling.
"Ok." He said stoically as he turned around.
Uncertainty and confusion still clouded him, but at least he wasn't brooding anymore.
Encouraged by your success, you pulled his sleeve again.
"Me, scary?" You asked, trying to accompany this question with a dejected expression so he would understand that you weren't exactly happy about that remark.
"Well, what do you expect? You can read my mind, make things float, beat me in a fight… If I didn't know you, I would be terrified."
"You aren't?"
"No. But just cause I tend to forget about it."
You listened to him with an incredulous smile. So, you were so scary that it made him uncomfortable, but not enough for him to eventually forget about it? It made no sense. You wished for a moment that he was right and that you could actually read his mind. That would make things so much easier.
Although you wanted to inquire more about the topic, trying to make easy sentences that conveyed enough information was very trying. Plus, you had just exited hyperspace outside of Sorgan's atmosphere.
As soon as you had landed, you headed to the canteen in the common house you'd been last time. Once in there, an interesting scene was taking place and you felt like an idiot for not having realised it earlier. Of course he hadn't thought about Omera, it was Cara Dune whose help you were going to seek.
At that moment, she was single handedly beating the crap out of a man bigger than her in what looked like some kind of fight that took bets. You sat at a table and waited for it to be over.
Maybe you could make some money like that, you thought while looking at her, since you were small and unthreatening the gain could be significant… but Mando wouldn't allow it, you knew that much.
After collecting her money, she approached you and sat at your table.
"Hello strangers!" She said with a grin. "Run out of spotchka already?"
You waved at her although Mando just nodded slightly.
"What happened to you?" She asked worriedly when she saw your hand in a splint. "You were supposed to take care of her, that's how you do it?" She said pointing in an accusatory way at Mando.
"She fell during a job" he answered defensively, shifting his weight.
"Poor thing… and how do you talk like that?"
You shrugged and shook your head sadly. She was about to say something else when Mando interrupted the conversation.
"Looking for some work?"
After explaining the "plan" to her — if you could even call it that — she nodded, but you knew she wasn't convinced.
"It seems like a straightforward operation. They're providing the plan and firepower. I'm the snare."
"With her?" She asked worriedly. You knew she meant well and she was just concerned, but her distrust about your aptitudes irked you almost as much as Mando's had before.
"That's why we're coming to you."
"I don't know. I've been advised to lay low. If anybody runs my chain code, I'll rot in a cell for the rest of my life."
"I thought you were a veteran." Mando said, confused.
"I've been a lot of things since. Most of them carry a life sentence. If I so much as book passage on a ship registered to the New Republic, I'm…"
"I have a ship." Mando cut her through. "I can bring you there and back with a handsome reward. You can live free of worry."
She laughed without humour.
"I'm already free of worry, and I'm not in the mood to play soldier anymore. Especially fighting some local warlord."
"He's not a local warlord. He's Imperial." Mando clarified and you felt the sudden shift in her mood — you should have started by that, you realised now.
"I'm in."
You helped Cara fetch the few belongings she had and loaded them on the ship while Mando set the course.
"I see you've taken good care of him." She said with a smile. "Can't say he's done the same for you, though" she added, looking at your hand.
You shook your head, trying to somehow convey that she was wrong about the last part. She seemed to understand because she nodded and looked at you warmly.
"Well, I hope this plan of yours works! I'm not in the mood to rot into prison, you know?"
When you had finished loading everything up, you both joined Mando in the cockpit. Once you had taken off and made the jump to hyperspace, he told Cara to follow him downstairs and take a look at the weapons he had. After a while, you decided to join them since they were taking too long; you were on your way down when you heard them talking and couldn't help but eavesdrop.
"You trust the contact?" She was asking.
"Not particularly. He and I had a run-in last time I was there on some Guild business."
Yeah, because you broke the Guild's code to save me — you thought.
"So then why are we going?"
A wave of regret and disappointment coming from him hit you before he answered.
"I don't have a choice. You saw what happened on Sorgan. They'll keep sending hunters. She will never be safe until the Imp is dead."
"And you're okay with bringing her back there?" She was more intuitive than you had given her credit for, or maybe Mando was easier to read than what you thought. Either way, she had hit the bullseye.
"Not really. That's why I'm bringing you."
Knowing it had been your idea to find help and to try and follow the contact's plan, you were feeling quite low after hearing Mando. He said he didn't have a choice but he did, it was just that he didn't feel like saying no to you, that he thought he ought to give you a chance for something else. Uneasiness overfilled you. What if this wasn't such a good idea after all?
You headed back to the cockpit, unable to stop the whirl of consuming thoughts, when you saw that the course wasn't set to Nevarro. You turned on your heel and, this time, you did join them downstairs.
Mando looked worriedly at your perplexed expression when he saw you.
"Arvala-7?" You spelled, not understanding why you were going back there instead of Nevarro.
"I have a plan, but we need help for it to work."
He had a plan? Then, why hadn't he shared said plan with you? Up to that point, the only times he had concealed something from you was because he was angry or upset. You stared at him with a mixture of confusion and indignation but even so he didn't disclose anything else, which only fed the suspicions you already had: you were not going to like this plan of his.
"Care to let us in?" Luckily Cara asked for you.
"When we're there."
That was the last thing he said about it and you couldn't help but stay irritated for the rest of the trip. If he noticed, he either acted like he didn't or he just didn't care, which only added more fuel to the flame.
The journey to Arvala-7, you had to spend it hearing the two of them talking about old fights and battles, bragging about the ones they had won, and continuously taunting each other. They seemed entertained by it but you certainly weren't. The fact that you couldn't be part of the conversation — not only because you couldn't talk — didn't help with your mood.
You landed close to Kuiil's moisture farm and he came out to greet you and invited you into his house.
"Still can't talk, I see." He said and you shook your head. "I believe you have tried?"
You nodded and Mando looked at you startled. He didn't know but, since you had hurt your hand and signing had become almost impossible, — aside from spelling, which took way too long — you had been trying to talk again. Until that moment though, all you had managed was to make a few guttural sounds and hurt your throat in the process. The idea that you might not regain your voice was an alarming one. After all, you had expected to have it back already by this time.
He nodded and then looked at Cara, to whom he hadn't been introduced yet.
"And you, you look like you were farmed in the Cytocaves of Nora."
"This is Cara Dune." Mando said. "She was a shock trooper."
"You were a Dropper?" Kuiil asked with interest.
"Did you serve?"
"On the other side, I'm afraid. But I'm proud to say that I paid out my clan's debt, and now I serve no one but myself."
You could feel tension coming from Cara and how she was about to say something to Kuiil, when an IG Unit entered the room and suddenly Mando tensed up, moving in front of you to shield you from it. Both him and Cara took their blasters out and pointed them at the droid.
"Please lower your blasters." Kuiil asked them. "He will not harm you."
"That thing is programmed to kill her." Mando replied angrily. You hadn't noticed, because of all the ruckus, but now you realised this was the same IG Unit Mando had shot when he found you.
"Not anymore. It was left behind in the wake of your destruction. I found it lying where it fell. Devoid of all life." Kuiil sighed "I recovered the flotsam and staked it as my own in accordance with the Charter of the New Republic. Little remained of its neural harness. Reconstruction was quite difficult… but not impossible." He explained. "It had to learn everything from scratch. This is something that cannot be taught with the twist of a spanner, it requires patience and repetition. I spent day after day reinforcing its development with patience and affirmation."
"Is it still a hunter?" Mando asked worriedly.
"No. But it will protect."
"Tea?" Said the droid offering you a tray with cups. Bypassing Mando, you took a glass from the tray with a gentle smile aimed at Kuiil. Mando sighed loudly and finally put his blaster down, slightly relaxing his body.
"We've run into some problems." He finally admitted, declining the tea with a gesture.
"I figured as much. Why else would you return?"
"I wanna hire your services. I can pay you handsomely, Ugnaught."
In the face of this display of tactlessness on his part, you couldn't help but stare at him, though he didn't seem to notice.
"I have a name. It is Kuiil."
"I could really use your craftwork right now, Kuiil." He said, correcting himself. "I need you to fix this."
As he said this, he pulled out the collar he had taken off of you when you left Nevarro, the same one that rendered your abilities useless.
You looked at him wide-eyed and shook your head frantically as you moved away from him. A feeling of disbelief filled you. How could he have kept that! Why would he keep such a thing? Had he done it for good measure? After all, he had admitted to you that he found you scary, had he thought about putting that back on you if you were too much to handle?
Unable to properly process what was going on, you got up and headed outside in a hurry. You were out of breath and felt like crying. Mando was supposed to be your friend still, how long had he been unable to trust you? How many times had he been tempted to put that thing back on you? And if it wasn't working, why in the universe did he want it fixed?
Your thoughts were a mess and you were spiralling out of control but you couldn't make it stop. The idea of Mando having wanted — or even wanting right now — to put that thing on you again provoked an anguishing feeling that pressed down on your chest. It felt like your heart was breaking and you weren't sure what to make of it.
"We need to talk." Mando's distorted voice said behind you.
Talk? — you thought bitterly without even looking at him.
How were you supposed to have a talk like that? Shit! You were so upset and you couldn't even voice it out or get it across to him!
"Hey" he said closer to you this time in a quiet tone as he gently rubbed your arm. You pulled away from his touch as if it had given you an electric shock and you could instantly feel the distress emanating from him, but you didn't care. You couldn't care, you didn't have it in you to care about him or his feelings at the moment.
"I'm not going to make you wear that thing while it's on, I know you don't like it." he said after a moment, his voice strained.
Well, not liking it was a gross oversimplification. You scoffed at him.
"I just want him to make it look like it's working when you wear it. It's the only way we can walk into town without them shooting at you as soon as they see you. It's the only valid excuse I could have to bring you with me without you using your powers or being a threat to them."
That made sense and the rational part of your mind knew it, but that part wasn't working right now and all you could think was that that still didn't explain why he had kept it. It wasn't like he knew it could come in handy in the future.
"You kept it! Why?" You signed furiously as you felt a burning, prickling feeling in the inner corners of your eyes. You blinked rapidly and stared away from him.
"I don't know, I just did."
Pointing at yourself you signed "scary".
"No. That's not it!" He objected, hurt either by what you implied or how you were behaving. Again, you couldn't care if he was hurting, not now.
You sneered at him in disbelief.
You wanted to scream, to shout at him, to ask him — no, demand him — to tell you a truth that you already knew; that he thought you were dangerous and unstable, and that if he had doubted you, just for a second, he would have put that thing back on you again.
Until this moment you hadn't wished harder to have your voice back, not being able to talk, shout, scream, let it all out, was despairing. You were so angry and disappointed, you were having a hard time holding back your tears.
"Look, I know how it looks but I never intended to put that back on you. I took it off, put it away, and forgot about it." He insisted against your disbelief. "Found it just now, when we picked Cara up."
You shook your head again, angrily.
"Scary" you signed again, the tears threatening to overflow.
"I never said that was a bad thing!" He snapped, suddenly raising his voice and startling you so much that for a second you even forgot why you were so angry. He exhaled slowly in an attempt to calm himself down. "Yes, I called you scary but I never said that meant I thought you were dangerous. I… I didn't say that to you as something bad."
Even though now he was talking in a calm voice, that one second of shock had been enough for you to sense how disgruntled he was feeling — almost as much as you were — and most importantly, to realise he was telling the truth after all.
However, it was extremely hard for you to just let it go and stop being upset with him. You were still feeling betrayed and hurt and, as much as you knew he wasn't lying, those feelings weren't fading away anytime soon. You were normally able to control your emotions quite well, except for anger. Whenever you got angry you had a hard time calming down — even if you were aware you were in the wrong — and this time wasn't going to be any different.
As if he knew exactly how you felt, he added in a hushed tone.
"You don't have to believe me but that's the truth. I know you're angry and you probably want to hit me or…" he walked a few steps towards you "if that's gonna make you feel better, do it."
You looked at him for a long moment, while you tried to settle your breathing, before slowly shaking your head. What good would that do? It wasn't like you wanted him to hurt as much as you did. In fact, you didn't want him to hurt at all.
"Ok." He said, as he very slowly reached out to you again, this time you didn't recoil from him. You were still a mess of anger and disappointment but you didn't want to be. He gingerly raised his hand to yours and tenderly caressed your undamaged one, rubbing the back of it with his gloved thumb, drawing circles on it.
"I'm sorry I made you feel this way." His shoulders were slumped and he looked down at you with remorse. "I should have told you earlier, I…" he sighed "I didn't know how to bring this plan up since I knew the idea of using it would upset you…"
As you looked back at him, you could see yourself reflected in his helmet's visor. The hurt look on your face said it all. He suddenly let go of your hand and stiffened as Cara came out of the house looking for you two.
"I know you need some time. Join us when you are ready."
He turned around and went back inside. Your hand felt cold without his' on it and you stood there, as if you were rooted to the spot, for a long while.
The sun was starting to set when you finally managed to calm down. You had been watching the blurrgs do… well, blurrgs' things, you assumed, and their calmness had helped you relax. So ugly these creatures were and somehow, they were cute in a very odd way.
Finally, you went back to the house to join everyone. The bright side of not being able to talk was that no one was expecting you to justify or explain yourself.
Mando nodded at you as you entered, he was feeling slightly distressed but you had no way of knowing why that was. Silently, you sat back and listened to the ongoing conversation.
"Do you trust me?" Kuiil asked and Mando nodded. "Then you will trust my work. IG-11 can be reprogrammed for nursing and protocol, so he can take a look at her." He said looking at you. "He will join me and the blurrgs will join me as well. I have spoken."
As upset as you had been, it proved hard to stop the joy that flooded through you at the thought that, if the droid was reprogrammed correctly, you might be able to talk again.
"As for this," Kuiil continued, pointing at the collar "as I already told you, I fiddled with the one you left here so I could understand what it does, to no avail."
"Ok, whatever that is, can't she just wear it turned off?" Cara asked.
"It's very flashy." Mando said, turning the device on so she could see how it lit up with a blue light as a close circuit of energy flowed through it. "They'll know instantly if it's off."
"Exactly. That's why what you're asking for is extremely complex."
"Do you think it's impossible?" Mando asked, reasonably concerned.
"I will not know until I have tried."
"Then, we should get going. It's a long trip."
With a lot of patience, you managed to make the blurrgs go into the docking part of the cargo hold and, after safely securing them, you finally left for Nevarro.
Kuiil wanted to stay in the cargo hold next to the blurrgs so, as not to leave him alone, you all gathered in there. After a while of talking, Mando and Cara had engaged in a game of arm wrestling and you were looking at Kuiil work on the device.
"I got you, Mando."
"Care to double the bet?"
It was amusing how easily they got along and how they kept teasing each other, like little kids. Funnily enough, you could change the fate of that bet with a slight flicker of your hand. You chuckled at the idea and Mando looked your way.
"Oh, so this is funny, huh?"
You shrugged and smiled widely as Cara was starting to get leverage on him, finally winning the round.
"You helped her?" Mando inquired suspiciously. You could have just told him the truth but shrugging and making him doubt seemed more entertaining.
"And how exactly could she have helped me?" Cara demanded.
"I believe this might have done something, though I cannot be sure until we test it on you." You looked at Kuiil who, in time, was looking at you. He was wearing the collar around his wrist and it seemed to be working. "Its mechanism is unknown to me and I don't understand what the energy flowing through it does, but now it doesn't seem to be doing anything. I feel nothing."
Looking at it apprehensively, you nodded. Although you understood that you had to try it on to make sure it actually didn't work anymore, you didn't really want to do it.
"Can someone explain to me what this is all about?" Cara asked as Kuiil started putting the collar on you. "No-one? Ok…"
"Ok." Kuiil said, as he closed it around your neck and you felt Mando tense up beside you. "Now we just have to turn it on…"
The moment he activated it though, not only your connection to the energy surrounding you was cut, but air suddenly left your lungs and you felt like you were suffocating.
Whatever he had done to it, it had not only not broken it, but it seemed to have enhanced its effect.
It felt like every single cell of your being was screaming in agony and your body gave in almost instantly, as you collapsed on the cargo floor. You clenched your hands around your neck as you gasped for air and could hear Mando yelling at Kuiil.
"Turn it off! Turn it off!"
Someone grabbed your hands to pull them away from the device and after a moment of torment, it was over as fast as it had begun.
Unforeseeably, the second it was turned off, everything and everyone close to you was forcibly thrown away against the ship's hull. It had been completely unintentional but, as soon as your connection with the energy surrounding you had been restored, you hadn't been able to properly regulate your grasp over it, causing an outburst.
You heard grunting as you huffed loudly, trying to calm down your breathing and feeling like you were going to be sick.
"Ok, what was that?" Cara asked, her voice strained.
"Are you ok?" Mando hovered worriedly over you.
You nodded slowly, fighting the nausea you were still feeling as he helped you up.
"Well, that didn't have the effect I expected." Kuiil said as he rubbed the back of his head in pain. The cargo hold was a mess thanks to you and you felt really bad about having hurt everyone.
"Sorry" you signed.
"There is nothing to apologise for." Mando said almost before you had finished signing. "Are you sure you're fine? You're pale."
You nodded trying to ease his worry without any luck.
"Still... Very curious…"
Cara looked baffled at Kuiil.
"Curious? I guess you haven't hit yourself as hard as I have... or maybe you have." She snickered.
"The story you told me of the mudhorn now makes more sense." He continued completely ignoring her.
"What is it?" Mando inquired curiously.
"What it is, I don't know. But what it does, this... This I've heard rumours of. Beings that could move things with their minds."
Beings? — you thought — In plural?
Did he mean that you weren't the only one that could do this? Then, why did the Imp want you? He could just find someone else that could do the same, right? Or maybe he couldn't and that was the whole point.
With the help of Mando and Cara, you put everything back in place in the cargo hold. By the time you were finished, IG-11 had started cooking some food and Mando huffed at him and left upstairs into the cockpit. Cara followed him and you stayed with Kuiil and the droid.
"The Mandalorian doesn't agree, but I could make IG-11 take a look at you."
After a quick look at the ladder leading to the cockpit and locking your senses onto Mando in case he came back down, you nodded eagerly.
"IG-11, assess her condition. Find out why she can't talk."
The droid came closer to you and started to — what looked like — scan you. After a few moments, it talked.
"There are traces of severe damage sustained in the trachea and pharynx. There's still a slight inflammation around the vocal cords that affects their mobility, causing a speech impediment." It said. "There's also damage to the wrist caused by a sprain. The area is swollen, it should heal in a few days."
"Will she regain the ability to talk?"
"I don't see why not. The vocal cords have weakened but there is no nerve damage. With exercise and perseverance, they should work again."
Well, that didn't sound too bad. Of course, you already knew about the wrist, but it was nice to know there was a physical reason why you couldn't talk yet and that there was no nerve damage.
"Thanks" you mouthed, smiling widely at the information.
"You're welcome." the droid answered.
"It can read your lips," Kuiil replied at your surprised expression. "I figured it could come in handy."
"I have prepared your meal" the droid said, giving you and Kuiil a bowl of food each. Then, it headed upstairs with two other bowls for Cara and Mando. After a moment, it came back down with one bowl still in its hand.
Without having to ask, you knew perfectly well who that plate belonged to, so with a sigh you took the food from the droid and headed up to the cockpit.
"... the rest will run like rats." Cara was saying when you opened the door.
"I said I'm not hung—" Mando cut himself off when he saw you "Hey…"
"Yeah... I think it has more to do with him not liking the droid." Cara said with a crooked smile.
"It tried to kill her, of course I don't like it."
"Uh-huh. I'll leave it to you to convince him." She said to you. "Thanks for the explanation." She added to Mando before heading downstairs.
You gave Mando a questioning look.
"I told her everything, your powers, the device…"
"Eat" you signed after leaving the food on the control panel.
"I'm ok, I'm not hungry." You gave him a look of disbelief. "Really." he added.
After shrugging to let him know you didn't care what he said, you signed "eat" again. You were about to leave when he grabbed your hand.
"Wait. I… uhh… are you sure you're ok? That looked pretty intense."
He was feeling guilty, you could tell. After all, using the collar had been his idea so he felt responsible for what had happened with it.
You nodded, giving him a reassuring smile. He seemed to feel slightly better, but not too much.
"Good. We'll be there soon. I think we need to talk." You moved closer to him but he didn't let go of you, as if he was scared you'd run away. "If Kuiil can't fix that… you'll have to stay on the ship, do you understand?"
You shook your head. You were not letting him go without you, what if something happened to him? You weren't taking that risk.
"Yes." He added in a commanding tone. "There's no safe way for you to go if they don't think you're restrained."
Lacking the ability to sign properly — even more now that he wasn't letting go of your hand — you settled by making an angry face and pouting a little, whining softly as a finishing touch.
"Come on. I'm being serious here." He said but couldn't stop himself from chuckling.
After taking a step closer to him, you softly patted his hand so he would let go of you. He did so, but only after turning in his chair to face you, positioning each one of his legs on one side of you, caging you in between. Even while sitting he was imposing — the top of his head reaching the level of your nose — and his unknowingly intimidating demeanour made your heart skip a beat. Yet somehow, instead of coming off as threatening, it just looked like he was truly afraid you would run away from him.
"Me too" you signed. Then, you pointed at him and at yourself and added "Together."
"How exactly do you plan to do so if that thing's not working?"
You shrugged yet again, then you pointed at him "Think" you signed with a cheeky smile on your face.
He sighed. "You'll be the death of me, you know that don't you?"
There was a smile in his voice and it was nice to feel he had relaxed a bit. The past couple of days had been strange for the two of you, too tense and with too much going on, so it felt good to go back — even if it was just for a moment — to your normal interactions.
Putting your hands on his shoulders, you leaned forward until your eyes met the glass slit of his helmet and, very seriously and slowly, you mouthed again "together". What you weren't expecting though, was him feeling startled or embarrassed by that.
As you felt the blood rush to your face in response to his reaction, you stood upright and moved from between his legs towards the door.
"Eat and think." You added before leaving.
"At your service." You heard him say as you started climbing down the ladder. You laughed.
After a few hours Mando decided to join you all downstairs.
"We'll be landing outside the city, about a day's walk away."
"Good, then we can give a use to those things." Cara observed.
"Those things are called blurrgs."
"We'll arrive shortly, do you think that will be done by then?" Mando asked Kuiil, pointing at the collar he had been working on non-stop.
"I'm not sure" he admitted "I've been trying to do just the opposite of what I did before and I think it's done, but until she tries it on, we won't know."
"I don't want her to try it on unless you're sure it won't hurt her."
"I'm afraid I cannot be sure…"
"She's stronger than you think, right?" Cara said addressing you. She had an amused look on her face and, for some reason, Mando's behaviour seemed to entertain her endlessly.
You nodded.
"It's ok" you signed.
"Plus, now we know what to expect, we can react faster." She added.
"Ok, if you're determined…" he said unsettled. You nodded, you didn't want to do it, but it was the only way to check and you were decided not to let Mando go without you.
Kuiil put the device around your neck yet again. Your heart was beating fast and you could feel everyone's uneasiness — plus Mando's worry — pressing down on you like an invisible force.
"I'm turning it on…" Kuiil said as he activated the device and, to everyone's surprise, nothing happened. It was on, no mistake about it — you could hear the humming sound of the energy flow and catch a glimpse of blue light — but you felt nothing different.
"You ok?" Mando hesitantly asked. You nodded.
"Can you still do the magic?" Cara said and, as you raised your hand to try and move something she added "No need to toss us around again!"
You chuckled as you made one of Kuiil's tools levitate and moved it for Cara to catch. Mando's whole body relaxed when he saw this and you felt him calm down and become more composed, although there was still a trace of uneasiness in him.
"That's really cool" Cara exclaimed astonished.
The moment you landed you got on the blurrgs and, since there were only three, Mando decided that you'd ride with him and IG-11 would stay on the ship. It was strangely comforting being seated in front, with his arms around you holding the reins, and your back and head against the cold beskar chest plate. It was easy to forget about the danger while your whole being was sheltered by him.
When you exited the Razor Crest you were welcomed by four figures: the man from the holomessage, another human, a Nikto and a lizard looking fella like the ones that had attacked you many months ago in Arvala-7. You shifted uncomfortably in your seat. You hated Nikto, just seeing them brought back memories you thought you had buried deep enough.
"Sorry for the remote rendezvous, Mando, but things have gotten complicated since you were last here." The man said. "It appears that introductions are in order. It seems we've both provided a security detail."
He chuckled and waited for an answer but, seeing as he wasn't getting any, he went on.
"I recommend the shock trooper guards the ship. These lava fields are lousy with Jawas."
"She's coming with me." Mando stated.
"But the town is now run by ex-Empire. If a Rebel Dropper is with us, they'll all get their hackles up." The man counter argued.
"She's coming."
"Fine."
"Fine."
"At least cover your tattoo. No need to flaunt it." He added to Cara who, in time, covered her arm with a piece of cloth.
"Now, is this the young girl?" He said approaching you. "So, this beauty is what all the fuss was about. What a precious creature."
You felt like blushing with the way he was talking about you but Mando, however, had tensed up the moment the man got closer to you.
"I can see why you didn't want to harm a hair on her head." He took your hand and you felt Mando slowly reaching for his blaster. "Greef Karga at your service." He said bowing slightly and kissing your hand.
Stars, — you thought — this man's a flirt, no doubt about it.
"Well, I'm glad this matter will be put to rest once and for all." He added turning around.
Mando had relaxed a bit — his hand holding onto the reins again — but for some reason now he seemed to be quite annoyed.
"The sun drops fast on Nevarro. We can walk for a spell, camp out at the riverbank, then make our way into town at first light." Greef Karga added as they started walking and you all followed.
Riding a blurrg was harder than it looked. Maybe it was because you were sharing one but you felt like you were slipping down continuously. After having to reposition yourself two or three times, Mando grabbed you by the waist with one hand and pulled you up so close to him that your back was pressing against him. Thank the stars he was sitting behind you because that simple gesture made you blush all the way to your ears.
His hand didn't move from your waist for the rest of the trip nor did his grip on you falter. Needless to say, you didn't slip down the seat again.
Nevarro's landscape was unlike anything you had seen before. Its surface was covered with rocks and black sand, which seemed even darker in contrast to the bright lava rivers that flowed across it. Breathing became more difficult as you advanced through those, due to the sulphur in the air.
At dusk, you stopped to set up a camp to spend the night. You would never admit it out loud but as soon as you got off the blurrg you missed the feeling of safety you got from having Mando's arm and body around you.
By the time night had fallen, you all gathered around a bonfire where the human that accompanied Greef Karga was cooking an animal they had hunted. You were starving and you had never been squeamish about food, so you devoured your serving and went back for seconds.
"I see you're a good eater." Greef Karga chuckled when you basically gobbled up your second serving. "Excuse my rudeness but I didn't get a name."
You looked at him and then at Mando as you licked your fingers clean.
"Don't need his permission to give me a name, right?"
"She doesn't talk." Mando answered irritated.
"Oh. Apologies." He said. You shrugged as you got up for a third serving. It wasn't like Mando was going to eat in front of that many people, so the least you could do was ensure that no food went to waste. Plus, it had been a long time since you had eaten any meat.
"Poor thing" you heard Karga say. "They were ready to pay a king's ransom for her, you know? Don't even want to think about what they'd do to her…"
You shivered as you remembered the needles on your arms and the operating table they had laid you on.
"Let's go over the plan again." Mando demanded before he said anything else.
"We both enter the common house." Karga repeated for the third time tiredly. "We show the client the bait, we join him at the table and you kill him."
"Tell me about his reinforcements."
"They're all ex-Empire. As soon as they lose their paycheck, poof, they'll all scatter."
"And what if they don't?"
"They will."
"That's not good enough." Mando added.
"If, for argument's sake, a few of them don't realize that I'm their best path to alternative employment and they elect to react impulsively, then these three fine Guild Hunters, along with that battle-hardened shock trooper, will cut down anyone who bucks."
"How many will there be?"
Karga sighed. "No more than four. He travels with, at most, a Fire Team. Trust me. Nothing can go wrong."
It was as if he had conjured it because, as he said that, a huge flying beast swooped down on him. It grabbed him by the arm with its pointy claws and started lifting him away. Without thinking, you grabbed Karga by the legs trying to prevent the beast from flying away but it easily lifted both of you.
At the same time, you saw how other animals of the same kind started to attack the rest of the camp, one even managing to fly away with one of the blurrgs.
As the animal started to fly higher, you weighed your options. You could just let go of Karga and, although you were quite high up, you were confident you could break your fall with your powers. The problem was that you needed him for the plan to work, so you had to save him but, if you both fell from that height, he would smash himself on the ground.
The other option was trying something you had only managed a few times before — and one of them by complete accident. It was a huge risk but what else could you do, really? Carefully you started to climb over Karga until you reached the animal's claw and then you propelled yourself onto its back.
The animal shrieked and tried to shake you off but you grabbed hard onto it. Now, you just had to relax and open your mind, that much you knew, but flying higher and higher wasn't helping, and hearing Karga grunt in pain wasn't helping either.
Taking a long, slow breath you tried to feel the creature underneath you, sense its will and its energy flowing. You focused on it while making sure you opened yourself up, you knew this couldn't be one-sided, you had to connect with it and merge its mind with yours.
The animal was resisting both mentally and physically. It was simultaneously trying to throw you off its back and pushing you out of its mind, but you couldn't give up just yet. Holding on tightly, you pushed your will against it and started to feel it falter. You opened up your mind to it, to show it your trust and finally, you managed to connect with it. It was hungry, starving, so much so that it was easy for you to understand why it had attacked you all.
Slowly, you managed to calm it down and, showing it glimpses of the food you still had in the campfire as a reward, you made it retrace its way back there. When you were low enough, it released Karga and then you got down from its back as it landed.
Cara and Kuiil, as well as the bounty hunters, were looking at you baffled and Mando was… well, he was Mando so obviously he was a chaotic and complex combination of feelings ranging from worry to amusement to anger.
Karga was shaken and retreated from the beast while holding his injured arm close to his body. Still, he was intrigued by what he had just witnessed.
Patting the animal's head, you were about to turn around to take the remaining food you had and give it to it, when the Nikto suddenly shot it. You felt the burn of the shot via your connection, sending wave after wave of pain through your body. The animal shrieked and started flying away as you gasped and stumbled backwards, almost falling down hadn't Mando grabbed you. The Nikto shot again and your connection was lost as the poor beast fell dead.
"What did you do that for?" Cara demanded but the Nikto just shrugged. Shit, you really hated its kind.
"Are you ok?" Mando asked worriedly as he helped you steady. You nodded and he said in a low yet amazed tone of voice. "You're gonna have to explain to me what just happened."
"He's hurt." Kuiil said, talking about Greef Karga.
"I'm fine, I'm fine. I'm fine. I'm fine." He said as he held his injured arm. "Ow!" He exclaimed when Cara grabbed him. The injury looked ugly but you'd seen worse.
"Hold still." She told him. "They got you good."
"How bad?" Mando inquired.
She clicked her tongue. "Could be worse. Their bites are extremely venomous. We're lucky it only scratched him."
"I was scared this was it." Karga sighed relieved.
"Don't be so dramatic." Cara scolded him "I could use another medpac though, got any other medpacs? Anyone? I'm guessing that's a no… Well, you'll have to manage like this."
"Thanks. Really." He said to both her and you.
The atmosphere after that got both tense and sombre. Kuiil had lost two of the blurrgs and you were still shaken after the Nikto had killed the beast. On top of that, Karga and his remaining Guild members — the lizard looking guy had been taken by the beasts — had decided to sit apart from you and kept talking quietly while looking your way.
"You think they're having second thoughts?" Cara wondered.
"Could be." Mando said. "We should probably sleep in turns, I'll do the first guard, you guys rest."
It had been a while since he had said that but you were unable to fall asleep. You could hear Kuiil's snoring, Cara's slow breathing, and the fire crackling at your feet. Mando was sitting beside you — you had purposely curled up by his side — completely still. You realised you had been staring at him, mesmerised by the extremely captivating way in which the stars and the bonfire were reflecting in his helmet and armour, when he lowered his head to look at you.
"Can't sleep?" He whispered and you shook your head. After a moment, you raised and sat beside him, hugging your knees.
"What you did earlier was extremely foolish. You could have died." You nodded in agreement, it had been stupid.
"I was worried." He added in such a hushed tone you weren't sure if he wanted you to hear it.
"Sorry" you signed and he breathed out heavily.
"What happened with that thing?"
You looked at him, your head resting on your forearms as you let go an exhausted sigh. Then, you waved your splint hand, as a way of emphasising it was too much to explain it like that. He hummed.
"Let me guess… you mind-controlled the poor beast?"
You shook your head, a soft smile on your face as glimpses of gold and silver coming from the fire and the sky shone on the beskar.
"Bond." You spelled slowly.
"What did you bond over? Your abnormal appetite?" He chuckled at his own joke and you rolled your eyes at him but couldn't stop a smile forming on your face.
"So you can 'bond' with animals?" He said after a moment. "And then what?"
He was genuinely interested but you couldn't really explain it without both hands. You frowned, considering how to best describe it to him while using the simplest — or easiest to spell — signs as possible.
"Share a link. I feel it, it feels me. Work together." You gave him an apologetic look, not sure if you had explained yourself properly. He stayed silent for a moment, as if processing it.
"That means… you felt the shot." He wasn't asking but you still nodded. He clenched his fists making the leather of the gloves creak.
Silence fell and you rested your head on your arms again, still looking at him although he was looking at the fire — or so it seemed — lost in thought. After a while, he turned his head towards you and absentmindedly patted your head once only to then ruffle your hair.
"Go to sleep, tomorrow's gonna be a long day."
You frowned at him but did as you were told. Still, it took you a long while to fall asleep, the reflections on his armour slowly becoming less golden and more silver as the fire died out.
Cara shook you awake at daybreak. Your whole body was stiff and aching from sleeping on the ground.
"We gotta get moving." She told you.
About ten minutes later, you were all up and on your way to the city. Karga and the two bounty hunters were still talking in whispers between themselves and you had started to sense a strong feeling of indecision emanating from the first.
"Something's up" you signed to Mando, pointing at them. He nodded.
"I guess this is it." Cara said as you reached the outskirts of the city.
Then, everything happened way too fast. Karga turned around with his blasters out and Mando and Cara drew theirs out too. At the same time as Mando grabbed you with one hand to move you behind him, Karga shot but, to everyone's surprise, he didn't hit Cara nor Mando but the two bounty hunters that were behind them.
"There's something you should know." He said while raising his hands and slowly putting his blasters on the ground. "The plan was to kill you and take the girl. But after what happened last night, I couldn't go through with it." He looked at you and you could sense he felt indebted. "Go on. You can gun me down here and now and it wouldn't violate the Code. But if you do, this girl will never be safe."
Cara and Mando were still pointing their blasters at him and Kuiil was just beside, uneasy about the whole situation.
"We'll take our chances." Cara finally said.
"The Imperial client is obsessed with obtaining this asset." Karga insisted. "You tried to run, but where did it get you?"
"This is ridiculous." Cara huffed.
"Perhaps you should let him speak." Kuiil interceded.
"Listen, we both need the client to be eliminated. Let me take the girl to him and then you two—"
"No." Mando cut him half-sentence.
"Let's just kill him and get outta here."
"He's right." Mando said with a sigh as he lowered his blaster. "As long as the Imp lives, he'll send hunters after her."
"It's a trap." Cara argued, unconvinced.
"Bring me." Mando said and you looked at him perplexed.
They started to argue about that while you kept shaking your head and trying to have a go in the conversation but all your efforts just fell in deaf ears — or blind eyes, to be precise. You pulled Mando's arm but he was too engrossed in the conversation to pay attention to you.
"She goes back to the ship." Mando said, referring to you.
You looked at him bewildered and shook your head energetically, but they paid no attention to it all. It was so frustrating and you felt like shouting at them to hear you out.
"I have a plan." He was saying as you were about to burst. "Kuiil, ride back to the Razor Crest with her and seal yourself in. When you're inside—"
"Clank."
Mando got silent the moment a small rock hit his helmet and slowly turned to face you — at last. You were livid, not sure if you were more angry, disappointed, or hurt. Not a day ago you had decided you were to do this together and now he wanted you to go back to the ship? Kriffing Mandalorian!
He sighed. "It's the safest—"
"Clank" another rock, a bit bigger, hit him again.
"Stop that!" He huffed in an exasperated tone. "It's too dangerous, you're going back to the ship."
You shook your head, your breath was shallow and when he looked around he realised many small stones were floating around the two of you.
"What's your plan? Throwing rocks at me until I give in?" He snapped.
You shrugged slowly, a hurt expression on your face as anger had dissipated. A heavy silence fell, only broken by the clattering sound of all the pebbles falling back to the ground the moment you released them.
"We go together or go home." You slowly signed, a troubled expression on your face as you pointed to where the Crest was.
He looked at you for a long moment, then nodded. "Together then."
"You're going to be needing this then." Kuiil said as he handed Mando the collar.
"What's that?" Karga asked.
"This, is so she can't do what she just did." Mando explained, purposefully leaving out the part about the device not really working. Clearly, he didn't completely trust Karga just yet.
"I think you should still go back to the ship." Cara told Kuiil, concern in her voice.
"I agree." Mando said, as he carefully moved your hair out of the way — inadvertently brushing with his hand the back of your neck — to avoid snagging it when he put the collar on. "We might need a quick pick up. Get back and seal yourself in."
He was so close to your ear, carefully placing the collar on, that his voice sent shivers down your spine and through your body making your face feel hot.
Mando closed the device and turned it on.
"You ok?" He whispered worriedly as he realised your face had turned red. You nodded, looking away from his confused form.
"Here's a comlink." Kuiil said as he handed it to Mando.
"If we don't get back and you don't hear from us, leave."
Kuiil nodded. "Don't forget to cover your stripes." He said worriedly to Cara as she nodded with a smile.
It was surprising how well those two got along after the bad start they had had, but you were glad about it.
"Ok, hands please." Karga said as he handcuffed both you and Mando. "Let's go then."
You walked slowly to the town's gate where two scout troopers on speeder bikes were standing guard.
"Don't look so alert" Mando whispered to you before reaching them. You gave him a quizzical look. "You need to look weaker, that thing leaves you powerless, remember?"
You nodded while you tried your best to look feeble and exhausted.
The moment you reached the gate the troopers asked Karga for a chain code and then let you in. You could tell Cara was feeling uneasy about the whole situation and Mando was tense. None of them completely trusted Karga.
As you walked through the town, you noticed there were many troopers standing guard. You couldn't help feeling guilty about it, even more so when Karga made it clear it had been that way since Mando crashed the safehouse.
Furthermore, you kept having the impression that you were being watched, which didn't exactly help with your mood. You felt the hairs on the back of your neck stand up when you reached the canteen, increasing that feeling of uneasiness.
As you went in, Karga roughly pushed you both inside, whispering to Cara "You see? Four."
The client approached you all, slowly.
"Look what I brought you." Karga told him. "As promised."
The man approached Mando with a smirk on his face.
"What exquisite craftmanship." He said as he raised a hand to touch his chest plate and helmet. You were proud at how well Mando was restraining himself given the circumstances. "It is amazing how beautiful beskar can be when forged by its ancestral artisans. Can I offer you a libation to celebrate the closing of our shared narrative?" He then asked Karga as he made a gesture to a droid to pour the drink.
"And you," he added, grabbing you by the chin in order to raise your head and look you in the eyes. "You've given me so much trouble for such a small creature." He was furious, you could sense it, but he hid it very well behind that serene façade.
"Where did you find this?" he inquired, tugging forcefully from the collar and making you gasp as your windpipe was momentarily blocked — payback from when you had choked him, no doubt about it. Mando flinched, almost unnoticeably, but relaxed as soon as the man released you.
"She already wore it when I found them." Cara lied flawlessly while shrugging.
The client turned to Mando, a wicked smile on his face.
"I see… it seems I misjudged you. I took you for the hero. The knight in..." he made a pause as he put a finger on Mando's chest plate "shining armour." He snickered, turning to you again. "Yet, you chose to keep her on a leash, huh? Keep her submissive to your whims… Understandable. In the solitude of space, who wouldn't want to take advantage of the company of such a dainty creature." He rubbed your cheek and you recoiled from his touch, deeply disgusted by it.
Mando's blood was boiling and you started to fear he wouldn't be able to keep his cool for much longer. You couldn't blame him though, this revolting man was basically accusing him of being a rapist, it was only natural he was getting angry.
"Please sit." The man added with a gesture. You all complied. As more troopers entered the building, Cara glanced over at Karga, worry overfilling her.
"It is a shame that your people suffered so. Just as in this situation, it was all avoidable." He taunted Mando. "Why did Mandalore resist our expansion? The Empire improves every system it touches."
It was starting to get very hard for you to keep your weak and fragile appearance when all you wanted to do was remind him how you could choke him to death with a simple movement of your hand.
Before he could go on with his Imperialist discourse and finally push either you or Mando to the edge, a trooper approached him.
"Don't think me to be rude. I must take this call."
As he stood to answer the holoprojector, both you and Mando took off your handcuffs and he whispered to Karga "Give me the blaster."
"You get one shot." Greef answered back as he passed Mando the blaster down the table.
"This is bad. You said four." Cara mumbled, her body tense with worry.
"Well, there are more. What can I tell you?"
"She's here with me, restrained." The client was saying to whoever he was talking to.
"Are you sure about that?" A dark voice asked.
You were already feeling uneasy about the situation, even more so since there were more troopers than you had anticipated, but the moment you heard that voice you felt a chill down your spine and you knew something was very wrong.
Suddenly, as if confirming your gut feeling, a shot broke through the window of the canteen, killing the client instantly. With your powers you pushed the table to the side and you all crouched behind it. Only a second later, shots were raining down inside the canteen, blasting everything on their way.
After what felt like an eternity, it all just stopped, silence falling in the canteen as you looked at each other apprehensively. Luckily, the shots had stayed at head's height so by crouching behind the table you had managed to avoid them. The troopers though, hadn't been so lucky and laid down dead.
You waited for Mando's confirmation before moving and carefully followed Cara to the window to take a look outside. A whole battalion was standing on the outside, all weapons pointed to the building. It made no sense to you that they had shot their own people down.
"Four stormtroopers?" Cara exclaimed sarcastically. "This is bad."
Anxiety started to fill you as you kneeled beside one of the fallen troopers and took his blaster from him. Shooting wasn't your forte but it was better than nothing and, since the odds clearly weren't in your favour, you needed all the help you could get.
"Kuiil? Are you back to the ship yet?" Mando asked over the comm but there was no answer. "Are you there? Do you copy?" He insisted.
"Yes!" Kuiil answered finally, relief filling you.
"Are you back to the ship yet?"
"Not yet."
"Get back to the ship and come pick us up! We're pinned down! We need a way out!"
"Ok." Kuiil answered.
A loud noise outside caught your attention and you turned just in time to see a tie fighter landing outside. A man came out of it and walked to the frontline. Instantly, you knew he was the man from the holomessage as you could feel — even from that distance — an unmistakable dark aura and murderous intent emanating from him.
"You have something I want." He said in a loud enough voice so you could hear him without problem. “You may think you have some idea of what you are in possession of, but you do not." He went on. "In a few moments, she will be mine. She means more to me than you will ever know."
"Means more to him… Do you know this guy?" Cara asked you. You shook your head, you hadn't seen this man in your whole life and nothing of what he had said made sense to you. Plus, how did he even know you were still alive? You could have easily died along with the troopers, unless… unless they had fired while avoiding hitting you on purpose.
Mando looked at you worriedly, as if he had reached the same conclusion as you. He tried calling Kuiil over again, but this time there was no answer. As much as he insisted, Kuiil didn't come through and you felt a knot in your stomach when thinking about what could have happened to him. This had been your idea, you had convinced Mando to go through with the plan, to seek help. If something had happened to Kuiil... if something happened to Cara or Mando, it would be all your fault.
"Is there another way out?" Cara asked, and you could feel she was almost as anxious as you.
"No, that's it." Greef said in a defeated voice as he poured himself a glass of spotchka.
"What about the sewers?" Mando suggested. He was the only one who was managing to keep more or less his cool, so you focused on him to try and calm yourself down. "The Mandalorians have a covert down in the sewers. If we can get down there, they can help us escape."
"Yeah, sewers are good." Cara said relieved and you nodded effusively in agreement.
Mando started to check for access points when you looked through the window only to see them setting up an E-Web blaster. All the calmness you had regained thanks to Mando instantly left you. Slowly, you moved to pat Cara on the shoulder so she would look too.
"Hold up. They're setting up an E-Web."
"I found the sewer vent." Mando announced for everyone's relief. Unluckily, — as it seemed to be today's topic — the relief didn't last long because the access to the sewers was assembled and you were out of charges to blow it up. In a desperate attempt, Cara started shooting at it to no avail.
"Your astute panic suggests that you understand your situation." The man talked again, rejoice palpable in his voice. "I would prefer to avoid any further violence and encourage a moment of consideration." He said before making a dramatic pause.
"Members of my escort have completed assembly of an E-Web heavy repeating blaster. If you are unfamiliar with this weapon, I am sure that Republican Shock Trooper Carasynthia Dune of Alderaan will advise you that she has witnessed many of her ranks vaporize mid-descent facing the predecessor of this particular model."
As he said this you looked at Cara, whose face was painted with confusion and fear. Whoever this man was, he knew you all. He knew what he was up against and that's why he was exuding such confidence.
Kriff! He had probably been watching you since you entered the town, that's why you had been feeling so uneasy and uncomfortable. He surely had known, thanks to the holoprojector, where you had been sitting and how to shoot to avoid hitting you. He had the upper hand and he knew it, now he was just letting you know too.
"Or perhaps the decommissioned Mandalorian hunter, Din Djarin,..." Shocked, you looked at Mando as you felt panic spread through him. You had never sensed Mando feeling like that. "...has heard the songs of the Siege of Mandalore, when gunships outfitted with similar ordnance laid waste to fields of Mandalorian recruits in The Night of a Thousand Tears."
Now that you couldn't lean on Mando's — should you call him Din now? — calmness, panic was spreading through you too. This man was perverse, he was literally playing with you, letting panic get a hold of all of you.
"I advise disgraced Magistrate Greef Karga to search the wisdom of his years and urge you to lay down your arms and come outside." He continued.
"What do you propose?" Greef asked him in a loud voice.
"Reasonable negotiation." He answered.
Oh, you knew very well what that meant. That meant you in exchange for their lives and, if you were being honest with yourself, you knew you'd take the deal. You couldn't let them all — especially Mando — die if it was in your hand to spare them. You exchanged a look of understanding with Mando, who slightly shook his head in disagreement.
'What assurance do you offer?" Greef asked again.
"If you're asking if you can trust me, you cannot. Just as you betrayed our business arrangement, I would gladly break any promise and watch you die at my hand." The man answered and, to your despair, you knew he was being honest. "I'd rather get a hold of her alive and well, but if you push my patience... let's just say I can make do with her being injured or even dead."
He made a pause to let that statement sink in and you wondered what in the universe did he want from you. If he didn't care if you died, he clearly didn't want you for your powers.
"I will act in my own self-interest," he went on "which at this time involves your cooperation and benefit. I advise you to think this through, consider for a moment why exactly are you risking your lives for."
You felt Cara and Greef's gaze on you as he said this.
"Perhaps you don't know, let me enlighten you." With a cruel voice he said your name and then paused, clearly enjoying the moment. "I'm not surprised you don't know her, she's nothing more than a slave. That's all she's ever been and all she will ever be. A good for nothing, useless vermin."
You clenched your fists in anger, yet he was right, you weren't worth the risk nor the sacrifice and you knew it.
"I will give you until nightfall, and then I will have the E-Web cannon open fire."
Cara looked at you, shock marking her features. Figuring she was deeply disappointed for risking her life for a no-one like you, her question took you by surprise.
"Your surname... You're from Alderaan?" She asked softly and you nodded in confusion, not understanding how she could know that.
"I say we hear him out." Greef cut through.
Cara shook her head energetically. "The minute we open that door, we're dead."
"We're dead if we don't. At least out there, we've got a shot."
"That's easy for you to say. I'm a Rebel Shock Trooper. They'll upload me to a Mind Flayer." Cara said, agitated. "I'm shooting my way out of here. What about you, Mando?"
"I know who he is." He said, not answering her question. "It's Moff Gideon."
"No." Cara assured him. "Moff Gideon was executed for war crimes."
"It's him. He knew my name." He said as the already well-known feeling of grief flowed through him. Still, you couldn't stop a small spark of joy when he verified that that was indeed his name — you knew his name and your heart fluttered at the thought.
"So? What does that prove?"
"I haven't heard that name spoken since I was a child." Your joy vanished as he said that, for you knew how hard it was to live a life without no-one knowing your name, to never hear anyone utter it. That's why it made you so happy the few times Mando called you by it.
"On Mandalore?" Greef questioned.
"I was not born on Mandalore."
"But you're a Mandalorian."
"Mandalorian isn't a race. It's a Creed." He specified and you could tell he was remembering all of it since the feeling of grief emanating from him just grew stronger. "I was a foundling. They raised me in the Fighting Corps. I was treated as one of their own. When I came of age, I was sworn to the Creed. The only record of my family name was in the registers of Mandalore. Moff Gideon was an ISB Officer during the Purge. That's how I know it's him."
"That's how he knows who we all are." Cara said in a defeated voice.
"Hand me over." You signed the moment Mando looked at you.
"No."
"Save you." You added pointing at all of them. "Best option."
"You heard him, he 'would gladly break any promise and watch us die at his hand'. We can't trust he'd let us go if we give you to him, so he's not getting you." He said with such anger in his voice that left no place for discussion, neither from you nor from anyone else.
"Hail the Ugnaught again, maybe he's on his way." Greef said.
"Come in, Kuiil. Kuiil? Nothing. They might have jammed the link." He suggested, a small hope filling you for a moment until a voice came through the comm.
"Kuiil has been terminated." IG-11 said and your heart felt heavy as you processed the meaning of that statement.
"What did you do?" Mando asked fiercely.
"I am fulfilling my base function."
"Which is?"
"To nurse and protect."
The sound of an explosion close by reached you and Cara got closer to the window to see what was going on. As the noise grew louder and closer, Mando got to you.
"Hey, stop. I know what you're thinking so stop beating yourself up." He said as he put a hand on your shoulder, guilt written all over your face. "It was his choice to come and help us."
"Not worthy." You signed, pointing at yourself.
"Why? Because of what he said?" He hissed. "You're worth more than anyone in this room, your past has nothing to do with that."
Before you could answer, Cara started shooting at the troopers outside. You looked confused at her, just to see IG-11 outside the building shooting at each and every trooper he could. Problem was, he was clearly outnumbered.
Without a word, Mando walked to the door to join the fight and you just followed.
Seeing Mando fight was jaw-dropping. He was in his element, reacting so fast to everything that was going on around him that you'd have sworn he had the same abilities as you did. But now wasn't the time to be mesmerised by him because you were surrounded by chaos.
Shots were flying around you and you tried to return them but, there was too much going on and you had to face it: you weren't a good shooter. Giving up on trying to hit anything, you decided to rely on your powers, pushing around, knocking out, and disarming any trooper that was close enough to you. A group approached you from behind and, with a wave of your hand, you lifted them and threw them back against a building while you kept shooting at the mass — there was always a chance you hit someone, even if it was by complete accident.
In the middle of the turmoil, Mando had somehow managed to get to the E-Web blaster and grab it. He was wreaking havoc, shooting around and making the battalion retreat and, for a second, it seemed that luck was finally on your side.
A couple of soldiers came closer to Mando and you pushed them back as hard as you could, knocking them unconscious. You were starting to feel drained from using your powers so much but you were, at last, getting the upper hand so you couldn't give up just yet.
Then, your gaze met Moff Gideon's. He pulled out his blaster and pointed it, not at you but at Mando. You tried to stop him from shooting by pushing him — like you had done with the troopers — but he was too far away. You shot but missed and, before you could shoot again, he pulled the trigger and you were thrown back by an explosion.
You fell hard to the ground, your ears ringing. Dust was everywhere and you couldn't see clearly but you knew Mando was hurt, you could feel it. Rushing to your feet you staggered to him, he was laying on the ground completely still, he seemed to have passed out.
Grabbing him by the arms you tried to drag him to safety but he was too heavy for you to lift. Troopers were getting closer to you and you broke out into a cold sweat as you realised you didn't know where the hell your blaster was. You managed to push back a handful of them but you were depleted and couldn't even throw them away hard enough to knock them out.
Feeling like you were rooted to the ground, your eyes darted from side to side as you tried to put your thoughts together and decide what to do, but all you could think about was how loud the pounding of your heart sounded in your ears. The troopers got closer; blasters locked on you when all of a sudden someone shot them down. Cara put her hand on your shoulder and gave you her blaster as Greef and IG-11 covered you. Then, she knelt down and grabbed Mando, dragging him back to the building.
Slowly, you retreated into the canteen and she left Mando on the floor close to the grate you had tried to bust earlier, leaning him carefully against the wall. You got to him and knelt by his side as you started to feel his body in an attempt to figure out how hurt he was.
"Stay with me, buddy. We're gonna get you out of here." Cara told him.
Seeing a glimpse of red in his neck just below the helmet, you reached at it with your hands. There was blood, a lot of it, and judging by how he was feeling you knew he had hit his head quite badly. You were overwhelmed and your hands started to shake as you grasped the meaning of that: if the wound was under the helmet, nothing could be done. You felt a familiar burn in the inner corners of your eyes and a tightness in your chest.
"I'm not gonna make it. Go." He said, his voice strained and thick, and the dam broke. Tears started flowing down your face silently as you tried wiping them, you didn't want him to see you like that. You shook your head, not sure what you were saying no to — his statement, the tears that were spilling, or the whole situation — but you kept shaking it.
"Shut up. You just got your bell rung. You'll be fine." Cara said but you could tell she didn't really believe it and that didn't help. "I'm gonna need to take this thing off." She said reaching to the helmet but he stopped her — of course he did.
"Here." He whispered, pulling out a necklace, putting it in your hand, and then turning to Cara. "When you get to the Mandalorian covert you show them that. You tell them it's from Din Djarin." He said haltingly. "You tell them she was in my protection, and they'll help you."
His use of the past tense was like a dagger stabbed in your chest. You kept rubbing your eyes with your hands in hopes that by doing so you would somehow make the tears stop.
"Go." He insisted.
Suddenly a burst of flames came through the broken window burning the bar and setting the furniture ablaze. You bent over to shield Mando from it in a very stupid involuntary response.
Fuck! — you thought as you looked at Mando and felt how weak he was. This was all your fault, it had been your idea, you had insisted. He hadn't wanted to come but you had convinced him and now he was going to die because you were a stupid idiot. Your hands felt numb, your mouth dry, and the pressure on your chest increased as you gasped for air, trying to hold the tears back and barely succeeding.
Then the trooper, equipped with a flamethrower, entered the canteen burning everything that stood in his way.
No, this wasn't your fault, it was theirs — you thought with bated breath as you looked at him. It was all their fault, the Imps', the troopers', Moff Gideon's. It all had happened because of them, Mando was injured because of them, you were going to lose him because of them, and they were going to pay for it.
Then, your breathing settled and your tears stopped as you felt the blood rushing to your head. Adrenaline surged through your body as anger started to fill you and you felt like you were going to explode if you didn't release it.
Slowly, you stood. Fury overflowed you and you didn't feel drained anymore, in fact, you didn't feel anything at all aside from a consuming rage. All you could think about was how you were going to punish them. They deserved to suffer for what they had done to Mando just as much as you were suffering, or more.
The trooper was inside the canteen and he pointed the flamethrower towards you. You tilted your head curiously as you watched him pull the trigger and, when the flames approached you, you stopped them just before they could reach you. It felt extremely easy and that should have made you assume something was wrong since controlling fire was always extraordinarily tricky. Yet, that fire wasn't as powerful as the one that was burning inside of you — a roaring, powerful, dangerous, and all-consuming fire.
Moving your hand, you pushed the fire back to the trooper and he screamed as the tank on his back exploded — and you enjoyed the view. You took a step forward with the aim to go out and destroy them all, make them writhe in pain until they begged you for the sweet release that comes with death.
As you took another step, you heard a small voice at the back of your mind. You should go back to Mando, you should be with him, you couldn't leave him, not now. That's when your knees hit the floor.
All the power you had been harbouring — along with the anger — vanished the moment you thought of him, leaving you empty, depleted, and with a general feeling of wrongness. No, it was worse, you felt revolted, as if you were somehow tainted by something foul and dark. It was the same feeling you had had when you had been raped but, instead of your body feeling dirty and corrupted, this time the feeling was inside of you, as if it had been your very own soul the one that had been assaulted.
"... protect her. This is the Way." You heard Mando say from behind you and everything that had just happened became irrelevant as the only thing that mattered at the moment was him. You crawled to his side, tears threatening to spill from your eyes again.
"You have to go." He said as you shook your head and tears started streaming down your face. It wasn't pretty, you were crying in a desperate way, choking on your sobs, and struggling for air. "I'm not gonna make it and you know it. Go." He said in a much weaker voice than before.
"No!" You growled, your voice hoarse from misuse and thick from crying. Just uttering that word was immensely painful, a metallic taste in the back of your throat hinting it was bleeding somewhere. It didn't matter though.
His hand touched your face as you cried inconsolably, sobs tearing through your chest. You leaned into his touch and held his hand in place as you kept weeping despairingly.
"It'll be fine." He told you with a husky voice as you shook your head again. "I'll be right behind you."
Even though you knew he was lying you couldn't help looking at him with a hopeful expression in your wet eyes.
"Promise?" You whispered, not caring about the pain in your throat.
"I promise." He lied and you nodded, desperately hanging onto the remote chance that his promise became true.
"It's open, let's go!" Greef exclaimed but you didn't move.
"We have to move! Now!" Cara said, gently grabbing you by the shoulders and helping you up. You reluctantly let go of his hand and followed her.
"You're in pain but I can't find the cause." IG-11 said to you. "How can I stop your pain?"
"Bring him back to me." You mouthed to the droid, knowing he could understand. "That's an order."
"Understood. I will stay with the Mandalorian."
With a last glance at Mando, you followed Cara and Greef into the sewers.
How had it come to this? he wondered.
He had always known that he'd have a warrior's death and that's what he'd always wanted. Yet, he had figured he would die alone, on some backwater planet, after a bounty had gone wrong. He had never expected that there would be anyone with him or that they would be feeling so upset by his passing.
Albeit nothing had been going according to plan or to what he had expected since the moment she had joined him.
No. Since she had been with him everything had been strange, even he had become strange, doing things he would have never done before like buying gifts or cracking jokes just to see her smile. But that smile was just too precious.
"Stay with me, buddy. We're gonna get you out of here." Cara told him.
He didn't answer because he got distracted by two hands that were nervously feeling up his body. He looked up to see who was touching him only to meet the gaze of those eyes — the most expressive eyes he had ever seen. Now, those beautiful eyes were full of fear as she tried to assess the extent of the damage he had suffered. She reached to the back of his neck with her hand and then looked at it, panic painting her features when she saw it was covered in blood. Her chin started to tremble as her eyes became watery with the tears she was fighting hard to hold.
"I'm not gonna make it. Go." He told them. He knew this was it and that they had to get out of there before the troopers barged in. Yet, he couldn't help but feel awful when she started crying, knowing it had been his statement what had triggered it.
He had never seen her cry before. He had heard her though, a long time ago, when she had had those horrible nightmares that tortured her almost every night. At the time, just the quiet sound of her sobs had been hard enough for him to bear, having had to stop himself from getting to her and holding her. However, he knew she was not only strong but much too stubborn to cry in front of others. She would have felt humiliated if she had known he had heard her — that much he knew — so, in spite of himself and against all his instincts, he had done nothing .
Now though, he could clearly see the tears silently streaming down her face while she shook her head and tried to wipe them with her hands — as if she still didn't want anyone to see. She looked so pitiful that all he wanted to do was take her in his arms and tell her it was going to be alright. The pain in his head was nothing compared to the ache in his heart at seeing her breaking down because of him .
This had been a bad idea, he had known. He shouldn't have let her come, at least that way she wouldn't have to see him like that, she wouldn't be in pain nor in danger, she wouldn't be crying so much . However, it had caught him so off guard when she had called the Crest 'home' that he had completely misjudged the situation. Or rather, he had not judged it at all, since at that moment he had completely lost the ability to reason. Was being in that ship with him her idea of home?
"Shut up. You just got your bell rung. You'll be fine." Cara said to him. "I'm gonna need to take this thing off." He held her hand to stop her from removing his helmet. He couldn't take it off, not without breaking his Creed and he was not going to do it as much as he wished to.
For a part of him really wanted to do it — remove the helmet and get treated — yet not for him nor for fear of death… No, he wanted to do it just to make sure she stopped crying. Dank farrik! He had certainly not foreseen this. He thought he was well aware of what he felt, even if he knew how far-fetched it was what he longed for. What he hadn't realised was that it had got so intense, to the point where he would consider breaking his Creed for her . But he couldn't. Being a Mandalorian was all he had ever known.
"Here." He whispered as he grabbed his Mythosaur necklace and put it on her hand. Then, he turned to Cara. "When you get to the Mandalorian covert you show them that. You tell them it's from Din Djarin." He said, his voice strained with effort as he tried to organise his thoughts, which kept swirling around how he had wanted to be the one to tell her his name. "You tell them she was in my protection, and they'll help you." He finished, feeling dizzy and out of breath.
He felt her hand against his when she tried to give him the necklace back as if, by not taking it, she could somehow make what was going on not happen. He closed her hand over it with his. She looked so miserable as she kept rubbing her eyes, like a small child that doesn't want to admit they're crying.
He didn't understand, what could he have possibly done for her to be so saddened by the idea of him dying? He didn't deserve those tears, he wasn't worthy of them. She shouldn't be this shook for him. At least not now, when his thoughts were scrambling and it was way too easy for him to get the wrong idea and harbour hopes for something that, he knew , could never be.
"Go." He insisted when a burst of flames came through the window and she bent over him to protect him. Kriff, he truly didn't deserve her.
Then, something changed. She looked to the building's door and her expression hardened. She clenched her jaw, her nostrils flared, and her lips curled over her teeth. She was furious and it was palpable in the surrounding air. The flames closer to her suddenly extinguished as if hit by a large gush of wind and the small debris surrounding them started to float, just like she had done a few hours before with the pebbles.
Still, unlike before, all of what was going on seemed to be happening of its own volition rather than because she wanted it that way.
She stood and walked a few steps closer to the trooper that had entered the canteen when a sudden outburst of flames threatened to engulf her and everything around her. He blinked, briefly blinded by the light, only to open his eyes to a breathtaking view: the flames had stopped a few inches before her as if there was an invisible wall separating them. Then, she moved her hands forward and the flames withdrew, hitting the trooper.
He chuckled breathlessly at how terrifying she looked and how much he was enjoying the sight. That's what he had meant when he had called her scary, scary in a very good way .
As she was taking a step forward, she collapsed, falling to the floor on her hands and knees, and he knew she had overexerted herself.
"I'm not gonna make it." He said to Cara. "I can hold them back long enough for you to escape but you have to promise me you'll protect her." Cara nodded. "This is the Way." He added to put her at ease.
The girl crawled back to his side looking exhausted and, the moment his gaze met her eyes, he knew she had heard him.
"You have to go." He told her in the most commanding tone he could muster. She shook her head as tears trailed down her face again. She was crying hopelessly, her lower lip quivering, and gasping for air as she kept shaking her head, not worried anymore about who could see her falling apart. He felt his heart clench yet again, but he knew he had to make her understand. He had to make sure she ran to safety. He had to know she was going to be fine. "I'm not gonna make it and you know it. Go." He said, almost pleading.
"No!" She suddenly said leaving him in shock. She had talked and he couldn't believe he'd had the chance of hearing her voice. It had been just one word and it had sounded very hoarse, but for him it had been the most beautiful voice he'd ever heard.
Before he even stopped to think, he raised his hand to her cheek in an attempt to wipe away the tears that kept falling non-stop. She looked at him for a second, surprised by his gesture, only to then lean on his touch as she held his hand in place with hers.
"It'll be fine." He told her and then, he lied. "I'll be right behind you."
He had to make her leave and lying was the best way to accomplish it. Yet, the glint of hope in her eyes made him wish that what he was saying was true.
"Promise?" She whispered, her voice still hoarse but his heart fluttered nonetheless. How in the universe could she be so precious?
"I promise" he said, not even sure as to whom he was lying to this time.
"It's open, let's go!" Karga said.
She didn't even flinch, her hand still holding his against her cheek while tears glistened in her eyes.
"We have to move! Now!" Cara said to her as she helped her up. When she let go of his hand it fell to the ground heavily. He managed to catch a last glimpse of her eyes as she got into the sewers.
He sighed. That was it, the last he would see of her. He wished he had seen her smile once more instead of her sad face, eyes red and swollen from crying. Sluggishly, he took out his blaster, readying himself to take as many Imps out as he possibly could before they finished him off.
Then, he noticed that the droid had stayed behind instead of going down the sewers. Blast! He had known that as much as Kuiil had reprogrammed it, it was still a hunter. Not only that, but a hunter he himself had shot down.
"Do it" he told the droid as it approached him.
"Do what?" The machine asked him, pretending not to understand.
"Just get it over with. I'd rather you kill me than some Imp." He said, more honestly than he had expected to, but he was having a hard time putting his thoughts in order.
"I told you. I am no longer a hunter. I am a nurse droid."
"IGs are all hunters."
"Not this one. I was reprogrammed." The droid said and he, for some reason, believed it and lowered his blaster. "I need to remove your helmet if I am to save you."
As it said this, he raised his blaster again. His mind was fuzzy and forming coherent thoughts was getting harder and harder, but he knew that the helmet was not to be removed.
"Try it and I'll kill you." He said as menacingly as he could. "Aren't you supposed to be her nurse droid? Then go back to her."
"I am. She gave me orders and I must follow them to stop her pain."
"Orders? What orders?"
"To bring you back to her."
"She said that?" He asked but he didn't listen to the droid's answer. It was getting very hard for him to think straight, his mind flooding with images of her, her smile, her laugh, the sad expression on her face when she left… She wanted him back? As if he belonged with her.
The droid reached to his helmet yet again and he raised the blaster.
"It is forbidden. No living thing has seen me without my helmet since I swore the Creed." He told it, noticing a hint of a plea in his voice, almost as if he was asking for a good enough reason to break his Creed.
"I am not a living thing." The droid counter-argued.
Was that it? He wondered. Was it that simple? Was that the loophole to his Creed that he had been looking for? Maybe it was because he had lost too much blood but the droid's logic made sense. Too much sense.
Plus, he had promised her he'd follow and he couldn't break that promise. Not now that there was a viable option to get his wound treated without really breaking his Creed. As he came to terms with it all, he lowered his weapon. He was going to be able to see her smiling face again and the thought of it made his heart race.
The droid lifted his helmet and he realised that, whether it was or not against his Creed, it was already too late to back out.
"This is a bacta spray." The droid explained as it applied something to his wound. "It will heal you in a matter of hours. You have suffered damage to your central processing unit."
"You mean my brain?" He asked, his mind still foggy.
"That was a joke. It is meant to put you at ease." The droid responded.
'At ease' he thought. He wouldn't be at ease until he saw her face again. When that happened, he would be at ease .
Swallowing your tears, you followed Cara and Greef through the tunnels. IG-11 had stayed behind with Mando and you were hanging to the hope that it could somehow find a way to treat his injury without having to remove the helmet.
When you put the necklace around your neck, you saw that your hands were stained with his blood and had to fight the urge of bursting into tears yet again. That's when you felt it. It was weak but you were certain it was him. Stopping dead in your tracks, you turned around and waited as he got closer, a part of you not daring to trust your senses until you had visual confirmation.
Right around the corner you heard the faint crunching sound of boots stepping on the gravel and the rattle of pebbles being kicked. Cara and Greef turned around, blasters on the ready, when Mando and IG-11 appeared around the corner.
You rushed to him, relief washing over you. He seemed to be better, even managing to walk on his own though he was still staggering and unbalanced. Holding back the urge to hug him — didn't want to knock him over — you got to him with a tremulous smile, afraid you'd start crying again.
"I told you." He said reaching to your shoulder for support, his voice still strained but stronger than before. "Right behind you." He placed his hand on the back of your neck and lowered his head, resting the front of his helmet against your forehead for a second and you finally relaxed.
This wasn't the first time he had done that — resting his head against yours — and, since that gesture seemed to mean something for him as it automatically put him at ease, you let him do.
"I got you." Cara said as she grabbed Mando around the waist, placing his arm around her shoulders to help him walk.
"You're nursed, I've completed my orders." The droid said to you and you smiled at it as you stood on Mando's other side. You couldn't support him like Cara, but he could lean on you as he walked.
You walked through the tunnels not sure which direction to go. Mando was better but you could tell he was still in pain.
"If we get the smell of sulphur and we follow it, it'll lead us up to the plains where the river flows." Greef said.
"And the Imps will catch us before we make it to the ship." Mando told him, grunting in pain. "We need the Mandalorians to escort us to safety."
You kept walking through the tunnels, and you thought that at least it would be harder for the troopers to find you if not even you knew where you were.
"Stop. I can stand." Mando suddenly said, taking his arm off Cara's shoulders and testing his balance. She let go of him and, as you were about to do the same — letting go of his waist and moving away from his side — his hand gripped your shoulder, holding you in place.
"The bacta infusion is working." IG-11 said as you looked up at Mando with a puzzled expression on your face. You had no problem whatsoever in staying by his side like that, so you didn't complain.
"I'll try to find tracks." He said looking around.
The bacta was certainly working because his mind seemed to have cleared up, he was moving around with much more ease — even if he was still grabbing onto you — and he was less dispersed and chaotic, much more focused.
He led the way through the tunnels, having recognised the place, until you reached a large open room. Everything was covered with a layer of dust, as if there had been no one in there for quite some time and, in the middle of the room, was a pile of Mandalorian helmets and armour.
Grief stricken, he let go of you and walked to the pile, kneeling beside it. It took you a moment too long to understand his reaction but, when you did, you felt your heart sink. If Mandalorians couldn't remove their helmets then, the people those belonged to were...
"We should go." Cara told him in a gentle voice.
"You go. Take the ship. I can't leave it this way." He told her as his grief slowly started to turn to anger.
You looked at him, thinking about what you could say to make him feel better when you noticed that some of the helmets were smaller than others. Those probably belonged to the children, you realised as you felt your stomach turn. There was no way you could say nor do anything that would make him feel better after witnessing such a brutal scene.
"Did you know about this? Is this the work of your bounty hunters?" Mando growled, turning to Greef.
Taken aback by the accusation, Greef stammered but answered with a strong voice. "No. When you left the system and took the prize, the fighting ended and the hunters just melted away. You know how it is. They're mercenaries. They're not zealots."
You knew he wasn't lying but Mando was heartbroken and furious — rightfully so — and he didn't listen to reason. He stood up and rushed to Greef, hitting him in the chest with an accusatory finger as he shouted.
"Did you do this? Did you?"
"No!"
"It was not his fault." A female voice said behind you and you jumped out of your skin, extremely shocked for not having sensed her presence before.
You looked around to see a Mandalorian woman coming out of one of the rooms. It wasn't like she was concealing her presence in any way, you were just too tired and too focused on Mando's emotions to feel anything else.
"We revealed ourselves." She explained calmly. She seemed to have come to terms with the situation but you could tell she was still pained about it. "We knew what could happen if we left the covert. The Imperials arrived shortly thereafter. This is what resulted."
"Did any survive?" Mando asked bitterly.
"I hope so."
He looked around devastated by the sight and after a short moment he asked her to come with you all.
"No." She said firmly. "I will not abandon this place until I have salvaged what remains." She turned around and went back to the room she had come out from, pushing a cart filled with armour plates.
Mando followed her in and you followed him.
You walked inside what looked like a smelter, a lit furnace standing in the centre of the room, where she was melting the armour plates. She must have been the armourer of the covert, you thought.
She kept working as you all stood in the room. You could tell Greef was very uneasy about the situation, probably thinking — quite rightly — that the longer you stayed there, the more likely it was the troopers would find you.
"Show me the one whose safety deemed such destruction."
Mando turned around to look at you and, highly dejected, stood aside so the woman could see you too.
Wait, you had caused all of this? All this death and destruction was your fault? That couldn't be right, you thought, guilt filling you as you felt like you were going to be sick.
"She is the one." Mando confirmed with a thick voice. You looked at him, an apologetic and hurt expression on your face as you understood that, if only Mando hadn't saved you, all these people would still be alive.
Maybe it was because of the guilt you felt, perhaps because the last hour had been extremely emotional, or it could be that you were simply just too tired; whatever it was, you felt the tears welling up in your eyes again.
The woman approached you and looked at you from head to toe, inspecting you.
"This is the one that you hunted, then saved?"
"Yes." Mando answered. "The one that saved me as well."
"From the mudhorn?" She asked him and you could hear the disbelief in her voice but you didn't care. You were sinking into a self-destructive spiral of guilt and remorse and she, deeming you unworthy of rescue, only seemed to confirm your thoughts.
"Yes."
"She looks helpless." She added judgmentally but she was right, wasn't she? Without your powers you were weak and incapable of doing nothing.
"She's exhausted, but she is not helpless." Mando told her with a slight note of annoyance in his voice. "She can move objects with her mind."
"I know of such things." She said turning back to the furnace and you looked at her eagerly. "The songs of eons past tell of battles between Mandalore The Great, and an order of sorcerers called Jedi that fought with such powers."
"She… she is an enemy?" Mando asked in disbelief, looking at you as you looked back at him, deeply offended. How could he think even for a second that you were an enemy of his? Did he blame you too for the outcome the Mandalorians had suffered?
"No. Her kind were enemies, but this individual is not."
"What is she?" He asked, his gaze still upon you.
"She is a foundling. By Creed, she is in your care."
"She's too old to be a foundling." He retorted, saying exactly what you were thinking. For what Mando had told you, foundlings were orphaned children raised by the Mandalorians, and you were far from being a child.
"Is she?" She asked, looking at you confusedly. You wondered if all Mandalorians were that easy to read. Perhaps your theory about the helmet rendering them unable to hide their emotions was right after all. "Still, you found her and she saved you. You're in debt so she's in your care until reunited with her own kind."
"Where are they?"
"This, you must determine."
"You expect me to search the galaxy to deliver her to a race of enemy sorcerers?" He asked, upset.
Of course he was upset, you had gone through all of this just so you wouldn't have to keep roaming the galaxy. You were well aware that, if the plan worked, you would most likely part ways afterwards. Though honestly, you hadn't realised he was so eager to get rid of you… Yet, who could blame him for wanting to be away from the one that seemed to be at fault for the destruction of everything and everyone he knew and cared about.
"This is the Way." She told him and he let out a frustrated sigh.
"Hey." Cara interrupted. "These tunnels will be lousy with Imps in a matter of minutes. We should at least discuss an escape plan."
"If you follow the descending tunnel, it will lead you to the underground river." The armourer told her as she worked on a piece of beskar. "It flows downstream toward the lava flats."
"I think we should go." Greef said.
"I'm staying." You looked startled at Mando. Was he really so eager to leave you? A moment ago, he wasn't letting go of you, you had cried your eyes out thinking you were going to lose him, and now he wouldn't even look at you. Did he actually blame you for what had happened to the Mandalorians?
"I need to help her and I need to heal." He added as an excuse.
"You must go." The armourer told him. "A foundling is in your care, until she is reunited with her own kind, you are as her family.
Family, that sounded nice.
Finally, he looked at you. He was struggling with his decision, you could feel it. He was sad, relieved, confused, grateful, and worried — between others — and you cursed the day you had crossed paths with the most disconcerting Mandalorian in the galaxy. How in the universe could he be feeling all those things at the same time when some were complete opposites!
"This is the Way." She said again, and he finally nodded, as if accepting he somehow had no saying on it all. "You have earned your Signet." She added as she approached him and started welding the piece of beskar she had worked on onto his pauldron.
"You are a clan of two." She announced when she was finished.
"Thank you." He told her and you could feel he was undeniably grateful, no shadow of doubt about it. "I will wear this with honour."
The muffled sound of an explosion reached you. They were close, probably having taken each and every wall down to get there faster. You had to get going if you wanted to make it out of there alive.
"IG, please guard the outer hallway." The armourer told the droid and it obeyed. A moment later, you heard shots being fired outside and you prepared, taking out the blaster Cara had given you. Maybe you were a better shot if the targets were closer to you, you wouldn't know until you tried it and, since you couldn't rely on your abilities anymore, now was as good a time as any to find out.
Yet, the one to appear in front of the doorway was IG-11 and you sighed relieved, turning around to see what Mando and the woman were talking about. Whatever it had been, you got there too late as Mando was taking something and she was giving IG-11 a device that looked like a jetpack.
Cara and Greef started leaving but you stayed back for Mando.
"Her?" You asked him since the armourer didn't seem to be coming with you, but he simply shook his head once.
"Be safe on your journey." She told you two.
"Thank you." Mando said to her. "Come on." He added, grabbing you by the arm.
He pulled from you until you reached Cara and Greef and then let go of your arm. You walked through the tunnels following the armourer's directions.
You kept glancing at Mando, waiting for him to look at you so you could sign to him. You wanted to apologise, to tell him that he didn't have to help you search for these Jedi — whatever the Mandalorian armourer had said — and to ask him how much he hated you right now.
Yet, you reached the lava river and he had not looked your way even once.
Once there, and after Cara had to shoot the boat out since it seemed to be stuck, you got on it and sailed away down the river.
As soon as you got on the boat you started to feel the heat from the lava underneath you. It was suffocating, and the air was so hot it felt like your already damaged throat was on fire every time you breathed in. Not to forget about the sulphur that just made the whole situation worse by tenfold.
Although no troopers seemed to have followed you, everyone was still very fidgety, standing nervously and continuously looking back. Since the way out seemed to be quite far down the river, you sat down, deciding that now wasn't the moment to worry — you'll have plenty of time for that when trying to get back to the ship.
Slowly, you started to take off the splint Mando had put on your hand. You had to talk to him and you could barely move like that. Plus, it was all dirty and covered in blood, his blood — you thought, trying to swallow the lump forming in your throat. You tried to distract yourself from that idea thinking that maybe you weren't that bad of a shooter after all, mostly if you took into account that you had been shooting with your non-dominant hand this whole time.
"What are you doing?" Mando asked you suddenly. You were so deep in thought, his voice made you flinch in surprise. He knelt beside you trying to put the splint back on but you didn't let him. You even had to slap his hand when he tried to hold you to put it back because you had just almost finished taking it off.
"You don't have to stay with me." You signed as soon as your hand was free. It was sore and still hurt a bit but not as much as to render you unable to sign. He looked at you utterly confused.
"Where is this coming from?"
"I don't care what the lady said, you are not in debt with me, I can go alone and find those Jedi." You had to spell that last word but you didn't really know how, so you kind of made it up.
He took a long slow breath and then looked at you, tilting his head. His stance got tense and his shoulders raised, he was clearly annoyed.
"We're not parting ways." He signed too and you realised he didn't want the others to know what you were saying, which terrified the hell out of you. What was he going to say to you that the others couldn't hear? "You're my responsibility."
Ugh. Being called 'responsibility' hurt more than you could have imagined, moreover after the friendship you had established and how much he meant to you. Yet, you couldn't exactly blame him for seeing you like that. At least not now that you knew you were the cause of all that death and of how much he was suffering.
"But you don't want to. I can manage, I'm strong. It's ok." You huffed, instantly regretting it as the hot air scorched your throat.
"No, it's not." he said, letting go a small sigh of frustration for having already talked out loud. He went on signing. "Why do you say I don't want to?"
"Because you hate me!" You signed, unable to repress the pain showing in your face at the notion. "You won't even look at me because all of that, the helmets, the deaths… that's my fault!"
"No." He said but before he could say anything else, you went on.
"If you hadn't saved me, if you hadn't…" you faltered, your hands were shaking as you struggled again with the urge to cry, "cared about me... they'd be alive. There were children there! I—"
You groaned as you covered your face. You couldn't go on. Shame and guilt had started swelling in your chest only to be increased by the thought of Kuiil's death and how that was your fault too. In fact, you hadn't even made it out of there alive yet. Who knew how many more deaths would fall on your shoulders by the end of the day.
You couldn't look at him after becoming aware of how much harm saving you had cost others. You weren't worth all that, it wasn't fair.
Gently, his hands pulled yours away from your face.
"I was worried about getting out, that's why I didn't look. I'm sorry." He signed and then, in a low voice that sounded extremely deep due to the modulator in his helmet, he added. "I don't blame you for that. I chose to rescue you; they chose to help me. I only blame the Imps."
He was being honest, you knew, yet you didn't understand. How could he not be angry at you, when even you were angry at yourself? Even if he was the one who had made the decision, it had been because of you. How could he so nonchalantly ignore all of that?
"But you're angry, and sad, and heartbroken. I feel it." And you hated feeling him like that, least when you were so convinced you were the cause of it all.
Surprisingly, he chuckled, leaving you perplexed since you hadn't said anything funny, quite on the contrary. Then, for some reason, he chose to sign again.
"How can you know that but not that I'm also relieved, grateful or pleased?"
"I know, but I don't understand why." You admitted.
"I'm angry at myself for triggering all of that, not at you." He said again in a low voice. "You've never done anything to make me angry at you. I doubt you could."
"Don't you hate me?" You asked hesitantly.
"Of course not!" He answered in a tone that, judging by his own reaction, was louder than he intended. "We good?"
You looked at him anxiously. Were you glad he didn't blame you or hate you? Of course! Yet, you couldn't shake off the feeling that you were to blame for all that had happened.
The struggle you were feeling must have shown on your face for he put his hands on your shoulders and lowered his head to look you dead in the eye.
"I don't hate you and I'm certain I did the right thing rescuing you. That's the truth." He told you, his voice soft and sweet and you let his confidence in himself and his decision imbue into you as you nodded.
"We can talk about it all later, now I need you to do your best to push it out of your mind. I need you to be focused. Can you do that for me?"
Your heart skipped a beat as you thought that you'd do anything for him. It was uncanny how he could make your feelings and emotions sway like that. You nodded again.
"Good."
"You feel grateful," you added, holding his arm so he wouldn't turn around just yet and letting curiosity get the best of you "for what?"
He looked at you for a long moment, as if he was thinking the answer.
"We're a clan." He finally said.
For the first time, you looked at the signet the armourer had attached to his pauldron. It was a mudhorn, no mistake about it. With a timid movement, you reached for his shoulder to run your fingers over the beautiful beskar piece.
"Family?" You asked him nervously.
"Yes." He said and you couldn't help but smile gently at the idea, a warm feeling spreading through your body.
Then, you remembered that you still had his necklace with you and took it off to give it back.
"You keep it." He said holding back your hand when you tried to return it. "Looks good on you."
"That's it!" Greef suddenly said, pointing at the front. "We're free!"
Both you and Mando stood up to take a look. You could see light from the outside coming from the end of the tunnel.
"No." Mando said frustratedly. "No, we're not. Stormtroopers. They're flanking the mouth of the tunnel. It looks like an entire platoon. They must know we're coming."
"We need to stop the boat!" Cara said and then turned around to the droid that was rowing. "Hey, Droid, stop the boat."
She yelled at it but the droid kept paddling and, in the end, she frustratedly shot it down. It changed nothing though, — at best, it calmed her a bit — for the boat was now moving by pure inertia, being carried by the current.
"Looks like we fight." Cara said. Her idea was not greeted with enthusiasm but it wasn't like you really had a choice.
"They will not be satisfied with anything less than the girl." IG-11 said as you all looked around for your weapons. "This is unacceptable. I will eliminate the enemy and you will escape."
"You don't have that kind of firepower, pal." Mando said to the droid in a slightly condescending tone and, even in that situation you couldn't help but be startled. Had he just called IG-11 pal? The same droid which he didn't want to accept food from just a day ago? "You wouldn't even get to daylight."
"That is not my objective. I still have the security protocols from my manufacturer."
You looked puzzled at Mando the moment you noticed that he was suddenly worried and you didn't understand the reason for it. Your gaze went from him to the droid, listening to their conversation, as Cara and Greef prepared to fight.
"If my designs are compromised, I must self-destruct." The droid added as if that clearly explained what he meant.
Of course, it didn't. At least not for you, for Mando though, it seemed to make sense because his concern just increased.
"What're you talking about?" He asked, although you were quite sure he already knew the answer.
"I am not permitted to be captured. I must be destroyed." That's when you understood. The droid intended to immolate itself, wiping out as many troopers as possible in the way.
"Wait. You can't self-destruct." Mando said as you shook your head in agreement. "Your base command is to watch her, that supersedes your manufacturer's protocol, right? Right?" He asked furiously.
"This is correct, but victory through combat is impossible. We will be captured; she will be lost. Sadly, there is no scenario where she is saved, in which I survive."
"Listen, you're not going anywhere." Mando said in a commanding tone and you could feel his worry turning into sadness. As far as you knew, he had always hated droids so it was a bit shocking to see him worry about one. Yet, IG-11 had just saved his life. "We need you. Let's just come up with a…"
"Please tell me she will be safe in your care. If you do so, I can default to my secondary command."
"No" you mouthed to the droid as you shook your head.
"But you'll be destroyed." Mando added.
"And you will live, and I will have served my purpose." You shook your head again. Sure, IG-11 was just a droid but there had been enough deaths today, there must be another way. "There is nothing to be sad about. I have never been alive."
"I'm not sad." Mando lied.
"Yes, you are. I'm a nurse droid. I've analysed your voice." After saying that, the droid got off the boat and into the lava river. Without thinking, you took a step towards it but Mando held you, grabbing you by your waist.
"IG? What're you doing?" Cara asked the droid as it walked through the lava river towards the mouth of the tunnel.
You couldn't believe your eyes, the same droid that had once pointed a blaster to your face and would have shot hadn't it been for Mando, was now sacrificing itself for your safety.
The moment it reached the outside of the tunnel it stopped and, after a second, exploded in a huge blast of fire that momentarily blinded you. You looked at the end of the tunnel dumbfounded, not correctly processing what just had happened. The others armed themselves and you had to snap yourself out of it. You had promised Mando to focus.
As the boat reached the end of the tunnel, you pointed around with your blasters in case any of the troopers had survived the explosion. Luckily for you, they were all down.
The way to the ship seemed clear and you were starting to relax when you heard the distinct noise of a tie fighter flying towards you.
"Moff Gideon!" Cara yelled as she looked at the tie fighter descending over you.
Pointing all your weapons at it, you waited until it got close enough to try and take it down. Obviously, the moment he got closer Moff Gideon also fired at you, missing by very little.
Your shots, on the contrary, had not missed yet they had done no damage.
"He missed!" Greef said as the tie fighter flew away to circle back to you.
"He won't next time." Mando told him, looking around and trying to think of something to do. You pulled his sleeve.
"Deflecting shields." You signed.
"No, tie fighters don't have deflecting shields."
"I know! He has!" You added, huffing in exasperation, and rolling your eyes at him. It was about time he realised your wide knowledge regarding ships.
"Then, our blasters are useless against him."
"Why don't you make the magic hand thing?" Greef told you and you looked at him with a raised eyebrow and an enervated expression on your face. "Oh, come on! You did it with the fire!"
"She's spent."
"Then I'm out of ideas." Greef complained.
"I'm not." Mando said, getting the jetpack and putting it on.
"Here he comes!" Cara cried as the ship circled around you to approach you from the front.
As scary as it all was, you were more worried about Mando's idea. If he intended to do what you thought he was planning, it was a very bad idea.
The tie fighter was coming straight towards you when Mando turned his jetpack on but he didn't take off, not just yet. You'd have tried to stop him had he not been so incredibly enraged. The closer the ship got to you, the angrier he got, until it felt he was about to burst.
Moff Gideon started shooting right in front of where you were and, using the cloud of dust that had formed as cover, Mando took off flying straight up. He managed to dodge the tie fighter and then shot his whipcord at it, latching the grappling hook onto it.
Next thing you saw was Mando being dragged through the air by the tie fighter like a rag doll.
Seriously, what was his reasoning process? Not a couple of hours ago he was on the brink of death and the first thing he could think of doing after surviving was that?
Looking at him somehow managing to recoil his whipcord and getting on the ship, you couldn't help but reconsider your life choices. Why again were you so worried about some stupid Mandalorian who clearly had a death wish?
You didn't know whether you were more worried or angry as you saw him get over the ship's hatch — trying to get inside the cockpit, you assumed. Suddenly, the tie fighter started spinning around, almost throwing Mando away. You gasped in horror, seeing how he had barely managed to hold on.
"Don't worry, he's got the jetpack." Cara told you, trying — unsuccessfully — to help you relax.
Not sure about what was going on, as you couldn't see him anymore, you started panicking and got out of the boat, trying to go to where the ship was headed. That's when something exploded mid-air though you had no idea what it had been.
Since the ship kept spinning around, you thought it safe to assume that Mando was still holding onto it. However, you couldn't stop thinking that he had hit his head really hard not only a few hours ago and swirling around at that speed couldn't be good for him. Without IG-11 you had no more bacta spray, so, if he got injured again, there would be nothing you could do.
You kept looking at the spinning tie fighter, your heart in your mouth, as Cara and Greef joined you. Then, you saw Mando let go of the ship and start falling.
'He's got the jetpack, he's got the jetpack, he's got the jetpack'. You repeated in your head like a mantra.
One of the tie fighter's wings suddenly exploded and it started to spiral out of control, crashing somewhere close, but you weren't looking at it because Mando was falling very fast and he wasn't turning the jetpack on. You could see him flapping his arms as he got closer and closer to where you were — and to the ground too. At the very last moment, he finally turned the kriffing jetpack on, managing to break his fall and land safely.
Stars! You were so worried you wanted to hit him for scaring you that much.
"That was impressive, Mando. Very impressive." Greef said before you could do anything to Mando.
"Stupid, he means." You signed and heard him chuckle softly.
"It looks like your Guild rates have just gone up." Greef continued, oblivious to your remark.
"Any more troopers?" Mando asked them, as if he wasn't at all tired and was already prepared to get into some more fights.
"I think we cleaned up the town." Cara said. "I'm thinking of staying around just to be sure."
You turned to her as Mando and Greef argued about why she should or shouldn't stay there and the quality of life in Nevarro. You liked Cara, a lot, and you had hoped she might stay with you for a little while.
"Come on, don't tell me you're actually gonna miss me." She joked and you nodded. "Always so honest." She laughed and you hugged her as she hugged you back.
"But you, my friend, you will be welcomed back into the Guild with open arms." Greef was saying when you let go of Cara and walked towards Mando. The idiot was feeling dizzy and slightly sick, you could tell. Yet, there he was acting all stoic, like nothing had happened. "So, go off, enjoy yourself. And when you're ready to return, you will have the pick of all quarries."
"You ok?" You asked him and he looked at you for a long moment before nodding and patting your head.
"I'm afraid I have more pressing matters at hand." He said, his hand on your head as he snickered.
"Take care of her." Cara told him.
You waved them goodbye and you were about to turn around to start your long walk back to the ship when Mando's hand left your head and grabbed your waist, pressing you tightly against him. You felt your face hot as you tried to comprehend what was going on.
"Hold on." He said, leaning towards you. It took you another long second to figure out what he intended to do but, when you finally did, you clung to his neck as if your life depended on it. You heard him chuckle softly as he straightened up and your feet left the ground, resulting in you hanging comically from his neck.
Then, he turned around and took off. With a gasp you held harder to his neck, your knuckles turning white from the strength with which you were gripping his shoulders and cape. Not knowing what to do with your legs, you wrapped them around him, making you look like a Tach hanging from a tree.
"I'm not gonna let you fall." He whispered, so close to your ear that you felt lightheaded, goosebumps forming on your skin.
If you hadn't been grabbing onto him for dear life you would have told him that you didn't feel exactly safe flying around in the arms of a dizzy Mandalorian while knowing that if he, by any chance, let go of you, you would rush to your death.
As if he knew what you were thinking, he grabbed you tighter, wrapping his other arm around you too and having a much firmer grasp on you. Slowly, you managed to relax a bit, at least enough to start enjoying the thrill of flying and the feeling of safety that being held in his arms gave you. You could feel the heat of his body against you even with all the layers of clothing and armour in between. It was nice.
Unfortunately, that sensation of safety and warmth left your body the moment you landed beside the Crest and you recognised the body lying next to it. You had successfully managed to push the thought of Kuiil's death to the back of your mind to the point of forgetting about it, so the moment you saw him, the shock was brutal.
You stood there, paralysed, looking at him and unable to let go of Mando, fearing you'd fall to the ground if you did. Normally you could resort to diving deep into Mando's emotions, knowing he was always more composed than you, but this time that didn't help since he was feeling as guilty as you were.
"We can't leave him like that." He said, letting go of you and heading into the ship. After a moment he came out with a shovel and one of the blankets you had inside the Crest.
You stayed still, eyes fixed on Kuiil's lifeless body as you fought the tears and the need to cry, scream, and break something, anything. Withal, you couldn't move an inch. Then, something snapped and, as tears started falling down your cheeks, you finally managed to make your feet obey you and walk towards him.
He wasn't much shorter than you but at this moment he somehow looked very small. His face was calm and, if you hadn't known, you would have thought he was asleep. Though he wasn't. He was dead because he had wanted to help you, you thought as you gasped for air.
The sound of the shovel digging into the ground and Mando's breath as he panted from the effort was all you could hear as you gently cleaned the dirt from Kuiil's face with your shirtsleeves.
Without a word, Mando got to you when he was done digging and together you wrapped Kuiil's body in the blanket and gently placed him in the hole he had dug. Making use of the little energy you had left, you used your powers to lift the pile of dirt and slowly — as if trying not to hurt him — lowered it over him.
After a moment, you got inside the Crest and took off. The tears had long dried on your cheeks as you sat on your chair, not knowing where you were headed or even if you had a fixed destination. You didn't ask. None of you had said anything since starting to dig Kuiil's resting place and, after a while, Mando broke the silence.
"I'm feeling dizzy." He finally admitted, reclining on his chair and looking at you.
"I know." You signed.
"How are you feeling?" He asked you.
"I'm fine."
"Don't lie to me." He said as he turned around and picked the medicine box up. Then, he faced you and grabbed you by your chin, moving your head closer to his so he could start cleaning your face. The cloth he was using turned red with your blood.
'Weird' — you thought. How could you have not noticed at any point that you had been bleeding?
He put a small bandage on your temple and that's when you felt the pain. You had probably hit your head when the explosion threw you back, but you had had more pressing matters at hand at the moment for you to notice it.
When he was done, he put the box away and turned to you again, his head tilted to the side, and you knew he was waiting for you to talk about what had happened. You didn't want to talk, not now, not yet.
"You should clean that." You signed, pointing at his helmet. "Blood, yuck." You added, spelling the interjection while you made a face of disgust. You had expected him to chuckle but he just let go of a long breath as you felt frustration coming from him.
"Yeah, I'll do that." He said as he got up and left downstairs, leaving you alone with your thoughts.
After only a few seconds, you realised you didn't want to be alone with your thoughts. You needed something to get away from them but you had nothing to distract you and your book was downstairs where you couldn't get it because Mando needed his privacy.
You sighed as you looked around for something, anything, that could help you divert your attention from the flashes of images that were flooding your mind and the feelings of guilt and self-disgust.
Mando hadn't done the jump to hyperspace you noticed, finding yourself hoping for the hyperdrive to be broken so you had something to do. Sadly, after a quick inspection you could see that it was working just fine. You didn't understand then why he had chosen not to use it.
With a frustrated huff you stayed there, sitting on the floor and staring down at the hyperdrive motivator, alone with your thoughts, just as you didn't want to be.
"What are you doing?" Mando's voice startled you.
By the looks of it, he had taken a shower and even cleaned up his armour — although the only piece of beskar he wore was the helmet, it was shiny again — which meant that you had been sitting there, looking at the hyperdrive motivator, for a long time.
He smelled fresh, like the soap you had in the refresher but mixed with something else. It was a smell you instinctively associated with him although you couldn't properly identify what it was. Probably whatever he had used to clean and polish his armour, you assumed.
As you stood, your legs cramped — more evidence that you had been there for quite a while — and he offered you a hand to help you.
The moment you were up, his hand left yours and reached for your cheek to wipe away the tears that were falling from your eyes.
'What in the blazes?!' — you thought as you took a step away from him and rubbed your eyes. How ridiculous was it that you hadn't even been aware that you were crying?
"Let's talk." He said but you shook your head.
"I'm fine." You lied.
"Are you?" He asked sceptically but you ignored the implication of his tone and just nodded.
"Ok." He whispered as he sat down. You stood there not sure about what to do and you were on the brink of asking him about the hyperdrive when he talked again.
"I told you that I swore the Creed when I was about ten right?" He asked, completely out of the blue. You nodded gingerly. "I was found when I was six so I had to learn all about the Way of the Mandalore before I could swear it. The kids who were Mandalorian born and raised though, usually swear the Creed and get their helmets much sooner, when about five."
'Five?' You thought as you remembered the pile of helmets and felt like you were going to be sick. Why was he telling you this? Why did he want to make you feel even worse than what you were already feeling? He looked at your expression and sighed.
"I'm not saying this to make you feel bad but to make you understand that you're not fine. You clearly need to talk about it, to let it out. Otherwise, it'll eat you up from the inside."
"And you?" You asked him angrily although you didn't even know what you were angry about. "You don't need to talk? You feel nothing?"
"Of course I do and you know it." He said in a low voice filled with pain.
"But you don't talk about it, why should I?"
"Because you're not like me." He said agitatedly. "I was raised by the most feared warriors in the galaxy, for us death is an inevitable part of who we are. Am I hurt? Yes, but I have learnt to reconcile with those feelings. For a Mandalorian there's no better way to leave this world than with a warrior's death."
"I can be like you. I can detach myself—"
"No! You're not like me and I don't want you to be!" He growled and then took a deep breath to calm himself down. "You're the most gentle being I have ever met. Stars! You forgave me after I gave you away to those Imps! That's exactly why I know you're putting all of this on you and you can't do that."
"I can't stop." You told him with a pleading expression on your face. "There were children and Kuiil… because of me!" You collapsed on your chair, unable to go on, as you covered your face with your hands.
"None of that was your fault. Kuiil came because he wanted to, he understood the risk he was taking." He said calmly. "Look, I understand the need to blame someone but that someone isn't you. I am the one who made the decisions. I went back for you fully aware that it was against the Guild's code. If you want to be angry with me that'd be fair, but don't put this on yourself."
After a moment, you wiped your face with your hands and raised your head to look at him.
"Why? Why did you come back for me?"
He sighed as he reclined on the chair and looked up.
"I couldn't get out of my head the look on your face when you saw where I had taken you." He said after a moment while he kept his gaze fixed on the ship's ceiling. "You looked so disappointed... I couldn't stop thinking about why would you be disappointed at someone you barely knew and that maybe you were right to be. That I should be ashamed of what I had done, of working with the Imps…" He sighed again and looked at you. "I had to make amends for my mistakes, fix my wrongdoings."
"It was stupid," you told him bitterly "I wasn't worth it."
"Well, that's for me to decide."
You shifted on your seat, uneasy, waiting for Mando to talk. You could feel he wanted to say something else yet for some reason he couldn't bring himself to do it. It soon got to a point where you couldn't trust yourself not to start crying again, so you stood to leave the room.
"Shower." You signed when you felt his inquisitive gaze on you. He nodded.
The way down to the refresher was as if you were in some kind of trance, like a dream. Without being completely conscious about what you were doing or how you'd gotten there, you found yourself under the shower, looking dazed at the water that was washing away the dried blood on your hands. And you started crying.
You cried like you hadn't done in a long time, like you hadn't done since before you had met Mando. Loud, heart-wrenching sobs teared from your throat as you curled under the water, gasping for air. Your wails echoed in the small room's walls yet you couldn't stop until you had no more tears left to shed.
By the time you managed to pull yourself together, the water had long since turned cold. Shivering slightly, you grabbed your towel and wrapped it around your body as you looked at yourself in the tiny mirror. You looked terrible, your eyes were red, puffy, and bloodshot plus, your face was red and blotchy, a mixture probably from the cold water and all the crying.
Surprisingly enough, you felt slightly better after letting it all out like that. Mando was right about you being unable to detach yourself from your feelings. That wasn't how you were and you needed to grieve to, slowly, get through it.
As you headed upstairs you wondered how long you had been in the shower and hoped for Mando to be asleep since you didn't want him to see you like that. Yet, when you crossed the cockpit's threshold you saw him moving around, doing something on the control panel. You moved with caution to your chair, hoping that he might be too engrossed in whatever he was doing to engage with you — which was obviously not what happened.
The moment you sat down he turned to you and gave you a long look yet he didn't say anything. Mortified, you realised he had probably heard you and was worrying over whether to say something about it or not. Surely the look of your face wasn't helping with his wavering. You could feel his apprehension and decided to be the one to start the conversation just so you could pick the topic.
"Why no jump to hyperspace?"
"Uh…" he mumbled, disconcerted and then cleared his throat "we're going somewhere close and I thought we could use a few days to relax."
"Where?"
"Concord Dawn." He replied as if that gave you all the information you needed then, after seeing your puzzled face he added "It was a planet in the Mandalore sector, there's a chance some of the members of the Tribe are there and they might know about these Jedi."
You nodded nervously as you realised you were going to ask for the help of the people whose families, friends, and home were lost because of you. Needing to change the topic before you'd burst into tears again, you started picking your brain until you remembered something.
"Your name, Din?" You asked him, spelling it how you assumed it was.
"Yes," he said, "Din Djarin." He added, spelling it all for you.
"I didn't know."
"You thought my name was 'Mando'?" He said with a chuckle as you shrugged.
Of course you knew he wasn't called Mando but since he had never told you his name you had somehow forgotten that it made no sense for him to be called that.
"The Tribe lived in secrecy in Nevarro. Our secrecy was our survival so we only came out one at a time. That's why I always went as Mando, so no-one could have enough information about me to track me down. Besides, had I needed to stay hidden and let someone else go out in my stead, no-one would have known. They would have thought they were 'Mando', with a different armour."
"That's why you barely talked?" You inquired and he chuckled again.
"That and because I had nobody to talk to. I grew used to being silent."
It was sad to think he had spent so much time alone on that ship. Though that wasn't completely true as you suddenly realised; he had been with the Twi'leks and the Devaronian for some time, you just didn't know for how long. There was still so much you didn't know about him.
At least, now you knew his name, which was an improvement. It was going to be hard to stop thinking about him as Mando, but you could get used to Din. That's when you recalled Cara's reaction to your name and realised you had forgotten to ask her about it.
"How's your throat?" Mand— no, Din asked you, bringing you out of your absorption. "You hurt it earlier, right?"
You couldn't help blushing as you embarrassedly recalled your earlier reaction when he had been injured. Now that he was all fine, you felt like an idiot for having acted like that. Still, at that moment you thought he was dying, that he was leaving you and the idea of that happening just hurt too much.
"It's ok." You told him.
"Good." He said, relief patent in his voice. "I'm gonna nod off a bit. If anything happens, wake me up."
You nodded as you began to reflect about everything that had happened that day. Gosh, it had only been one day and yet you were already aware that the events that had befallen would fuel your nightmares for many of the following cycles. That's why the idea of sleeping didn't appeal much to you at the moment, even though you were exhausted.
What was most shocking was how easily Mando could put all of it out of his mind. He had almost died a few hours ago, for Edge's sake! Not only that, he had accepted he was going to die which couldn't be an easy experience to go through.
Then, you realised that perhaps this hadn't been the first time he had thought like that and it started to make sense to you that he could dissociate from it all — at least to a certain extent. After all, he was covered in scars, how many of those had almost been fatal? How many injuries had he had to treat by himself, alone in that ship? How many times had he thought he was not going to make it?
Just the idea made you shudder. It was clear to you that he was either too reckless or too full of himself. Whatever it was, you didn't like it because it meant that he was constantly putting himself in danger and sooner or later it would end up badly. When that moment came, you might not have any bacta with you. What would you do then?
Losing him was not an option, you decided as you watched him slowly drift into a deep sleep. You were aware that was just the way he was, he was a Mandalorian from head to toe and there was no way he was going to stop being a reckless fool who made you worry over and over again. Yet, you could do everything in your hand to protect him.
There was no other alternative because you just couldn't bear the idea of him dying and you thought you were beginning to figure out the reason why.
As you wrapped your mind around that notion, you started to panic. It couldn't be, could it? It was normal to worry about a friend, to cry if you thought you were going to lose him, and Mando — no, Din, was your first and closest friend. Right? Yet, you were unable to picture yourself feeling that same pain for anyone else. Not even finding Kuiil dead had made you feel the same amount of pain and anguish you had felt when you thought you were losing Din.
However, after giving it a long thought the sense of panic began to fade as things started to fall into place. You couldn't be one hundred percent sure, of course, after all you had never before experienced this feeling yourself. Yet, you had sensed it coming from others. Plus, it was the only thing that fully explained what was going on inside of you. Your fear of losing him, the way his presence made you feel safe and at home, how being with him made you simply happy, your reactions to his closeness or his touch, or the thoughts you had had about him.
Kriff! How thick were you? How in the universe hadn't you realised this earlier?
Heat rose to your face, all the way up to your ears and the roots of your hair, and you thanked the stars Mand—Din was asleep. Damn. How were you supposed to act around him now that you were so extremely aware of how you were feeling? Most importantly, how would he feel if he knew?
You looked at him. He was relaxed, fast asleep, his chest slowly rising and falling with every breath he took. Was he perhaps aware already? After all, now that you had realised it, it seemed very obvious. Plus, the way you had broken down when thinking he was dying might had been obvious enough for the rest to notice.
That's when you understood that it didn't really matter. If he knew he had said nothing about it and he would probably go on that way. Not to mention that you had no idea about what Mandalorians thought of those kinds of feelings. As far as you were concerned, they might consider them weak or unworthy.
After all, Din didn't consider the other Mandalorians as his family. Clan, yes, but not family. Was that how it worked for them? No ties or bonds so it was easier for them to fight without a fear in the world? Not showing their faces, even to their clan members, in order to distance themselves from each other? And yet, he had had a close relationship with the female Twi'lek, although you hadn't wanted to ask how close it had been.
Your ears started ringing as you wondered if their relationship had been just physical or if he had really cared about her. Then, you realised you didn't like any of the options and, for the first time, you were aware that you were jealous. You didn't like the feeling.
Had you not been completely mute you would have woken up screaming. Sweat was dripping from your forehead as you tried to calm yourself down from the way-too-explicit nightmare you had just had. You shuddered at the memory of a dream where a dead Mando was lying in your arms.
The chair beside you was empty and you focused on his presence until you felt it coming from downstairs and relaxed, suspecting that him having left the cockpit had been what triggered your dream. At least he hadn't seen you like that — not again. You didn't cope well being seen with your feelings laying bare like that. Even if it was him.
As you were slowly regaining your composure, you felt a slight pain in your hand caused by something that was digging into your skin. You looked down to see that you were gripping the necklace he had given you so hard you were hurting yourself. Releasing it, you examined it properly for the first time. It looked like the skull of some type of animal with long tusks, you had no idea what it was or what it meant but it looked to be crafted with the same beskar the rest of his armour was.
He had said you could keep it because it "looked good on you". You felt heat rise to your neck as you remembered that. Kriff. How could you stop yourself from having these strange feelings when he treated you so well, cared about you so much, and said kind words to you all the time.
"You're awake." He said as he entered the cockpit.
You hid the necklace underneath your shirt, cursing yourself for being all flustered just with the sound of his voice. Dank farrik! Now that you were aware of how you were feeling it was like you couldn't stop your heart from beating faster — and way too loudly — and your face from heating up. A part of you wished you were still oblivious to it all because you weren't sure about how to act around him anymore.
"How long until Concord Dawn?" You asked him when he sat beside you.
"A few days." He sighed as he reclined on the chair.
It was hardly noticeable but you recognised the scent of the ointment Peli Motto had given you and noticed his movements were stiff. Even though his head injury had been treated with bacta, the rest of his body was most likely covered in bruises just like that time you had sewn the injury in his shoulder. You shook your head, trying to push the image and the memories from that day out of your mind as you felt blood rushing to your face in embarrassment.
He was looking at you — observing you — his head slightly tilted in confusion. You were biting your lip nervously and had to force yourself to stop. Trying to find a distraction, you looked around for your book just to remember you had left it downstairs. Quite abruptly, — as you realised after doing it — you stood up and walked out of the cockpit in a rushed escape from his inquisitive gaze.
Behaving like that was not an option, you knew it, but it was proving hard for you to get a hold of yourself. With everything that had happened, your emotions were running high and having realised your feelings towards him had only caused more chaos within you.
Not only that but now that you knew his name you couldn't stop thinking about it. Din. It was hard for you to understand but somehow having learnt that small bit of personal information — something that not many people knew — made you feel closer to him, as if you were slowly putting together the pieces that formed Din as a person and distanced him from the Mandalorian warrior you had come to know.
However, by seeing him in that new light you ran the risk of believing there may be a chance he also saw you that way. No. If there was one thing you had learnt from your previous interactions with men it was that it showed when they wanted a woman, so much so that they had never given you much of an option about it. You knew Din wasn't like them, but still there was not the slightest hint in his actions that made you think he harboured any kind of feelings towards you. You were aware that you would be fooling yourself by thinking otherwise.
Picking up your book you headed upstairs to join him, imbued by a newfound resolve on how to deal with the situation. Was it a good plan? Of course not! It couldn't even be called a plan if you were honest with yourself. All you were going to do was to try your best at acting like nothing happened. You were not willing to lose your only friend, the most important person in your life, just because you were unable to control your emotions. It was decided. How were you going to do it? You had no frigging idea but you couldn't keep hiding yourself away.
During the next few days, you pretended everything was normal and tried to act like your regular self. It soon became clear to you that you were a very bad liar plus, the nightmares you were having weren't exactly helping with your faked normality. Din clearly noticed something was up but seemed to assume it was due to the events of the past few days and said nothing about it.
As soon as he was feeling better you also took up on the sparring sessions you had been having. This time though, Din's approach was quite different.
"You should use your powers more." He had suddenly said after the first try at it.
You looked at him puzzled since until that moment he had been quite adamant about just the opposite. It had taken you a lot of training and self-restraint to stop depending on your abilities so it was only natural that you were quite surprised by him changing his mind like that.
"Make it subtle but we should take advantage of your strong points. Plus, you can't shoot for shit." He added, laughing at your offended expression.
Following his advice, you started to use your abilities while fighting him which gave you a clear advantage over him in terms of agility and speed. He seemed satisfied about it as long as it wasn't too obvious and provided that you didn't beat him up, for it was too on the nose — in his opinion — that someone "as tiny as you" could somehow defeat him.
You were sitting cosily in your chair after a particularly hard training session, curled up under a blanket and relaxedly reading your book.
"I've been meaning to ask, what happened in Nevarro?" He said out of the blue as he came back from the shower.
You lifted your head to look at him just to find him standing in the cockpit's threshold while putting on his shirt. You caught a glimpse of the muscles of his abdomen as he finished dressing up and wondered if he wanted to give you a heart attack. Blinking rapidly and trying to steady your heart, you gave him an extremely confused look — caused not only by his incoherent question.
"When I was injured, you used your powers with that trooper but it was different than usual." He said as he went to his chair to sit down.
Karabast, was that question so important that he couldn't finish dressing up before coming to ask you? Or did he just feel so comfortable around you that he didn't care if you saw? Because you certainly cared.
He was looking at you, waiting for an answer and you were there, dazed and lusting over him, unable to form any coherent thoughts.
"Different?" You managed to sign after a moment as you tried your best to act like you were thinking about his question.
"Out of control. Like you couldn't hold it in."
"I'm not sure." You told him while trying not to look too surprised at his unexpected attention to detail. "It was different, powerful but…" you sighed, finding it hard to explain "wrong." It was hard to describe so you gave him an apologetic look.
If you had had your voice back maybe you could have been clearer but after Nevarro you had only managed to make some noises and little more. Just today, you had achieved to whisper words softly but it wasn't good enough. Plus, the downside was that if you tried for too long, your throat hurt. You hadn't told Din though, you didn't want to until you could manage something better, something that was worth it.
"I was shocked." He admitted as he looked at you. "You always seem to be so restrained, I thought it might have bottled-up until you had overflowed."
"I'm not going to explode." You said as you wondered when had you given him the impression that you were restraining yourself that much. That is not to say he was wrong, you had grown used to keeping your abilities in check, subdued, and controlled, but you had never thought it could be perceived like that.
"Well, you did once with the collar." He retorted.
"It wasn't the same." You tried to explain. "In Nevarro… that wasn't exactly me I…" You bit your lip as you were trying to find a way to describe it all. "I was angry and I used that anger. I never do that; I don't like it."
"Ok." He said after a long moment looking at you. "That makes no sense to me, but ok."
You looked back at him baffled, he was unbelievable! After coming to ask you half-naked as if it was the most urgent thing in the universe and having you struggle to explain, all he had to say was "ok"? He laughed at your expression and that's when you realised you couldn't be angry at him.
"What's this?" You asked him, pulling the necklace from under your shirt. You had been meaning to ask before but you had been so worried about how you were feeling that you had forgotten. Now seemed as good a moment as any other.
"That's a Mythosaur's skull. Its species was native to Mandalore and the first Mandalorians hunted and tamed them." He explained. "Since then, their skull became the symbol of the Mandalorians."
"Then, you should have it back."
"You're part of my clan now." He said with a surprising warmth in his voice. "That recognises you as such."
As you put the necklace under your shirt yet again, you couldn't help but smile, feeling ecstatic at the reminder that you were a clan.
The next few days went by faster than you had wanted to. It was good that he had decided to go to your destination at normal speed instead of using the hyperspace since you really needed the time to come to terms with everything that had happened. You couldn't have faced the rest of his tribe just a few hours after seeing the destruction that saving you had caused.
Still, when you arrived at Concord Dawn's space you weren't sure you were ready yet. That didn't matter though. As you entered the space, three ships appeared out of nowhere and surrounded the Crest.
"Attention, unregistered ship." A voice said through the ship's comms. "You are trespassing Mandalorian space. Identify yourselves."
You looked at Din as he answered back the request from the ships surrounding you. He was tense and you didn't like that.
"This is Din Djarin, Fighting Corps. Member of The Tribe."
There was a pause that seemed to last forever before they answered back.
"You're granted passage. Follow us." The voice said before positioning themselves in front of you to show you the way through the asteroid field you were in. Even so, Din's posture hadn't relaxed one bit and you realised that he was probably as concerned as you at the idea of facing the other Mandalorians.
As you got closer to Concord Dawn, you were finally able to take a look at it. It was a devastating sight. The rock masses surrounding you, that you had assumed were part of an asteroid field, were in fact fragments of the planet. It looked as if about a third of its mass had blasted out in its planetary orbit.
"Many wars occurred here." Din explained to you in a solemn tone. "It was devastated during one of them. It's been inhabited since the Empire wiped out those who were left."
Careful not to hit any of the debris surrounding the planet, you moved toward it and finally landed. Before going out of the Crest though, Din approached you.
"It'll be fine, just stay close, and" he said as he pulled the necklace out of your shirt and placed it over it so it was easily visible "let them see that."
You nodded as you followed him to the cargo bay and out of the ship. As you were walking down the ramp you saw the Mandalorians that had escorted you there waiting outside for you to come out. They were fully armoured, to the point where it made you feel underdressed — even though you had purposely changed into your nicest clothes, the ones you got at Sorgan — and they were also quite tense, their hands resting on their blasters.
"Tion'cuy?" A deep low voice called out.
Then, a broad Mandalorian in a blue armour appeared in your field of vision. He looked familiar and it took you a moment to recognise him as the Mandalorian with a heavy blaster cannon that had helped you many cycles ago to escape Nevarro.
"Din Djarin. Su cuy'gar, vod!" As he greeted Din, the other Mandalorians automatically relaxed.
"Paz. Su'cuy, vod." Din replied.
Due to the similarity of the exchanged greetings, you thought it was highly likely that this Mandalorian's name was Paz but, since you didn't know the language, you considered it safer not to make any assumptions. Besides, you will most likely be introduced shortly and confirm your hunch.
But introductions did not take place as they continued talking in that language you didn't understand and that you assumed was the Mandalorian language. Although you had no way of knowing what they were saying, it looked like a polite conversation. After a few minutes, the other Mandalorian said something and gestured the two of you to follow him.
He led you to a big shack and, as soon as the door closed behind you, his polite façade fell and both his tone and demeanour changed drastically.
In three long steps he crossed the shack and positioned himself in front of a big table, then he turned around to face Din. He was clearly annoyed, slightly raising his voice while saying something that, to you, sounded like a reprimand.
Din answered back calmly but the taller man snorted and then said something in an extremely sarcastic tone — luckily for you, sarcasm seemed to be an international language. He kept raising his tone gradually as he waved his hand at you and called you "aruetii". Whatever that meant, it was clearly not a compliment as Din tensed up almost instantly. Still, he managed to control himself as he answered back in a low solemn tone.
"Mando'ad draar digu."
After that, — probably due to the tone Din had used — you had expected the other Mandalorian to calm down, even if it was just a little bit. That's probably why him chuckling first and then starting to shout at Din in a much more aggressive manner shocked you so much.
Things suddenly escalated very quickly when, as he kept calling you "aruetii", the Mandalorian got closer to Din and started hitting him on his chest plate with an accusatory finger. You noticed then that, although it had seemed to you before that he was much taller than Din, in reality he was only slightly so. Yet, he was considerably wider and stockier, giving the impression of being way bigger.
It was remarkable how Din was managing to keep his cool through it all while standing his ground at the same time. Well, that was until the Mandalorian added something in a lower yet hideously spiteful tone. That's when Din seemed to lose it.
"Nayc!" He exclaimed as he slapped the Mandalorian's hand away and took a menacing step towards him. "Kaish kuyi dralshy'a gar mirdir." He added agitatedly as he pointed at you.
"HA!" The other man roared in a nasty mocking laughter. "Jehaatyc, ni'duraa!" He said taking a step closer to Din in a menacing way.
The whole situation was getting very heated up very fast, and you could feel how both men were on the verge of losing it and resorting to their fists or worse. That's when the blue-armoured Mandalorian — who was already yelling at Din's face — pointed at you and spat with hatred "laandur dalgaana."
In a second, Din went from annoyed to furious to enraged. His blood was boiling as he pushed the other Mandalorian away and unsheathed his vibroblade. Din brandished the vibroblade at the other man, catching him off guard but only scraping his chest plate and not attacking at any of the armour's weak points. The other Mandalorian reacted fast, pulling out a similar vibroblade and defending himself.
The two men were exchanging blows yet no killing intent emanated from any of them. Then, the bigger Mandalorian managed to seize Din's arm and get a hold of him, grabbing him under his neck. You weren't sure what to do as you didn't know if you should intervene or let them settle their differences that way — after all they were Mandalorians, so who knew if that was their way of dealing with things.
You were trying to make up your mind when the blue-armoured man whispered something right beside Din's head just before grabbing him by the helmet as if he was trying to pull it off. Din immediately let go of his vibroblade and moved his hands to his helmet to keep it in place. As you felt his fear and despair at the idea of having his helmet removed against his will, you stopped thinking and the big Mandalorian was thrown across the shack and hit the opposite wall.
He looked at you slightly confused as he took out his blaster but, with a wave of your hand, it flew away from him and out of his reach. Just to be safe, you pushed him down holding him in place so he couldn't move anymore. He struggled as he tried to stand but couldn't.
"That's enough." Din said gently as he lowered your hand. You looked at him puzzled.
"He tried to take off your helmet!" You signed with an offended and disgusted expression on your face. "That's wrong!"
"I'm aware."
With a small huff you released him, ready to hold him back again if he dared to step a toe out of line.
"Jeti..." He whispered angrily as he stood. "You come back just to bring us a wanted Jeti?!"
"Jeti? The Goran said she was part of a race called Jedi that's why we've come here, for information." Din explained.
"The Goran? You were in Nevarro?"
Din nodded. "That's what I tried to tell you. The Empire is no more in Nevarro. We drove them away… with some help."
The Mandalorian stayed silent for a moment, weighing this information.
"That's how you got your aliik?" He asked, pointing at the signet on Din's shoulder. Din nodded. "Then, where's your aliit?"
Din looked at you and the other Mandalorian sighed heavily.
"You should have started with that." He said as he lowered his head slightly. "N'eparavu takisit." Din nodded in understanding.
"We just need information and we'll be on our way." Din told him. "I'm trying to find the rest of her kind. The Goran said they were a race of enemy sorcerers but she didn't know more. Even less where to find them."
"I don't know much more either." The blue-armoured Mandalorian said with a small sigh. "The Jeti, or Jedi in the common tongue, were a race of sorcerers that could move things with their minds and fought with laser swords." He said slowly, as if he was trying to remember something he hadn't thought about in a long time. "Mandalorians engaged in war with them a long, long time ago. That's how we developed our beskar armour, to fight against their blades. After that… Mandalorians and Jetis fought each other and also formed alliances through time."
"Do you know where they are now?" Din asked.
"As far as I know, they were exterminated by the Empire when it was formed. Your dal’ika might be the last one left."
Exterminated? The last one? That couldn't be, could it? There was no way the Empire could have hunted down everyone in the universe who could do what you did, right?
A flashback of a cloaked woman, the Imperial Inquisitor, came to you. Yes, the Empire could very much have searched and hunted down every single one of them. You looked at Din, distress apparent on your face.
"Other Mandalorians might know more."
"Other Mandalorians?" Din asked, confused.
"Well, there are other clans and houses out there. We've always lived in secrecy so we didn't really associate with them."
"Where can we find them?" You signed excitedly, forgetting that he might not be able to understand.
"You're lucky" he said to you, showing he clearly understood the signed language Din had taught you. "Just a few weeks ago one of our own met someone who claimed to have seen a Mandalorian wandering around. I'll take you to her."
As he said so he walked towards the door but, before opening it he turned around to face you.
"Let me make one thing clear, you're welcome to ask for the information you need, to refuel, and to get some supplies. But I want you out of here as soon as possible." Though his tone was strict, it wasn't an order but a request. "And not a word about the Jeti. Her presence alone has already caused enough commotion; we don't need more than that."
"One last thing you," the blue-armoured Mandalorian said harshly as he turned to you "no Jeti tricks."
Unable to stop yourself, you arched an eyebrow as you stared at him fixedly. You should have thrown him harder against that wall. He huffed with exasperation but still moved to the outside.
You followed him while staring at his back, sulking. Din was upset too — with every right after such an outrage — although he seemed to find your irritation amusing.
The Mandalorian took you all the way back to where you had landed, but by an extremely inefficient route that took you through the entire encampment. To your surprise, there were fewer Mandalorians than you had initially expected: less than twenty, counting the ones that had escorted you to the planet. There were also no children.
Still, you could feel the stares of the Mandalorians you crossed paths with, following you with their eyes, and probably wondering what on the universe were you doing there, on their planet, their refuge, the only safe place they had left. You shuddered.
He was doing it on purpose though, walking you through the camp, exhibiting you in front of the whole covert. You didn't understand why exactly, but it was clear to you that it wasn't accidental. So much for not wanting to attract any more attention…
Finally, he approached a female Mandalorian who was working on a ship and he started to talk to her in that language you didn't understand. Her armour was painted with a dark shade of green and the design of her helmet was different from the men's, with a more streamlined shape of both helmet and visor. She nodded at Din in acknowledgement and then looked at you up and down making you feel exposed yet again.
“Paz says you’re searching for other Mandalorians.” She said, and you realised that she was talking in basic just because of you and you couldn't help but feel grateful about it. Also, you were quite pleased with yourself as it had turned out that the Mandalorian was called Paz, as you had initially guessed.
“Yes,” Din answered, “seems you have heard about some recently.”
"Yeah, I was on Xorrn a few weeks ago looking for a bounty and was lucky enough to cross paths with Gor Koresh.” She said and both men nodded in understanding – they seemed to know well enough who this Gor guy was. “He tried to ambush me and take the beskar. Well, not him of course, that hut'uun doesn’t have what it takes… Anyways, I thought I should pay him a visit,” she shrugged innocently “let him know I was fine. He said it was a pity he couldn't get my armour but that he knew others from whom he could take the beskar."
"Did he say anything else? Any more details?" Din asked her and she shook her head. "Thanks."
Then he turned to Paz.
"I'll refuel the Crest and we'll take our leave." He told him, his voice cold and emotionless.
"Good."
As you followed Din back to the Crest, you were tempted to ask him about what had happened until you remembered that Paz could understand your sign language. You didn't want him to know what you were saying so you had no other choice but to wait until later, when you were alone with Din.
"Wait here, I'll be done as fast as possible." He told you when you reached the Crest's access ramp.
At any other time, you would have insisted on going with him, but right now you didn't feel like interacting with Mandalorians much more, so you sat on the ramp and waited as you looked around.
A group of three men had approached Paz, huddling around him. They seemed to be upset and it looked like they were arguing but, since they were once again speaking in their language, you couldn't make out what all the fuss was about. Although you could probably guess.
"They're… curious about you." The female Mandalorian said. She had approached you and was standing right beside the ramp. "They want to know what exactly are you to him," There was humour in her voice, as if she found the whole situation funny. "and how does that affect us."
You looked at her and shrugged. She laughed.
You were unable to continue talking due to the noise caused by a ship landing nearby. You watched as the armoured man flying it got out and reached for a female Mandalorian who had gone to meet him. They clasped each other's forearms and leaned forward, tapping their helmets together at the forehead. It was nice to see them caring about each other mostly when all you had witnessed since you had landed were angry Mandalorians fighting amongst themselves.
That's when you were suddenly reminded of another Mandalorian — your Mandalorian — doing quite a similar gesture with you after he was injured in Nevarro. Your confusion must have shown on your face since the woman next to you talked again.
"That's a kov'nyn, a headbutt." She said, chuckling. "A gentle one like that it's a greeting, a gesture of love and affection, quite common in couples."
You turned your head to face her so fast you almost snapped your neck. Couples?
"What?" She asked, confused. "We can't take off our helmets so we had to invent ways of showing our feelings for each other. Can't kiss your partner with this,” she said while tapping her helmet "you have the kov'nyn or keldabe kiss."
She shrugged nonchalantly as your head started to spin.
That was the equivalent to a kiss for them? It couldn't be, could it? No, there had to be more to it. Maybe it wasn't just partners, maybe it was something you also did with family members. After all, parents kiss their children, siblings kiss each other…
Then, you remembered that it hadn't been Din the one to do that in the first place. As if you were watching a film, you saw yourself closing your eyes and leaning forward as you pressed your forehead against his helmet when he was asking you to stay hidden from his former comrades, ages ago.
Dank farrik! What were you supposed to do with this information? It’s not like you knew what it implied when you first did that, though he knew what it meant to him when he had done it. Yet again, he had lost much blood and almost died… and maybe it was just a gesture of affection and nothing else –
A loud voice brought you back to the moment. One of the Mandalorians that had approached Paz was saying something to him quite loudly and then they all looked your way. You wondered if he had told them about you being a ‘Jeti’, or maybe it was just because you were the reason they had lost their home in Nevarro… or perhaps they just were that hostile towards anyone who wasn’t one of their own.
"Ignore them. Since we left Nevarro the mood has become increasingly… tense." The woman explained. "Now they're just looking for an excuse to fight." She sighed. "The Goran– the armourer" she clarified "is taking longer than we expected to rejoin us and since Paz is clan Vizsla, he took over. He’s doing what he believes is best but lacks the support from the other members."
The Mandalorians that were with him said something else and then turned around, leaving him standing there, angry, and looking your way.
"When she comes back, we'll have to find another covert but" the female Mandalorian continued with a sigh, "not all of us are happy about going back to living underground, hidden like loth-rats… Paz Vizsla is trying to keep us on The Way but it's hard to renounce this newfound freedom." She said, with a sweep of her arm to emphasise her reasoning. “We could only go out one at a time and some of us had almost never left the covert, but now–”
She cut herself off as Paz Vizsla started walking towards you.
"Aytha,” He said to the woman, “I have to talk to her, leave us."
"Pleasure meeting you." She told you as she left. You gave her a gentle smile as you nodded in agreement.
When she left you alone with the Mandalorian you stood up. You didn't like the feeling of him looking down on you with that air of superiority and, although he was much bigger than you, while standing on the ramp you were almost at his height. Nevertheless, it would be wise of him not to forget that you didn’t need to be stronger nor bigger than him to defeat him.
"Has he ever removed his helmet in front of you?" He asked bluntly.
You looked at him, insulted by the implication of his question and, at the same time, amazed at the nerve to ask you that after what he had tried to pull in the shack not even an hour ago. Then, you shook your head slowly, staring at him angrily.
"Are you sure?" He said, a defiant note in his voice.
"The Way is the most important thing for him. He would NEVER take off his helmet."
"What about you? Is our Way important to you? Do you care about it even in the slightest? How do I know curiosity won't get the best of you and you'll try to take a peek? If you haven’t done so already."
You huffed in disbelief, feeling exasperated at having to put up with this kind of allusion from him. From the same one that had tried to take Din’s helmet off. You should have definitely thrown him harder against the wall.
"I don't give a Psadan's patoot about your Way," You signed heatedly, perhaps going a bit too fast for him, but you couldn’t care less, "but I care about him. He is important to me! I would never do anything that could hurt him, like trying to take his helmet off." You added harshly, taking the chance to rebuke his previous actions.
He squared up, which instantly made him seem much bigger and dangerous. Yet, since you lacked all self-preservation instinct you not only didn’t move an inch but also glowered at him with hatred.
“You don’t like me, huh?”
You shook your head slowly, eyes fixed on his helmet’s visor.
“Well, I don’t like you either, Jeti. It’ll be best for you if we don’t cross paths again.”
“For me?” You asked him, eyebrows raised in surprise and a smirk on your face. “Are you sure about that?”
He was furious, you knew since you were intentionally provoking him. As you were about to slightly lift his helmet with your powers, just to give him a small taste of how Din must have felt before, a well-known presence approached you.
“We’re ready to go.” Din said.
You tilted your head as you kept staring at the blue-armoured Mandalorian, just in case he tried something funny again. However, the knowledge that you were leaving seemed to have calmed him down. Both Din and him said their goodbyes in their language and, after a few minutes, you were taking off.
Although you were more than happy to be back on the Crest and away from Concord Dawn — and Paz Vizsla —, you were unable to get over the bad mood that stupid Mandalorian had put you in.
"That went better than expected." Din said after making the jump to hyperspace. You looked at him with a bewildered expression on your face and he chuckled softly.
"It could have been worse?" You asked him puzzled and still annoyed. "That jerk tried to take off your helmet!"
He gave a long sigh as he lowered his head.
"Paz... he is proud and hot-headed. Once something gets into his head it is hard to make him change his mind and he just acts accordingly..." He looked at you. "Yes, he can be a jerk." He snickered.
You had a lot of questions for Din about all that had happened. At the moment, when he had attacked Paz, it had given you the impression that the latter was accusing Din of something. Now, you were quite sure it had been of him removing his helmet. Yet, you couldn't understand why he thought Din would have done so.
"Why did he try to do it? Take your helmet off. Isn't it against your Creed?"
You could feel the indecisiveness from him as he shifted uncomfortably in his seat and that only sparked your curiosity even more. He seemed to notice and chucked softly.
"He was convinced I had already broken my Creed and removed my helmet. In his mind I… wasn't worth wearing it anymore." He said with a slight shrug, but that wasn't a good enough explanation for you.
"Why? Why did he think that?"
He looked at you silently for a moment as he was still wavering about it although you couldn't understand why he was feeling that way. Finally, he talked but you weren't expecting the answer he gave you.
"Because of you."
Wait.
That made no sense.
You looked at him frowning in confusion and he tilted his head as if he couldn't get what you weren't understanding.
Ok, it was true Paz had accused you of trying to get a look at Din when he was without the helmet but that only meant he believed you to be untrustworthy. That didn't mean Din would have willingly taken off his helmet in front of you. Why in the universe would he do that?
The answer suddenly formed in your head and you let go a small gasp of surprise at the revelation.
So Paz thought you and Din had a closer relationship than you did. Best case scenario, he believed you were a couple; worst one, that you were having sex. You averted your gaze from his visor as you felt your cheeks getting hot at the idea of having sex with Din. He seemed to notice your blushing as he shifted his weight uncomfortably again.
"Someone should tell Paz you don't have to take your helmet off for that." You signed with a playful smile in an attempt to lighten up the mood.
He laughed. A hearty, loud laugh that seemed to fill the cockpit and release all the built-up tension from his body. You smiled warmly at the sound as a small bubble of pure joy seemed to swell in your chest, instantly chasing away your bad mood. Gosh, you loved the sound of his laughter, even when you knew it was slightly distorted by the modulator in his helmet.
What would it sound like without the helmet, you wondered, unable to stop yourself from imagining it and wanting to hear it.
"Yes, someone should." He said with a smile in his voice as he took a deep breath and chucked again.
Well, so what if you never got to hear the unfiltered sound of his laughter. Even that thought wasn't enough to puncture the bubble of joy that had formed in your chest — although it was enough to make it deflate a bit.
"I have questions." You told him after a moment.
"Ask."
"What's the meaning of…" you started signing until you realised you had no idea how to spell the words you had heard. With a small effort you whispered softly "kov'nyn".
He looked at you seemingly calm and completely still except for his chest, that was rising and falling rapidly with his breathing. You could also feel a frantic swirl of emotions inside him.
"Means headbutt." He said, his voice strained and raspy. "Where…?" He shook his head and cleared his throat. "Don't matter— you talked. Since when can you talk?"
"Not talk," you signed, "I can barely whisper."
"You didn't tell me."
"There was nothing to tell, it's just a whisper. Wasn't worth telling."
"Yes, it was. It's progress, a lot."
You could tell he was a bit hurt that you hadn't told him and, if you hadn't known him so well, you would have thought that was all there was to it. Yet, you knew him. He was avoiding your question.
Yes, he had given you an answer of course — headbutt —, but it wasn't the one you were looking for and he knew it. What's more, his mouth had betrayed him as he had wanted to know where you had heard the word.
Perhaps he was embarrassed about it. After all, he had done that when he was injured, vulnerable, and relieved from not having died. There was a chance — a very big one as far as you knew — that he had regretted the gesture the instant he regained his composure.
In all honesty, a part of you — the cowardly one — didn't really want to know. You were afraid of knowing, of finding out the answer and being rejected even before you had had a chance to confess. Not that you planned on doing it, by any means.
However, that's probably why you chose not to insist.
"Sorry." You signed, smiling warmly. "From now on I'll keep you updated."
"Thanks." He said, relief washing over him the moment he realised you weren't pushing for a more specific answer. "You said questions, in plural."
"Aruetii?" You whispered yet again.
"That's outsider, at least in the way he used it." He looked at you as he tilted his head deep in thought. "You have good memory to be able to remember words in a language you don't know."
"I'm smart!"
"I know that."
"Good, don't forget." You signed acting up as if you were scolding him although your eyes were gleaming with pride. "You also said something…" You paused as you tried to recall the sentence he had said, but after a moment, you just said the only word you could remember. "Mandoad?"
"Mando'ad draar digu." He said, his voice suddenly becoming so deep and solemn that it sent shivers down your spine. "It means a Mandalorian never forgets. I was thanking him for helping us in Nevarro."
You nodded in understanding, biting your lip as you tried to push away the thought of how inviting his voice had sounded.
"And when you started fighting?"
He sighed before answering, unsure about how to do so. You were positive he was struggling with how to tell you because Paz had insulted you. You weren't dumb and although you hadn't understood a word of their conversation, you could guess that much from his tone and body language.
"He called you laandur which means weak…" He sighed. "I told him— well, warned him, that you were stronger than he thought."
"That's why you attacked him?" You asked in disbelief.
"No." He looked at you fixedly for a moment. "I attacked him because he called you laandur dalgaana." He said, hissing the words in disgust.
"And that means a weak what?"
"Weak... whore."
Although you tried your best to keep a deadpan expression, you couldn't stop yourself from snickering. He looked at you bewildered.
"I fail to see the humour in the situation." He said slowly, very annoyed at your reaction.
"I'm sorry." You signed as you took a deep breath trying not to laugh again. "It's funny that you got into a fight to defend my honour." You giggled again involuntarily.
"Of course I did." He said nonchalantly.
"Why? My honour has been defiled to such an extent at this point that I don't even think it can be defiled further!" You couldn't stop smiling. The fact that he had got so angry just because of that was deeply endearing to you. "Plus, I've been called way worse. I don't care."
"I do." He stated earnestly. "I won't allow anyone to disrespect you like that. Not while I'm alive."
Dank farrik, how in the universe were you supposed to not fall for this man? No one had ever defended you — not that you needed it, really —, let alone gotten angry on your behalf. Your heart was beating so hard in your chest he could have heard it had he not been so worried about trying to explain his earlier behaviour.
"You don't get it. Those words… being weak or…" He held his breath in frustration. "There are very few insults worse than those for a Mandalorian."
"Thank you." You whispered softly before going back to signing again. "Sorry I laughed but… I don't care what anyone but you calls me." You shrugged, trying to act as cool-headed and composed as he always did whenever he said embarrassing things like that. Wearing a helmet certainly seemed to help with keeping a calm façade, as you realised when you felt your face flushing.
To your surprise, he sighed, mumbled something under his breath, and said no more. You were quite sure he had talked in his language although it was hard to tell over the static of the modulator. With a curious look on your face, you waited for him to explain but the explanation never came.
"So…" you signed after a while "why did you make me stop when I threw him?"
He cocked his head to one side, looking at you.
"I thought that was enough, we needed his help after all. And you were enjoying it a bit too much."
You nodded, a triumphant smile on your face.
"He deserved it."
"You didn't even know what he had said!" He laughed.
"He tried to remove your helmet. I should have…" You finished your sentence by making a gesture as if you were crushing something with your hands. He snorted as he shook your head in amusement.
"Where are we going?" You asked.
"Xorrn. A factory planet. We're looking for Gor Koresh, he's a piece of shit who hunted Mandalorian remnants for the armours. Seems that now he's become bold enough to try and take them directly from us…"
You gasped as you remembered yet another word you wanted to ask him as he looked at you confused.
"Hut'uun?" You whispered and he softly laughed.
"That's what he is, a coward. You have very good memory, too good. I'll have to be careful with what I say around you." He chuckled.
"Yes, you should."
"Anything else you'd like to know?" He asked with that same joking tone as he leaned back in his chair, arms on the armrests, and hands relaxedly crossed over his abdomen.
"Why? Are you tired of my questions?" You asked him, playing along with the joke. "Already? When I have my voice back you'll want to get rid of me!" You laughed.
"Never." He said again in that stoic way of his. "I just can't see what else you'd want to know." He shrugged looking at you.
It would have been great if you had had a comeback ready for him but that blunt confession of intentions of his had made your mind go completely blank. Never? There was no way he could be so oblivious to what his words did to you, right?
Shaking your head slowly as an answer, you tried to settle yourself in your chair. You had to force yourself to stop from nervously chewing your lip. It was an old habit of yours whenever you got nervous or overwhelmed, and if you didn't control yourself, you'd end up hurting it.
Rather, if he didn't stop making you feel like that, you would end up hurting.
You made it all the way to Xorrn without mishap or trouble.
In fact, the trip had been so long and uneventful that you had spent the many days it had taken you to get to the planet either sparring or doing exercises to help you recover your voice. The latter having been Din's idea for he thought you should practice with him daily — he was still upset you hadn't let him in on the fact that you could talk — if you really wanted to get better. Of course, he was right and you could now talk much more although your voice was still very weak, shaky, and hoarse. Plus, you couldn't talk for too long without getting tired.
It would have been an enjoyable, even fun, trip if only you hadn't been so distracted and preoccupied. Try as you might, it seemed impossible for you to stop thinking about what Din had told you, him getting angry for your sake, the keldabe kiss, or the idea — that Paz Vizsla had unknowingly planted in your head — of having sex with Din.
Fortunately for you, by dint of continuously pretending everything was normal, you seemed to be getting better and better at lying and concealing your feelings for him. Either that or he was the one pretending not to notice.
Still, from time to time you found yourself lost in thought about him. This was new and uncharted territory for you, since you had never felt this way about anyone before, neither regarding feelings nor the unexpected lust he had awakened in you.
Your early sexual experiences had been unwanted to say the least, so you didn't have much interest in the idea of sex until you were quite older. The couple of times you had willingly been with someone it had been ok, it had given you the release you needed but it wasn't worth the risk nor the effort. You could manage on your own better than with strange men who could end up trying to hurt you or something worse. Plus, you had never really wanted any of those men, at least not this way.
And after all that came your stay in Arvala-7 with Alexshel. With everything that monster had done to you, you thought you'd never again feel any kind of sex drive. Yet, there you were, unable to stop yourself from undressing a Mandalorian with your eyes.
A Mandalorian who, at this precise moment, was in a foul mood.
The moment you had arrived at Xorrn he had told you not to interfere and that had been the last word you had heard from him. Since he was already quite annoyed, you had chosen to follow directions unless things got really bad. You could understand that this felt personal to him since Gor Koresh's business was basically stealing and selling Mandalorian armour remnants.
You had followed Din into a fighting arena where two Gamorreans were wrestling. Once there, he had approached a one-eyed green Abyssin — Gor Koresh — and sat beside him. After just a few minutes of talk, the place had been emptied suddenly as four guns had been pointed at Din's neck. Luckily for you, they had either forgotten about your presence or deemed you unimportant. Either way, Din had given you clear instructions on what not to do, so you had stood to the side and watched.
The scene that had unfolded before your eyes would have left anyone speechless. Din had managed to, almost with ease, single handedly beat the crap out of eight guys, and you had enjoyed watching him doing so — perhaps a little too much.
After that, the Abyssin had run away and Din had chased and caught him. That's how you'd ended up here, out on the street, and with the cyclops hanging upside down from a lamppost.
"All right, stop, stop! I’ll tell you where he is." He was saying. "But you must promise that you won’t kill me."
"I promise you will not die by my hand." Din replied in a grim voice and you couldn't help but notice the way he had chosen to phrase that sentence. "Now, where is the Mandalorian you know of?"
"Tatooine." Gor Koresh answered with a groan.
"What?"
"The Mando I know of is on Tatooine."
"I’ve spent much time on Tatooine." Din said. "I never saw a Mandalorian there."
"My information is good, I tell you. The city of Mos Pelgo." He said with a hint of panic in his voice. "I swear it by the Gotra."
Din clenched his fists making his leather gloves creak, a mixture of rage and frustration flowing through him. He was trying to control himself not to do anything else to the Abyssin.
"Tatooine it is, then." He said to you as he gestured with his head towards the ship and started walking. You followed suit.
"Wait, Mando! You can’t leave me like this. Cut me down!" Gor Koresh pleaded as you walked away from him, leaving him hanging from the lamppost.
"That wasn’t part of the deal." Din said as he stopped, turned around blaster in hand, and shot, not at the cyclops but at the lamppost's lightbulb. Then he kept walking.
The instant the light was out, tens of red-eyed creatures popped out of nowhere, getting closer and closer to the Abyssin intending to feast on his flesh.
"Wait, what are you doing? Mando! I can pay! Mando! Mando!" He yelled, but Din didn't even flinch. You stood there, unsure of what to do.
"Come on." Din commanded and you automatically followed.
As you walked to the Crest you could hear Gor Koresh's screams and shrieks coming from behind you until, suddenly, you stopped hearing him. The silence that followed was deafening and made you shudder. For the first time since knowing Din, you fully understood why Mandalorians in general, and he in particular, were so feared throughout the galaxy. What's more, you would be lying if you said you weren't a little afraid of Din at the moment.
To that day, you had never really seen him in his Mandalorian bounty hunter mindset — he had only killed others in self-defence — and what you had witnessed was probably only a glimpse of how ruthless he could be.
That said, you had no intention of judging his actions, quite the contrary in fact. You understood perfectly well why he had done what he had done and you were aware that, were it in your power, you would have done the same or something even worse to Alexshel. You were simply shook at the cold-bloodedness with which he had sentenced the Abyssin to such a horrendous death.
Din didn't say anything for a long while after getting to the Crest and furiously punching the coordinates to Tatooine on the control panel. Acting as if the whole situation — and his mood — was completely normal, you had opened your book and were pretending to read it, although your eyes were staring blankly at a page while you focused on him. You felt how his boiling anger very slowly subsided until it started to turn into concern.
"That…" He said with a husky voice before clearing his throat. "That wasn't exactly what I had planned. I…—"
"Don't" You cut him off mid-sentence with your still raspy voice. "I get it, you don't have to explain anything to me."
He looked at you as an emotion that you couldn't quite discern but that felt very sweet replaced his concern. Gratitude? You weren't sure it was exactly that but something close to it. After a moment, he nodded once.
You didn't talk much until you reached Moss Eisley — mostly because you took a nap during the trip — but you were glad that he wasn't pissed off anymore when you landed.
"All right. Hey, hey, hey!" You heard Peli Motto shouting before you had even left the cockpit. "You know he doesn’t like droids!"
"May as well let them have at it. The Crest needs a good once-over." Din told her, almost leaving her speechless with the shock. Almost.
"I guess a lot has changed since you were last in Mos… Oh!" She suddenly screamed as you exited the ship. "Thank the Force! This little thing has had me worried sick." She said as she came to hug you.
"Little thing?" You asked her quietly.
"Oh! She can talk!" She said while squeezing your cheeks, making your face scrunch up and your lips form a pout. Din seemed to find it funny. "Is old Mando treating you well? You don't look injured this time so I'll take that as a yes."
You were about to answer when she got distracted by the droids and started shouting at them.
"We're here on business." Din told her. "We need your help."
"Oh, then, business, you shall have. Care for me to watch this pretty girl while you seek out adventure?"
"No, this time she's coming with me." He told her and a big smile spread on your face. "I’ve been quested to bring her back to her kind."
The smile faded from your face as fast as it had appeared. Somehow you kept forgetting that's why you were looking for another Mandalorian, to find the Jedi and take you to them — leave you with them.
"Oh, wow." Peli laughed. "I can’t help you there."
"A Mandalorian Armorer has set me on my path. If I can locate another of my kind, I can chart a path through the network of coverts."
"You’ve been the only Mando here for years from what I can tell."
"Where is Mos Pelgo? I’m told there’s one there."
"Oh. Boy, I haven’t heard that name in a while."
Peli started explaining something about the city of Mos Pelgo having been wiped out after the Empire's fall and went on to show Din where it was located but you got distracted by the pit droids and didn't catch much of it.
They were working on the Crest and you realised for the first time that the ship's cooling pump was in pretty bad shape.
"Hey!" You whispered to one of the DUM pit droids. "Take a good look at the cooling pump, will you?"
The little droid nodded energetically and got to it instantly. After taking a good look at the rest of the Crest to make sure nothing else needed special attention, you got back to where Din and Peli were.
"It’s an old mining settlement." Peli was explaining. "They’re going to see that big hunk o' metal long before you land."
"You still have that speeder bike?"
"Sure do. It’s a little rusty, but I got it." She said, leading you to the back of the repair facility where the speeder was stored under a piece of fabric. "But if you intend to take this lovely lady with you, she gonna need some fitting. Come with Peli."
You followed her back and into the building, where she had treated your injuries and fed you last time you were there.
"Thank the Force you got me!" She started rambling. "If it were up to him, he'd take you through the kriffing desert looking like that. 'Course, since he's wearing that helmet 24/7 he doesn't get the rest of us are completely exposed."
She started rummaging around her things, looking for something as she kept on dissing Din and his lack of tact.
"The heat o' the suns alone is enough to burn your skin here in the city, imagine what it would do to you out there and in those clothes."
She pulled from the shirt you were wearing — one of Din's — to emphasise how much of your skin was showing. It was loose on the neck and your shoulders were left uncovered.
"Plus the sand! It gets everywhere, believe me."
She gave you a shirt, which was thinner than the one you wore but fitted properly and had long sleeves. It was also of a beige colour, as well as the trousers she also gave you, and a thin scarf to cover your neck and face.
"Between you and me, what are you doing with that Mando? He seems to care about you just enough." She added as she handed you a pair of googles.
"He cares." You told her. "In his own way."
She sighed as she headed outside and you followed. She started muttering between her teeth something about 'youngins' but you didn't quite catch it.
"Ready?" Din asked you.
You nodded and you got on the speeder behind him, clinging tightly to his waist. He started the speeder and you set off to Mos Pelgo.
The trip to Mos Pelgo was thrilling as going in a speeder at such velocity through the desert dunes was very exciting, for the first hour or so. After a while though, the ride started to become uncomfortable to say the least. Furthermore, being under the heat of the two suns for so long was suffocating and you started to feel slightly lightheaded.
Thank the universe Peli had been there to advise you and give you a change of clothes, otherwise your skin would have been burned from the heat. The scarf and the goggles had also been a good call because the sand hitting your face or eyes at that speed would have surely hurt.
What you couldn't comprehend was how Din wasn't dying from the sweltering heat. He was covered from head to toe not only in thick layers of clothing but also in a beskar armour that was getting hotter and hotter by the minute. At one point, shortly after leaving Mos Eisley, you had brushed his chest plate when readjusting your position in the speeder and it was already scorching hot. You didn't even want to imagine how it would feel now, after hours under the heat of the suns.
By the time the suns were beginning to set, he started to reduce the speed.
"Nights get very cold, we should stop and rest." He told you and you nodded in agreement, looking forward to getting off the speeder and stretching your now stiff body.
He stopped the speeder on a plain behind a dune, where several ironwood trees lay. The trees were dry and dead, making them perfect for firewood, so you took the opportunity to stretch your legs while gathering some of it.
Din had barely had time to light the fire when you felt a presence nearby and as you alerted him, three humanlike beings appeared out of nowhere. They were waving stick-like weapons at you menacingly and yelling something in an unknown language. You got distracted looking at their appearance because, just like Din, they were covered from head to toe but rather than clothes they wore rough wrappings all over and, instead of a helmet, their faces were covered with mouth grilles and eye coverings.
That's when you noticed that, aside from yelling, they were also moving their hands and that you understood what they were signing. Suddenly it all came together, they must be the Tusken raiders whose sign language Din had taught you.
"This is Tusken land." One of them was saying. "You can't be here."
"We're passing by." Din told them. "We're on our way to Mos Pelgo. We've met before." He added pointing to the binoculars one of them had hanging from his neck.
"That was then, this is now." He said.
Din nodded and turned to the speeder to take something out of the saddlebag and hand it to the Tuskens. It was a blaster gas canister and they seemed happy enough about it because not only did they grant you passage through their land but also engaged in a casual conversation with you, sitting around the bonfire and sharing their food and drink.
They were curious about the last time they had crossed paths with Din and about why you were going to Mos Pelgo. You were trying to nicely refuse the drink one of them was offering you — which tasted awful — when another one gave you the perfect excuse. He was complaining at Din about the binoculars, saying that they didn't work properly and you offered yourself to take a look at them.
After a quick look it was obvious some wiring was not fused properly since, depending on how you moved the device, it worked but in a jerky way. You didn't have any tools with you but you were handy. Reaching out for Din's boot, you took out his dagger and used it to unscrew the bolts and access the circuit card.
They kept talking while you worked on the binoculars but you had no idea about what because you couldn't look up. When you finally found the faulty coupling, you turned to Din yet again and rummaged through his tool belt in search of the cauterizer he always carried. You were so engrossed in the work at hand that you only realised how extremely close you were to him when you had already made the move. Your heart began to beat so fast and hard against your ribs it almost hurt.
He, on the contrary, didn't seem to care at all that you were so close to him and poking around in his things, which made you feel like a complete moron. Blood rushed to your cheeks and you moved away as soon as your hand closed around the tool, hoping that the curtain of hair, which you let purposely fall on the side of your face, was enough to shield you from him.
Once you were finished you gave Din his things back and handed the binoculars over to the Tusken. It was almost dark and they decided to continue on their way, bidding you farewell.
"That was… unexpected." You told Din when you were alone again. He chuckled.
"I think you should keep this." He said handing you the dagger in its sheath. "Just in case." You nodded and tied it to your waist. "Also, here." He added, offering you some water and food. "You barely ate anything that they offered you."
"It was yuck." You signed, making an exaggerated disgusted expression just to make him laugh again.
"What about you? You have to eat something."
"I'll eat when you're asleep."
You couldn't help yourself from being a goof and gasped in an exaggerated surprise, raising your eyebrows as far as you could, and bringing your hands up to the sides of your face.
"I thought you didn't eat!" You joked. "But you've been sneaking food while I sleep!"
"Sorry, it must be disappointing to find out that I'm only human." He said, laughing when you nodded energetically.
After eating something, you curled up close to the fire and couldn't stop thinking about how Din had been around you without the helmet, even though it was only when you were asleep.
When the first light of the day shone on your face waking you up, you found yourself covered with what looked like a thin blanket. It took you a moment to realise that it was Din's cape, and then a longer one to manage to calm yourself down enough for you to get up and talk to him.
He was sitting with his back against the speeder and you couldn't tell if he was awake or not. After a second or two, you thought it safe to assume that he was asleep since he was very relaxed. You left the cape carefully over his legs as you searched in the saddlebags for some water.
"Morning." He said, startling you. Damn, how did he still manage to startle you?
"Morning." You answered back trying to look calm and composed. "Sleep well?"
"Very much. You? You were shivering so I tried covering you with this but I don't know if it did much." He said, and you were surprised to notice that he was slightly nervous, absentmindedly fidgeting with the piece of cloth as he talked. For some reason, his nervousness calmed you down.
"It was nice. Thank you." You said, realising your voice sounded way better than the past few days. He seemed to realise too because he gave you a long look before hooking his cape to his neck. Maybe it was time for you to prioritise talking over signing.
In no time, you were back on the speeder, trying to make your trip during the less hot hours and hopefully arriving in Mos Pelgo before noon.
After many hours but luckily before noon, you finally made it to a little village in the middle of nowhere. As you entered it, everyone stopped what they were doing to look at you, making it clear that they did not usually receive many visitors. Din stopped the speeder in front of a building, which surely was the canteen, and you got off and entered behind him.
"Can I help you?" The waiter behind the counter asked. He was of a species you hadn't seen before, with leathery skin of a grey colour.
"I'm looking for a Mandalorian."
"Well, we don't get many visitors in these parts. Can you describe him?"
"Someone who looks like me." Din said and you had to suppress a laugh at the ridiculousness of it all.
"Mmm… You mean the Marshal?"
"Your Marshal wears Mandalorian armour?"
"See for yourself." The waiter replied pointing to the door.
There, in the threshold, was a man dressed in a Mandalorian armour painted in green although it looked like it had seen better days.
"What brings you here, stranger?" He asked.
"I've been searching for you for many parsecs."
"Well, now, you found me. Weequay, two snorts of spotchka." He said to the waiter. Then grabbed the bottle and the glasses and headed to sit at a table.
"Why don't you join me for a drink?"
Din faltered for a second and then took two hesitant steps towards him but stopped dead in his tracks when the Marshal suddenly took off his helmet and placed it on the table. You gasped in surprise before you could stop yourself and almost instantly you felt a wave of confusion and rage coming from Din.
"I've never met a real Mandalorian." The Marshal said with a small chuckle. "Heard stories. I know you're good at killing. And probably none too happy to see me wearing this hardware. So… I figure only one of us is walking out of here. But then I see the girl…" He said, gesturing at you. "…and I think, maybe I pegged you wrong."
By this moment, Din's confusion was completely gone and replaced with an anger he was having a hard time controlling. You could only imagine how offensive it must be to him and his Creed to see some outsider wearing a Mandalorian armour.
"Who are you?" He asked, his voice restrained.
"I'm Cobb Vanth, Marshal of Mos Pelgo."
"Where did you get the armour?"
"Bought it off some Jawas." He said as he took a sip of the drink.
"Hand it over." Din demanded.
With another chuckle he looked at Din.
"Look, pal, I'm sure you call the shots where you come from, but 'round here, I'm the one tells folks what to do."
At this point you were trying to decide whether the Marshal was very brave or plain stupid. You were sure that there was no need to have powers to notice the tension emanating from Din.
"Take it off… or I will." Din commanded, taking a step closer to the Marshal.
You knew the situation was tense and that a show of power was about to take place. You were more than aware of it all yet, somehow the way he had said that sentence had stirred something inside you and you instantly felt a tingly warm sensation between your legs. Kriff! How could you be getting turned on about something like that in a situation like this? What was wrong with you?
"We gonna do this in front o' the girl?" The Marshal asked, bringing you back to the moment.
"She's seen worse." Din answered, lowering his hand to the blaster.
"Right here, then?"
"Right here."
You moved back and out of the line of fire when suddenly the ground started shaking and an alarm went off, blaring loudly. You had only once been on a planet with groundquakes and, as far as you knew, the safest option was to hide under a table so that's what you did.
The Marshal, on the other hand, rushed to the canteen's door to look outside and after a second of hesitation, Din followed. You would have been worried about him if he didn't always wear that helmet. Plus, doorways were safe too, right?
The groundquake went on for a few more minutes and, the moment it was over a pair of boots approached your hiding place, followed by the appearance of the Marshal's face smiling gently at you.
"It's okay, it's over now." He said, offering you a hand to help you up which you gladly took. When you were back on your feet, Din stood between the two of you, as angry as before or even more. Shoulders square and standing menacingly close to the Marshal, he looked huge even though they were roughly the same size.
"What do you have in mind?" Din asked him.
"That creature's been terrorizing these parts since long before Mos Pelgo was established." The Marshal explained and you started to guess that it hadn't been a normal groundquake. "Thanks to this armour, I've been able to protect this town from bandits and Sand People. They look to me to protect 'em. But a krayt dragon is too much for me to take on alone. Help me kill it, I'll give you the armour."
"Deal." Din said without hesitation. "We'll ride back to the ship, blow it out of the sand from the sky. Use the bantha as bait."
"Not so simple." The Marshal retorted, making Din's bad mood worsen further if possible. "The ship passes above, it senses the vibrations, stays underground. But I know where it lives."
"How far?"
"Not far."
"What are we waiting for?" Din asked as he looked at you and gestured you to follow. You had no idea what they had been talking about because you didn't know what a krayt dragon was, still, you followed Din.
"Maybe the girl should stay?" The Marshal said. "She'll be safe here."
"No." Din answered. "Wherever I go, she goes."
That sentence alone made you go weak at the knees.
To say you were angry was a gross understatement. You were furious, fuming. And, of course, it was all the Mandalorian's fault.
Following the groundquake in Mos Pelgo, you had gone along Din and Marshal Vanth to see where the krayt dragon lived. On the way there, the Marshal had explained to you how the armour had ended up in his possession and how he had managed to free Mos Pelgo thanks to it. This had made Din's attitude towards him soften up quite a bit and, thanks to their interaction during the rest of the trip, he had even grown to like and respect the Marshal.
The unexpected twist in your journey had been crossing paths with a party of Tusken raiders — including the ones you had met the day before — that also wanted to slay the dragon. It seemed it was attacking them too and killing their banthas but they couldn't manage to kill it on their own because of its sheer size.
Later on, the Tusken had taken you to the dragon's lair and you had finally understood what they all had been talking about: a gigantic reptilian with long neck, horns, and huge sharp teeth that, somehow, swam through the sand causing everything around it to shake.
After that, Din had managed to persuade the townsfolk and the Tusken to cooperate and kill the dragon together because that was the only chance they had against it. At first, cooperation hadn't seemed like an option for the people from Mos Pelgo and the Tusken hated each other very much but having a common need plus the Tusken's promise of not raiding the town in exchange for the dragon's carcass, had seemed to be enough to form an alliance.
During the next few days, the villagers and the Tusken had been working together to transport weapons and explosives to the dragon's lair. It had been nice for you being around more people and also having the responsibility of translating and calming things down when needed. It had been a pleasant change.
Once all the necessary had been brought to its destination, they had planted the explosive charges right at the entrance of the cave. The plan had been to lure the dragon out and detonate the charges when it was over them. Easy and fast. Too easy. That's why you should have anticipated that it wouldn't work as intended. After all, it never did.
Worst of all, Din hadn't let you intervene because he had thought it was too dangerous for you being the crappy shot you were. Mind you, on the other hand he had deemed it perfectly reasonable to use himself as bait and let the dragon swallow him whole along with a poor bantha.
You'd swear your heart had stopped the instant he had disappeared inside the dragon's mouth. You had stayed rooted to the place, telling yourself he must have had planned that, that he surely knew what he was doing, that he was going to be fine. After holding your breath for almost a whole minute, — the longest minute of your life — he had finally flown out of the beast's insides. As soon as he had been out, he had exploded the charges the dragon had swallowed along with the bantha and, to everyone's astonishment and joy, the krayt dragon had fallen. Well, to everyone but you.
You weren't happy at all as you watched him land triumphantly. Your worry had briefly turned to relief before quickly giving way to anger. Now, you were livid with rage.
What in the universe was wrong with him? Did he have nothing inside that stupid helmet of his? Hadn't he thought, for just a second, what would happen if his "plan" didn't work out? Was his life so unimportant to him that he was willing to risk it so lightly and for so little? Because, even if that was the case and his life didn't matter to him, it surely mattered to you. Immensely.
Everyone was cheering and happy and you couldn't have joined the celebration even if you had wanted to for you were too angry.
He walked towards you, covered in a greenish goo and you could feel from afar the pride emanating from him. He was probably expecting you to applaud his deed and shower him with praises. Well, he was going to face disappointment.
"Are you ok?" You asked him because, as angry as you were with him, you were still worried he might have hurt himself.
"Yeah, no sweat." He answered proudly.
"What were you thinking?" You hissed and instantly felt his mood change. "Do you know how dangerous that was? You could have been hurt, you could have died!" You were raising your tone due to the anger until you were talking as loud as your voice allowed.
"Hey, don't shout." He said in a calming tone as he came closer to you. "You're gonna hurt your voice."
You couldn't help but scoff at him as you took a step away.
"Of course! That's what worries you, my voice! Being swallowed by a kriffing dragon? That's fine! But let's not scream 'cause it can hurt my voice!"
"That's not… look, I had a plan, I took a calculated risk."
"No!" You yelled, feeling a burn in your eyes as well as in your throat. "You did something reckless and dangerous! You worried me to death but you don't care because you're just a stupid Mandalorian with nothing inside that bucket-head!"
One-sidedly deciding that the conversation was over, you turned around and walked away. You were aware you had been harsh with him but that didn't change the fact he had been reckless, that he could have died, and that you wouldn't know what to do if that were to happen. You cared for him more than he did for you, you knew it, you were aware that the feeling wasn't mutual. Still, being aware of it all didn't change how you felt.
You walked to the remains of the dragon where the Tusken had already started harvesting the flesh of the animal. The townsfolk were looking at their work, not sure what to make of it all but surely relieved that the monster that terrorised their lives was dead.
"Give me a hand with that?" Marshal Vanth asked you, pointing to a clasp at the back of the armour. You helped him unlock it and he took it off. "That was impressive, what he did, that is."
You shrugged.
"Well, you've surely seen more o' his skill set. Still, slayin' a krayt dragon single-handedly it's… whew!" He said in awe.
"Stupid." You added and you noticed your voice was hoarser than it had been the last few days. "The word you're looking for is stupid."
"Maybe." He said, chuckling. "But very impressive anyways."
After a long moment of silence during which both of you looked at how the Tusken worked, he talked again.
"I get it, you know? He worried you, now you're angry. It's perfectly normal." He said with a knowing smile. "But know what he told me before sending me flyin' away?" You shook your head. "He said, 'Take care of the girl.' He must care something if that's the last thing he thought about." He shrugged.
"Great." You said in a bleak voice. "He worries about who to leave me with…"
"No, he worries that you're safe."
"I don't need protection, I don't need others to keep me safe. He knows that."
"Knowing doesn't mean not worrying. I know the townsfolk are strong and capable, that doesn't stop me from worrying about giving this thing back," he said, shaking the armour in his hand "and leaving 'em unprotected."
He shrugged and then left to give Din the armour. After a moment, both men came back to you.
"We should get going." Din said to you.
"I'll ride back with the Marshal." You told him, but this time signing. You didn't want him to hear your voice and tell you that he was right about you shouting.
He looked at you and then at Marshal Vanth — who had no idea of what was going on — and you felt how he was starting to get pissed off. A little voice inside your head told you there was no need to do that to him, but your bad temper won the inner fight.
"Ok." He answered dryly before turning around and leaving.
"Can I ride back with you?" You asked the Marshal who, after a long sigh, nodded.
When you made it back to the town with Marshal Vanth and the rest of the villagers, Din was waiting for you by the speeder. He must have been waiting for a while because he had had enough time to clean himself from all the green goo. He was also quite upset.
After saying your goodbyes and farewells, you finally hopped on the speeder behind him and both of you headed back to Mos Eisley.
Just like on the way to Mos Pelgo, you had to stop halfway through your journey as soon as it started to get dark. And just like last time, you build a fire to keep you warm during the night.
It had been a while since you had stopped and none of you had said a word. You had had time to cool down and you weren't angry anymore, — not really — mostly disappointed. Still, you knew you weren't going to apologise for your previous behaviour since you still stood by everything you had said to him. Just as you were thinking about how to bring up a casual conversation and leave the bad feelings behind, he broke the silence.
"I'm sorry I worried you." He said in a low voice. "That wasn't my intention."
You weren't expecting him to apologise so it took you a moment to answer back.
"I shouldn't have gotten angry at you." You took a deep breath. "You always do the first reckless thing that comes to your mind, it's… not new. I shouldn't be surprised by it."
"I…" He sighed. "You have to understand I'm used to having to make rash decisions."
"I know."
"No, you don't. In those moments… I take everything into account and follow the best course of action given the situation. I don't do the first stupid thing that comes to mind."
"I said reckless, not stupid."
"But you meant stupid." He retorted, a slight hint of humour in his voice. "After all I'm 'just a stupid Mandalorian with nothing inside this bucket-head'. Right?" He added, softly tapping his helmet.
"Yes." You said with a soft smile on your face. "That's exactly what you are."
He chuckled and you stayed in silence for a while.
"I want you to understand that, even if I do reckless things, I never intend to die doing them. I wouldn't do them if I didn't think I stood a chance of succeeding."
You nodded in understanding. You wanted to tell him that knowing he wasn't just reckless didn't change much. That when he put himself in danger like that you worried and that you were afraid of losing him. But saying those things would mean admitting out loud your feelings for him and then having to deal with his reaction to them — you weren't ready for that. Instead, you stayed silent and, after a while, you told him goodnight and curled by the fire.
You were still awake when you heard a hissing sound behind you and, after a second, you realised it had come from Din's helmet as he had removed it. You had to make use of all your self-restraint not to turn around and sneak a peek. He was sitting less than a foot away from you, face uncovered, and you had to focus your whole being on making sure he didn't notice you weren't asleep.
You couldn't stop thinking how easy it would be for you to see his face and you started wondering for the thousandth time what he looked like. The colour of his hair, the shape of his jaw, his nose, his eyes… A shiver ran down your spine and you shuddered. He stood up and you tensed up, worried he might have realised you were awake.
Trying to take deep, slow breaths as if you were asleep, you waited for him to go back to his spot. You heard the crunching sound of boots stepping on the sand right beside your head and then you felt the touch of a thin piece of cloth against your body. It was followed by the light caress of leather against your cheek, pushing a strand of hair away from your face. Then he walked away and you opened your eyes to find his cape placed over you.
Needless to say, it took you a very long time to fall asleep.
The next day you resumed your trip to Mos Eisley. To say you were behaving strangely would be a misrepresentation of your extreme awkwardness but you didn't really know what to make of what had happened the night before.
Halfway through your trip and as if Din had noticed your odd behaviour, he offered you to drive the speeder the rest of the way. It had seemed like a good way to distract yourself from the swirl of thoughts that you couldn't push out of your mind so you had gladly accepted. What you hadn't taken into account was that, just as you had held on to his waist to keep you from falling from the speeder, he would have to do the same.
If the first time you had been on the speeder you had believed it to be thrilling, it felt short against how you were feeling now.
The feeling of his big, strong hands on your waist was enough to make you lightheaded. If you added to that the warmth of his body against your back, how his legs were at both your sides caging you, or how you were technically sitting between his legs and against his crotch… Let's just say you were finding it hard to stay focused on the road.
Luckily, you made it to Mos Eisley in one piece. Although it took you a good deal of focus and self-discipline to achieve it.
The piece of krayt dragon's meat that you had brought with you was slowly cooking by the heat of an engine blast and your mouth was watering already at the sight and the smell of it. Who would have thought that that beast could smell so well when cooked.
Din and Peli were talking with a… well, you could only describe her as a Frog Lady, for she was as if a human sized frog was walking on her hind legs. Peli said the Frog Lady was a contact of hers and that she had information about other Mandalorians in the estuary moon of Trask, where she wanted you to take her in exchange for the intel.
Din wasn't happy about it because the Frog Lady's condition was to travel sub-light so he had confined himself in the Crest, grumbling all the way there. You took a plate with a few deliciously looking pieces of meat and brought it to him. He was in the cockpit with the door open, so you thought it safe to assume it was ok for you to go in, still you knocked on the doorway.
"If you keep grumbling with your stomach empty, you'll get a stomach-ache." You told him as you handed him the plate.
"Is that so?"
"Yes. Trust me, it's happened to me before."
He chuckled and you were turning away to leave when he talked.
"It's frustrating to travel sub-light. Plus, dangerous."
"We travelled sub-light from Nevarro to Concord Dawn." You retorted. He looked at you for a long moment and then let out a long breath.
"You're right. You're always right…"
"I know. Eat up." You said before leaving him there and going out to get some food for yourself.
The Frog Lady didn't seem to speak any language you or Din knew although it looked like she understood a little bit of basic. The trip to Trask would take you about a week going sub-light so the best you could do was get yourselves comfortable.
During the trip you had somehow managed to explain to the Frog Lady that Din needed to eat alone and that she had to go downstairs with you to eat so he had some privacy. She didn't say much — although to be fair you wouldn't have understood even if she did — and you noticed she spent most of the time either sleeping or looking after her unfertilised eggs. Din said she slept so much because she was an amphibian and since it was colder out in space, it made her sleepy.
All in all, the trip was going very smoothly and you were having plenty of time to relax. In addition, having the Frog Lady there keeping you occupied, made it easier for you to avoid daydreaming or indulging in inappropriate thoughts about Din.
A few days after setting out, you were in the cockpit reading quietly, Din was relaxing in his chair, and the Frog Lady was sound asleep, when something came to your mind. Well, it didn't just pop into your mind magically, the part you were reading had just mentioned the Twi'leks and that had reminded you of something.
You looked at Din while nervously biting your lip. If you wanted to ask about it, you had to do it smoothly and, if things went well, you could maybe ask some more things that you had in store.
"What?" He said, startling you.
"I… I wanted to ask you some questions. I never did 'cause with no voice it seemed too much of a hassle…—"
"Questions? 'Bout what?"
"You."
"Me?" He laughed. "What would you want to know about me? You already know more than anybody."
Not letting the thought of what he had just said distract you from your goal, you shrugged.
"There are still things I don't know."
"Like what? Go ahead." He said with a teasing hint in his voice. You had already thought of your first question.
"How old are you?" You had figured — based on what you had seen of his body — that he wasn't much older than you, but you wanted to know how much. He laughed yet again.
"That's what you want to know?" You nodded eagerly. "Hmm… not sure, about 33 or 34 cycles."
"You're not sure?" You asked amused but happy that your suspicions about his age were right.
"Well, I travel a lot. Cycles are different on every planet. It's easy to lose count."
"Ok. What's your favourite food?"
"Are all questions going to be like this?"
"Who knows." You shrugged. This was amusing for him, you could tell he was smiling under the helmet although you couldn't see it. "Let me go on and you'll see."
"Hmm… I don't think I have a favourite food…" He was thinking about it carefully and you couldn't help but think how sweet that was. "I never have much time to enjoy meals or try new foods but... I really like meilooruns." He tilted his head and gave a little shrug.
"You don't strike me as the type who likes sweet things." You said, a big smile on your face while you thought that somehow it suited him to like something so unexpected and that didn't fit at all with what you would expect from him.
"I'm full of surprises." He said, still smiling. "Yours?"
"Ah no! I'm the one asking the questions." You told him playfully. "If you have yours, you'll have to wait for another time."
"Do I make an appointment or…" He chuckled.
"As you see fit." You giggled. "Ok, next. Hmm... planet you've been to that you've hated the most?"
"Easy. Thyferra." He said and you slowly shook your head, making it clear that you didn't know that planet. "It's a hot and extremely humid planet. When I was there I thought I was gonna die from the heat. Remember Asusto? A hundred times worse."
"I thought you were used to the heat with that." You snickered, pointing at his armour. "You didn't even flinch in Tatooine and it has two suns. Two!" He laughed.
"Not the same. Tatooine is hot. Thyferra is as hot or more, and humid."
"Why were you there?"
"We were on a job. Thyferra is where bacta comes from. We had to deliver some of it to a client."
"We?" You inquired, very interested.
"Yes, this was when I worked with Ran and the twins."
Well, things couldn't have worked better for you because that was exactly what you wanted to ask him about and, somehow, he had been the one to bring out the topic.
"Why did you work with them and not alone?"
"I was young, just left the covert, had almost no experience… Being in a team made sense. Plus, you can take on harder jobs. Better pay."
"Then, why did you stop working with them?"
"The last job…" He paused and took a deep breath. "Let's say it didn't go as planned. Things ended badly between us. I decided it was better for me to leave." You nodded in understanding.
"I was wondering…" He looked at you with curiosity, probably due to your change in tone or how you bit your lip nervously. "When they were he— when the Twi'lek thought I was your slave… she said to you that she knew who you really are. What's that supposed to mean?"
He shifted uncomfortably in his seat. You knew this was a question he wouldn't really want to answer but it had been roaming your mind ever since, mostly because she had said it while thinking you were a slave. Din's slave. That bugged you.
"Because of that last job." He finally said and you did your best to keep a deadpan expression and not show how surprised you were that he was actually answering. "We had to get a bounty. He was a big one, you know? Lots of security, hard to get, big— very big pay."
He had turned his chair to face you and he was bending over towards you with his elbows resting on his legs. He was tense and his body language was very apologetic, as if he was excusing himself for something and hoping that you could forgive him. He took a deep breath before continuing.
"When we got there, we saw why: he was a slave trader. The place was a huge facility where they held the slaves and many of them were Twi'leks… You can imagine how the twins felt. They wanted to free them and I… I convinced them not to." He looked down, ashamed.
"Why?"
"It…" he sighed again, as if struggling to find the right words, "it was a stupid move. Look, at the time I had a very analytical way of thinking and making decisions. Freeing the slaves would help no-one. We had no way of taking them out of there, plus most of them were civilians, and the guards were all heavily armed. The moment they were broken free the guards would fire and they would be killed. Plus, our whole job would be put in jeopardy."
He looked at you, as if trying to read your expression, before continuing.
"I explained it to them — to the twins, that is —, even told them that we could come up with something better, bring more people, do it right. But that that wasn't the moment." He leaned back in his chair, his hands clenched into fists and still resting on his legs, and took a deep breath. "They agreed. We went on with the plan and, as we were getting back to the ship with the bounty, Qin went rogue. He managed to sneak away and turn off the cells' power. The people tried to run and the guards… the guards shot everything that moved. It was chaos."
He was shaking his head slowly at the memory and you could feel shame, regret, and anger all at once coming from him.
"We were spotted. Had to get out of there. Told Qin to get back to the ship but he didn't listen, and I… I took off without him. Then, of course, Xi'an tried to cut me open and I had to knock her out. When we got back, I took my part and left."
He was looking down and you were trying to process it all. As a former slave, this hit too close to home and you couldn't help thinking that you would have killed for someone freeing you before you had been sold. Yet, at the same time you were aware that he was right: freeing civilians surrounded by armed slave traders who would not hesitate for half a second to open fire, was not a good idea.
"It wasn't your fault, he didn't listen… what could you have done?"
He finally looked at you and he seemed surprised by your answer.
"You're not angry?" He asked and you shook your head, shocked that was what was going on in his head. "I always thought I could have tried harder to convince them, or agree with their plan and do it right... I don't know."
"If I think about it now, I would have loved for someone to free me. But, to be honest, at 5 I don't think I would have even moved and, before Arvala-7, I had no powers so… I would have probably been shot." You gave him a reassuring smile and — a bit nervously — put a hand on his knee. "I think you did what you thought was best and that's what matters."
He nodded once and you could feel the relief emanating from him as well as a slight elation. Taking your hand away from his knee you sat back.
"And that's not a good enough reason to try and cut you open. I get she'd be angry and not want anything to do with you but… come on! Being your girlfriend, it's a bit over the top…"
As you said that he completely tensed up and he was on edge, anxiety rising.
"Wait, no! That's not… that's not how it was." You looked at him confused, not understanding why the change in his mood. "Xi'an and I… she wasn't my girlfriend. Where did you get that idea from?"
"Oh! Well, from how she talked and behaved around you I just assumed…" You tried to explain yourself, startled — although quite glad — that he was denying it so effusively.
"You assumed wrong." He said very seriously. "True, there were moments… look I was young and— doesn't matter. I mean…"
"You had sex." You cut him off as he didn't seem to be getting anywhere, although it was quite entertaining to watch him nervously jabbering like that. "You can say it, I won't be appalled or taken aback." You grinned mischievously and he sighed loudly.
"Yes, we had sex. That's all."
"But you've never removed your helmet…" you stated, still grinning.
"No."
"So… you've had sex but never kissed anyone?" You told him teasingly. "A strange way of doing things."
"Very funny." He said, seemingly annoyed but still laughed. "Do you have more questions?"
"Just about a hundred." You admitted and he chuckled.
"One more, choose wisely."
"What's your favourite colour?" You said instantly.
"You only have one more and that's what you go with?" He retorted laughing.
"Hey! It's my decision not yours!"
"Alright, alright." He looked your way for a moment, thinking carefully. "Brown." He finally said.
"Pfft…!" You couldn't help yourself from snickering. "Of all the colours you can choose, you go with brown?"
"Hey, as a wise woman once said, 'it's my decision, not yours', ok?"
You laughed loudly and you heard a snort from behind you as the Frog Lady woke up startled. After that the conversation was – sadly – completely over and you got back to your book.
Many hours had passed when you suddenly heard a beeping noise. Din flickered the comm. on and a man's voice came through it.
"Razor Crest, M-One Eleven. Come in, Razor Crest. Do you copy?"
When you opened your eyes, the cockpit's temperature had drastically dropped. Din was lying over the control panel seemingly unconscious and the Frog Lady was on the floor, shivering.
The moment you had been halted, two New Republic X-Wings had flanked you and had started to ask too many questions so Din had shot out of there and had swerved to the closest planet. After having been chased for a while, he had managed to crash land the ship under a rock that hid you from your pursuers. It had seemed you had given them the slip when the ice underneath you had started to crack and you had fallen down to where you were now.
You shook Din and the Frog Lady awake and, while he helped her up, you went downstairs to get some blankets and look for her eggs. The view there was desolating: the cargo hold had been severely damaged and there was a big hole on the side, everything had tumbled down, and it looked disastrous. Luckily, the canister with the eggs had suffered no damage.
During the time you had been out, the place had got freezing cold and frost was beginning to build up on Din's armour. He made a makeshift cover for the hole in the ship's hull and turned on a heater while you put on all the clothes you owned and gave the Frog Lady some blankets.
"What are you doing?" Din asked you when you grabbed his toolbox.
"Well, the earlier we start fixing this, the sooner we'll get out of here."
"No. The temperature will drop significantly when night falls. If we get out there, we'll freeze. I’ll have a better idea of our prospects in the morning."
You huffed and let go of the toolbox which hit the floor loudly, showing this way your frustration and disappointment with his plan. The Frog Lady seemed to agree with you as she started complaining loudly in her language.
"I’m sorry, lady. I don’t understand Frog. Whatever it is, it can wait until morning." He said sitting on the floor by the curtain covering the hole. Then, he looked at you. "I don't know what you expect from me after that little tantrum, but it's not happening. I recommend you get some sleep."
You looked at him for a moment, frowning and pouting slightly, and then signed to him.
"Bossy."
He chuckled so softly the sound of it was almost lost due to the modulator in his helmet. Then, he tapped the floor next to him for you to sit there. You did so, grabbing a blanket on your way. As much as you didn't agree with how he was handling things, you weren't going to say no to the chance of snuggling beside him, one thing had nothing to do with the other.
The Frog Lady, on the other hand, wasn't so easily appeased and she was unable to relax, worried and anxious about the whole situation.
You were awoken by the sudden move of whatever it was that was under your head acting as your pillow. As you opened your eyes, you realised it was Din's shoulder and that you had somehow – probably in search of warmth – ended up huddling against him, his arm now wrapped around you.
Blushing wildly as you processed the position you were in, you slowly started to move away from him so embarrassed you only half-registered the conversation between him and the Frog Lady – who was using the remains of a droid as a translator.
As you straightened up, Din moved away and you instantly missed the warmth of his hand on your body, damning the Frog Lady for having ruined the wonderful situation in which you had unknowingly been in.
"I thought honouring one's word was a part of the Mandalorian code." She retorted to Din when he told her the deal was off, and you had to admit you were impressed by her sudden display of manipulation skills. "I guess those are just stories for children."
You could have known how much Din's pride was hurt even if you hadn't been able to feel it. He looked at you, as if he expected you to say something, but you – who were still trying to calm down – just shrugged.
With a loud sigh, he stood up and picked up the toolbox, heading outside as he grumbled about how this was not part of the deal.
"I'm gonna go help him, ok?" You told the Frog Lady as you searched around for more clothes you could put on. "You stay here and keep yourself warm. If something happens, call us." She nodded and you got out of the ship with some more tools in your hands and a glowrod.
Everything around you was ice covered in snow and the temperature was even lower than you had expected. You followed Din's footprints until you found him working at closing a huge fuel leakage.
"Need a hand?"
"That'd be great. Why don't you start splicing those wires and get on with all the electrical stuff? You're better at that than me."
With a nod, you made your way to where he had pointed and saw that there was another big hole on that side of the ship's carcass and a bunch of wires had been ripped out of its place. You started working on it, wasting no time since the longer you were outside, the colder you would get.
After who knows how long, you managed to splice all the loose wires and you were finally closing the hole in the ship with the welding torch. Your feet were freezing and your teeth were chattering but working with the welding torch was helping with keeping your hands warm enough to still be able to move them.
"How's that going?" Din asked, approaching you.
"G-g-good." You stammered. "Almost finished." You added clenching your jaw to stop it from trembling.
Then, you stopped being able to see anything because he decided to stick his head between you and the ship, blinding you momentarily with the torch in his helmet.
"Get inside." He said in a commanding tone.
"No. I'm almost d-done."
"Your lips are turning blue, you're freezing. Get inside." He said and he must have seen the defiance in your face because he added "I'll finish that."
With a frustrated sigh you handed him the welding torch and headed back to the ship. You wouldn't admit it to him but the moment you moved from the spot your whole body protested, sending almost painful shivers down your spine and violently shaking all over. Your feet were both numb and aching at the same time, and every step you took felt as if you were walking on nails.
When you got inside the ship, you went straight to the heater so it took you a moment to notice the Frog Lady's absence. With a grunt you reluctantly moved away from the heater and started searching for her. After looking everywhere, you went out and saw some footprints that led away from the ship.
You were about to call for Din when the strangest – and, given the situation, probably most irrelevant – doubt suddenly creeped inside your mind. What should you call him? You were quite sure you had never once called Din by his name and you knew that sharing it had been something meaningful for him. Plus, it was something he didn't want others to know and perhaps, if you used it, he could get upset. You hesitated for a second before finally calling him out.
"Mando! The Frog Lady's gone!"
"What d'you mean gone?" He said, appearing from behind the ship.
"Can't find her. Look."
He walked towards you and looked at the footprints you were pointing at. After letting out a frustrated sigh, he started following them. You hesitated for a second before running inside the ship to get a blanket and then rushed back to his side.
The cave you were in was immense and there were so many pathways it looked like a maze. After a while walking, you arrived at an opening in the cave where you finally found the Frog Lady, sitting with her eggs in a pool of hot springs.
"There you are." Din said both relieved and annoyed. "You can’t leave the ship. It’s not safe out here."
You approached her and Din started gathering the eggs and putting them back in the canister. As you helped him, she started to complain and you couldn't help thinking that you too wanted to get inside the pool. It looked so warm and nice.
Then, something crackled behind you, followed by a rumbling sound. You looked over your shoulder, worried the ice over your heads might be giving way but what you saw was much, much worse. Hundreds of white spiders as big as your fist were hatching and moving towards you. You stood up, blanket forgotten on the floor, and hid behind Din using him as a shield while you whined in fear. You hated spiders, they gave you the creeps, made your skin crawl, and you couldn't stand the way they moved.
As Din grabbed the canister and the Frog Lady got dressed, more spiders started to creep out of a deeper part of the cave. The more that came out, the bigger they were until finally one, as big as the Crest, appeared. That's when Din grabbed your hand and pulled from you.
As you ran down the cave and back to the ship the spiders were on your heels. Din tried shooting them down, throwing explosives – successfully trapping the biggest one – and even burning them with his flamethrower, but nothing seemed to stop the constant flow of spiders coming your way. When you reached the ship, you managed to get inside the cockpit and, with some difficulty, closed the door behind you.
"Strap yourselves in." Din said moving to the control panel and starting the Crest.
Slowly, the ship started to lift from the ground and it looked like you were making it out of there when the huge spider you thought trapped fell onto you, making you crash down yet again. Then, it smashed through the canopy glass with its legs, breaking it and almost hitting you. That's when you snapped. Yes, you feared spiders but you were not going to let one destroy your home – more than it already was – without putting up a fight.
"I have an idea." You said to Din. "Cover me, yes?"
He nodded as you stepped on the seat and made your way up to the hole the spider had made, which was wide enough for you to climb out through it. Din was shooting at the beast through the other hole, keeping its attention drawn onto him, as you focused all your powers on an icicle as big as the spider. It was starting to give way when the beast hit the ship, making you slip and fall face first into the Crest's hull, hitting your head in the process and almost sliding all the way down to the ground.
Climbing back up, you finally managed to break the icicle where it joined with the cave, rotate it in the air to face the beast, and hurl it as hard as you could at the spider, impaling it on the wall.
"Get back in!" Din shouted urgently and you noticed you were almost completely surrounded by spiders, no weapon on you other than the dagger – which didn't seem very useful at the moment.
You were trying to figure out the best course of action when you heard the distinct sound of a ship to your right. You looked to see the two X-Wings that had pursued you earlier landing and the pilots pulling out their blasters and shooting at the spiders.
Relieved, exhausted, and cold, you sat down and watched them work as Din walked out of the Crest and talked to them.
"... and you two help me fuse my hull so I can get off this frozen rock?" Din was saying when you made your way down to the ground.
"What say you fix that transponder, and we don’t ask about how in the universe that happened?" The pilot said, pointing at the impaled spider. Then, they got inside the ships and took off.
It took you a long while to repair the cockpit enough to be able to pressurise it. By the time you were finished, you were as frozen as before or maybe more and Din's armour was covered in frost. After using the privy for the last time until landing and seeing that a slightly bruised bump was beginning to form on your forehead, you huddled on your chair covered with a blanket and, when you made it out of the planet's atmosphere, Din set the course to Trask.
"You need to warm up." He said looking at you.
"What a g-great id-dea. I hadn't th-thought of it." You snapped at him, stammering as your teeth chattered loudly. "Why aren't you c-cold?"
"I never said I wasn't." He said as he rummaged under the control panel looking for something.
"I don't see you sh-shaking."
"I'm not as cold." He said, handing you a bottle of spotchka. "Drink."
"I th-thought alcohol made you go c-colder."
"No. Dilates blood vessels making you feel warm. As long as you don't take off any layers it should help."
When you reached for the bottle though, he moved it away from you.
"Just a little bit, ok?" He added and you nodded but, as you grabbed the flagon, you took three long gulps. The cold had settled inside you and it felt like it had reached your bones, if alcohol helped, you wanted it to do it fast.
"That wasn't a little." He mumbled as he put the bottle away.
You were so very cold you couldn't stop shaking and your hands and feet hurt as if they were being pricked by thousands of needles. The Frog Lady was fast asleep, hugging the canister with her eggs.
"I'm still c-cold." You complained.
"It doesn't work that fast. You'll warm up."
"Dist-tract me?" You half asked, half begged him.
"Ok. Favourite colour?" He asked, a smile in his voice.
You chuckled as you shivered. "Blue, sky blue."
"Favourite food?"
"You making f-fun o' me? G-gonna rep-peat all my questions?"
"No. I already know your age," he chuckled "and I'm sure the planet you've hated the most is Maldo Kreis."
"That's how that icy rock's c-called?" You said, glad to notice your teeth weren't chattering as hard anymore.
"Uh-huh. So?"
"Wouldn't say favourite but…" you let out a shaky sigh, "I remember I l-liked starblossoms." You smiled sadly since it was something you knew you'd never taste again. "I also like meatpies, was the f-first thing I ate once I was free." You added with a grin.
"How'd that happen? Said your owner died, how?" He asked and you got the feeling he had had that question in store for a while.
"An Imperial Inquisitor killed him." You said bluntly. You had reached a point where you didn't feel the need to hide things from him and, as the alcohol started to affect you, you became more talkative. Damn, you really were a kriffing lightweight.
"An Inquisitor?" He asked, shocked. "I thought those guys only followed direct orders from the Emperor." He looked at you for a moment. "The Emperor was hunting your lot, the Jedis?"
"Guess so. Didn't stay to ask though. Ran away, took the first off-world shuttle I found."
At last, you were starting to feel how your body was warming up. The shivers were decreasing and your feet and hands were hurting in a totally different manner as warmer blood reached them. It wasn't just you though, the temperature in the cockpit had risen, which was obvious from the way the frost was slowly disappearing from Din's armour.
"How did you end up in Arvala-7?" He asked after a moment and, yet again, you had the feeling this was a question he had wanted to ask before.
"Sheer luck. Well, not luck exactly." You chuckled but he didn't reciprocate and you noticed he was tense in his seat. "The planet I was on was attacked by Tie Fighters. I was knocked out by an explosion, woke up inside an Imperial shuttle with that… device 'round my neck."
"Imperial?" He asked confusedly and you nodded.
"Next thing I know, shuttle's being attacked and hijacked by slave traders and, somehow, I'm in this huge place and they're selling me." The spotchka was now hitting you hard, you could feel it making you lightheaded as your body was finally starting to heat up. "Not a day later I'm being delivered to a warlord on a desert planet."
"How long were you there?" He asked tentatively, probably not sure if he wanted to know.
"I don't know… days turned into weeks, weeks into months and.... I stopped counting. There was no point in keeping track 'cause I realised I was never getting out of there, that was gonna be my life as long as my body could hold on."
You were aware you shouldn't go on because he was tense and starting to get angry on your behalf. Yet now that you had started you couldn't stop. You really needed to get it off your chest and, although you were aware it wasn't exactly fair to burden him with it all, you had reached the point of no return. Still, you were unable to look at him as you relived what had happened to you.
"Don't get me wrong, it didn't take me weeks to figure out he would abuse me. I'm not an idiot! It's… I thought he would just rape me and… with that I could deal. He wouldn't be the first to do it, probably not the last. The beatings were what I didn't expect."
The sound of leather creaking distracted you and you looked up just enough to see him clenching his hands into fists. Still, he didn't say a thing nor asked you to stop, as if he knew you needed this.
"I had no idea you could lose your voice if you were strangled long enough and often enough, nor that the human body could endure so much without breaking. So many times I thought I might not wake up… so many times I wished I didn't."
You swallowed hard, trying to push down the lump that had formed in your throat as tears began to gather in your eyes at the flood of memories. You rubbed your eyes and suddenly a very different image came to your mind: a Mandalorian with maroon armour kneeling beside you, unchaining you.
"Could have been much worse, I guess. At least I got to meet you." You said, smiling softly and trying to make light of the matter.
"Me?" He said in a low voice filled with anger. "I sold you, have you forgotten? I'm no better than those guys."
"No. 'Cause you went back for me, you've never laid a hand on me, you gave me my freedom, you treat me as your equal…" Finally, you looked at him again. "You're the best thing that's ever happened to me."
He stayed silent for a long moment and you wondered if you had gone too far with your honesty. You calmed down when you noticed that his mood had lightened up and, although he was still very angry, he was also relieved. In fact, his emotions were a bit all over the place.
"That's sad." He finally said and you wholeheartedly laughed at the remark.
"Yes, it is." You admitted.
"I mean, a stupid Mandalorian with nothing inside this bucket head…" He added jokingly, managing all by himself to completely diffuse the tension in the room.
"You'll never forget that, right?"
"Never." He chuckled. "How're you feeling? You stopped shaking."
"Much better." You said, not only talking about your temperature. "A bit dizzy."
"That's why I said to drink just a little, but you never listen." He pointed out. "Let's get some rest. Wake me up if that door gets sucked off its rails."
You gave him a bewildered look.
"I’m kidding. If that happened, we'd all be dead."
"No, I know. It just wasn't funny." You said maliciously, making him laugh softly.
"Sweet dreams."
Many hours had passed when you finally spotted Trask and, as things weren't going to start going your way now, the landing array wasn't responding.
"Once we're through the atmosphere, there should be enough fuel to slow down." Din said as you started approaching the planet. "If we don't burn to a crisp."
As he had anticipated, the whole ship started to get engulfed in flames because of how fast you were entering the atmosphere.
"Come here. I need your hands!" Din yelled over the noise, unable to let go of the yoke. "This lever needs to stay back. Keep it steady."
You stood to his side, doing as you had been told while the ship kept falling down way too fast. Trask flight control came through the comms telling you to reduce your speed and, although you knew Din was a good pilot, you would be lying if you said you weren't even a little bit anxious. Just at the last moment, he switched on the rear thrusters and the ship stopped, hovering over the landing platform.
"Here we go. Nice and easy." He was saying, lowering the ship onto the platform, when the right engine suddenly died and you toppled over to the side and into the water.
Din's hands grabbed you firmly around the waist the instant you lost your balance, turning on his chair and holding you close to him. You were impressed at how fast he had reacted – faster than you, and that was saying something – just to keep you from falling.
What exactly triggered what happened next, you weren't sure. Maybe it was due to all the physical and mental strain that had built up on you over the past few days, maybe it was for suddenly finding yourself on Din's lap, or maybe it was because you were in a submerged – and very damaged – ship when you didn't know how to swim. Perhaps it was the sum of all of the above. Be that as it may, you suddenly began to laugh uncontrollably, holding onto Din as if your life depended on it while you cried, quite literally, with laughter.
"What was that about?" Din asked with a smile in his voice when you managed to calm down, catching a tear that was sliding down your cheek towards your chin with his gloved finger.
"I don't know…" You admitted, gasping for air. "I just thought it would be just my luck to drown while inside a spaceship."
"Hmm… I thought it was an observation on my landing abilities." He said jokingly.
"Oh no! Maker forbid I say anything bad about your piloting skills!"
"I'm not sure if I like that tone… Anyways, it'll take them a while to fish us out so better get comfy." He said, hinting for you to return to your seat.
"I'm fine here, thanks." You said, not moving an inch and he cocked his head to the side, slightly confused. "If the canopy breaks, I'd rather not be buckled to a seat and I trust you'll know how to swim out." As you explained, the Frog Lady unbuckled herself from the seat and you chuckled softly.
You weren't sure how Din felt about having you standing there, in his lap, between his legs, holding onto his shoulders as hard as you could, but if he was uncomfortable with the situation, he was doing a great job at hiding it. Not only didn't he say anything, nor did he move his hands from your waist, but all you could feel coming from him was calmness. A calmness you did not possess though.
It still amazed you how big he was compared to you. Standing in front of him as you were, your head was only slightly above his and, with the way he had grabbed you, it made you feel as if his body was engulfing yours. You had to force yourself to think about anything else as you waited to be rescued, convinced as you were that at that distance he could perfectly hear the rapid beating of your heart against your ribs.
Finally, a loading gantry lifted you out of the water and you, very happily, had your feet back on dry land. You followed the Frog Lady as she anxiously searched through the crowd until she saw another of her species – who you assumed was her husband – and rushed to him. It was very sweet seeing how happy they were as they reunited.
The Frog Lady's husband then led you to the closest inn and pointed to a Mon Calamari that could help you find other Mandalorians. After saying your goodbyes to them, you sat at a table.
"What can I get you?" The Mon Calamari waiter asked.
"Nothing for me. A bowl of chowder for my friend." Din said and you were startled about how something that had once made you so happy – being Din's friend – now caused you pain.
"These seats are scarce, buddy. Everyone seated needs to eat."
"I can buy something else. Information. Have you seen others that look like me?"
"Others with beskar have been through here." The waiter answered as he poured on a plate a thick soup that smelled strongly of fish. Ugh, you didn't like fish. Then, he approached some guys sitting at a nearby table and started talking to them.
Your soup looked awful and smelled worse. As you put the spoon inside it, you saw there was a small live squid in it and you instantly decided you weren't going to eat that.
"Eat." Din told you as if he had read your mind. Shaking your head, you pushed the plate away from you. He was about to say something when a squid-like sailor sat at your table. He said he could get you to other Mandalorians – previous payment – and then you followed him to a seafaring fishing vessel.
"I'll wait for you here," you told Din just outside the vessel "I'll oversee the Crest's repairs."
He looked at you, tilting his head and you knew he was raising an eyebrow at you in disbelief. "Are you that scared?" He mocked.
"I'm not scared so stop looking at me like that!" You answered back, your pride hurt. "I just think someone should make sure they're fixing the ship properly."
"Ok. Look, if you're afraid you don't have to come. I'm sure this time everything will go smoothly. What are the odds things go awry and I'll be needing any help?"
You could feel the smirk on his face even without seeing it. Dank farrik! He was outwitting you and you didn't like it.
"Ok! But if I drown, I'll kill you!" You threatened as you boarded the vessel.
"How exactly?" He retorted, chuckling and following close behind.
Ignoring Din, since you had enough to worry about to also put up with his teasing, you decided to stand on the vessel right in the middle and as far from the sides as possible. He joined you after a while and, to your surprise, he said nothing.
"You ever see a mamacore eat?" One of the sailors asked you. "Quite a sight. You should take a look."
As he said so, they lowered a net full of fish down an opening below the ship's deck and, as they released the fish, a huge mouth full of sharp teeth emerged to the surface, devouring them. He kept talking about the creature as it disappeared under the water and you curiously got closer to the edge to have a better look. Then, something hit you on the back and you slipped, losing your balance, and falling right into the water.
"No!" You heard Din shout as you fell.
You paddled to the surface – glad the beast hadn't eaten you already – and had just managed to get your head out of the water and spot Din holding out his hand for you, when something grabbed your leg, coiling around it and pulling you down.
Panic took hold of you and you tried to shout, releasing most of the air inside your lungs. Your eyes were open but you couldn't see anything below you, the only light coming from above, to where big air bubbles that seconds ago had been inside your lungs were heading. You fought for the surface, kicking, and paddling fiercely, but there was nothing you could do as the beast dragged you down.
Forcing yourself not to breathe was tough and you quickly started to feel weak from the lack of oxygen. Fighting the pull down became impossible and, although you were ordering your legs and arms to move, to keep fighting, they were not responding. All you could do now was resist the urge to breathe, realising you wouldn't be able to hold on for much longer.
Your vision narrowed into a long tunnel and, at the end of that tunnel, was the surface. That's when you couldn't hold it anymore and an instinctive spasmodic breath dragged water into your mouth and flooded your lungs. Your body began to convulse and you saw flashes of light at the same time as everything went dark. You kept trying to breathe in hopes of finding air but only managed to drown more and more, making your insides burn like lava.
Light blinded you as air filled your lungs. Someone had pulled you out of the water and put you down on the floor. You threw up all the water inside you and your lungs, windpipe, nose, and mouth burned as if you had swallowed acid. Gasping for more air while you kept coughing, you looked up to see a Mandalorian with blue armour beside you.
"There you go." She said, patting your back. "Take it easy, breathe."
"You ok?" Din asked you, kneeling beside you with a hint of panic in his voice. He was drenched, meaning he had probably jumped inside the water after you. You just nodded, still panting and coughing loudly as he helped you sit up. That's when you noticed the other two Mandalorians in blue armour.
"Thank you." Din told them. "I’ve been searching for more of our kind."
"Well, lucky we found you first." The other Mandalorian woman said.
"I’ve been quested to help her find her kin. I was hoping that…" He cut himself off as the Mandalorians took off their helmets. He slowly stood up, angry. "Where did you get that armour?"
"This armour has been in my family for three generations." The woman said defensively.
"You do not cover your face. You are not Mandalorian."
"He's one of them." The man said.
"One of what?" Din asked, confused and angry.
"I am Bo-Katan of Clan Kryze. I was born on Mandalore and fought in the Purge. I am the last of my line." The woman explained calmly. "And you are a Child of the Watch."
"The Watch?"
"Children of the Watch are a cult of religious zealots that broke away from Mandalorian society. Their goal was to re-establish the ancient way."
Perhaps you had swallowed too much water but nothing of what was going on made any sense to you. If they were all Mandalorians, what was the kriffing problem? Clearly you didn't understand the specifics because Din was now even angrier than before. He knelt beside you and helped you up, holding you so you wouldn't fall.
"There is only one way." He told her menacingly. "The Way of the Mandalore."
He grabbed you tighter by the waist and, without warning, he started his jetpack and took off. You held onto him as hard as you could. At any other time, you'd have been ecstatic to be in his arms, so close to him, but at this moment you were shaken, wet, and could only think of how much your insides burned.
"I don't get it." You told him, coughing loudly. Your throat itched and your voice was hoarse. "You're all Mandalorians aren't you?"
"No. They removed their helmets. That's against the Creed."
"But… you all share the same values. She said that you follow the ancient Way, then they must follow the modern one." He didn't respond but he wasn't getting angrier either so you went on, a part of you thinking he might feel better if he talked about it. "That means… it's probably the same Way, same Creed. Just with some differences. Right?"
"You think we're the same?" He asked, slightly annoyed.
"No. I think you might have more in common than you believe. I think… you could give them a chance."
You didn't say anything for a while as you were starting to get a headache.
"I'm sorry." He said, breaking the silence. "You almost drowned and it would have been my fault. I shouldn't have insisted on you coming."
"It's fine. I'm fine. Just don't let go of me." You added, looking apprehensively at the sea stretching out below you.
"Never." He said, holding you tighter.
None of you said anything else. He was probably going over what had happened with the Mandalorians as he was still upset. Meanwhile you were hearing that 'never' on repeat inside your head. When you arrived at the harbour, dusk was falling and you still had to walk for a long while until you finally spotted the inn where you had been earlier.
"Hey!" A voice called out. It was another one of the squid-like species. "You killed my brother." He and others like him started blocking your way and all you could think was that you were too tired for this. "You killed my brother and now I’m gonna kill your girl."
Din tensed up and you tried to muster some strength when the three Mandalorians you had left in the sea suddenly landed beside you.
"He didn’t kill your brother. I did." Bo-Katan said and then they all shot their weapons and your attackers fell dead. "Can we at least buy you a drink?" She then asked Din, who looked at you indecisively before agreeing.
It was your fourth glass of water. Your insides still burned – albeit less than before –, you had a pounding headache from the mixture of the bruised bump on your forehead and the near-drowning, and you were still struggling with the need to continuously cough. Din and the other Mandalorians had been talking for a while and Bo-Katan had explained that they were seizing weapons that were once Mandalorian so they could retake their home world.
When Din told her that reclaiming Mandalore had nothing to do with him and that he was just helping you find the Jedi, she assured him she could lead you to one only if Din helped them with a mission.
What that mission consisted of though, they wouldn't tell you. With nice words and good manners, Bo-Katan made it clear that it didn't concern those who weren't Mandalorian and that you weren't welcome. Believing it was in Din's best interest to spend some time with them, you didn't object to it nor complained about it. Din, on the other hand, only agreed to listen to them. You then made your way back to the Crest and waited inside the cockpit as they discussed the plan outside.
"I'm going to help them; you'll have to stay here." Din told you when they were over.
"Ok. Erm… d'you know how long it'll take you?" You asked tentatively, worried he might be gone for days, weeks, or even longer.
"Be done after morning." He said, suddenly feeling unsure. "It'll be fine. You keep an eye on the Mon Calamari, make sure they make good use of the credits."
"Will do. Be careful." You told him, a soft smile on your face.
He nodded once and turned to leave, halting hesitantly in the doorway for a second before going on. You sighed worriedly, sitting on your chair and wondering if this might be a bad idea after all.
Supervising the repairs was easier said than done since the Mon Calamari weren't exactly cooperative and didn't let you help, not to mention their resources were extremely limited. They were fixing the ship – if you could call that fixing – using ropes, nets, and fishing gear. By the time they were done, you were glad that they had at least managed to fix the dead engine, although the only pressurised part of the entire ship was still the cockpit. At least, you had managed to get your hands on some ration bars while you waited, filling Din's bag with them as well as some other supplies.
Morning dragged on as you waited for Din's return, your headache flaring with worry that something might have happened to him. You should have asked him how dangerous the mission was – on a scale from not dangerous at all to letting a krayt dragon swallow him.
"I gave them a thousand credits, this was the best they could do?" A modulated voice said behind you and you had to control yourself not to jump for joy.
"Mon Calamari. What did you expect?" You joked as you got inside the ship, glad he was back in one piece. Then, you took off, probably leaving half of the poorly fixed hull behind.
"I finally know where I’m taking you. But it’s gonna be a bumpy ride." He said when you had finally left Trask's atmosphere and made the jump to hyperspace.
"Where?"
"We're on our way to the city of Calodan on the planet of Corvus, to find a Jedi named Ahsoka Tano."
"Hmm… and will this Jedi train me?"
"That, I don't know."
"So… how was the Mandalorian-only adventure?" You asked, a slight hint of mockery in your voice. He laughed softly.
"Well, that's Mandalorian business…"
You looked at him, an eyebrow raised in disbelief, mostly amused although slightly annoyed. He chuckled yet didn’t give you an answer and, since you knew he was taunting you, you decided not to take the bait and said nothing more.
It had been a while when a grumble noise that seemed to be coming from him broke the silence.
"When was the last time you ate something?" You asked him, holding back a smile.
"Don't know. A while ago."
"Here, thank me later." You said, taking out some of the rations and handing them to him.
"I'm not hungry." He said as his stomach rumbled again and this time you had to try real hard not to laugh. "Even if I were, I can't." He added, a little annoyed that his body had betrayed him.
Naturally, you had already figured this out when you got the supplies but, you had thought that if he could be around you without the helmet when you were asleep, that meant he could be without it as long as you weren't looking. So, with that in mind, you had made sure to take the scarf Peli had given you before locking yourself inside the cockpit with him.
After rummaging for a moment through the bag, his eyes curiously on you, you took the scarf out and tied it on the back of your head, covering your eyes with it as an improvised blindfold.
"There," you said "I can't leave the cockpit and you need to eat, so you'll have to make do with this. I can't see a thing but if you want, I can turn around."
Although it was true you couldn't see him, you could still feel him and you knew, by the way the energy around you shifted, that he was waving a hand in front of your face.
"You don't have to turn, this is alright." He said, relaxed after making sure you couldn't see. "Thank you."
Then, you heard the same hissing noise you had heard that night on Tatooine as he removed his helmet, followed by a thunk when he carefully left it on the floor which made you wonder how heavy that thing actually was and if he'd have continuous neck pain.
This led you to think that his neck would probably be more than used to the weight of the helmet, which made you try and remember if you had ever seen his neck and if it was strong or muscly. This in turn, reminded you of how much of his body and muscles you had actually seen and that's when you had to stop yourself and think of something else. Something other than start wondering what he looked like, of course.
You racked your brains for something, and then remembered that you were on your way to meet a Jedi whom you'll probably have to convince to train you. How were you going to do that, however, you had no idea. First of all, because you weren't even sure you were one of these Jedi and, if you were, maybe you weren't good enough to be trained. Second, because you could hardly convince someone of something you yourself weren't even sure you wanted. At least not if that meant parting ways with Din, that much you knew.
"You're making things float." His voice brought you back to the moment and, with a jolt of surprise you heard a few clinking noises, a sign that whatever you had made float was back on the floor.
"Sorry." You said with an apologetic smile on your face.
His voice, you had noticed, sounded different without the helmet, clearer and softer. An uncontrollable urge of hearing him again overtook you and you decided to make him talk.
"You didn't tell me what the big adventure was all about." You said, hoping that would prompt a response. "Were these Mandalorians as awful as you thought?"
"No." He chuckled softly and the sound of it made you feel giddy. "We do have more in common than I initially expected. And the way they engaged in combat– they moved as one, hardly made a sign, the level of coordination was unbelievable..." His voice without the helmet was beautiful, low and raspy yet somehow softer and warm. Plus, he sounded so fascinated you were glad you had insisted on him giving them a chance. "Still, they changed the deal midways… so I guess we do have the basics in common but we understand the Way quite differently." He sighed, a mixture of amusement and irritation coming from him.
"Well, could have been worse." You said with an encouraging smile.
"True. How are you feeling?"
"Me?" You asked, confused on how the topic had changed towards you.
"Yes, you." He said amused. "You hit your head quite hard in Maldo Kreis, you almost drowned a few hours ago…"
"I'm fine!" You said, trying to play it down. Truly, you still felt burning on your lungs whenever you breathed, you had decided you'll never again get close to water, and your head hurt. Still, you knew you'd be better after getting some sleep.
You flinched slightly as he touched the bruise on your forehead, not because he had hurt you but because you noticed he was touching you with his gloveless hand. For the first time since you had met, you felt the touch of his hand on your skin, and your heart started to flutter.
"You always seem to hit your head." He said without moving his hand away. "I should start to get worried about it". He chuckled and all you could do was try to control your reaction to his touch.
It wasn't the first time he had been that close but the feeling of his skin on yours – which seemed to be enhanced by the fact that you couldn't see – was making your heart beat faster than it should.
"Nah. I'm very hard-headed. You know that." You joked.
"Hmm…" He muttered, as his hand started to descend from your temple, caressing your cheek. You leant to his touch unconsciously and, when you realised what you were doing you moved back, swallowing hard. Still, his hand remained on your face.
Slowly, he moved his hand down from your cheek to your jaw, giving you goosebumps. His thumb then brushed your lip, making you realise you were nervously biting it. Taking in a shaky breath, you stopped doing so, leaving your lips slightly parted.
You weren't sure what he was doing or why he was doing it but you didn't want him to stop. He had leaned so close to you that you could feel his breath tickling on your skin and you stayed so very still – afraid that if you moved, he might go away – that you probably looked like a scared gullipud.
As you tried to calm yourself down, the tip of his nose brushed yours softly and you felt your heart about to burst from your chest as your breath quickened. Your mind was dazed by what was happening and you knew your face was completely red.
Then, his lips were on yours. The shock of having his mouth on yours short-circuited your brain and it took you almost a whole second to process it all. He was kissing you, slowly and sweetly, and you kissed him back.
He pressed your lips apart, deliberately slow, kissing you thoroughly as if he was trying to savour every corner of your mouth. He was relishing in the moment like he had all the time in the world to do so. And you were melting in his touch, weak at the knees, your mind in a daze, and your thoughts scattered crazily.
You began to raise your arms to his neck, a voice in the back of your mind urging you to do so, to touch his neck, his jaw, his hair, his face… but before you could even reach his shoulders, the ship's speed reduced drastically, making you lose your balance as every alarm in the ship started blaring.
With no warning whatsoever the ship had dropped out of hyperspace, and you had been thrown off balance, holding onto the armrests of your chair for support. The magic of the moment dispelled in an instant, drowned out by the blaring of the alarms.
As he turned them all off and silence engulfed you, you heard him sigh loudly, anger suddenly starting to emanate from every fibre of his being.
"The hyperdrive is busted." He said after a second, voice strained and modulated again.
You untied the scarf from around your eyes, squinting at the light, to find him sitting with his back facing you and clicking buttons in a futile attempt to make the ship's hyperdrive work. His attitude was so strange that it made you doubt if the kiss had even happened – mostly if you took into account how surreal it seemed now, with your blindfold off and his helmet on. It felt like something from a dream.
Concerned by his behaviour, you focused on him and his emotions, sensing – aside from the overpowering fury – sadness, disappointment, and a strong feeling of disgust. Shocked, you looked at his still figure as you felt like crying.
Why would he feel like that right after kissing you?
You desperately wanted to ask him what was going on but, with your emotions running high as they were, you knew you couldn't trust yourself to not lose your temper. Besides, you were also aware his mood wouldn't help with getting a clear answer. Thinking that there was surely an excellent explanation for what was happening and that it simply wasn't occurring to you right now, you swallowed your feelings down and stood up, heading for the hyperdrive motivator to take a look at it, in hopes you managed to fix it and that might improve Din's mood. After fiddling with the wiring for a while, you had to admit defeat.
"This thing is ruined." You sentenced. "I cannot take a proper look from here, and it's not like I can go outside."
He sighed loudly again. A part of you had expected some snarky remark to let you know that everything was alright but, instead, you were met with silence. He seemed lost in thought, and you stood there, looking at him and trying to figure out what was going on inside his head, when he noticed your stare.
Something about your face when he looked at you seemed to make him uncomfortable because he instantly looked away, his emotions a swirling furious mess.
"There's no way we're making it to Corvus in this shape. Guess we'll have to make a stop for repairs." He said, looking at the navigational panel and without directly addressing you, almost as if he was talking to himself out loud. "We're close to Nevarro. At this rate, we'll be there in a few hours."
Sitting back on your chair, you stared at him. He kept his helmet facing front and didn't look at you while his mood kept worsening by the minute.
Dank farrik! Him was all you had been thinking about for months, wondering how his touch would feel on your skin, hoping your affection was mutual… but now, you just wished he hadn't done anything if it meant him ignoring you, hating you. In fact, you didn't understand why he had done it in the first place if now it made him feel angry and disgusted. You could just ask him, you knew that, but what if you didn't like the answer?
One would think that if you kiss someone it's because you like them, so you won't feel disgusted afterwards. Then, why had he kissed you? Had it meant nothing? Had he done it out of curiosity? After all, you had made fun of him for not having kissed anyone just a few days ago... Yet, if that was the case, it seemed to you a very cruel way of satisfying his curiosity.
The rest of the trip was spent in silence. You sat on your chair, hugging your knees and trying to figure out what was wrong, while Din kept getting angrier. You swore that, as on the nose as his emotions were to you, they never made any kriffing sense.
Finally, you made it to Nevarro in one piece. When the ship's ramp started to lower you were glad to see the faces of Greef and Cara waiting outside for you. At least you'd have a reason not to be alone in silence with Din any longer. As if the Crest was somehow aware of how eager you were to get out of it, the ramp jammed and stopped descending, staying parallel to the ground and a couple of metres above it.
"Looks like someone could use some repairs." Greef said with an amused smile on his face.
Din grunted as he jumped down the ramp, the situation worsening his mood even more. Then, he automatically turned around to help you but stopped dead in his tracks, hesitant, as you felt a wave of indecisiveness coming from him. Before his brain collapsed at the seemingly difficult decision, you jumped from the ramp to the ground in a far more graceful fashion. He sighed softly and turned to Greef, shaking hands with him.
"How's my credit around here?" He asked.
"I think something could be arranged. Isn't that right, Marshal?"
"I'm sure we can work something out." Cara answered with a smile on her face.
"I'll get my best people on it. Hey, fellas! Let's fix this man's ship! I want it as good as new. And you! Come here, my beautiful saviour!" Greef said to you with a smile, holding your hand and kissing the back of it. "Has Mando been taking good care of you, huh?" He turned to him "Have you been taking good care of her?"
"Yes, he has." You said with a smile. You could belittle Din – you had reason to – but that wasn't how you were.
"You talk! Did you hear that? And what a beautiful voice, almost as beautiful as the owner."
"Stop flirting with her!" Cara said, reaching you for a hug. Breath left your lungs as she did so.
"My ribs…" You said breathlessly.
"Sorry, sorry." She said as she let go of you, chuckling.
Following Greef, you entered the town and had you not known it was the same Nevarro, you would have believed you were on a completely different planet. Everything was… cheerful. That was the perfect word to describe it. The people, the little market, the way they had decorated the streets with colourful awnings. It looked like a completely different town.
Greef explained how, after freeing Nevarro from the Imperial occupation both he and Cara had worked nonstop to make the town what it was now. Din headed to the canteen, which surprisingly still stood in its place, when Cara stopped him.
"I don't think that's where you want to go." She said with a smile.
Din looked at her confused, tilting his head, and she opened the door to show you the inside. What once had been a canteen almost completely destroyed, was now a school filled with children happily listening to a protocol droid. As you stared at the new inside, your heart clenched at the memories of what had happened there, of the moment where you had thought you had lost Din, and you felt stupid for now being on not speaking terms with him. At that instant you made up your mind that, as soon as you were alone, you'd address what had happened and accept whatever explanation he gave you, even if you didn't like it.
"Shall we?" Greef said, waving his hand for you to follow and you did so absentmindedly, barely registering the new whirl in Din's emotions. Greef and Cara showed you around the town, telling you all kinds of stories about how they had managed to build everything from scratch and, as the sun was starting to set, you crossed the town's square to get into what looked like the new inn. In the middle of the square there was a huge statue of IG-11 and you smiled at the image of the droid whose sacrifice had saved your lives.
"We need your help." Cara said after you had sat at a table and ordered some food.
"I'm only here for repairs." Din said and you felt like hitting him for talking in singular.
"Which'll take a while. Which means you'll have free time on your hands, right? And we could really use your help." Greef pointed out.
"Help how?"
"We've managed to make most of Nevarro safe but there's an old Imperial base." Cara explained. "It's got a skeleton crew, but for some reason, it hasn't been abandoned."
"I want them off my planet." Greef added. "If we could take out that one last base, Nevarro would be completely safe. We could be a trade anchor for the entire sector."
After a short moment thinking about it, Din nodded. "What's the plan?"
"We can go over the details tomorrow." Cara said smiling. "It's late and you're probably tired. Just wanted to make sure you were in, and… I'm assuming you're in too?" She added, putting her arm over your shoulders.
"Of course!" You said grinning. "I'll probably be more helpful than Di– Mando."
"Oh! I have no doubt about that!"
After that, you spent dinner chatting and joking around although neither Din nor you crossed words with each other.
"I got a room for you." Greef said before leaving. "You'll like it, it's probably twice as big as that thing you call home. I asked them to bring you some food there." He added to Din who thanked him.
"Get some rest." Cara added. "Tomorrow'll be a long day."
Before you had time to process how, you found yourself all alone with Din. Not only that, but you were also in this immense room which, as Greef had said, was probably twice as big as the Crest. There was a table with food and drinks, a sofa, and a bed so big you could probably fit four or five people your size in it. It had been ages since you had slept in a bed and even longer since you had done so in a bed you actually wanted to be in. You were thinking about jumping on it when Din talked to you for the first time since the Crest had broken down.
"You can go to the 'fresher first. I'll have dinner."
You nodded gingerly as you got inside the refresher which was also enormous. While enjoying the hot shower, you wondered if maybe the room wasn't so big and luxurious, but you were just too used to having the bare minimum. Yet, the bare minimum was more than enough if you could share it with Din. Once again, you felt determined to talk to him. As you were about to storm out of the refresher to confront him, you realised he might have his helmet off. After a second of thought, you did what made more sense but also felt the strangest: knocking on the door before getting out.
"It's ok, you can come out." He said and, as you opened the door you found him standing still in front of you. You raised your head to look him in the eye – or the glass slit behind which his eyes were – and he got angry yet again. Taken aback by his mood, you stood to your side, allowing him to get into the refresher.
While he showered, you took the chance to nose around the room and look at everything and, in the end, you gave yourself the pleasure of jumping on the bed. It was comfy, soft, and fluffy, and you rolled around in it until you heard the refresher's door open, and you sat up with a start, trying to act like a grown adult.
He had removed all of his beskar except for the helmet and he was only wearing one layer of clothing instead of the several he usually wore. That though, as you had previously noticed, made little difference to how broad his shoulders were or how big he was. As you got distracted thinking about how attractive he looked while wearing only the trousers and a shirt, or how big his hands were as you watched him leave the armour pieces on the table, or how much you wanted to feel his touch on you again; you noticed there was a feather on your hair. When you picked it up and threw it away, you would have sworn you heard him chuckle.
"We have to talk." He said before you could.
You nodded and stood up, closing the space between you two in three long strides and standing in front of him. As you were about to talk, he said something you certainly weren't expecting.
"Why did you let me do it?" He said, anger flooding his words. "Why did you let me kiss you? You could have pushed me away, beaten me up, knocked me out if necessary, so why?"
Suddenly everything made sense to you. His anger, disgust, sadness, and disappointment. He felt he had done something wrong; he was angry and disgusted with himself! You sighed loudly, relieved, and he got more confused, if possible, when you smiled softly. That's when you realised you needed to be extremely straightforward with your stupid Mandalorian in order to avoid another misunderstanding, for he was way too prone to get your signals mixed.
"Because I love you."
His feelings became an even more crazy confusing mess. Shock, followed by disbelief, reassurance, and overflowing happiness. Sadly, as you had foreseen, not even being direct to him was enough, since he also felt disappointment and pain which quickly made way to anger again.
"No…" He said in a soft voice, more sad than annoyed. "You can't love someone you don't know."
"I know you." You huffed.
"No, you don't! If I get out there and take my helmet off, you wouldn't be able to tell me apart!" He growled.
This made rage boil inside you too, not only because you couldn't get how he could think that, but also because his mood was starting to affect you, his emotions mixing with yours.
"Of course I could!" You snapped. "I could tell you apart in a room full of people with the lights out!" You breathed deeply, trying to calm yourself down. "Look I– I might not know what your face looks like but… I know you!"
He stood still and silent for a moment that felt like an eternity.
"Close your eyes." He finally said in a commanding tone.
You looked at him confused.
"Close your eyes… Please."
It was the plea in his voice what made you comply. As you closed your eyes you were absolutely certain he was about to do some stupid thing to prove you wrong, to prove that you didn't know him as well as you claimed, that you wouldn't be able to tell him apart without the helmet. That's why it didn't surprise you as much as it should have when you heard the hissing noise of his helmet being removed.
Next thing you knew, his hands were cupping your face, slightly lifting your head, and his lips were on yours, kissing you deeply. You gasped in his mouth, shocked, as you pressed your eyelids shut harder — you had almost opened them.
After the second your confusion lasted, you eagerly kissed him back. The taste of his mouth was so sweet it was intoxicating and, before anything could ruin this moment, you clung to him, your hands moving up along his chest – just the way you had wanted to do before – feeling his muscles through the thin fabric of his shirt.
The warmth of his mouth on yours, his tongue brushing your lips, his hands on your cheeks, his body so close to yours… It was enough to make you melt.
He grabbed your waist with one hand, pressing you tight against his hot body and making you stand on your tiptoes, while your hands reached to his neck and hair, your fingers intertwining into it as a fresh smell reached your nose. He grunted softly against your lips, breaking apart from you.
Your breath was shallow, and your heart was beating so quickly it might have jumped out of your chest at any moment. He was also breathing fast, and he chuckled softly at the little disappointed moan that had escaped your lips the moment he had pulled away from the kiss.
"I love you too." He muttered tenderly as he brushed your lips with his thumb.
Those words made your heart beat so loud you knew he could hear it, but you were brimming with happiness and couldn't care less if he did, mostly because you could feel how overjoyed he was feeling too.
He kissed you again, moving down to your neck and making you shiver as goosebumps formed on your skin. The more he kissed you the more erratic your train of thought became. You wanted more, you thought as you gasped for air.
"I want you." You whispered softly.
As you realised how your mouth had betrayed you, you blushed wildly. But it felt right. He was the first man you had ever wanted, the first man you had ever desired to touch and to be touched by.
He groaned against the skin of your neck and moved to kiss you on the lips again, more intensely than before, your fingers still tangled in his hair.
"I want you too… Kriff… Wait." He said as he pulled away from you.
You heard him rummaging around and after a moment he came back, covering your eyes with the scarf you had used before.
"Better?"
"Better." You said smiling.
"Good."
He grabbed you so firmly around your waist that you gasped in surprise. His mouth crashed on yours while he slightly lifted you off the ground. He was kissing you with the hunger of a starved man, as if he was deciding whether to savour you or swallow you whole.
You suddenly felt the wall against your back and, before you could start wondering when had you recoiled that much, his hands were on your thighs, lifting you up and pinning you against it. You wrapped your legs around him, your arms holding onto his neck and your fingers gently pulling from his hair, which caused an exquisite low moan leaving his mouth.
His hands reached underneath your shirt, caressing your back and slowly reaching for your breasts, while his mouth kissed your neck as if it was the most delicious thing in the universe. You let out a moan when his hands began to softly play with your nipples, and you felt the pooling of arousal forming between your legs as he pressed his body flush against you.
Unconsciously, you moved your hips to rub against him, aching for some friction. It seemed like that made him lose the little cool he had left. With a swift movement, he pulled the shirt over your head and turned around, carefully laying you on the bed.
He knelt between your legs, his arms one at each side of your head, and you took the chance to slip your hands underneath his shirt and lift it up, trying to — unsuccessfully — pull it off. He chuckled but, understanding your cue, he took it off himself.
Stars! What you would have given to be able to see that scene.
As he laid on top of you — his arms holding most of his weight so as not to crush you — you could feel the scorching heat of his skin against yours, making you yearn for more.
He kissed you once again before starting to move down from your lips to your neck, tracing a path down to your collar bone and from there to your chest. You felt his lips and his hands all over your breasts, rubbing, kissing, and sucking your hard nipples while you winced in pleasure.
Slowly, his hands moved down, caressing your belly and waist until they reached your trousers' waistband. That's when a sudden flashback of many horrible experiences came to your mind, and you froze. Not being able to see him started to make you anxious and he seemed to notice because he stopped and brought his face back in front of yours.
"If you want me to stop…" he said hesitantly, "if there's anything you don't like, just tell me. Ok?" He said, his breath brushing your face as he waited for your answer.
You felt your chest swell with joy because of what that statement meant for you. Hearing his voice had helped you come back to the moment and remember that you needn't see him to know that it was him – and not someone else – who was there with you, you just had to feel him.
"Ok." You said, a warm smile on your face as you focused every fibre of your being on his presence, letting it surround you and engulf you. All your fear disappeared instantly when all you could feel was him.
You bit your lip as you felt him slowly moving again, kissing his way down and picking up where he had left. His hands slowly reached your waistband and started to gingerly pull your trousers down. He was watchful of your body language in case anything he was doing made you uncomfortable, which made your heart race and the wetness start to pool between your legs again in response to the affection with which he was treating you.
He kept tasting you from your breasts to your navel, to your hip bone, while pulling your pants off, his kisses lingering for a moment on the scar on your side before continuing to kiss his way down until reaching your thighs. His soft hair brushed against them, and his breath tickled you. His hands ran up and down your legs as he lustfully kissed them, getting closer to your core.
He was so eager, trying to taste and feel all of you, that each and every touch made your skin burn and shiver at the same time.
"Kriff! You're so wet..." He whispered.
You couldn't stop yourself from gasping with a mix of surprise and bliss, when his lips suddenly closed over your clit. As an automatic response, your hands moved to his head, lightly tugging from his hair, and he let out a low moan that vibrated against you, making you shudder.
His moves were clumsy at first — making you feel strangely pleased at knowing that you were the first one to have ever felt his lips — but he seemed to get the hang of it easily, using your reactions as guide.
Soon, your breath became ragged as you trembled with every stroke of his tongue through your folds.
He had already spotted what made you squirm with pleasure, going from gently licking to roughly sucking. With every one of the sounds you made you could feel his confidence growing. His hands reached down to caress your thighs and you felt one of his fingers teasing your entrance before he pushed it inside you and started moving it, curling it up until he found just the right spot.
You moaned in pleasure as he kept going, your hips rocking on their own and your back arching as a warm feeling started spreading through your body from where his mouth was. He pushed another finger inside you while he kept sucking and licking. The sensation was overwhelming, and you could feel the tension building up in anticipation of what was coming.
Your whole body began trembling as you got closer and closer to coming, and he grabbed your waist firmly with his free hand to keep you from pulling apart from his mouth.
With a strangled groan, you quivered as an intense wave of pleasure rushed over you. You felt yourself throbbing around his fingers as you peaked, tightening your grip on his hair as he kept on sucking your clit, helping you ride out your high and making you shake all over.
You were still trembling and trying to catch your breath, when you felt him leave the space between your legs only to settle over you again.
"Mesh'la." He whispered before his lips found yours and he kissed you sweetly. You had no idea what that meant but you liked the way he had said it.
Running your fingers through his hair, you melt into a passionate kiss, tasting yourself in his mouth. One of your hands slid down his neck, running your fingers along the muscles of his broad shoulders. His body felt so hot and inviting you wanted to touch as much as you could before it was hidden again under all those layers of clothes and armour.
With that in mind, you boldly went on touching him while he seemed to be thinking the exact same thing, for he let his lips wander around every inch of your skin that he could get access to. Caressing his chest with your other hand, you followed the ridges of the muscles of his abdomen to his hip, until your fingers reached his trousers waistband. He hummed in approval as you slowly began to pull them down. Grunting softly, he pulled away from you to completely take them off, laying his hot naked body back on top of you as you clung to him.
He kissed you again, deep and slow while his strong and gentle hands continued exploring you. His hands, his lips, his tongue. It was all too much and yet you found yourself wanting more. Leaning into his neck, you licked your way up to his jaw savouring him. The fresh, citrusy smell of his hair mingled in your mouth with the slightly salty taste of his skin.
You kissed him all the way up to his ear and gently bit his earlobe. He stifled a moan and you purred, satisfied you had found his weak spot.
Moving your hands deliberately slowly down his abdomen, you reached his erection and gently started stroking him. He grunted softly next to your ear giving you goosebumps all over.
"I want you." He said holding your hand to stop your motion. "All of you, now."
"Yes, please..." You whispered with bated breath, letting go of his length.
He raised on his knees and, spreading your legs while leaving you all exposed, he settled between them. Suddenly, he pulled you down with a swift movement accommodating you closer to him and you gasped. He rested your calves on his shoulders as he caressed your thighs up and down.
Your skin felt feverish wherever he touched you and you wanted him so much you were dripping in anticipation.
You felt the tip of his dick stroking your clit, getting drenched from rubbing against you. Letting out a small and frustrated whining sound at the urgency in which you wanted him, you moved your hips closer to him, impatient, and he chuckled.
"There's no hurry." He whispered, his chest swelling with pride at your eagerness. "We've got all the time in the world."
Yet, feeling him against you like that had you so worked up you could barely process his statement. You wanted more.
"Mando..." You whined again as he rubbed harder against you.
"Don't call me that. Call me by my name."
"Din…"
The moment you said his name out loud, something stirred up inside him and he started pushing into you. Breath became short as he went inside in one long, slow, and delicious move. You moaned when he was all the way in, clutching the sheets beneath you in fists, only to gasp loudly when he bent forward, your knees against your chest and his body over you, reaching even deeper and filling you completely.
Without moving, his mouth found yours and he kissed you again, and again, and again, until you were both breathless. His taste was intoxicating.
That's when he rose and started to move, slowly at first and then building a rhythm.
Your voice echoed in the room as you lost the ability to control the sounds that were escaping your mouth. He had effortlessly managed to find that same spot he had rubbed with his fingers and kept hitting it with each thrust.
In mere seconds you were almost there again, gripping the sheets tightly while you whispered his name. With almost no warning, you came again, your body shaking uncontrollably while you moaned loudly. Yet, he didn't stop. Instead, he kept moving at a controlled beat, pumping in and out of you as you kept shaking, not knowing if your first orgasm had ended and the next one had already started, or if it was the same one that just kept coming.
You were moaning loudly and your mind was going blank, drunk in bliss after having lost count of how many times you had come already. He whispered something but you didn't quite catch it. He kept going, slowing himself a bit just to push your knees up higher and you were almost there again.
It was too much for your body, overwhelming in the best way possible. You reached for his arms, grabbing him and he drove himself harder into you — making you cry louder — and you could tell he was almost there too, feeling him growing larger and harder inside of you.
He sped up, setting a brutal pace and your whole body quivered under him as you were drowning in pleasure with every thrust. He grunted as he got closer to coming and then he let out a loud moan that quavered in his chest, reverberating in the room.
Slowly he stopped, out of breath and holding your shaking thighs against his chest as you involuntarily squeezed them together. He let your legs fall back to each side of him as you were still trying to catch your breath.
A hand caressed your cheek and your hair as he pulled out of you and carefully laid over you, holding his weight on his elbows. You smiled pleased at him and he kissed you again.
He turned to the side and hugged you to his chest, combing your hair through his fingers. You laid your head in his chest and started tracing it with your hand, feeling each and every one of his scars and trying to memorise them all. Slowly, you moved your hand up to his neck and then to his face, finally being able to feel his features.
He groaned softly at your touch and you smiled, propping yourself up on one elbow and running your fingers up his face. He had some stubble on his cheeks and jaw, which you could tell was strong and square. His lips were full and plump, his nose slightly crooked as if he had broken it at some point in his life, his eyes were closed, and his frown was slightly pronounced – probably from frowning so much, you thought, smiling warmly. His hair, as you had already realised, was a bit longer than you had expected, curling around his neck, and it was very soft.
You stopped touching his face and noticed how he held his breath.
"You're handsome." You finally told him, and he chuckled.
"Glad you think so." He said, his voice bemused. "You're just gorgeous."
"Glad you think so."
"Hmm… I'd say it's objectively true." He said, caressing your cheek as you giggled.
You laid down again, resting your head on his shoulder and moving your hand over his chest and abdomen absentmindedly while he caressed your back. You could feel his chest gently raising up and down as he breathed softly. You stayed like that for a while, revelling in the silence and the warm cosy feeling of your naked bodies together.
"You're so soft." He whispered to himself, so low you knew you wouldn't have been able to hear it if he had been wearing the helmet. "Kandosii'la… How're you so soft?"
"I don't know." You answered back, letting out a breezy laugh. "What's that mean? Kandosii'la?"
"Means amazing, stunning…" He said lightly. "I imagined you'd be soft, but this…" He whispered as he kept caressing your skin. You laughed again, amused by how honest he was suddenly being.
"You imagined?" You inquired, surprised by that revelation.
"Uh-huh." He muttered as his hand kept wandering lightly over your skin
"And what else did you imagine?"
"So many things." He said, chuckling softly but not giving you any more information about it.
"Can I ask you something?" You ventured and, knowing he'd surely say yes – because he always seemed to say yes to you –, you added, "If you can't answer it, it's ok."
"Sure. Go on."
"Your hair… What colour is it? And your eyes?"
"That's all?" He said with a smile in his voice. You nodded. "Brown. Hair and eyes."
"What shade of brown?"
"Hmm…" He said, thinking carefully about the answer. "The hair, dark brown. The eyes… I don't know, brown." He chuckled.
"You don't know?" You asked amused.
"I've never looked at them much." He shrugged, making your head move with the action. "I know better what colour your eyes are."
You laughed as you tried picturing it but you lacked too much information to properly create a mental image of his face.
"And… what's mesh'la?" You asked curiously after a moment, as your sly brain was already coming up with ways of taking advantage of his sudden honesty.
"Beautiful."
"So, are you going to finally tell me what a kov'nyn really is?"
He laughed, the sound reverberating in his chest and making your head shake.
"Well, it is a headbutt." He said laughing again. You propped yourself up on your arm, a cheeky smile on your face as you faced him. Kriff, it was such a pity that you couldn't see him.
"And what else?" You nudged.
"First, tell me where you heard that." He said, brushing a strand of hair away from your face and gently tucking in behind your ear.
"Aytha, the Mandalorian on Concord Dawn. She said it was also called keldabe kiss." You added grinning wider.
"You seem to know it all then." He chuckled as he caressed your arm, that was now resting on his chest, giving you goosebumps.
"But I want to hear it from you." You said in a soft and hopefully charming enough voice. He sighed, amused by the conversation as you could feel.
"It's a Mandalorian gesture of affection or… love." He said softly. "I didn't say anything 'cause… Well, you were the one who did it first and I didn't want you to freak out." He chuckled again.
"I wouldn't have freaked out!" You replied, slightly hurt by how easily he could read you.
"Really?" He said with disbelief.
"Yes. I would have simply… You know, gone nuts thinking about how that was a kiss for you and how you'd probably hate me for doing such a thing." You joked. "That's far from freaking out!"
He laughed again, louder this time, and you felt your heart warming up. Kriff, you had always loved his laugh but now, without the helmet, you were convinced that it was the most beautiful sound in the universe.
"So… when you did it in Nevarro…" You said slowly, focused on his feelings in case they would change. "Did you mean it as a kiss?"
He sighed again as his hand cupped your face and caressed your cheek.
"Yes. I thought I'd never see you again and when I did, I was so relieved I just…"
"Why didn't you tell me?"
"Why?" He snickered. "Never in my whole life could I have expected to find someone like you. Let alone that you'd love me. I feel like I've used up my entire life's supply of luck just in this and it's more than worth it."
"Don't say that!" You said, unable to keep yourself from smiling broadly, heat rushing to your cheeks. "Who wouldn't want to be with the most badass Mandalorian in the galaxy?"
"That's a fair question." He laughed again. "I guess you're the lucky one here?"
"No doubt about it."
You rested your head on his shoulder again while you resumed exploring his body, caressing and learning by heart every muscle and scar as you intertwined your legs with his. His heartbeat was slow and soothing, and his warm hands caressing your body were so relaxing you soon began to notice how little by little your eyelids began to feel heavier and heavier.
"Let's get under the covers." He said when you suddenly shuddered, your skin erupting in goosebumps.
As you did so, he got up and you heard him searching around for something. A moment later he came back to bed and slid beneath the covers with you.
"You can take that off." He said, reaching for the blindfold. A sense of defeat washed over you when you realised his voice sounded modulated again.
"No, no… Take that off." You said, a sad note in your voice as you held the blindfold in place. "I can sleep like this, it's ok! Just… please…" You pleaded.
"Are you sure? You'll sleep bett–"
"I'm sure! I- I prefer your voice without it and… I like touching your hair and– please! I swear I won't look."
"I know you won't." He said after a moment, his voice soft and unmodulated again which caused a smile to appear on your face. "Let's get some sleep, tomorrow'll be a long day."
As he said that he hugged you tightly close to him and you drifted off to sleep while his hands gently caressed your back and his warm breath brushed your face.
When you woke up you felt like you were sleeping on a warm, fluffy cloud. Without even considering opening your eyes, you tried to turn over and go back to sleep but something was holding you down. Not something, someone. In your drowsiness it took your brain a whole second to process what was going on but, as soon as it did, it flooded your mind with vivid memories of the events that had taken place last night. Blushing wildly, you moved your hands to your face to make sure that you were still wearing the blindfold before risking opening your eyes.
You were lying on your side and you could still feel Din's arms around you but, unlike last night, they were holding you tightly around your waist instead of your shoulders. That explained why you could feel his breath against your chest and collarbone as his head was resting between your arms, right beneath your chin. Once you finally had a mental image of where he was, the idea of brushing his hair with your fingers became irresistible to you.
Slowly and trying not to wake him, you started touching his hair, intertwining your fingers in it. It was so soft and nice you couldn't resist the urge to bury your nose in it, sniffing it. For the first time, you didn't get even the slightest trace of blaster gas from him. All you could smell was the citrusy aroma of the refresher's soap mixed with his characteristic spiced scent.
"Enjoying yourself?"
You chortled against his head when he talked. You knew he had been awake for a few minutes already but had chosen not to say anything seeing how much he was enjoying the feeling of your fingers intertwining in his hair.
"Very much, yes."
He let go of a deep slow breath as he buried his face in your chest, tickling you with his beard, while you crossed your leg over him, laughing softly.
"We should get going." He said after a while as he let go of you and moved to lay beside you.
"No…" You whined sadly.
He chuckled softly and kissed you slow and deep before finally getting up. You slacked on bed for a few minutes until the mattress sank beside you again and you felt Din's hands carefully undoing the knot of the scarf you were using as a blindfold. You were so disappointed by the knowledge that he was wearing the helmet again that you weren't prepared for the view you encountered when you opened your eyes
He was kneeling on the bed wearing the helmet, no mistake, but little more than that. To be more specific, he was just wearing his pants so his whole torso was exposed and you couldn't help but stare at him for a few seconds in rapt attention. Kriff, he was so hot.
"Do we have to go already?" You asked him, biting your lip. He looked down at you, tilting his head.
"If you want to have breakf–"
He cut himself off mid-sentence the moment you rose to your knees, letting the covers slide down from your body. You were acutely aware of your state of nakedness but you didn't care.
"I'm not really hungry…" You told him as you approached him, placing your hands on his chest with a mischievous grin on your face. "Maybe we could do something else?"
"Wayii." He exclaimed softly, clearly still in shock as you grabbed his hand and pulled softly from him so he would sit back on the bed. He quickly got the picture and sat down. "I'm guessing you have something in mind?"
You nodded, still grinning as you crawled over him sitting on top of his thighs, straddling him.
With deliberate slowness, you moved your hands from his abdomen up to his chest until your hands were resting on his shoulders and you pushed him back against the pillows. You were trying to take in as much as you could since last night you hadn't been able to enjoy the view. Funnily enough, he seemed to be doing the exact same thing, for you could feel his gaze on you and the excitement radiating from him. When you bent over to kiss his collarbone and as much of his neck as you possibly could, his hands – that until now had been resting on the bed – shot to your thighs and started roaming all over your body. One stayed moving up and down your thigh as the other wandered all the way to your breasts and, when he softly pinched your nipple, you gasped in surprise and bit him lightly on the neck.
He muttered something you couldn't quite catch over the static of the helmet while his other hand started caressing the inner part of your thigh, slowly getting closer to your center but stopping just a few inches away, making you take notice of the heat pooling underneath you and damping his pants. Of course, he also noticed the wetness soaking through his clothes but, before he could move his hand closer to it, you slipped yours inside his pants and slided them down, leaving him as naked as you were.
You sat on top of him again, a sly smile on your face as you teasingly started to slide yourself against his hardness. The movement was giving you the much-needed friction you craved and you moaned softly as you looked down at it, seeing his erection getting covered in your juices. You felt his gaze fixed on you again and, when you looked up at him, you saw yourself reflected in his helmet. Much to your surprise, instead of shame or embarrassment you just felt incredibly aroused, dripping all over him just because, after all, it was his helmet where you were reflected.
As stimulating as rubbing against him was, it just wasn't enough. Unable to hold yourself back any longer, you lifted your hips just enough to position the tip of his dick at your entrance and slowly lowered yourself on him, sheathing him inside you as deep as you were able to. You paused for a second to let yourself adjust to the stretch and placed both your hands on his chest to support your weight before starting to move up and down. His breathing became ragged, his chest heaving under your palms, and you could feel the excitement and exhilaration emanating from him, intoxicating you.
The situation seemed to be overwhelming for him because, after a short time of you bouncing on him, he suddenly got riled up and grabbed your waist, halting your movement.
"Hold on." He asked, not letting go of you. "Just… hold on a second."
You did just so, staying still as he regained his cool. His chest was rising up and down fast while you could feel his stare fixed on you.
"Kriff…" He muttered. "This isn't fair, you know?"
You smiled and were deciding whether to laugh or answer back with some witty remark when whatever you had wanted to say got lost in a loud moan as he thrusted up into you. If he had asked just a second earlier, you'd have sworn he was already all the way in. How naive of you.
When he buried himself to the tilt inside of you, you unconsciously closed your hands into fists, your nails digging into the skin of his chest. Yet, as if he couldn't even feel the scratches, he kept a steady grip on your waist while he kept thrusting up.
Kriff, he was barely sliding out of you and yet he was managing to rub himself just against the spot that made you see the stars. Your whole body started to tense up as you were getting closer and closer to your release. It made no sense, how could he be about to make you come when mere moments ago he had had to stop you because he was about to cum? You moaned loudly, calling his name as you felt the tension build up and then crash into you, pleasure travelling through your whole body like electricity while you started to shake uncontrollably.
His grip on you didn't falter, neither did the rhythm of his thrusting as you kept coming in waves, barely being able to hold yourself up. When your shaking started to subside, he sat up, grabbing you firmly around your waist and bringing you so close to him that your clit rubbed against his body in a delightful manner with every move.
He was so much taller than you that, even while sitting on top of him, your head was at the same height as his. You held onto him, your arms around his neck and your hands grabbing on his shoulders, as you rested your forehead on his helmet. Your eyes were at the same height as the glass slit and you looked into it, hoping to be looking straight into his eyes. Damn, you wanted him to kiss you so badly.
After a small pause for you to catch your breath, you started rolling your hips and he thrusted into you to match your movement. The friction on your clit that came with every move and thrust was slowly but steadily pushing you to the edge and soon your breathing became ragged and your bouncing on him, messy. He compensated for your erratic movement with his more rhythmic one until he also started to succumb, muttering your name like a prayer, and pumping harder and faster into you.
You kept your gaze fixed on the glass slit – on his eyes –, gasping and moaning until the moment you came, when you couldn't stop your eyes from rolling back into your head and your back arching as a wave of pleasure washed over you. He thrusted into you a few more times, grunting loudly while you kept pulsing around him, until he groaned your name and held you tightly against him, burying himself deep inside you.
Out of breath, you stayed like that for a moment, panting loudly and your forehead still resting on his helmet. Then he moved his head away and covered your eyes with his big hand.
"Close 'em." He huffed.
You did as he said and nodded, expectant and excited knowing that he was going to kiss you. The hissing noise of the helmet being removed made you even more eager and, when his lips finally found yours, you kissed him back hungrily. You moved your hands up from his shoulders to his hair, intertwining in it as you greedily kissed him as much as you could. It wasn't the time to be ashamed about what you were doing because you didn't know when you'd have the chance of kissing him again.
"Jatisyc." He said under his breath when you parted, tenderly rubbing your cheek. "That was better than breakfast."
You laughed softly and, once he had put his helmet back on, you opened your eyes and got up, feeling something run down the inner part of your thigh.
"Sorry." He muttered trying to clean you up with his hand. "We have plenty of time for you to wash off."
When you got inside the refresher the reflection in the mirror smiled at you. You looked well rested although your hair was a mess and you noticed you had a small love bite on your neck. Your smile grew greedy and proud at the sight. During the next ten minutes you managed to wash up, get dressed and even have a quick breakfast before finally leaving towards the Marshal's office.
After a few minutes walking, you arrived at the Marshal's office where Cara was already waiting for you at the door.
"Someone's had a goodnight sleep!" She exclaimed when she saw you.
"Yes. That was the most comfortable bed I've ever been in." You answered back, a big smile on your face.
"Oh! So she got the bed!" She said to Din, grinning wide as she patted him on the shoulder. "What a gentleman! I'm sure you look well rested too."
She turned around, entering the building, and you followed her. Inside was Greef, who waved at you, and a creature of a blue fish-like species who was sitting at a desk, working. The moment he laid eyes on Din his expression became terrified as he expelled some kind of steam through the gills in his neck.
"I believe you two have met." Greef said, addressing Din and the blue guy.
"I'm surprised to see you here." Din said, resting his hands on his belt buckle as he took a slightly menacing pose and looked down at him. You smiled at his irresistible pose but the blue creature shook nervously.
"Right back at ya."
"Mythrol here's taken care of my books since he was a pollywog. But then he disappeared one day after a bit of 'creative accounting'." Greef explained.
"Magistrate Karga was generous enough to let me work off my debt. Thank you, by the way."
"Well, if he runs off on you again, let me know." Din told Greef while keeping the menacing posture and his gaze fixed on Mythrol.
"Hi." Mythrol then said as he noticed you. "We haven't been introdu–"
"She's with me." Din cut him off mid-sentence, clearly amused that this guy was still so terrified of him.
"Oh my. Erm… so… how did you end up with this guy?" Mythrol asked you in a whisper. "You don't strike me as a bounty hunter."
"I'm not. I'm actually his bounty." You said, emphasising the 'his' and biting down a smile as you felt Din's chest swell with pride.
"He put you in carbonite too? I still can’t see outta my left eye."
"Nah. He only does that with the very annoying ones." You replied, playing along with Din's idea of a joke, although you were starting to feel slightly bad for the guy since he didn't seem bad at all.
"Can we talk business?" Cara said, interrupting the conversation.
"What's the plan?" Din asked her.
"The whole base is powered by a reactor. We sneak in, overload the reactor, and get the hell outta there."
Taking into account that the base looked almost abandoned, it seemed unlikely that you'd run into any trouble. That's why you didn't go much through the plan and, after getting some weapons and a comlink each, you all hopped onto Mythrol's landspeeder and headed there.
There wasn't much space in the speeder so you, being the tiniest, ended up sitting in the back, between Greef and Din. Funnily enough, as cramped as you were there, your leg was barely brushing Greef's since Din was holding you so close to him you could barely move. In fact, a bit too close to him because you felt like your whole body was on fire. Based on the look Greef had given you and how amused he was feeling, you were sure he had noticed this.
In fact, Din's behaviour towards you since you had left the inn had been very unusual.
It's true that you had felt slightly heartbroken the moment you had come out of the refresher and he was waiting for you, whole armour on, and ready to leave. It had made you feel as if last night had not happened at all because he was no longer Din – the man you had spent the night with, no clothes on, let alone armour – and he was back to being Mando, the bounty hunter.
From that moment on, and as if he had known what was going on in your head, each and every moment you had been close enough he had made sure to subtly let you know that last night had all actually happened and that Mando and Din were all him. Whether it was in the way his hand had grazed yours – almost accidentally –, or how he had touched your waist to lead you out of the room before him, or how his hand had lingered on you when you were going through the plan – as if he hadn't noticed he'd left it there – or, like now, in the way he was holding you close to him.
"Let’s be fast. And keep the speeder running." Din said to Mythrol once you reached the base. The blue creature was extremely anxious as he dropped you off in front of the base's front door – having agreed to do so only after Greef had both bribed and threatened him.
"Controls are useless. They’re melted." Cara said when you reached the door.
After trying a couple more times to open the door, Mythrol – again under threat – grabbed a flange cutter to try and open the door with it. That's when you looked over you and found that there was a platform standing right above you.
"Wanna take a look?" You told Din as you pointed at the platform.
"Sure. Take your blaster out." He said.
You did so and, as you were going to point out that you didn't really need it since the base was empty and, to top it all off, you weren't even managing to open the door to get inside it, he grabbed you around your waist and rocketed up in his jetpack while carrying you.
You landed on what looked like a transport hangar right in front of two sentry troopers who instantly raised their blasters at you.
"Drop your weapons!" One of them shouted at you. "Drop 'em! Now!"
You raised your hands slowly and looked at Din who was doing the same. That's when you saw out of the corner of your eye a third trooper right behind Din and, reflected on his beskar helmet, a fourth one approaching you from your right. Hoping that your expression was enough to inform Din of the presence of the trooper he couldn't see, you waited for a sign from him.
"Ok." He told the troopers as he, very slowly, started to lower the blaster to the floor.
You did the same thing until he, ever so slightly, nodded at you and with a swift movement shot the guy behind you and took a step in front of you to shield you from the fire. Meanwhile, you used your powers to push the trooper behind him to the edge of the platform, making him fall all the way down to where Cara and the others were.
In no time, Din shot the other two troopers down and you both started to look around in case there were more waiting. After making sure no more sentries were positioned in the hangar, you headed to the elevator and turned it on so Cara and Greef could get there. Surprisingly, Mythrol came too and you assumed more threats had been made to make that happen.
"Empty base, huh?" Din said to them as soon as they reached the platform.
"The reactor should be set in the heat shaft." Greef explained. "If we drain the cooling lines, this whole base will go up in a matter of minutes."
Luckily for you, the walk inside to the command bay went smoothly and you only found one Imp in there. That, plus the fact that you also got to the heat shaft without crossing paths with nobody made you wonder if, in the end, Cara and Greef were right and the base was virtually empty even though you could feel the presence of more people in there. Perhaps it was true and there was only a skeleton crew remaining.
Once you got to the heat shaft, you couldn't stop yourself from getting as close to the edge as possible to see the lava bubbling underneath you. Almost instantly, Din put his arm in front of you to hold you while fear emanated from him, making you wonder if that had reminded him of when you got pushed inside the mamacore tank back in Trask. Just to calm him down, you took a few steps back and then headed to the corridor to keep guard with him while Mythrol shut down the coolant lines. When all the alarms started blaring, you rushed out of there.
Now however, things weren't as easy as they had been before. Suddenly, big trooper squads had come out of nowhere to patrol the base and your path kept getting blocked by them, forcing you to detour over and over again. This also proved that, as you had feared, the base wasn't abandoned and, if Din's mood was anything to go by, he was thinking the exact same thing. What you weren't expecting though, was what you heard some troopers talking about as you got close to a corner
"... the Moff sees it." One of the troopers was saying when Din signed you all to stop.
"He's gonna kill us all." Another answered back.
"What are the odds Moff Gideon arrives and the reactor blows up?" One asked.
"I'm just glad it wasn't my turn to stand guard there."
Din looked at you and you could feel the fear emanating from him, nothing in comparison to how you were feeling. Moff Gideon was not only alive but also here, in this base? Just the same kriffing day you had chosen to show up? What were actually the chances of that happening? It was clear as day to you that the odds of that were virtually zero, which meant that Moff Gideon knew you were there.
"We have to get out of here NOW." You signed to Din. With a nod he walked down the corner followed by Cara, Greef, you, and Mythrol at the end.
Thank the universe you were at the back of the group because, just as you were about to shoot, your blaster jammed. The others managed to shoot the six troopers down before they had time to react.
"The Moff's here?" Din finally asked angrily.
"We had no idea!" Cara said. "If we had known we would have never asked you to come! We–"
"I don't think it's a coincidence." You interrupted. "He knows we're–"
Cutting yourself off and giving no explanation, you threw Din's dagger to the corner you had arrived from just at the same instant as a trooper walked around it, plunging it into his throat. The soldier fell hard to the floor and the ones following him started to shoot but you had already taken cover.
In your haste though, you had been stupid enough not to pick up one of the fallen troopers' weapons and your blaster was still jammed. Although, to be fair, it probably wouldn't have made much of a difference not only because of your lack of shooting skills but because they had better positioning. They had way more coverage than you did and so it was very hard to land a shot.
Carefully, you looked from behind the column, trying to find the closest blaster to you and grab it, when the dagger's gleam caught your eye. Damn, it was Din's dagger, you had to retrieve it. In fact, you could do more than just retrieve it. Concentrating every part of your mind on it, you managed to draw it from the trooper's body and slowly lift it before sending it flying towards the soldier standing closer, slitting his throat in a split second. Before the rest of the troopers behind the corner knew what was going on, you made the dagger fly from man to man and, by the time you were finished, they didn't know what had hit them.
"Drala…" Din muttered under his breath, his voice bemused, as the dagger came flying to your open hand. You made a mental note to ask him later what that meant.
"We have to get out of here." You said.
"Wait– what…? How did that–?" Mythrol started muttering, pointing at you and the troopers.
"Not the best time!" Greef snapped, silencing him.
"Come on! They've probably called for backup." Din said and you followed him after picking up one of the soldier's blasters.
Luck seemed to be on your side because you somehow managed to avoid any more troopers until you got to a big room where two Imps, dressed just like the scientist that had examined you long ago right there on Nevarro, were working on a control panel. The moment they saw you, one of them started to shoot at the control panel – seemingly trying to make it impossible to access the data inside – while the other covered him. It didn't do much though, for Din and the others easily managed to take them out.
As you walked into the room you stumbled upon something you were certainly not expecting: big tanks, filled with a bluish liquid, containing beings that looked to be dead. They didn't just look dead but terribly malformed too.
"I thought you said this was a forward operating base." Cara told Greef.
"I thought it was."
"No, this isn’t a military operation. This is a lab." She stated. "We need to get into the system and figure out what’s going on."
While Mythrol accessed the data using the code cylinder he had taken from an Imp earlier, you got closer to the tanks. There was something eerie going on and the hairs on the back of your neck prickled as you felt a strangely familiar feeling coming from them, something that was pulling from you, reaching out to you.
"I don’t like this." Din said worriedly looking at your disconcerted expression. You were about to tell him what you were feeling, when you heard a voice right behind you and you turned around to see a hologram message from the scientist you had met on Nevarro so long ago. Dr. Pershing if you remembered correctly.
"...replicated the results of the subsequent trials, which also resulted in catastrophic failure. There were promising effects for an entire fortnight, but then, sadly, the body rejected the blood. I highly doubt we’ll find a donor with a higher M-count, though. I recommend that we suspend all experimentation. I fear that the volunteer will meet the same regrettable fate if we proceed with the transfusion." You got closer to the hologram, a nasty feeling in the pit of your stomach as he went on.
"Unfortunately, we have exhausted our initial supply of blood. The girl is small and was pretty malnourished so I was only able to harvest a limited amount without killing her. If these experiments are to continue as requested, we would again require access to the donor. I will not disappoint you again, Moff Gideon."
That was it! That was the pull you could feel coming from these things. Your blood, a part of you, was still inside them. That's why the feeling was so familiar, you could feel yourself in them. But… how could that possibly be? They were dead, weren't they? None of it made any sense and the feeling was starting to become unsettling and disturbing, when more troopers stormed into the room shooting at you.
"We have to go!" Din said as he shot at them, giving you cover.
You hid behind a column and shot at them, hitting one while the others took care of the rest.
"We need to get out of here." Din told Cara, gesturing at the two of you.
"Jet back, you’re faster that way." She told him as you headed to the door behind you. "We’ll head to the speeder and meet you in town. Anything happens, use the comms."
Once in the corridor you parted ways. Cara, Greef, and Mythrol turned left, heading to the hangar while you and Din went right, trying to retrace your steps back to the heat shaft which had an opening at the top.
As you rushed there, more troopers appeared from everywhere. Din was doing all the heavy lifting, taking care of most of them while you mostly took cover and shot at them as well as you could. That's when some more troopers appeared from behind you and you had to change your positioning to avoid getting shot. You were starting to realise that you were surrounded and that they had managed to separate you from Din quite a bit, when one of the corridor's doors slid down right between the two of you.
"No! Din!"
"Din!"
You kept screaming his name but couldn't hear anything coming from the other side of the door and when you tried to move closer, the troopers that remained on your side started shooting at you. That's when you remembered the comlink Cara had given you and tuned it into his channel but you still didn't get an answer from him. You could sense he was still there, feeling quite distressed but alive anyways.
The troopers on your side of the corridor were slowly closing in and there was no way you could shoot them down by yourself – plus, your worry for Din wasn't helping with your concentration. You tried peeking out from your hiding spot to get a better view of what you were fighting against, when they almost blew your head out. Kriff! You clearly couldn't win in a firefight, what were you supposed to do?
"Lay down your weapon and come out with your hands up in the air!" One of the troopers shouted at you.
'What the…?' You muttered under your breath. Your heart was racing and you didn't know what to do but you knew for a fact that you weren't about to surrender! There had to be another option, right? Your aim was shit, you knew that and, in fact, you were only good at close combat. If only they got a little bit closer...
"Ok!" You shouted back as you left the blaster on the floor and kicked it towards them. "I surrender, I'm unarmed!" You added, showing them your hands before finally coming out from your hiding place.
As soon as they were sure you were unarmed, they lowered their weapons a bit and approached you, one of them completely putting away his blaster as he pulled out a pair of handcuffs. Now you could see there were only four of them, so fighting them should be easy.
When the one with the handcuffs grabbed your wrist, you pulled Din's dagger out of your sleeve and plunged it under his helmet while, with your other hand, you summoned your blaster and shot a second trooper at point-blank range – it would have been hard to miss at that distance, even for you. Before the other two had time to react, you shot down the closest one and threw the dagger at the one standing farther from you. It was quite hard to believe that your aim at throwing things was so accurate yet so bad when it came to shooting.
"Din!" You tried the comlink again while you recovered the dagger and went back to the door, trying to find a way to get it open. "Din, do you copy? Are you there?"
"I'm here." He said after a whole minute and you noticed he sounded out of breath. Still, you sighed relieved. "I can't go back. Join the others at the hangar, I'll meet you there."
"What? No! I'll go help you–"
"It's ok. I can manage, I'm trying to find another way out. I'll meet you in the hangar." He said hurriedly and you weren't too sure that he was telling you the whole truth because you could feel his uneasiness. Yet, you chose to trust in him.
"Ok. Meet you there." You said as you started to retrace your steps to the hangar.
Finding your way back wasn't hard, all you had to do was follow the trail of fallen troopers. You were almost there when you heard shots being fired and, the moment you turned the corner, you bumped into Cara who almost shot you.
"What are you doing here?" She asked, alarmed.
"Where's Mando?" Greef added.
"We got separated, he told me to head back and he'll join us h–"
You were cut off mid-sentence as a voice came through the comlink but this time it wasn't Din's.
"...will it take your little friend to come back for you?" Your blood ran cold when you heard Moff Gideon's voice.
"She won't." Din's voice answered back.
"Well, it's only a matter of time until I get my hands on her, or do you think this was just a coincidence?" Moff Gideon gloated. "I must admit I expected you to come back to Nevarro sooner… I was beginning to lose hope that this would be the case when I was informed that you had landed here. As you can see Mandalorian, I am a patient man. I'm in no hurry to get my hands on her and, in the meantime, I'm going to make sure that my plans are not thwarted by you ever again. I'll strip you for parts and I think I'll start by taking off that precious helmet of yours–."
The communication was cut off at that precise moment but it was irrelevant to you since you were already running on your way back to Din, Cara and Greef's calls and warnings having long been left behind. Your whole focus was Din. You could feel he was worried in a way that resembled too closely to how he had felt in Concord Dawn when Paz Vizsla had grabbed him by the helmet. That could only mean he was in a similar situation and, for things to have gone so awry, so fast, he must have been extremely outnumbered.
If that was the case, what could you really do? What were your chances against those who had managed to defeat Din when all you had with you was a blaster and a dagger? You needed a plan, you couldn't just burst in there hoping things would work out for you. But you didn't have time to think of a plan because you had to stop them from taking Din's helmet off, that was the most urgent matter at the moment.
As you turned around a corner you ran right into a stormtrooper, almost knocking him back. Luckily, he was as shocked by this as you were and his reaction was slower than yours. You pushed him away with your mind, taking two more troopers along with him and knocking them all out. That was it! You had your powers! As Din had once mentioned, you were always restrained in order to control them and avoid using them by accident, which meant you had to concentrate whenever you wanted to use them. Well, this seemed like the perfect time to unleash them.
Still running, you focused on stopping all the unconscious little things that, at this point, were ingrained in your behaviour to keep your abilities restrained and under control. It was like turning off the buttons on a control panel and, with each one of them, you could feel the energy surrounding you more strongly and your range increasing. You could also feel Din much better; he was still very distressed and overwhelmed which – you hoped – meant he still had his helmet on.
It looked like you were almost there since you could feel he was close, when you got to a corridor where two troopers were standing guard in front of a door. You had managed to avoid running into any more soldiers up to that moment – whether it was by sheer luck or because they wanted you to go there, you didn't care – and you knew Din was right on the other side. You stepped out in front of them and, the moment the thought materialised in your head, the troopers shot up towards the ceiling, hitting it hard, and then fell down heavily against the floor. Kriff, that had been so easy and had felt amazing.
There were more people on the other side of the door aside from Din and Moff Gideon, but it was still hard to tell how many – all troopers seemed to feel and behave the same way, so it was hard to tell them apart – all you could do was go in and check for yourself. Readying your blaster, you opened the door.
You found yourself standing on the threshold of a diaphanous room and all your eyes could see were stormtroopers who had just turned to face you, their blasters aimed at you. Without even having to focus on it, you crashed six or so troopers that were standing in front of you up against the ceiling – after all, you needed a clearer view of the room – and then threw them to the side.
"Hold your fire!" Moff Gideon ordered the rest.
That's when you finally found Din. He was in the middle of the room, down on his knees, and handcuffed. They had taken away his weapons, explosive charges, and even his wrist gauntlets. Standing in front of him was Moff Gideon, who had a condescending smile on his face, and Din's comlink in his hand. In addition, the room was filled with stormtroopers to the brim, probably more than thirty, all of them pointing their blasters at you.
"You were sayin' Mandalorian?" Moff Gideon gloated with a note of self-satisfaction in his voice.
"No! What are you doing here? Get ou–" Din was saying when a trooper silenced him, hitting him with the butt of his blaster. As Din grunted in pain, the trooper was thrown backwards by an invisible force.
"Hold it!" Moff Gideon reminded the rest of the troopers. "I knew you'd come sooner or later but I must admit I didn't expect it to be so soon and… so alone." He then said to you, smiling widely.
"Let him go or–"
"Or what?" He interrupted you and you glowered at him. "Oh yes! You've knocked out a few of my men. Let's assume for the sake of argument, that you could manage to do that to… ten at a time? And we both know that'd be a stretch." He continued, a wicked smile on his face. "You'd be dead before you could take a step closer to this pathetic excuse of a Mandalorian…" He said looking down at Din whose anger was mixing with the worry that Moff Gideon's words were causing him. "...or before you could do anything to me. Let's face it, you're not getting out of this room."
He was right. You knew he was. Kriff, you had rushed there without thinking things through, assuming there wouldn't be so many troopers, assuming you'd be able to help, assuming things would work out just fine. Instead, you had stepped into the lion's den, all on your own accord, and made things worse.
Your brain was racing, trying to work something out, until you reached the same conclusion Moff Gideon had already explained. You had nowhere to hide in the room, the number of soldiers was overwhelming and, even if you managed to take a few out, you'd be turned into a colander before you could do anything else. If you did what you wanted to do – choke Moff Gideon to death – you'd be shot down before finishing him off. The only viable option would be shooting him but you'd end up dead anyway and there was a high chance you'd miss your shot. You had fucked up and there was no way out of it.
Unless…
"Take me." You told him, lowering your weapon. "Release him unharmed, helmet unremoved, and I'm yours."
"What? No! Get out of here now!" Din shouted before he was silenced again, this time by Moff Gideon. You had to restrain yourself not to attack him since the whole purpose of coming here was to free Din, not get both of you killed.
"What makes you believe that I am so stupid as to trust your word?"
"Stupid? No. Pragmatic." You told him, trying to act as calm and composed as he was. As if you really knew what you were doing. "You want my blood – as much of it as possible – so you need me alive. The way I see it, you have two options."
You made a small pause to let that sink in before you went on.
"You either don't do as I ask and I'll try to free him. We'll fight our way out and probably die in a hail of gunfire." You shrugged. "Who knows how many of these soldiers will die and rest assured that the first thing I'll do will be shooting you." You added glaring at him. "Given that you survive… How much blood does a human have? Five litres?" You said, acting as if you were truly deliberating about it. "I'm quite short so probably less… Or, you can release him and trust I keep my word. If I don't and try to fight my way out, I'll be on my own. More likely for you to capture me alive."
He looked back at you with a wolfish expression on his face. He didn't say anything for a long moment and you could feel the tension in the room. Din had spent all that time silently struggling with his handcuffs to no avail and he was getting extremely anxious and worried. Finally, Moff Gideon smiled widely.
"Alright. Escort the Mandalorian out. You heard our guest: unharmed, helmet unremoved."
"What? No, no! Stop!" Din growled, trying to shake off the troopers that were lifting him up on his feet and dragging him out. When he reached you, he struggled harder, managing to slow them down, and turned to you. "Stop this! It's not worth it, you need to get ou–"
"This is the way." You interrupted him, looking straight into the glass slit on his helmet. As you said so he stopped fighting, overcome by a sense of defeat and a feeling of disappointment and failure. The troopers dragged him out of the room and the door closed behind them.
Now, you could only hope that he would understand this was, in fact, the only way. At least the only one you had managed to think that ensured both his safety and the uphold of his Creed. As you had pointed out, Moff Gideon wanted you alive, so you'd be safe with him. And you knew Din would come back for you, he would find you and take you home.
"Your weapons, please." Moff Gideon said, getting a step closer to you with his hand out.
"When I'm sure he's been released." You demanded defiantly.
"Of course." He added with a smile, waving his hand to the windows on your left.
Cautiously and without lowering your weapons, you approached the window. From there you could see the opposite side of the base to the one you had entered. After a few minutes of nothing happening you started to get fidgety. What if they had taken Din somewhere else and now you had no way out? But that didn't check out because you could still feel Din, and his emotions hadn't changed or wavered: he was still overcome by defeat and disappointment.
That's when you saw him out of the corner of your eye, being tossed out of the base and down a ramp. The troopers were all pointing their blasters at him while one of them was throwing his belongings away from him – probably to prevent him from fighting back.
"The Mandalorian's been released Moff Gideon." You heard a trooper through a comm.
"See?" He said looking at you and getting closer. "I'm a man of my word."
With a last look at Din, you turned around and put down your weapons on Moff Gideon's extended hands.
"Good." He said handing them to the closest trooper. Then, he gestured something to the one standing behind you and, as you were about to turn around, something touched your neck and the whole world seemed to shut off.
All of a sudden you stopped being able to feel the energy surrounding you and you felt weak and nauseous. You reached to your neck with your hands and you felt the unmistakable touch of the collar around it.
"Disgusting how the rest of us feel all the time, huh?" Moff Gideon said to you mockingly, then he took his comlink out. "Finish the Mandalorian."
"What? No!" You shouted at him as a stormtrooper grabbed you. "You made a promise, you just said you are a man of your wor–"
"I AM a man of my word! I released him unharmed, helmet unremoved, didn't I?" He interrupted you, all trace of humour gone. "Now, it's a different story. Release her," he said to the trooper holding you. "she's not a threat anymore."
You got closer to the window to see Din barely managing to get shelter behind a rock, blaster shots bouncing back on his armour. His weapons were still on the ground, where the troopers had thrown them, and they were getting closer to his hiding place, when a Marauder Cruiser – the same one Mythrol had spotted on your way into the base – appeared out of nowhere, blocking their shots. You saw Cara and a man you didn't know dressed all in black getting out of the Cruiser to help Din. Then, someone started shooting all the troopers down.
"They have a sniper! Get cover!" A trooper said through the comms.
"Get out there and finish them off!" Moff Gideon angrily ordered the remaining troopers. "I want that Mandalorian dead. I don't care what you have to do, kill him!"
Hope and joy filled you. Din was not only safe but also had reinforcements – although you had no idea who the man in black or the unseen sniper were, not that it mattered as long as they were allies – and at this rate they'd take care of the troopers in no time. You looked triumphantly at Moff Gideon but found him with quite a calm expression on his face, not at all as distressed as you had expected given the situation.
"Don't look so happy." He said condescendingly while grabbing your arm and pulling you away from the window. "Soldiers are expendable and by the time your friends make it here, we'll be long gone."
"Let go of me!" You yelled, struggling and trying to make him release his grip on you.
"Enough!" He snapped, grabbing you by both arms with unexpected force and shaking you violently, his fingers squeezing you so hard you knew you were bruising already. "I've told you before girl, I act on my own self-interest and I don't give a damn about your well-being! Do as I say or you'll suffer the consequences." He added in a soft yet terrifying tone that sent a chill down your spine. "Now, MOVE!"
He pushed you forward, making you almost fall down when a trooper grabbed you, handcuffed your hands behind your back, and along with another one, dragged you away – your feet barely touching the ground – while Moff Gideon followed right behind you. He was giving orders to the rest of the soldiers, looking calm and collected as if there was no imminent danger, as if the base wasn't about to blow up or they weren't being attacked. Without your powers you couldn't tell if he was truly feeling that confident or if it was just a façade.
"Follow us with the Tie Fighters, I don't want any setbacks."
As you processed that sentence and what it implied, a door slid open and you found yourself inside a docking bay and in front of an Imperial shuttle. You fought against the troopers who were dragging you inside the shuttle to no avail as they forced you to sit down and fastened you to the seat.
"Don't make me repeat myself." Moff Gideon warned you as he entered the shuttle and sat down in the seat in front of yours.
The Imperial officers who had ignored you until then all saluted him and, as he gave the order, the ship took off. As much as you fought against your restraints there was nothing you could do to free yourself and the ship was slowly gaining altitude. You knew that as soon as you were outside the planet's atmosphere you would be able to make the jump to hyperspace and there would be no way for Din to find you, but you couldn't think of anything to do to stop that from happening.
You felt useless without your powers and despair filled you as your eyes welled up with tears of frustration and anger. How could this have happened? Just a few hours ago you were alone in a room with Din, peacefully enjoying each other. Now, all of that seemed so far away. Kriff! This was supposed to be an easy thing, an empty base, in and out. How had it come to this?
"We're being followed, Sir." The pilot informed calmly.
"Follow the planned course and jump to hyperspace as soon as you can. The Ties will take care of them."
From where you were seated it was hard to see much, but you managed to catch a few glimpses of blasters being fired. Was Din following you? If he had managed to get his jetpack back, he could have made it back to the Crest and catch up with you. That thought lit a little spark of hope in your chest.
As you craned your neck in an attempt to see something more through the window, one of the Tie Fighters flew past you – missing you by a hair's breadth – with smoke coming out of it while it spun out of control.
"Stay on course." Moff Gideon ordered when the ship jolted as if you had been hit.
The only way to stop the shuttle without killing you all would be damaging it enough so it couldn't make the jump to hyperspace but, unlike the Tie Fighters, the shuttle had built in shields and it would take a big amount of firepower to damage it. Unfortunately for you, the other Tie Fighters seemed to be keeping up against the attacker because you had only been hit twice more when the pilot announced that you were almost ready to make the jump.
Closing your eyes, you wished for the shuttle to be hit at least once more, hard enough to send you off course but as much as you wished for it and even braced yourself for impact, it never came and you made the jump to hyperspace smoothly. Dread washed over you when you opened your eyes and saw the bright light of the hyperspace lane through the window and realised that was it. You could be on your way to anywhere in the galaxy and you'll probably never see Din again.
"Why the long face? Is any of this not living up to your expectations?" Moff Gideon said standing in front of you, his hand on your chin lifting your head to make you look up to him.
His expression was arrogant as he looked down on you when something seemed to catch his attention and he moved his hand down to your neck. You recoiled in disgust as much as you could while his arrogant expression became mixed with triumph and a mocking smile appeared in his face.
"I was wondering why you would give yourself up in exchange for that useless Mandalorian…" He snickered and you realised what had caught his attention: the love bite on your neck that you had been so proud of just a few hours ago.
"Why do you care?" You grumbled.
"Curiosity is, I'd say, my only flaw. Hence why you're here and not dead like the rest of your kind." He sneered. "So, tell me… why would you surrender yourself for a good for nothi–"
"Shut up." You hissed, triggered by his taunting and he laughed at you, enjoying how he was getting under your skin.
"Come on, don't tell me you did it for love." He almost spat the last word, the mocking smile on his face widening. "How sweet… and stupid."
"What do you know?" You hissed yet again, anger rising and making your cheeks flare.
"I know that only a foolish little girl would believe something as fleeting as love is worth losing everything for." He said cruelly. "Do you think he would have done the same? By the time you arrived he was about to give you up just to save his neck. Are you so naive as to think he would choose you over his Creed?"
You didn't answer, worried your voice might break and he would get the satisfaction of knowing how much his words were affecting you. Instead, you clenched your jaw and did all you could to ignore him and keep an expressionless face. He laughed loudly at your lack of response and bent down so his face was at the same level as yours.
"Get this inside your head before you get your hopes up girl: he's a man. It's more likely he'd cheat his Creed to fuck you than to save your life. In fact, that's exactly what he's done, isn't it?" He laughed coldly, brushing your neck with his hand, right where the love bite was. "The best thing you can do is to accept that he won't sweep the galaxy searching for you. Now, you're nothing but a lab rat, welcome to your new life."
He stood up, straight and tall, looking down on you for a second while smiling broadly before turning around and starting to give orders to his crew. Meanwhile, you tried your best to keep a deadpan expression although his words had done more damage than you had expected.
Not that you didn't trust Din or that you believed he would have given you away to save himself, you knew that wasn't true. What was true though was the last part, that you had to accept this was the end of it. Even if Din roamed the galaxy in search of you, what were the chances he would actually find you? You knew the answer, you knew that Moff Gideon was right. Well, at least you had enjoyed a bit over a year of freedom and happiness in your whole life. That's more than what many could say, right?
The crew ignored your presence completely not talking nor addressing you, although they gave you furtive looks, probably curious about why Moff Gideon would go through so much trouble just to capture someone like you. You sat there, head high and staring back defiantly to anyone who looked your way. Not an hour had passed when the shuttle exited the hyperspace right in front of an Imperial cruiser.
"Take her straight to the lab." Moff Gideon told the troopers as soon as you landed.
The moment the shuttle's ramp was down, the same troopers that had dragged you inside it earlier were now dragging you out of it. You left Moff Gideon behind as you were hauled through corridor after corridor, until you reached a big white room filled with people dressed in what you now knew were Imperial scientist uniforms.
Inside the room were three empty operating tables, many different control panels and displays that you didn't understand, as well as a round droid like the one that had inserted a syringe in your arm so long ago on Nevarro.
"Is that Moff Gideon's prisoner?" One of the scientists asked the troopers.
"Yes. Where do you want her?" One of the troopers answered and the scientist gestured to one of the operating tables.
They pushed you toward it and, before taking off your handcuffs one of the troopers took out his blaster and rested it right under your collar bone.
"Try anything and I'll shoot." He warned.
"Don't worry, I won't give you the pleasure." You retorted, acting more confident than how you actually felt.
The other trooper removed the handcuffs and the one with the blaster pushed you back so you would get on the operating table. Not having much of an option you did so and, as soon as you laid down, metal restrains closed around your wrists and ankles.
"She's all yours." One of the troopers said.
"If she gives you any trouble let us know." The other one added.
You laid there for about a minute without anything happening. The scientists were looking at you from afar and whispering between themselves, as if they were afraid of getting too close to you.
"That's enough." The man who had talked earlier with the troopers said. "Let's get to work."
Instantly everyone was on the move. A couple of them got to you and sticked some kind of wires to your torso while others looked at the displays or worked on the control panels. They were talking to each other as if you weren't there, at first checking their data or sharing your vitals and so on, but soon they started saying things like "she looks healthy" or "I expected her to be taller". You were about to call them out on it when one inserted a syringe in your arm and started to draw blood from you.
"Sorry." He muttered when you flinched at the sting of the needle.
Surprised by that unexpected display of compassion, you started to look at them more closely. You weren't exactly good at reading people or their expressions because you were used to relying on your innate ability to feel their moods and emotions but, now that you were paying more attention, you realised that many of them didn't look exactly thrilled to be there. That's when Moff Gideon entered the room and they all stiffened, fear obvious on their faces. Somehow, you had a feeling these people wanted to be there as much as you did.
"How is it going?" He asked to the man who had been drawing your blood.
"She looks healthy and strong." He said. "We should be able to get more samples from her."
"How much?"
"Well, we can only draw two litres of blood at the most." He explained, fidgeting slightly. "Any more than that and we'll be killing her."
"Good. When will you be able to draw more?"
"Uh…W-well" The man stammered nervously, clearing his throat while he seemed to think how to answer. "The… the white blood cells recover in about twelve hours and the platelets take up to three days b-but the red blood cells take longer…" He hesitated, his voice becoming lower and lower as he went on. "They can take up to two months, so…"
"I don't care about any of that. I only care about the M-count!" Moff Gideon snapped.
"Yes, yes, of course. The thing is… we don't know how long it takes for the Midi-chlorians to recover–"
"Well, then you better find out." He cut the scientist off in a menacing tone.
"Yes, Moff Gideon, we will."
"Now, regarding Doctor Pershing's hypothesis that a higher M-count might be found in the spinal cord fluid." Moff Gideon said as he approached you. "I want you to take some samples. Let's see if he's right."
"S-sure. As soon as we sedate her, we'll get to i–"
"No. She's a strong one." Moff Gideon interrupted yet again, smiling this time although the smile didn't reach his eyes. "I'm sure she can deal with it without sedation."
"The problem's, Sir, that she needs to turn on her side for it, which means undoing her bindings…"
"Can't you do it with her like this?"
"Erm… we could, yes, but it's more complicated. We could hit some nerves and it'll be more painful."
"Good. Get to it then." He finished, giving you a cruel look.
Although you had wanted to throw a few snappy remarks at him, you had been feeling weaker and weaker as the conversation had dragged on while your blood was being drawn. Now, you were glad you hadn't said anything because it was clear you needn't give him any more reason to hurt you. You had no idea how the spinal cord fluid was drawn but fear started to settle in you when you saw Moff Gideon's smile growing wider and you started to realise it was probably going to be painful.
Well, painful was an understatement.
The process implied the insertion of an absurdly large syringe in between your vertebrae and, since you were lying on your back, they kept doing it wrong. Every time they failed, an excruciatingly painful jolt ran through your whole body, making you spasm in agony. You couldn't control the cries of pain that escaped your mouth as much as you wanted to, even if it was just to wipe away the look of satisfaction from Moff Gideon's face.
Finally, they managed to do it right and you lay there, exhausted, and weak, feeling the tears running down your face as you thought about how much you missed being in Din's arms.
Well, at least he was safe.
"I can't do it, okay? We have to abort. I'm sorry." Mayfeld was saying and he could see the terror in his eyes but leaving wasn't an option, not when he was so close to finding out where they were keeping her.
"No. I can't. If we don't get those coordinates, I'll lose her forever." Din said, stopping Mayfeld from leaving. "Give me the data stick."
"It's not gonna work. In order to access the network, the terminal has to scan your face. Let's go."
"Give it to me." He said, taking the stick from him.
What in the blazes was he doing? He was in a room – worse, a whole base – full of Imps that would kill him without a second thought, not wearing his armour, and about to try and get intel from a machine that required a facial scan.
He hadn't thought things through, clearly. But how could have he thought straight about this when all that was in his head was her? Where was she? Would she be fine? Was she lonely? Were they hurting her? Dank farrik! He needed to think and to do it fast because he was already in front of the machine. Maybe it didn't require a facial scan for everything.
"Error, error. Facial scan incomplete. Ten seconds to system shutdown."
'Good job, now what Din?' He thought.
Time seemed to slow down as he tried to figure out what to do. 10 seconds and the system would shut down and he would have blown the only chance he had at finding her. What was he going to do given that he managed to get out of there alive? Sweep the galaxy searching for her? Yes, he would, but what were the chances of success?
9 seconds
He couldn't take his helmet off, it was against his Creed, he couldn't do it. Yet, he had already done it, hadn't he? That wasn't his helmet. As Mayfeld had pointed out when he had changed his armour for a trooper's suit, his rules started to change when he got desperate and now, he was extremely desperate.
But to be fair, he was well aware his rules had been changing for a while now and he couldn't even use being desperate as an excuse.
8 seconds
It had been a stretch to let IG-11 remove his helmet in Nevarro, he had easily accepted the droid's logic that the Creed stated he couldn't remove his helmet in front of another living being and, since the droid was not living, it wasn't against his Way.
Or so he had convinced himself.
He had too easily convinced himself that he had remained true to his creed and felt no remorse about it. One droid did not qualify as breaking the rules, only bending them slightly.
7 seconds
Honestly, who could have blamed him after seeing her like that, crying her eyes out at the idea of him dying. The way the tears had fallen from her eyes, leaving a clean trail on her dirty face, or how her brows had furrowed in sadness and pain when he told her to go on without him, or how she had leaned into his touch when he had tried to wipe those tears away.
She had even forced herself to speak just to let him know that she didn't want to leave him, to make him promise he would catch up to them… He couldn't have done nothing knowing that she would be broken by his death.
That's why he had yielded and it had been worth it.
6 seconds
Now, if that had been stretching his rules, taking off his helmet in front of her had been bending them completely to make them fit the way he wanted.
He had told himself that she was blindfolded so she couldn't see anything, that there was no other option since they were locked in the cockpit, and that it had been way too long since he had last eaten anything. A part of him knew it was wrong, the Way of the Mandalore stated "not to remove the helmet" and reducing that to "not letting anyone see your face" was only deluding himself.
5 seconds
Still, even though he knew it was wrong and that he shouldn't have done it, he had repeated it only a few hours later. And more than willingly.
It had been easy to shut the voice in his head telling him that he shouldn't have been able to kiss her nor run his lips through her body because he ought to be wearing his helmet. The same voice that warned him that it wasn't ok for her to be touching his face while trying to make out his features, because he must've been wearing his helmet.
It had been easy – too easy – because her touch made his heart flutter. Because that had been the best night of his entire life.
4 seconds
And now, if he didn't do this, that would be the only night of his whole life with her.
Still, going against his Creed wasn't an easy thing to do. After all, his Creed was the Way, it was all he knew and everything he had always believed in, it was what had made him the man he was today…
And it was also the sole reason she was being held captive. His damn Creed was the reason why he was there at this moment.
'Release him unharmed, helmet unremoved, and I'm yours.' Her voice echoed in his head. She understood how important his Creed was for him, so much so that she had sacrificed herself for it.
But she had misjudged him. His Creed had always been everything, yes, the most important thing in his life, until she had appeared. She couldn't know about the internal conflict he had suffered trying to decide which was more important nor that that conflict had been resolved the moment she had given herself up to prevent them from taking off his helmet.
She was undoubtedly the most important thing in the universe.
The Creed was his Way yet, she was his life.
3 seconds
He lifted his helmet.
"... two… Facial scan complete."
After they had managed to get as many samples from you as they had deemed appropriate, you had been taken to a prison cell where you had slept for who knew how long. You weren't sure how many days had passed since then but you guessed that a couple weeks at least. You had thought about keeping track of it by counting your meals but, just like when you had been in Arvala-7, the idea proved to be useless. On the bright side, here you were being fed more than normal albeit in quite small portions but it was better than on Arvala-7 where you would spend days without food. Yet, you didn't know if they were doing so to keep you from counting the days or if it was just so you would recover your energy quicker so they could perform more tests on you.
All you knew for sure was that the extraction of your spinal cord fluid didn't seem to have provided the expected results since you hadn't had to undergo the excruciating process yet again. Either that or they couldn't do it as often as they would like. Be that as it may, you were glad they weren't repeating it, not just because of how painful the process had been, but because afterwards you had spent hours – maybe even days as far as you knew – with a horrible headache and back pain.
Drawing your blood, on the other hand, didn't seem to be a problem as they had done it several times since your arrival on the Cruiser, the last one only a short while ago. Hence why you were lying on the cot, looking at your prison cell's ceiling while feeling tired and weak.
You were starting to drift off to sleep when the cell's door opened and you sat up with a start, dizzy from your sudden movement.
"How did you do it?!" Moff Gideon snarled as he entered the room and crossed it on two long strides, standing right in front of you.
"Do what exactly?" You replied annoyed, huffing at him.
You had been dragged from the cell to the lab on repeat since you had arrived at the ship, never been left alone if you weren't restrained or locked, so Moff Gideon bursting in like that while demanding an explanation for who knew what, made no sense at all. Normally, you would have realised that it wasn't the time to answer back in a bad way, but you were tired, developing a headache, and not in the best condition to take anyone else's mood into account.
All of a sudden, he grabbed your head, pulling it back from your hair and making you grunt in pain as he slammed it hard against the wall behind you.
"Don't play dumb." He hissed, putting his face right in front of yours, just inches away. "You know exactly what I'm talking about!"
"I- I don't, I have no idea–"
"ENOUGH!" He bellowed, throwing you across the room with unexpected strength. Your head hit the metal floor making your incipient headache increase tenfold. You tried to raise but felt the weight of his leg on your back, keeping you down.
"Don't take me for a fool girl or you'll regret it." He said in a low, menacing, voice. "How did you do it?"
"I don't know what you're talking about!" You snapped angrily, your face pressed against the cold metallic floor. "Wha–"
The rest of your sentence was lost in a cry of pain when he kicked you in the stomach, making all air leave your lungs abruptly. After a second or two, you managed to gasp for breath again, coughing loudly.
"I'm growing tired of your insolence, girl. Think you're protecting them by keeping silent?" He asked angrily.
"Bring her!" He ordered as he left the cell. Two troopers got in to grab you and this time they literally dragged you but, instead of taking you to the lab, they took you to the Cruiser's bridge. Once there they just let go of you, letting you collapse on the ground, barely strong enough to raise to your knees.
"Tell me how this happened or I will force it out of you." He snarled before making a sign to one of the Imperial officers.
Suddenly, a hologram message of Din's head popped up in the middle of the room.
"Moff Gideon. You have something I want." He said. "You may think you have some idea of what you are in possession of, but you do not. Soon, she will be back with me. She means more to me than you will ever know."
The message was cut off and Din's image disappeared but the smile that had formed on your face didn't. He had found you and he was coming for you. You knew that he would search for you, that he would do anything and everything to find you, but even you were surprised by how fast he had managed to do so.
The slap Moff Gideon gave you made you lose the fragile balance in which you were standing, falling sideways to the floor with a loud thud and biting your lip in the process. You tasted the blood in your mouth and felt it drip down to your chin yet, your smile didn't fade.
"Wipe that smile off your face before I smack it off, girl!" He said, raising his hand, ready to strike again. "Now, tell me how you got in contact with him and I might be forgiving."
"I told yo–" You started saying but another kick in the stomach cut you off.
"Think carefully about your next words…" He threatened, marking each and every word.
Laying down like that, gasping for air while your whole body ached, you were reminded of the beatings you sustained on Arvala-7 and what you had told Din not too long ago, that you had no idea that the human body could endure so much without breaking. Well, now you did know how much your body could endure and you were sure that nothing of what Moff Gideon could have in mind for you could be worse than what you had already gone through. At that realisation, you started laughing.
"He's gonna beat the crap out of you." You told Moff Gideon, looking him straight in the eye as you chuckled.
Naturally, this resulted in another kick coming from him, but it was worth it. He was about to hit you again when the head scientist entered the bridge, catching his attention.
"You asked to see me, Moff Gideon?"
"Yes." He said, looking down at you as if he was debating whether or not to keep hitting you. "I need you to take a look at the device, make sure it's working properly."
"On it, Sir."
The troopers grabbed you again and this time they took you to the lab, leaving you there as soon as they made sure you were properly restrained. The scientist, the same one that had drawn your blood on the first day, started looking at the device around your neck.
"No need to waste your time, it's not broken." You told him bitterly. "Works like a charm."
"I can see that, but I have to make sure or else..." He said under his breath, shaking his head slowly. "You shouldn't antagonise him like that, you don't know what he's capable of." He then warned you worriedly.
"I've met worse, trust me." You said and he looked at you with concern written in his features. "If you really want to help me, take this thing off of me."
"No… I– I can't. My family… if they…" He made a pause and took a deep breath. "I– I don't even know what it doe–"
"It doesn't matter!" You urged him in a hurried whisper. "Without it I can take them out, I can help you out of here."
"I'm sorry." He sighed. "Besides… you already contacted your friend. He'll be here soon."
"I didn't. I didn't contact him, he found me all by himself." You admitted proudly. "But by the time he gets here I don't think he will be able to do much for you…"
He was about to say something when Moff Gideon entered the room.
"Report." He ordered.
"The device is working properly, Moff Gideon. She also admitted she didn't contact the Mandalorian and I cannot figure out a way she could have done so witho–"
"I am well aware of that. It seems that your Mandalorian caused an explosion in a refinery on Morak." He said to you, ignoring the doctor. "Many good men have died there."
"Oh, really? He did?" You retorted, feeling a bit too cocky for your own good.
He fulminated you with his gaze, anger and disgust visible in his face.
"Whether he did or didn't doesn't matter. We'll be ready for his arrival, the least we can do is give him the welcome he deserves." He said with a cruel smile. "In the meantime," he added, turning now to the doctor, "take as many samples as you can of everything that could be of value. Have I made myself clear?"
"Yes, Sir."
With a last look of disgust directed to you, he left the lab. You were wondering what more samples could he want from you – they had drawn your blood not too long ago and you had barely rested since; you doubted they could do it again so soon – when the doctor asked the troopers to give him a hand. They released one of your hands and one of your legs and turned you to the side, one trooper holding you in place while the other pointed at you with his blaster.
"Try to curve your back as much as possible." The doctor told you. "It'll be easier that way."
You did as you were told while he grabbed that horribly big needle again. It was hard not to panic after what had happened the last time he had done so, but since this time Moff Gideon wasn’t there to oversee your torture, the doctor seemed to be making sure that the process went smoothly. No mistake, you still felt the prick of the needle and the whole thing was extremely unpleasant, but at least there was no pain. When he was finished, you were taken back to your cell and they left you there. As worried as you were about what Din might encounter when he arrived, you were so exhausted you practically passed out the moment you laid on your cot.
The blaring noise of an alarm woke you up. Your head hurt horribly and the high-pitched, piercing sound of the alarm wasn't helping. Suddenly, the door slid open and Moff Gideon entered the room, this time on his own.
"Looks like your Mandalorian friends are here." He said, and you could only think that he had said friends, in plural.
"So… you're hiding here with me?" You taunted.
"Careful girl." He hissed as he handcuffed you. "Need I remind you you're still wearing that thing? And I, on the other hand, have this."
As he said that, he took out what looked like the hilt of a sword that was missing the blade. You were about to make a remark about it when the blade emerged from the hilt, gleaming in black and white. You had never seen anything of the likes and by the way it seemed to resonate, as if it was ignited, it looked like some type of laser blade – although it was your first time seeing a black laser.
"Let's see what your Mandalorian can do against this." He said with a horrendous smile as he moved the blade to your face. You could feel the heat emanating from it.
Not five minutes had passed when the door opened again and this time, it was Din standing in the threshold. At the sight of him your heart fluttered and you couldn't help but give him a soft apologetic smile, relieved that he was there but also sorry for having dragged him into all this mess. After all, it had always been you the one they had wanted and he had had to go through all of this just because he chose to help you that day on Nevarro.
"Drop the blaster, slowly, and kick it over to me." Moff Gideon said, bringing the hot laser blade closer to your face.
"Touch her– harm her in any way and I'll kill you." Din threatened, livid with rage and not putting down his gun.
"The girl is fine where she is and no harm will come to her if you do what I say." Moff Gideon retorted, the blade so close to your face its heat was almost scorching you.
After a second, Din dropped his blaster and kicked it over towards Moff Gideon.
"Very nice." He said, moving the blade away from your face in a swinging motion. "Mesmerizing, isn’t it? Used to belong to Bo-Katan. Yes, I know you’ve been traveling with Bo-Katan. A friendly piece of advice, assume that I know everything. Like the fact that your wrist launcher has fired its one and only salvo."
"Where is this going?" Din asked impatient.
"This is where it’s going. I’m guessing that Bo-Katan and her boarding party have arrived at the bridge seeking me or, more accurately, this." He said, moving the blade yet again. "But I’m not there and I imagine they’ve killed everyone on the bridge, being the murderous savages that they are, and now they’re beginning to panic. You see, she wants this. Do you know why? Because it brings power. Whoever wields this sword… has the right to lay claim to the Mandalorian throne."
"You keep it." Din said instantly and without hesitation. "I just want her."
Moff Gideon chuckled, looking first at you and then at Din, a hint of wonder visible in his gaze, before switching off the blade.
"Very well. I already got what I want from her. Her blood. All I wanted was to study her blood. This girl is extremely gifted… and has been blessed with rare properties that have the potential to bring order back to the galaxy."
He made a pause as he looked at Din but you knew, by the way his helmet was slightly tilted to the side, that Din wasn't looking at him but at you.
"He's lying. Don't trust him." You signed, warning him. He, almost unnoticeably, nodded.
"I see your bond with her. Take her, BUT you will leave my ship immediately and we will go our separate ways." Moff Gideon bargained and, after Din agreed, he stepped aside.
Din crossed the room in two long strides and crouched down in front of you.
"He did that to you?" He whispered softly when he saw your bruised face and your cut lip. He was trying and failing to hide the rage that emanated from his voice. You nodded as he started to try and free you from your restraints when you saw Moff Gideon ignite the sword again.
"Watch out!" You warned Din as the blade swung through the air and crushed down on him. He put himself between you and the blade, the beskar stopping the impact and making the sword bounce back and away from him.
He stood up as Moff Gideon spun around and slashed through the air aiming at his head. Din barely managed to block the uninterrupted attacks with his wrist gauntlets but was forced to back up out to the corridor due to the strength with which Moff Gideon was hitting him. You could tell the man had no experience whatsoever in sword fighting but he was brandishing the blade with such brute force and rage that his lack of skill didn't really matter.
Once outside, Din succeeded in dodging a few of the attacks but he was unarmed. You grabbed the blaster from the floor and hurried to the corridor where both men were fighting. They kept exchanging blows, the clashing of blade and beskar reverberating in the metallic walls, only disturbed by the two men grunting and huffing from the effort. Although Din had no weapon to defend himself, his armour seemed enough to protect him and he was managing to land more than a few hits – making it even look like he had the upper hand at some point. That's when Moff Gideon cornered him between the blade and the wall.
All that separated Din's neck from the blade were his beskar gauntlets but, due to the continued contact with the laser sword, they were getting red hot. You still had the blaster in your hand but you didn't have a clear shot and you were worried you might hit Din. Then, you realised that he was covered in beskar so the likelihood that you would hurt him was almost non-existent. You aimed and took the shot, unsurprisingly missing, but the blaster hit a wall close to Moff Gideon's head which was enough to distract him. Din took the chance and hit him, managing, at last, to disarm him.
The sword flew away from Moff Gideon's hand and, the moment it hit the floor, it turned itself off. Finally having the upper hand, Din punched him in the stomach, making him lose his balance and forcing him to walk back and lean against the wall. Without a second's rest, Din hit him again, in the face this time, making him collapse to the floor.
Relieved, you leaned against the wall behind you as you watched Din stand over Moff Gideon and punch him over and over again. You didn't need your powers to realise that Din was blinded by rage and that, at this rate, he'd end up beating him to death. Nor to notice that Moff Had long lost consciousness. A part of you wanted so – for Din to finish him off – yet another couldn't help but think that it wasn't worth it, that you'd rather he stopped and came to you already.
Exhausted, you dropped the blaster as you slid down the wall to sit on the floor. The noise of it bouncing on the metallic floor caught Din's attention, making him look at you and snap out of the spiral of rage he was in. He stood still, his chest heaving while he lifted Moff Gideon by the neck of his shirt with one hand, the other in a fist, still raised, ready to strike again. Then, he let go of him – his body thudding against the floor – and walked up to you, grabbing the sword on the way.
"Hey." He whispered while kneeling in front of you. "You okay?"
You nodded as his gloved hand ghosted over your cheek and the cut on your lip before he began, once again, to uncuff you.
"You?" You asked and he nodded too. "I'm sorry. This is all my fault I shouldn't ha–"
"No." He interrupted. "I'm the one who's sorry. If it wasn't for my Creed…" He sighed loudly. "I'm sorry."
You looked at him and a feeling of unease flooded you as you looked at the emptiness of his helmet. You had never noticed how cold it was to look at a blank and emotionless piece of metal because you had always been able to feel Din underneath it. But now you couldn't.
You were unable to feel him, unable to know what was going on underneath his helmet, what he was thinking about, how he was feeling. It was like you were looking at someone you didn't know. In fact, for all you knew it might not even be him under the helmet and you'd have no way of knowing. How did the others do it? It was unsettling.
"Take this off, please." You pleaded, taking shaky shallow breaths and hardly being able to hold the tears that were threatening to fall from your eyes.
Of all the tortures you had experienced through your life, being so close to Din without being able to feel him was, hands down, the worst and most excruciating. He stayed still, as if he didn't understand what was making you feel so distressed but you couldn't know for sure if that was what he was thinking and that made it even worse.
"I can't feel you." You explained, your voice breaking as you stammered over your words. "I don't know what– I can't feel… like this… It's horrible. I hate it. Please."
"It's okay. Hey, it's okay, I got you." He reassured you as he started fiddling with the device.
It seemed to take him forever to take the collar off your neck – or maybe it just felt that way for you – but when he finally did, the first thing you felt was him. His distinctive energy hit you like a wave and washed over you, calming you almost instantly. You breathed in slowly, your eyes closed, trying to adjust to the change without sending a burst of energy that would blast away everything and everyone around you. Then, you opened your eyes and the beskar helmet that had been so unsettling to you just a moment ago, now filled you with peace.
Finally, you felt him. He was happy and relieved yet worried about you and also trying to control the boiling rage he was feeling towards Gideon. And you smiled at the sweet cacophony of mixed and contradictory feelings he always seemed to emanate.
"Thanks." You told him with a smile and felt his worry shrink.
"You sure you're okay?"
"Now I am." You reassured him, leaning forward, and resting your forehead on his helmet.
"How sweet…" Moff Gideon's voice said, ruining the moment. Unfortunately for you, he seemed to have regained consciousness. "Should I presume you’re sparing my life? Well, this should be interesting."
Din stood up and, with the same handcuffs he had just taken from you, restrained Moff Gideon. Then, he helped you up and ignited the sword, moving it close to the man's neck.
"You're only alive because I made a promise." Din told him. "Now, move."
The moment you arrived at the bridge you saw Bo-Katan as well as the other Mandalorian warrior, – the one who had saved you from drowning – Cara, and a woman with braided hair that you didn't know.
"What happened?" Bo-Katan asked. She was both surprised and worried.
"He brought him in alive, that’s what happened." Cara interceded, approaching you. "And now the New Republic’s gonna have to double the payment."
As she reached you, she gave you one of her bone-crushing, lungs-emptying hugs and you smiled at her.
"That’s not what she’s talking about." Moff Gideon said before turning to Bo-Katan. "Why don’t you kill him now and take it?" Cara got to him and pushed him down. "It’s yours now." He said, now looking at Din.
"What is?"
"The Darksaber. It belongs to you."
"Now… it belongs to her." Din said, approaching Bo-Katan and handing her the sword.
"She can’t take it. It must be won in battle. In order for her to wield the Darksaber again, she would need to defeat you in combat."
"I yield. It’s yours." Din insisted.
"Oh, no. It doesn’t work that way." Moff Gideon chuckled. "The Darksaber doesn’t have power. The story does. Without that blade, she’s a pretender to the throne."
"He’s right." Bo-Katan finally said.
Din got closer to her, trying to convince her to take the damn saber, when an alarm sounded.
"We’re being boarded." The woman you didn't know said.
"You’re about to face off with the dark troopers." Moff Gideon said with a smile. "You had your hands full with one. Let’s see how you do against a platoon."
"They’re headed this way." Bo-Katan said. "Seal the blast doors!"
The doors were sealed and you all readied your weapons. You weren't sure what these dark troopers were but, judging by the tension that filled the room and the uneasiness coming from Din, they weren't anything good. Suddenly, a loud pounding came from the doors, as if something was hitting them with tremendous force.
"You have an impressive fireteam protecting you." Moff Gideon said when the door, somehow, started to bend. What inhuman strength did those droids have to manage that? "But I think we all know, after a valiant stand, everyone in this room will be dead but me… and the girl."
"Take this." Din said, handing you the Darksaber.
"What? No, I… I can't." You stammered, looking at Bo-Katan who was feeling quite upset.
"It's his to do with as he sees fit." She finally said, calming down.
"I can't trust you with a gun." He stated bluntly, not caring for a second if that hurt your feelings. "I do with this, though."
Not sure about what to do, you looked at him, hesitating. The pounding on the door continued and you could see it bending further. They would be inside at any moment. You nodded, putting the blaster you had taken from a trooper away and taking the sword. The moment you ignited it, you felt a surge of energy coming from it and into you. It was like nothing you had ever felt before, like it was alive.
As far as you knew, the energy you could feel and manipulate surrounded you and emanated from living things, not objects. Yet, this one object was radiating as much energy as a person would. You looked at it, confused, and decided to focus on the energy flow, ignoring the loud thumping noises on the door, and trying to understand it, to connect with it. That's when you felt it. The current of power flowed through you but your energy flowed through it as well, mixing and joining each other as if the blade was becoming a part of you.
And suddenly you knew what you could accomplish with this weapon.
You moved towards the bent door while Din called you, urging you to go back to him, but you ignored him.
"Open the door." You said in a commanding tone unbecoming of you.
"What? Are you crazy?" Someone said but you weren't sure who, just that it wasn't Din.
"No." You told them, turning around. "Open the door. Trust me."
The room was silent for a moment, except for the banging on the door, while everyone looked at you. Then, Din nodded and moved to the control panel to press a button, opening the door in front of you. You smiled at him, glad that you could always count on him and that he always trusted you.
The droids weren't expecting this and didn't have their weapons at hand when you slashed them down with the sword. It was unbelievable how easily it cut through them, like a hot knife cutting butter. Seeing that you had been right in trusting your gut filled you with courage as you moved down the corridor smoothly cutting down the droids.
The space available was narrow so they didn't have enough room to manoeuvre which only made your job easier. The few that managed to ready their weapons were thrown up against the ceiling and you even crushed a few down with your powers. The sheer amount of energy flowing from the saber to you, coupled with the surge in confidence you had got from seeing how effective the sword was, made you feel like you were high and, before you knew it, you had taken out all your enemies.
You turned around to see Din, Cara, and the others standing on the door's threshold.
"Did you see that?" You asked Din. You could feel the pride emanating from him and you couldn't stop a wide smile from appearing on your face.
You walked the corridor back to the bridge, checking that all the droids were dead and, when you reached him, you turned the sword off. The energy rush that you had been feeling disappeared as you did so, and the exhaustion you had been feeling as well as the headache suddenly returned.
"Kandosii'la" Din whispered. "Are you okay?" He then asked worriedly, putting his hand on your waist to hold you the moment he saw you wavering slightly.
"Yes…" You looked down at the hilt, highly confused, and turned around to watch the mess of metal and wires you had made. "What is this?" You asked as Bo-Katan and Cara closed on you, their backs to the corridor.
"The Darksaber belonged to the only Mandalorian who was both a Mandalorian and a Jedi." Bo-Katan explained. "I guess that's the power it can have when wielded by a Jedi."
After looking at it once more, you held it out to Bo-Katan who, yet again, rejected it.
"It doesn't belong to me." She said solemnly, looking at Din.
You turned to face Din who was standing in front of you and, while shrugging slightly, handed the sword to him. He sighed loudly, frustrated about the unexpected development and was about to take it when a shot rang out in the room and his chest plate was splattered with blood.
"Blood?" You said, confused.
Time slowed down.
Each second seemed to stretch and last an eternity.
You looked up, from Din's blood-splattered chestplate to his helmet, confused and unable to understand how could have he been wounded and why was there blood on the outside of his armour.
He couldn't be hurt, right? He couldn't. You took a deep breath in a futile attempt to try and steady yourself. To try and not panic at the idea of Din being injured again. To try and stop the flood of images in your head from the last time he had been wounded, from when you almost lost him.
Searing pain spread from your chest throughout your body.
"Oh…" You muttered in understanding just before your body gave way and you began to fall backwards.
'Dank farrik!' You thought angrily as you fell. You couldn't die now, not when things seemed to be back onto the right track. Not now when you had Din, when you were finally happy.
It wasn't fair.
The Darksaber's hilt hit the floor with a loud clang that broke the silence, and time resumed its natural pace. Din's arms caught you just before you hit the floor and suddenly chaos reigned in the room. There was shouting and banging and a lot of noise, but you weren't able to process it all because you were drowning.
You tried to breath, feeling a sharp, stabbing pain in the chest as you did so. Tears started to stream down the sides of your face uncontrollably and there was nothing you could do to stop them. No air seemed to be reaching your lungs and the more you tried the worse, until you started coughing spasmodically and blood splashed everywhere. You were gasping for air, feeling the blood dripping from your mouth and splattering all around, but no oxygen seemed to be getting inside your lungs. It was just like when you had almost drowned but worse. A million times worse.
Din was holding you in his arms, bending over you and you clung to him, grabbing to whatever cloth you could find, as if your life depended on it, as if by grabbing him strongly enough you could somehow stop yourself from dying, stop yourself from parting from him.
His outline was blurred by the tears in your eyes, and his armour and helmet were tinged red by your blood. He was caressing your face while saying something, either to you or to Cara who was working on your wound, but you couldn't hear him. All you could hear was a gurgling noise in the back of your throat, the rapid beating of your heart pounding in your ears, and the wheezing and gasping sounds that your efforts to get some air into your lungs caused.
After some minutes that felt like a lifetime, the burning, piercing pain in your chest started to slowly fade to a dull, throbbing ache. Yet, breathing was still excruciatingly agonising and, although you noticed that it was steadily getting better and that you were somehow managing to get some air in, it still felt as if you were drowning. As if your head was under water, only if water was very thick and tasted like iron.
Luckily, whatever Cara had done was clearly working and it was doing so fast – although to you it felt like the improvement was extremely slow. The pain was there but had become just bearable and, little by little, you were managing to breathe in. You kept coughing blood, albeit not as much, and could still hear the gurgling sound at the back of your throat, although it had grown softer. Most importantly, you were breathing, even if you had to purposely take in fast and shallow breaths in order to avoid stirring up the pain in your chest.
"...managed to stop the bleeding but she needs the bacta." Cara was saying.
Bo-Katan, who was right behind her, said something to Cara that you didn't catch and the two women started talking in hurried whispers moving away from your range of vision. Where the other Mandalorian or the braided woman were, you had no idea.
"That's it." Din was telling you in a soft voice. "Slowly, breathe in slowly."
You looked at him trying hard not to cough as you took a shaky deeper breath that sent a flare of pain coursing through your chest.
"That's it. You're doing great." He kept saying encouragingly while you tried to steady your breathing, helped by whatever Cara had given you doing its job and numbing the pain.
While you waited for your body to gradually get used to the pain, you tried to focus on something other than it. That's when you realised that everyone was very worried, it was easy to notice because the feeling hung thick in the air, but Din wasn't just worried, he was terrified. In fact, it was the most scared you had ever felt him.
"H– hey…" You said to him softly, your breath hitching. "It's okay… I… I'm okay…"
Straining hard not to cough again, you smiled weakly at him as you moved your hand from where you had been gripping him to his helmet, caressing where his cheek would be and trying to wipe away the drops of blood that stained it, though you only managed to smear them and make more of a mess. He nodded once, as if he agreed with you, but you could still feel the fear emanating from him.
"I'm sorry… if we– if we hadn't crossed… paths… you…" You started saying, still taking shallow breaths that made it hard to talk.
You tried to swallow the lump that had formed in your throat at the idea of never having met Din, but you couldn't manage to go on. As much as it pained you, the only reason Din was feeling so devastated right now was you, if you hadn't met, he wouldn't be feeling like this.
"Stop. Don't apologise, why're you apologising?" His voice was low and sounded strained, as if he was trying to hold back tears. "I'm glad we did. The time we've been together's been the best of my life. Okay? I wouldn't change a thing. "
He meant it, you knew it so you nodded, but you weren't sure having met you was really worth any of the grief and pain he was going through right now and, if you didn't make it… the very thought of Din having to deal with your loss all by himself made your heart ache with pain.
"Hey…" Cara said softly while kneeling beside you again and examining your wound. "There's no bacta." She said quietly to Din, probably hoping you wouldn't hear.
"Then what are we gonna–"
"We have a bacta tank." Bo-Katan said standing behind Din. "We're about to make the jump and–"
"No, not anymore." Cara interrupted softly, disappointedly shaking her head from side to side. "She's lost too much blood, she wouldn't make it…"
Kriff ! You hated it when they talked as if you couldn't hear them. You wanted to say something to them but soon realised that it required too much effort and that you were tired, too tired. So tired in fact that you had begun to find it hard to follow their conversation and unintentionally started to drift off to sleep.
"I need you to stay awake, cyar'ika ." Din said to you, making you open your eyes startled.
You had almost no strength left and your body felt heavy and numb. Your head was resting all its weight on Din's arm and the hand you had brought to his helmet a moment ago, now laid languidly on his neck.
"Keep your eyes open, can you do that for me?"
"Y- yeah…"
"Good girl."
He was looking at you and softly caressing your cheek and, although you were trying your hardest to keep your promise and your eyes open, it was easy to start drifting off to sleep again.
"Hey, come on." He said, drawing your attention yet again. "Look at me, keep your eyes on me."
You nodded sluggishly and, although you were having a harder time focusing on his feelings, you were surprised by a sudden surge of aplomb and determination coming from him. Then, he stopped touching your face and raised his hand to the rim of his helmet, slowly lifting it.
"No…" You gasped, gathering all your strength to move your hand back to the helmet. "The Creed…"
"It's okay." He said calmly. "I'll manage that , but I need you to keep your eyes open."
And just like that he took off his helmet.
You found yourself staring at an unknown face that somehow looked strangely familiar to you. Perhaps it was because you had already felt his face with your hands and therefore you had had a rough idea of how he could look like, or maybe it was because you could still feel Din in him even if you were seeing someone you didn't know. Whatever it was, finally being able to see him filled you with joy because as much as you had tried before, you had been unable to really picture his face. You were so happy you couldn't stop a smile appearing in your face.
His hair, as you had figured, was wavy and dark brown – just like he had said – and he had some stubble on his cheeks and jaw as well as over his lip. His jaw was strong and he kept clenching it unconsciously which in turn made him press his lips together and that made you think how plump and kissable they looked. His eyes were dark brown like his hair, only a rich shade of brown that reminded you of chocolate yet, they were red and watery, as if he was trying hard to hold back the tears. Also, just like you had envisioned, his nose did in fact look like he had broken it before and his frown was marked by his constant frowning, something that he was doing at this precise moment.
"I… I was right." You said triumphantly while taking a shaky breath and moving your hand to his face to caress his cheek. He leant to your touch while looking confused at you. "You're handsome."
He chuckled softly as a tear finally broke free and slid down his face to your hand. Looking at him was fascinating even in the weakened state you were in. It was painfully obvious how used to wearing the helmet he was because his emotions were written all over his face. He was worried, sad, hurt, and scared and you didn't need your powers to see it – just as well, because you didn't have the strength to keep using them.
"I… like your eyes..." You told him weakly. "So pretty…"
You wanted to tell him more. You wanted to tell him that you understood how much it meant to him taking his helmet off and how much it meant to you that he had done so. You wanted to tell him that you knew why he had done so and that it would be fine, that he didn't need to worry, that you were going to be alright. Even if by this point you already knew all of that was a lie. Still, you couldn't manage to say much more because all you could do at this point was focusing on staying awake.
Cara approached him from behind and whispered something to him. He nodded and moved your hand from his cheek to his lips, kissing you on the palm.
"We have to move. Come on, hold onto me." He said.
With barely any strength left, you did as he had told you and grabbed to his neck as he lifted you in his arms. You had braced yourself for the pain but, the moment he moved you, it ripped through your chest and you let out a loud grunt.
"I'm sorry, I'm sorry." He muttered worriedly, his breath brushing against the top of your head.
He started to move out of the bridge and you realised you were shaking. You were feeling very cold all of a sudden which meant that either the corridor was a few many degrees colder than the bridge, or you were the problem. He carried you but you weren't sure where.
As you were leaving the bridge behind and walking over the dark troopers remains, you blinked. Suddenly you were in a very different corridor, you blinked again and you were entering an Imperial shuttle. Given that it was unlikely that Din had managed to learn how to teleport, your efforts to stay awake had proved futile as you had clearly been losing and regaining consciousness since you had left the command bridge.
Your eyes popped open again when you heard Din calling you. He was shaking you slightly and calling your name and, as you looked at him, you wondered when had you closed your eyes for you couldn't remember. The shuttle had taken off at some point because you could see the stars through the windshield, but Din wasn't the one piloting it. He was seated with you on his lap and holding you close to him, your head resting on his shoulder.
"You promised, remember? Eyes open." He whispered relieved when you looked at him. "I know you're tired cyar'ika but we're almost there, one last effort. Come on, talk to me."
"About what?" You asked weakly.
"Anything you want." He said, chuckling softly. "Just talk to me."
"I love you."
"I love you too mesh'la ."
"I… I never told you… I'm glad you found me…" You said smiling softly and slurring your words. "You've made me… happy… so… happy…"
"You make me happy too, but I need you to keep your eyes open."
"I'm sorry… I… I…"
You didn't manage to finish the sentence. You heard him calling you, over and over again, but as much as you tried to, you couldn't muster the strength to open your eyes again and instead you let darkness take you.
Fuck.
Fuck, fuck, FUCK!
This couldn't be happening!
He had been looking at her when the shot had rung out and her blood had splattered him. His eyes had found hers as they had filled with confusion and worry and he had seen the exact moment when realisation had hit her. Her mouth had parted and she had whispered a small "oh" before collapsing.
He had managed to catch her right before she had hit the floor but he had frozen up and hadn't known what to do. He had panicked and all he had managed had been putting pressure on the wound, hoping that way blood would stop flooding. He was supposed to be able to stay calm and collected under pressure, he had been trained for this yet, for the second time in his life, he was overcome by fear.
Thick, crimson-red blood slowly emanated from her wound and he could feel it flowing out in rapidly weakening pulses, in rhythm with the beating of her heart. It soon drenched his leather glove, seeping through the material and reaching his skin. He felt the blood moving under, over, and all around his hand, as warm as his own skin, encased within the leather and trying to leak out.
Meanwhile, Cara, or maybe it was Bo-Katan, – he wasn't exactly paying attention – had disarmed and knocked Moff Gideon out.
"Help… Help me." He heard the words coming out of his mouth and was surprised to find that he didn't recognise the voice that was uttering them. It was a wavering, scared, small voice, extremely different from how his own usually sounded.
His gaze was fixed on her fear-filled eyes brimming with tears. Dark blood was gushing from her mouth, smearing over her rapidly paling skin, as she tried to breathe to no avail. Within seconds she began to convulse and cough, making blood fly everywhere, and he remained paralysed, not knowing what to do.
"I have a couple of medpacs." Cara said, kneeling beside them and moving his hand away from her wound so she could work on it. Thank the universe she had remained calm and knew what to do. "I could use more, though."
As she said that the other women handed her the medpacs they had.
"This is supposed to be a lab isn't it?" Fennec said. "There must be some bacta on board!"
"Go to the lab and look for it. Hurry!" Bo-Katan commanded her and Reeves, who ran out of the bridge.
His eyes were still on hers while she clung to him as if her life depended on it.
"It's ok, it's ok." He whispered to her while caressing her cheek, not sure about who he was trying to convince, her or himself.
"She's losing too much blood."
"Can't you at least stop the bleeding?"
"I'm trying but her lung has collapsed and medpacs don't work as fast as bacta, if she keeps bleeding like this…" Cara said, shaking her head.
"We can treat her at our home base, I can set the course there." Bo-Katan said. "I don't think they'll be too happy when I show up with non-Mandalorians but I can't think of anything else…"
"Do it, but wait until they come back. If there's bacta here we can save us all the trip." He told her, forcing himself to regain his cool. If he could, he would rather avoid what would most likely be an unpleasant trip for all.
"Raise her up a bit," Cara told him "it'll make it easier for her to breathe."
He did as instructed, his eyes not leaving hers for a moment even if she couldn't see it. The stench of blood was so strong it had saturated his helmet's enviro filter to the point where even his mouth tasted metallic. But he chose not to think about it, he couldn't. Not now.
It looked like the medpacs were slowly but surely doing their job and she started to breathe a little easier, coughing less and less blood with every exhale of air.
"I've more or less managed to stop the bleeding but she needs the bacta." Cara sighed loudly. "She's lost way too much blood, where exactly is your base located?"
"Can't tell you the exact coordinates but I already punched them on the control panel. If we get going now we should be there in a few hours."
"A few hours?!" Cara exclaimed loudly. Then, she got on her feet and moved Bo-Katan away, lowering her voice, probably so he couldn't hear them. He didn't care. Trying to ignore them, he bent closer to the girl whose eyes were still fixed on his visor as she took small shallow breaths.
"That's it. Slowly, breathe in slowly." He told her as he kept softly caressing her cheek. "That's it. You're doing great."
He was trying his best not to let the panic he was feeling carry over into his voice and hoped that his helmet modulator would mask what he couldn't manage to hide. He had to remain calm for her. Holding back the tears was easier if he didn't allow himself to think about the possible outcome of the situation.
Nonetheless, his efforts were in vain since, as always, she seemed to know perfectly well what he was trying so hard to hide.
"H– hey…" She said to him, her voice barely stronger than a whisper. "It's okay… I… I'm okay…"
She gave him a weak tremulous smile as she moved her hand to his helmet, replicating the caresses he was giving her. Swallowing hard, all he could manage was to nod. He couldn't trust his voice not breaking and he felt terrible that she was the one reassuring him when it should be the other way around.
"I'm sorry… if we– if we hadn't crossed… paths… you…" She began but he interrupted her immediately.
"Stop. Don't apologise, why're you apologising?" He was still trying to keep the fear away from his voice, which in turn made it sound strained, almost as if he was about to burst into tears. For he was. "I'm glad we did. The time we've been together's been the best of my life. Okay? I wouldn't change a thing."
He noticed how much like a goodbye his words sounded and had to stop himself. This wasn't goodbye, he thought as he felt his heart breaking, it couldn't be. She nodded once but something in her expression made him realise that she too had noticed how much his words resembled a farewell.
"Hey…" Cara knelt beside him and examined the girl's wound before whispering. "There's no bacta."
It hit him like a rampaging mudhorn. All his hopes had been pinned on finding some bacta somewhere inside the ship. Bo-Katan had said their base was a few hours away and he knew the girl wouldn't make it that long. Panic started to get a hold of him when he couldn't think of any else to do.
"The whole lab's empty. No personnel either, they took everything with them."
"Then what are we gonna–" He asked so softly he was surprised Bo-Katan had even heard him over the helmet's static.
"We have a bacta tank." She reiterated. "We're about to make the jump and–"
"No, not anymore. She's lost too much blood, she wouldn't make it…"
Hearing Cara voice out his exact same fears somehow made them feel more real. The girl was slowly dying and if they didn't think of something, anything, fast enough… he couldn't bear the thought of losing her.
"What else is there?" He asked, trying to steady his voice. "I welcome any ideas."
"Well…" Cara started saying but paused hesitantly. "There's an option, but you're not gonna like it."
"Anything."
"There's a New Republic outpost close by and they should have the means to treat her. We could be there in thirty minutes, maybe less."
"We're not on exactly good terms with the New Republic. None of us." Fennec said. "Least if we appear on an Imperial light cruiser."
"Do it." He told Cara and she instantly headed to the control panel.
"Didn't you listen to me?! If we go there, they'll have us all arrested!"
"We'll get close enough and I'll take her in one of the shuttles. You can clear off as soon as I'm out." As he finished the sentence the ship made the jump to hyperspace.
"I'll be with you. Having a ranger of the New Republic with you will surely help with not getting arrested." Cara told him with a smile and he nodded in gratitude.
He looked down at the girl and a pang of terror cursed through him when his eyes didn't meet hers. After half a second he realised she seemed to have passed out, but her breathing was so shallow and slow that for a moment he had thought… he had feared…
No, she was going to be fine. He couldn't let his fear get the best of him.
He shook her gently and was relieved when she opened her eyes startled.
"I need you to stay awake, cyar'ika." He told her, the affectionate term escaping his lips without him even realising it. "Keep your eyes open, can you do that for me?"
"Y- yeah…" She said, her voice shaky and thick from the blood.
She looked extremely weak and almost all the colour had drained from her face. The traces of dark red left on her skin by the trickling blood only seemed to accentuate how pale she was, almost like a corpse.
He clenched his jaw tightly in a futile attempt to push that thought out of his mind and regain the little control he had left before speaking again.
"Good girl."
The women on the ship started coming and going, talking to each other, and organising for when they reached their destination, but he ignored them, all his attention focused on the only person who mattered to him, the one who mattered the most. Unfortunately, she didn't seem to be able to do the same as her eyes were slowly closing due to the exhaustion.
"Hey, come on. Look at me, keep your eyes on me."
She nodded weakly but soon she started to doze off again. He didn't want her to close her eyes for fear that she wouldn't open them again, and the moment he thought of that, the dam that had been barely holding back all his fears overflowed.
She had lost too much blood. Too much for any normal person, but even more for someone so small. Especially considering the numerous blood samples Moff Gideon's men had surely taken from her since she'd been on that ship.
Even if he didn't want to admit it – not even to himself – he knew she would have to be extremely lucky to get out of that one alive. He was aware of the low chances of her reaching the outpost alive, and all he could think about at this moment was that the last thing she would see would be a blank and emotionless piece of metal staring down at her.
After all that had happened, everything they had been through together, he couldn't bear the thought that others had seen his face yet the only person who actually meant something to him would die without ever having looked him in the eye.
Maybe it was selfish since a part of him had wanted to take off his helmet in front of her for a long time, but if he was going to be the last thing she saw, at the very least he should let her really see him.
"No…" She said faintly, managing to move her hand back to his helmet. "The Creed…"
The warmthness that flooded his aching heart after that small action, those three simple words… It was indescribable.
And most indescribable was how badly it hurt to be loved so much.
His Creed had always been everything to him, she knew that, but it was also the only reason why she was slowly dying. Protecting his Creed had been what had gotten them into this mess in the first place, and yet she was still worried about it. He never thought there could be anything as sweet as her in the whole universe.
"It's okay. I'll manage that, but I need you to keep your eyes open." He said trying his best to keep his composure as he removed his helmet.
Her eyes widened in shock for a short moment before moving frantically all over his features, as if she was desperately trying to take everything in. He was glad she seemed so interested in his face as to force herself to stay awake, even if her gaze made him feel slightly uncomfortable and uneasy. It was strange for him to be without his helmet, even more so when he was being examined in such detail. What if she didn't like what she was seeing?
Then, a smile appeared on her face and he realised how stupid he was for worrying about something like that at this moment, when she looked so pale and frail. He frowned and clenched his jaw trying to keep the sadness from showing on his features.
"I… I was right." She said, softly caressing his cheek.
He looked at her confused as he leaned into her touch, trying to make the most of what caresses they had left while knowing that if she didn't make it, he would never again feel another's touch on his skin.
"You're handsome."
He laughed softly and, for a blissful moment, all the stress and tension melted away, only to come back with double the force and bring down the walls he had worked so hard to build to keep his fear and sadness at bay. Before he could do anything about it, tears escaped his eyes.
"I… like your eyes…" She began rambling. "So pretty… so pretty…"
She kept mumbling something that sounded a lot like "I know" when Cara came to talk to him.
"We're almost there, we should get to the shuttle."
He nodded and, after kissing the girl's hand, he told her. "We have to move. Come on, hold onto me."
She put her arms lazily around his neck and he tried his best to stand as slowly and carefully as possible. Yet, even with all his efforts a loud cry ripped from her throat as he lifted her up.
"I'm sorry, I'm sorry." He told her, feeling a pang of guilt for being, after all, the one that had caused her to be in even more pain.
The feel of her small body shivering in his arms distressed him, making him look down with worry just to see her struggling not to fall asleep. It was strange to think that only hours ago he had walked those same corridors with a heart full of fears that now felt so far away. Now that they had barely any time left, new ones had appeared. Fears he had never felt before.
The fear of never again looking into her eyes.
The fear of never again hearing her voice nor her laugh.
The fear of never again feeling her skin against his, her breath against his mouth, her fingers tangled in his hair.
The fear of not being able to properly say goodbye and tell her how much he loved her, how much she meant to him, how much she had changed him…
No, that was enough! He couldn't allow himself to think like that, not while there was time, not while there was still a chance, however small. That ray of hope was his lifeline and he was going to cling to it for dear life for as long as he could.
When they finally made it to the shuttle, she was staring at him, looking pale and exhausted, her eyes sunken into their sockets. The whole situation made him reminisce about the day he had rescued her from the Imps on Nevarro, for it was absurdly similar. Her body, small and cold in his arms while she tried her best to fight the fatigue and keep her eyes open.
"Do we have to bring him alive?" He asked Cara as she pulled Moff Gideon's unconscious body into the shuttle.
"You promised we'd hand him over to the New Republic. They'll make sure he faces justice for his crimes."
"Death would be justice." He hissed, gritting his teeth so hard it hurt.
"That's probably what he'll get, but before that he could share some crucial information." Cara said calmly as she sat beside him, started the ship, and took off.
Just as they left the cruiser the latter made the jump to hyperspace and he was about to say something to Cara when he noticed the girl had lost consciousness.
"Hey." He whispered, shaking her softly.
When there was no response coming from her, he started shaking her more vigorously while calling her name. He was about to start panicking when her eyes popped open. He sighed loudly, relieved she still had enough strength left in her to force herself awake.
"You promised, remember? Eyes open." He told her. "I know you're tired cyar'ika but we're almost there, one last effort. Come on, talk to me."
"About what?"
He couldn't help but laugh softly. Only her would worry about what to say in a situation like this.
"Anything you want. Just talk to me."
"I love you." She whispered softly.
"I love you too mesh'la." He told her, feeling heartbroken as he said the words.
"I… I never told you… I'm glad you found me… You've made me… happy… so… happy…" She said, slurring her words.
The lump that had formed in his throat seemed to grow as he tried to swallow it down. Her words, their whole conversation, sounded too much like a farewell and he couldn't bear it.
"You make me happy too, but I need you to keep your eyes open." He insisted, spotting the New Republic outpost in front of them. They were almost there, they were going to make it.
"I'm sorry… I… I…"
But she didn't manage to tell him what she was sorry about before blacking out again. He called out to her and shook her to no avail this time. Fighting the panic that spread through him like wildfire and pushing deep inside him the fear that was threatening to creep up, he bit the fingertips of his glove to pull it off. The metallic taste of blood that stained it invaded his mouth and his hand was shaking uncontrollably as he wrapped it around her neck, desperately searching for her pulse.
He felt nothing. He couldn't feel her pulse and her body remained so very still that she didn't seem to be breathing. He tightened his fingers around her neck and, just as he was about to lose all hope, he felt a soft throbbing against his fingertips.
Relieved, his gaze met Cara's worried one. He couldn't manage to get the words out so he just nodded, hoping the gesture would be enough.
"She breathing okay?" She whispered.
He brought his face closer to hers and could feel a faint breath against his skin.
"Yes." He managed to say.
"Imperial Transport Lambda T-4a. Come in. Do you copy?" A voice came through the Comms as two New Republic X-Wings appeared from nowhere, flanking them.
Cara responded, giving them her credentials and explaining the situation so they would let them through and be ready for their arrival, but he stopped listening. His hand was still around the girl's neck, focusing on her weakening pulse.
He couldn't lose her, not when they were so close. After spending his whole life alone, he never thought he would feel this way about anyone – he didn't think he could – but he needed her. He needed her company, her presence, her touch, her smile, her laughter… Everything. He needed all of her and he couldn't watch her go to where he couldn't follow.
"We're almost there, it's gonna be ok." Cara encouraged him.
"If she dies," He said as he saw Moff Gideon stirring. "Forget about my promise. I'm gonna kill him."
"I know." She said with a small smile while handing him his helmet. "Let's hope it doesn't come to that."
He nodded, taking the helmet from her, and putting it on as the shuttle landed.
Chaos followed their landing. As he exited the shuttle with the girl in his arms a group of medics surrounded him, taking her from him, and putting her on a floating stretcher. They hovered over her, shouting instructions to each other, working on her wound, and completely ignoring him. Then, they started moving and took her through a corridor, closing the door right behind them, not letting him through.
"Hey!" He said, grabbing one of the medics who had stayed behind. "Let me in there! Now!"
"Only registered personnel can get through... I… I'm sorry. I…" He stuttered, clearly terrified by the blood covered Mandalorian looming over him.
"I don't give a fuck! Let me in or–"
"Hey!" Cara cut him off. "You have to let them work, Mando. They'll keep us informed. Right?"
"Y-yes! Of course!" The medic said before scurrying away.
"I want to know what they're doing! I don't like not being there, not knowing…"
"She'll be fine! How about you go clean yourself? You look quite scary all cover–"
"She won't make it!" Moff Gideon's mocking voice thundered in the hangar as they took him out of the shuttle. "Look at you! Look at how much blood she's lost! I'm surprised she even made it this far! Ha! If you only knew–"
His sentence was cut off by Din's arm crashing hard into his neck, pressing him up against the wall and cutting off his air supply. The man struggled in vain, his feet dangling a few inches above the ground. When Din took his blaster out and pressed it against his head, all the New Republic soldiers aimed their weapons at the Mandalorian, but he ignored them.
"Listen this and listen carefully. If she dies," He whispered, gritting his teeth at the thought. "I will find you." He made a short pause, rejoicing in his suffering. "I won't kill you, no. I should have killed you when I had the chance but that ship has long since sailed. No, I'm going to make you suffer. I will make sure to put you through the same amount of pain that I will be feeling, tenfold. When I'm satisfied and only then will I grant you the sweet release of death."
"Mando! That's enough!" Cara shouted and he finally released Gideon, raising his hands up in the air and stepping away from him as he coughed, struggling for air.
"You want us to get kicked out? Leave her there, alone?" Cara muttered angrily as they took Moff Gideon away.
"I couldn't hold myself back. I should have killed him, if only I had…"
"No use going over that now, right? Not gonna change anything, so don't." She said, handing him the glove he had discarded in the shuttle. He nodded, although not blaming himself for everything that had happened was nearly impossible.
Time went by so slowly he thought he was going to go crazy. He kept telling himself that having no news from the medics was good, that it meant she was still alive. Still, that didn't make the wait easier nor more bearable.
He couldn't stop thinking about all the things he could have done to avoid this outcome and how it was all his fault. He began re-evaluating every decision he had made, from not realising Moff Gideon had grabbed a blaster, to not killing him when he had had the opportunity, to much earlier events, going as far as to the moment he had taken her to Nevarro for the first time. Maybe if he had done things differently, she wouldn't be hurt.
He tried to keep himself busy cleaning his armour of her blood, but that only made everything worse for he hadn't realised before just how much blood was covering him, and therefore how much blood she had actually lost. As this notion sank in, he found it a struggle not to burst the door open and make his way to her, by force if necessary.
Just as he was about to completely lose his shit, one of the medics came out to fetch them.
"... she's in a bacta tank." He was saying as he led the way. "You need to understand she's lost too much blood and… this is a new outpost, we barely have resources here – you're lucky we have the tank to be honest – plus her lung had practically burst…"
"Will she be okay?" Cara interrupted him.
"Can't say for sure. The bacta'll heal the wound but she needs blood and we don't have supplies…"
They finally made it to a room where there was a small bed and a big bacta tank that seemed to swallow up all the space. And right inside it was her. She was floating in the liquid, hooked up to many different wires, and with an oxygen mask on her face. Whether it was due to the sheer size of the tank or how petite she was, the sight of her floating there so still and pale, broke his soul.
"Give her my blood." He said, interrupting whatever the medic was saying. He could see the doubt in his face so he added. "I'm 0-, she needs blood, give her mine."
In less than five minutes they had everything ready to draw his blood and transfuse it directly into her. He sat down and rolled up his sleeves, waiting still and quietly as they cleaned his skin before sticking the needle in. Once everything was set, they left the room and left him and Cara alone while a machine drew his blood and pumped it into the girl's bloodstream.
"Lucky, huh?" Cara said after a while. "Being able to give her your blood and all… phew!"
He chuckled softly but didn't say much more, his eyes fixed on the girl floating in bacta. A few hours ago he had been convinced that he had indeed used up his lifetime supply of luck in the night they had spent together, just like he had told her at the time. During the brief but agonisingly long seconds he had held her unconscious, unable to feel her pulse, he had felt his heart shatter at the unfairness of having met her but not having been given enough time together.
Now, there were only images of her running through his mind. But, for every heart-warming memory he managed to summon up, his mind was flooded with an overly explicit display of images from the last few hours, making him feel like he wanted to rip his insides out.
When Cara talked again after a while, he was thankful for the distraction.
"Love, huh? When did that happen?"
He smiled again. At that time he couldn't have cared less if Cara or anybody else heard him telling the girl how much he loved her. Now, he was slightly embarrassed. He wasn't one to lay his emotions bare like that.
"Nevarro." He finally confessed, unable to stop smiling like a fool under his helmet. "When you and Greef made us share that room."
"Get out! You lucky bastard!" She exclaimed, laughing loudly. "You're welcome, then."
"Thank you."
"It was about time though." She added after a minute.
"What do you mean?"
"I mean it took you a long time to tell her. I was beginning to think that maybe your Creed mandated you to keep celibacy and that's why you never made a move."
"Excuse me… a long time?" He asked, as confused as he was amused. "What's a long time for you? After the fight in Nevarro things were–"
"No, not after Nevarro, after Sorgan!" She said with a smirk on her face. "Come on! The moment we met you were already head over heels for her, even with that helmet on I could tell. You had your visor always fixed on her, looking at her… You even rejected that beautiful widow's advances… Only for her."
"Huh! And here I thought I was hard to read."
"Not really buddy."
She shrugged and started laughing again when two medics came into the room to remove the IV from both his and the girl's arms. After leaving him some food, they left and Cara stood up.
"How about you eat that and get some rest? I'll be outside on guard duty." She squeezed his shoulder affectionately before heading for the door.
"Thanks." He said before she closed the door behind him.
After all that had happened, he should have been starving but he had a knot in his stomach. He forced himself to swallow some of the food that had been brought to him but, after pushing about half of it down his throat, he gave up, putting his helmet back on.
Now, if eating had been hard, sleeping was going to be impossible. He already knew he wouldn't be able to get any rest until he saw her eyes open.
|
“Flying colors,” Mr. Glass announces with a flourish when he reenters the room with their results.
Stiles and Lydia grin at each other before assaulting Mr. Glass with questions about each exam.
He silences them with a raised hand and a laugh. “Yes, Sheriff Stilinski said you might do that. Here,” he hands them both their exams and the answer sheets. “So you can compare later.”
They beam at him and thank him one last time before exiting the school. Stiles can’t help but breathe a little easier now that his high school career is quite literally behind him.
“Did you feel that?” Lydia asks once they’re in the car. “That feeling when we walked out the front doors?”
Stiles nods. “You mean the feeling like it was for the last time?”
“Yeah,” Lydia confirms, closing her eyes and letting her head rest against the back of her seat. Her shoulders slump in relief as the stress of the last week, and the last few months starts to drain out of her.
There’s still some tension in both of them, but it is enough for now to feel things getting better, even gradually.
They return to the loft to find the Sheriff waiting outside with a giddy smile. “Mr. Glass called me with your results just now. Congratulations, both of you.” He sweeps Stiles up in a bear hug and surprises Lydia by embracing her as well once Stiles steps back.
“I have one more surprise for each of you,” he announces, releasing Lydia. He hands both of them envelopes. Inside each envelope are their college acceptance letters.
Stiles’ also contains some cash, and Lydia’s contains a credit card with a note in her mom’s handwriting that says the card is connected to her savings account, which is not unsubstantial.
John pops open the trunk of his car and pulls out a few bags Lydia recognizes as hers. “Are those all of my things?”
The Sheriff nods and starts pulling more bags out of his back seat. “And all of yours, Stiles.”
Without a word, he starts packing them up into the jeep, ignoring Stiles and Lydia’s twin looks of shock and confusion.
“Lydia, I talked to your mom already, and she agrees with me. It’s time for the two of you to leave Beacon Hills.”
Stiles and Lydia just stare at him, dumbfounded. Stiles blinks a few times before clearing his throat and attempting to talk.
When he can’t, Lydia speaks up for the both of them. “We’re leaving?” There is no inflection in her voice, as if she can’t stand to sound hopeful in case she is somehow misinterpreting the situation and is wrong.
The Sheriff nods at them. “Yes, you’re leaving. As soon as possible, too.”
Stiles closes his eyes and takes a deep breath in. When he lets it out, he is happy to feel more of the tension in his shoulders dissipate.
He opens his eyes and blinks back tears. “Where are we going?” He asks his father softly.
“That’s up to you, son,” he replies in a tone of voice that suggests he already knows where they will be heading.
Stiles meets Lydia’s eyes shyly.
“Minnesota,” they both say at the same time.
John laughs at the two of them as they exchange looks of surprise.
“How do you know where Derek is?” Lydia smiles through her question, stepping towards Stiles involuntarily.
Stiles just shakes his head incredulously. “I hacked into the police database and local traffic cams on my laptop and have been tracking his car since he left. You?”
Lydia smirks, “I downloaded a GPS tracking app onto his phone about a month before he left. I figured he’d be leaving and I guess I wanted to keep an eye on him.”
John looks towards the sky. “My little criminals. I’m so proud.” He finishes packing the jeep and takes in the sight of Stiles and Lydia standing in the middle of the parking lot, unsure of what to do.
“Anyone you want to say goodbye to before you leave?” he asks them, striding over to where they’re standing.
Stiles shakes his head and looks over at Lydia. She’s hunched in on herself and is looking down at her feet.
Stiles ducks his head and tries to meet Lydia’s eyes. He can see that she’s biting her lip and is clearly warring with herself over her decision.
“Let’s go, Lydia. We can stop by your house on the way so you can see her,” Stiles says gently, taking her hand.
She nods and follows him to the car. Before she gets in, she turns and wraps her arms around the Sheriff tightly. He responds in kind and gives her a quick squeeze. “Take care of yourself, kiddo,” he tells her as he lets go.
She gives him a silent smile and opens the door to the jeep.
Stiles takes a deep breath, letting more tension ease out of his body on the exhale. He turns to his father and is at a loss for words.
His dad smiles sadly at him and walks forward determinedly to embrace Stiles.
Stiles’ arms engulf his dad firmly as he tries to put all of his love and gratitude into one hug. They stay like that for several minutes, until they are both satisfied.
John’s hand stays on Stiles’ shoulder when they separate. “I love you, Stiles. You know that, right?”
Stiles huffs a laugh. “I have never been so sure of anything in my life, Dad. I really don’t deserve you.”
The Sheriff smiles warmly. “You’ve got that backwards, kid. Call me when you stop for the night.”
Stiles nods and joins Lydia in the car. They exchange cautiously optimistic smiles as Stiles starts the car.
Lydia’s goodbye with her mother is short and tearful. Ms. Martin clings to her daughter desperately, but Stiles sees her close her eyes in relief when the two separate. He can only imagine how guilty she feels for putting Lydia through all that pain at Eichen, only to learn that it was all for nothing.
Lydia tells her mom she forgives her, because it’s what she needs to hear. But they both know real forgiveness will take time.
They stock up on chips, coffee, Red Bull, beef jerky, and other road trip essentials – according to Stiles, anyway – and hit the road.
It’s not until they are passing the You Are Now Leaving Beacon Hills sign that Stiles fully appreciates exactly what is happening. One look at Lydia’s face tells him he isn’t alone there.
A sudden giggle escapes Lydia’s mouth. She claps her hands over her face to stifle her laughter, but her shoulders are shaking.
Stiles looks on in wonder before joining her. The tension in his back, his shoulders, all the way to his toes, slowly leaves his body.
For a few minutes, the only noise other than the pavement beneath the tires is laughter, and it is glorious.
It’s not a cure by any means, for the trauma they have endured, or the emotional scars they still carry, but it’s a gigantic step in the right direction. |
Fenrir Greyback knows the instant that Harry returns home from his work at the Ministry of Magic. The familiar scent of his wizard's magic is a sharp contrast to the clean scent of the fresh fallen snow that is around him. A knowing grin tugs at the werewolf's lips as Fenrir catches a confirming whiff of Harry.
Outside the cottage on the outskirts of Hogsmeade, the large man continues his task of the day—splitting wood for the fireplace. The menial labor clears Fenrir's head as the cold winter air brushes against the his skin. Oddly enough, the sensation is rather refreshing. Once the log he's been working on is split into smaller ones, the werewolf casually throws them onto the pile beside him. Fenrir then bends down to pick up the iron wedge once again and places it into the crevice of another large log. Continuing the steady downward swing of the sledgehammer in his hands, he starts splitting the new log on his chopping block. It isn't long before Harry makes an appearance as he makes his way out of the cottage. Bundled up, the wizard plods his way through the heavy snow towards Fenrir.
"Hello," greets Harry, his tone warm despite the frigid temperature.
"Hullo to you too, pup."
"Fen, how on earth are you not frozen solid right now?" inquires The Head Auror with a small frown. He watches the man continue his work with a gleam of curiosity.
The question, paired with the new nickname, causes Fenrir to smirk knowingly as he takes a minute to regard his own attire. While the wizard is cocooned in a thick wool coat and scarf with knit gloves covering his hands, the werewolf is wearing a pair of worn jeans and a simple black tank. The man even has the nerve to wipe off some sweat from his brow as he stares back at his mate.
"Werewolves have high body heat," replies Fenrir, resting the long handle of the sledgehammer on his shoulders. "You of all people should know that, Potter."
Seeming to remember all the nights he has spent curling up next to the man, Harry makes a sound of acknowledgement. Fenrir watches as the wizard takes a seat on one of the larger logs nearby before returning to his work. For a few moments, the only sounds are the metallic clang of the sledgehammer meeting the iron wedge followed by the resulting crack of splitting wood.
"The snow really doesn't bother you at all, does it?"
Before answering the question, Fenrir tosses the now split wood onto the already impressively large pile. The pieces make a satisfying clack as they join their brethren.
"Not really. Besides workin' out here gets the blood pumpin'. I can't stay cooped up too long before I want to do somethin' physical. And since I was by my lonesome, I figured I might as well be productive."
"Er-yeah," replies Harry, picking up on the obvious undertone. He pries his eyes away from the entrancing sight of the well-muscled man effortlessly moving another heavy log to be split "So, um, how was the Forbidden Forest, today?"
Fenrir smirks as he notices the way his mate's gaze tends to linger on his body. It is quite a stroke to the werewolf's already impressive ego. However, Fenrir decides to entertain the wizard's conversation starter instead of pointing it out.
"Tricky as always. Can't say I ain't glad to be done with it for the day."
As Harry smiles in a commiserating way, the werewolf picks up on the subtle frustration in his companion's posture.
"I can relate. My day wasn't exactly a picnic either."
"The Ministry of Magic bein' a pain in the arse? How unusual."
"You're hilarious," Harry replies sarcastically, chuckling at the joke anyway. "The Auror Department is just being stretched farther and farther everyday, it seems. At this pace, we're not going to be able to keep up with all the demands of the Ministry. "
Sensing the weariness in that response, Fenrir quickly closes the distance between them in a few long strides. The wizard is surprised when the werewolf's hand gently tilts his face upward, but he doesn't move or even flinch at the touch. Pleased at that sign of trust, Fenrir searches Harry's eyes. He finds the wizard's bright green orbs as vivid as always, before moving to study the features of his mate's young face. The werewolf is satisfied to discover no physical signs of fatigue. Fenrir feels his own sharp gaze soften as Harry innocently stares back at him, the young auror's cheeks blushing at their prolonged close contact.
"Don't over due it, pup," states Fenrir after a few moments as his thumb lazily caresses Harry's lower lip. "I don't wanna hear that you collapsed of exhaustion somewhere."
The utter seriousness, that the alpha wolf couldn't keep out of his voice even if he tried, makes the wizard smile.
"I'm fine. Besides, I told Kingsley about my err-situation and he's almost as over-protective as you. Most of my morning was spent signing forms and filing paperwork. Trust me, I won't be doing anything remotely exciting until after the baby's first birthday from the looks of things."
Harry's words satisfy the werewolf as he removes his hand from the wizard's face. Crouching down in the snow, Fenrir makes himself level with the growing bump underneath his mate's thick coat. Harry curiously watches as the man slips his hand past the jacket, placing his large palm on top of their unborn child. When Fenrir's warm palm meets his mate's belly, a tingle seems to travel through the wizard. The infamous man is finds it endearing that the shiver his touch causes is not based in fear, that Harry actually desires it. Nothing short of awed reverence appears on the werewolf's face as he then feels the growing pup shifting beneath his hand in response. It has only been recently that they have been able to feel their baby move, but it's quickly becoming one of Fenrir's favorite past times.
". . . Thank you."
Those two words appear to shock Harry out of the shared intimate moment. The rather-adorable look of incredulity on the young wizard's face makes the alpha chuckle. His mate's reaction to his words isn't a surprise, admittedly those two words aren't ones that he says very often(if at all). The werewolf simply watches as Harry's eyes widen a bit.
"For what, exactly?"
"I know you're puttin' up with a lot for the sake of carryin' our cub. Just wanted to make sure you know that your efforts are appreciated, is all."
"Fenrir, I think you do a rather satisfactory job of showing me how much you appreciate my efforts," answers Harry with a grin. Fenrir has to repress an actually purr as he feels the wizard's fingers start running through his grey-streaked hair. "Besides, I want this baby just as much as you do. It's not that much trouble, really."
Still crouched before his mate, Fenrir smirks at the light blush that blossoms on the young face. As a cold breeze gusts by, making Harry shiver a bit as he adjusts his scarf, the werewolf stands up to his full height. He once again notices how the Head Auror is fascinated by the fluid movement and hidden grace of the action. Deciding to tease the wizard a bit more, Fenrir effortlessly maintains his lupine prowess as he stretches, making sure to show off the muscles that Harry's eye are drawn to.
"You got anythin' planned for tonight?" asks the alpha wolf, interrupting the staring from his mate.
"No, not really. Why?"
"There's somethin' I want to show you. I think you'll like it."
The playful comment has Harry raising an eyebrow in suspicion. As Fenrir watches the wizard try to figure out what he's up to, the werewolf grins to himself.
"Fenrir, is this the beginning of one of your horribly-inappropriate, bad jokes?"
In any other circumstance, Fenrir can readily admit that Harry would be correct with his presumption. The werewolf can't help the deep chuckle that his little mate knows him so well already. Then again, it is no real secret that he has a taste for lewd humor.
"Course not. My offer is just that, nothin' crude about it."
"That's too bad," replies Harry, leaning forward on his seat as he attempts to stand back up. "I could've used a good laugh."
Offering a hand, Fenrir easily helps the wizard up and back on his feet. Harry murmurs a thanks as the werewolf placing a steadying hand on his lower back. When the added weight from the pregnancy had first started to throw off his equilibrium, Harry outright refused any help. Now, he takes any assistance rather gratefully. Fenrir assumes that the physical exhaustion has steadily worn down whatever pride the wizard has been holding onto. He can't complain though, after all it gives him even more opportunities to put his hands on Harry.
"Alright, Fenrir. So, where are you taking me tonight?"
At the wizard's question, Fenrir grins mischievously.
"You'll find out soon enough, pup. Now go inside and warm yourself up. The last thing you need is to catch a cold out here."
As Harry smiles and turns around to do just that, Fenrir can't help but give him a pat on the bottom to hurry him along. The werewolf is completely unprepared for the wizard's indignant yelp at the gesture. He truly hadn't expected the Head Auror of the Ministry of Magic to emit such a sound at the innocent teasing. So, lost in his barking laughter, Fenrir is taken by complete surprise when a well-aimed snowball hits him right in the face.
The playful growl that leaves his lips has Harry laughing as Fenrir easily scoops him up. The werewolf is unable to explain why he feels so carefree, yet he likes it. To be truthful, it has been some time since Fenrir hasn't had to focus on being the Alpha Werewolf of Europe and maintaining his packs. And while he was working with the Dark Lord and on the run as a fugitive of the Ministry, it left little time to simply enjoy life. But now, with Harry in his arms, happy and willingly, the man has a genuine smile on his face. Fenrir Greyback, despite all the things he's done in his life, has been gifted a mate and a pup on the way. It is humbling, yet at the same time, makes the man fiercely possessive of the growing family in his arms.
And for the first time in ages, Fenrir finds himself content as he carries his cheeky, pregnant mate into the warmth of their shared cabin.
Later that same night, the moonlight barely peeks through the thick foliage of the Forbidden Forest. Unlike Hogsmeade, the forest has no trace of winter's touch. A strong wind blows through the leaves, creating a rustling melody that fills in the eerie calmness as both Fenrir and Harry make their way deep into the enchanted weald.
With a sniff of the crisp air, Fenrir instantly identifies a few centaurs as well as some stags grazing nearby. He watches his mate continue his way through the dark woods just ahead of him, the tip of his wand lighting the way. Fenrir feels a smile tug on his lips as Harry meanders through the Forbidden Forest like it's his backyard, with a easy familiarity that few wizards possess. The aurors that the alpha wolf is currently charged with protecting are always a bit skittish in the sea of trees. In his mind, the inexperienced wizards depend a bit too much on their lycan companions to navigate as well as protect them.
Harry, on the other hand, is refreshingly-confident yet wary in his strides through the ominous forest. He doesn't flinch at every noise and rustle of leaves. The auror keeps himself alert without emanating the fear that attracts the dark and less friendly creatures of the Forbidden Forest. Fenrir supposes that ease developed from the many "adventures" his mate has had in the dark woods that surround Hogwarts. And as much as the werewolf likes the adventurous side of his wizard, it makes him worry as well.
In the six weeks that have passed since the two have been officially mated, Harry has not slowed down at all(even with the added weight of their quickly-growing child). The Head Auror has been doing his normal duties(paperwork only!) at the Ministry while simultaneously attending private appointments at Saint Mungo's and preparing for the baby. Sometimes, just watching the wizard makes the alpha wolf tired.
Fenrir does everything he can to ease the wizard's burdens as Harry just won't take outright help. Innocuous actions—like making sure that the house is well stocked with Harry's favorite foods and keeping the cottage warm—are the only ways the man is allowed to take care of the headstrong auror without an argument. It has only been recently that Harry allows Fenrir to help him as the additional weight makes itself known(like earlier by the wood pile). Yet on the other hand, the werewolf has absolutely no problem forcibly carrying his pregnant mate to bed from time to time for much needed rest.
"Fenrir, do you still know where we're going?" calls out Harry, the wizard interrupting the alpha wolf's thoughts.
Within a few strides the man easily catches up to the young auror. Scenting the air once again, Fenrir turns to head off of their current path.
"This way. It's just a bit further."
With a questioning look, Harry dutifully follows after the werewolf. The two walk for a few minutes more until they reach an open area of the forest. Pale moonlight fills the clearing and illuminates the tall grasses in the small meadow. Around the edges of the peaceful glade, the twisting trees of the Forbidden Forest act like a winding fence. A gust of wind stirs the grasses making the tall blades sway like ocean waves. Unlike most areas of the dark and eerie forest, this meadow seems to emanate serenity.
"Keep low and keep quiet pup," whispers Fenrir before Harry can say anything. "And put yer wand out."
Following the directions, the wizard lowers his body to join his companion on the soft ground of the ancient forest. With a mutter of "Nox" from Harry's lips, the wand is extinguished. The tall grasses around them cover both men rather well while allowing the couple to look out over the empty clearing.
It takes a few moments of anxious silence, but from the darkness of the Forbidden Forest walks out a lone unicorn. Its steps are hesitant as the silver stallion makes his way fully into the glade. He dutifully looks around for any threat as the moonlight glances off the proud single horn and silvery strands of his mane and tail. Finding nothing, the stallion turns his head back to the darkened forest he just emerged from. And after a low whinny, four unicorn mares make their way into the meadow followed by two newborn foals.
Watching the herd of the magnificent creatures, their silvery manes and tell-tale horns now all shining in moonlight, Harry's eyes widen. Fenrir smirks as his gaze remains on his mate, the wizard keeping himself low despite being enraptured with the unicorns. When he turns to Fenrir, Harry seems surprised to find that the werewolf's intense stare is already on him.
"Fenrir, they're amazing."
"Derrick and I found traces of them earlier today, so I figured they'd still be in the area."
As Harry turns his gaze back out to the grazing herd, Fenrir congratulates himself on this idea. "The Boy Who Lived" is completely mesmerized by the graceful equines, smirking a bit as the two foals chase each other around the small meadow in play.
"I've only seen a unicorn once. Unfortunately, its blood was being used to sustain Voldemort," recalls Harry with a regretful sigh at the memory. "I still can't understand how anyone could kill something so pure."
"Figures," whispers Fenrir harshly, his tone carrying disgust with Voldemort's past actions. "Even I never dared to kill a unicorn. Not worth the bloody curse it carries."
The werewolf has witnessed, and even obeyed, some rather despicable orders from the Dark Lord over the years. However, he had only heard whispers and wild rumors of the foul methods that the wizard had used to cling to life. Killing such a pure creature as a unicorn and then drinking it's blood is a sin that even the darkest creatures would even dare commit. It is a crime against natural order itself. Lost in his thoughts, Fenrir is taken aback when he feels Harry's smaller hand settle atop his much larger one. The werewolf is given a small yet sincere smile from his mate as if sensing the disapproval.
"Thank you for bringing me here."
"Like I said, I'd thought you'd like it," replies the werewolf, the deep timbre barely concealing the affection for his mate. "It's not often you see unicorn herds around these parts. The thestrals usually take up most of the area."
At the mention of the winged, skeletal creatures, a fond smile appears on Harry's lips.
"Thestrals always remind me of my friend, Luna Lovegood. Besides me, she was one of the only other people who could see them at Hogwarts."
The name instantly reminds Fenrir of the photograph he had seen at the Weasley's home. Harry's clever witch friend had told him that the two have a special connection, knowing Harry's rather eventful past it shouldn't come as a surprise that witnessing death had united them. Remembering the pale, blonde-haired woman in the picture, the werewolf looks over to the wizard.
"This Luna, you and her close?"
"Yeah, you could say that. During the war and everything, she always found a way to cheer me up, no matter how horrible things got. Especially when Sirius, my godfather, died. At the time, Luna was one of the few people who understood what it was like to lose a loved one so unexpectedly. It helped talking to someone who knew what that kind of loss felt like."
Sensing his mate's sadness, Fenrir has no idea what to say. Offering the only comfort he knows how to, he pulls the wizard into his arms. Harry is startled by the sudden embrace but quickly calms as he is settled against a warm, broad chest. Once the auror is situated in his lap, the werewolf rests his chin atop the mess of dark hair. The unicorns look up at the sudden movement. Yet, sensing no ill intent from the couple, the small herd makes no move to run.
For a while, the two mates stay in their positions. Harry relaxes into the embrace as Fenrir thinks over his mate's experiences—at least, what the wizard has divulged to him. Every time he thinks about all that Harry has been through in his short life it makes him angry. It is one thing for grown adults to fight a war they started for one reason or another, but it's quite another for a child to be dragged into the fray. Fenrir is no stranger to the bloodshed and pain that war brings(hell, he has caused his own fair share of it), but he would never force a child to fight his battles no matter what some old prophecy foretold. There is an instinctual wrongness in his opinion that the young wizard in his lap has been through more than people thrice his age could even fathom. When Fenrir worked with the Dark Lord, Harry Potter had always been described as a means to an end, a great foe. But now, Fenrir can only see "The Boy Who Lived" and the "Saviour of the Wizarding World" as just Harry—the bespectacled, "never quite tame" dark-haired, and bewitching green-eyed wizard that is carrying his unborn pup. Hell, the young wizard still blushes anytime Fenrir makes a lewd joke.
The alpha wolf's simmering rage at not only Voldemort's, but the rest of the Wizarding World's, unjust treatment of Harry is surprisingly all encompassing. It only begins to subside at the strong protective urge that his mate stirs in him. The calmness that the wizard has right now—sitting in the middle of the Forbidden Forest and wrapped in the embrace of an infamous werewolf is like a balm. As if sensing the man's lingering anger, Harry starts to soothingly rub the arm that is currently holding him.
And just like that, Fenrir's frustrated grumbles morph into soothing purrs.
"I can't wait to get you to the pack and away from all this wizarding shite," murmurs Fenrir as he holds Harry closer. The man lowers his head a bit to inhale the soft scent wafting from the wizard in his arms.
"Fen, I know you mean well, but I'm never going to be completely free from the wizarding world. No matter how far away you take me," Harry states, smiling at the man's possessiveness. "Besides, a part of me would still miss London, Diagon Alley, especially. There's a great restaurant there I'd think you'd like. It's a wizarding establishment, but they have a decent ale that I can't wait to taste again after the baby's born."
Fully aware of Harry's subtle attempt to sidestep the issue, Fenrir runs with the change in conversation.
"Ale sounds nice, but you should try the vodka they have in Russia. Nice and smooth with a strong kick at the end. My packmate Espen makes his own that puts even the finest muggle distillery to shame."
Turning around in the man's lap, Harry raises himself up a bit—just enough to lock eyes with Fenrir. The wizard's green, bespectacled gaze takes its time perusing the man's well-defined face.
"Let's go home," suggests Harry suddenly. His hand already disappearing into the folds of Fenrir's coat for the portkey that will transport them directly back to their cottage.
"Already?" the man asks with a raised eyebrow at the sudden request. "You don't like it out here or somethin'?"
"No, that's not it. I love it out here, actually. And as romantic as this setting is, I'd prefer to be in our bed when I show you my er-appreciation for bringing me here."
At the wanderings of Harry's smaller hand across his chest paired with the light kisses now being pressed along his jaw, Fenrir grins. The wizard's somewhat awkward attempt at seduction makes the werewolf smirk with its unintentional effectiveness. As brave as Harry is in the face of danger, he still retains a bit of his juvenile shyness when it comes to talking about anything sexual. Fenrir enjoys the way his young mate's cheeks and ears turn a rather fetching shade of red before he starts tripping over his words. However, those endearing traits fade away the second the wizard is worked up enough to no longer be self conscious of his actions. A task that Fenrir has no problem helping Harry out with.
Arousal grows and begins to travel through the werewolf with his mate's attentions. Fenrir is surprised by the rather bold direction that Harry's hands are moving, yet does nothing to stop them. Then again, the man has never had any complaints with this method of distraction. If Harry wants to use sex to make the man forget the argument-inducing path of their conversation, who is Fenrir to deny him?
"So? Bed?" ventures out Harry, nervousness leaking into this voice despite his well-placed kisses.
"You read my mind, pup."
Wrapping an arm around Harry's slim waist, the werewolf activates the portkey and transports them back home. The unicorns look up at the flare of magic but then quickly return to grazing in the moonlit meadow.
The snowy village of Hogsmeade is bustling as its residents finish their daily errands. Wizards and witches of all shapes and sizes enter the small shops and local eateries lining the snow-covered streets. The Three Broomsticks is crowded with its loyal, rowdy patrons that come in to escape the cold with a warm butterbeer. Walking by the establishment, Harry Potter continues his conversation with the red-headed werewolf beside him, the scent of the sweet drink tempting his taste buds.
"It really was beautiful out there in the heart of the woods. There's just endless nature around you and those unicorns were breathtaking. I completely understand why Fenrir loves the depths of the forest as much as he does. It's a nice break from the hustle of the city."
"I figured he took you out there last week," comments Scarlett with a knowing smile. "I bet the two of you had some fun afterwards, eh?"
Blushing a bit at the insinuation, Harry clears his throat. The woman beside him chuckles at the expression, knowing instantly that she's right. Harry, however ignores his growing embarrassment to ask the question that is behind this particular walk with the least intimidating of Fenrir's betas.
"Umm, Scarlett,"begins the wizard with slight hesitation, "Since that night, Fenrir keeps mentioning the pack and his life back in the Taiga. I think he's a bit homesick. Do you think that maybe he's trying to hint that he wants to go back soon?"
Sensing the worry in Harry's question, the red-headed werewolf smiles reassuringly.
"Well, as long as I've known him, Fenrir is fond of anywhere he can run wild and get a good drink. However, he is an alpha so he's going to want to return to his pack eventually, wherever they may be. Sure the pack doesn't completely rely on him, but we still look up to him as our leader. He has responsibilities."
"I know, and it's not like I want him to give them up or anything," states Harry, his face reflecting the seriousness of his words. "I just wish he understood that I have responsibilities too."
Reaching into his Honeydukes bag, the pregnant wizard pulls out a chocolate frog to nibble on as they walk. He pockets the collectible card with a smile as he sees the familiar face of Albus Dumbledore on its flat surface.
"I'm a wizard, I'm not a werewolf," continues Harry. "Clearly, I don't understand everything that happens in a pack. I just don't know how to go about being a good mate for Fenrir."
Unbeknownst to Harry, Scarlett's expression softens as she listens to him. The wizard's own eyes are downcast as he retreats into his thoughts with a look of worry on his features. Harry has been concerned about this issue for some time, unable to properly bring it up to his werewolf. After all, being mated to Fenrir Greyback is more than just being mated to any werewolf, he's mated to the Alpha of the entire European Werewolf Population. Despite Harry's own fame, it is a rather daunting thought. The auror, like many of his fellow wizards, is woefully ignorant of werewolf culture. Feeling a hand settle on his shoulder, Harry's bright green eyes to look up.
"Harry, you are doing just fine," begins Scarlett, the red-headed beta smiling encouragingly. "Besides, there's no wrong or right way to be a mate, especially to an alpha like Fenrir Greyback. As cliche as it may sound, just be yourself. After all, that's why Fenrir claimed you in the first place, right? And don't worry, you'll get the hang of werewolf pack dynamics. It wasn't easy for me to get either."
"But you're a werewolf. I thought that hierarchy was based on instinct, doesn't it come naturally to you?"
"Well, it was a bit different for me," the redhead informs, smirking at Harry's confusion. "I wasn't born a werewolf and I wasn't attacked by one. I chose to be a werewolf in order to be with Derrick. I willingly let him bite me when he was under the influence of the full moon."
"You chose lycanthropy?" Harry asks, lowering his voice to avoid drawing unwanted attention to their conversation.
"Yes. At the time, it still wasn't normal for a witch to live with a werewolf. There was still a lot of prejudice and fear, on both sides. The way I saw it, it was either I had to bear with the pain of leaving Derrick or bear with the pain of his bite. I made my choice, fully knowing that some people, even my own family, would never understand or condone it. After that, everything else eventually fell into place."
Thinking over the woman's words, Harry becomes silent.
"Do you ever regret it, Scarlett?"
"What? Being a werewolf?"
"No," the wizard quickly clarifies. "What I meant was, do you regret sacrificing so much to be with Derrick?"
"I don't think of it as sacrificing anything. Derrick never asked me to become a werewolf, he already loved me as I was. And even as a werewolf, I still have my wand for the occasional spell and I still see some of my family from time to time. I'm truly happy with my life," explains Scarlett with a genuine smile on her face. "Now, I'm not saying that you should ask Fenrir to bite you or anything, Harry. Nowadays, plenty of werewolves mate wizards and witches without turning them. While there are still prejudices, it isn't nearly as bad as things used to be a few decades ago. Didn't your friend Lupin marry a witch without biting her?"
"Yes, he did," confirms Harry, remembering his pseudo-godfather. "Remus and Tonks were very happy together, they loved each other very much. Their son, Teddy, is proof of that."
"Exactly. You and Fenrir will be just fine. I can tell that the alpha is completely crazy about you. And to be honest, I can't wait to see him as a father."
The comment makes Harry chuckle as he subconsciously rubs a hand over his abdomen. A few well-cast charms hide the wizard's swollen stomach as well as protect the growing baby from the passersby on the street. As they turn a corner, Harry and Scarlett find Derrick walking towards them. The tall man's face breaks into an easy smile as he spots his mate, as well as his alpha's, strolling along. Making his way through the mass of people, Derrick approaches his red-headed mate and leans in to share a quick greeting kiss. Harry finds himself grinning as the easy affection between the two.
"Scar, I've been looking all over Hogsmeade for you two. It's hard to distinguish scents with all these people filling the streets," begins the beta werewolf before shifting his attention to the wizard. "Harry, Fenrir wanted me to tell you that he'd be late tonight. He had to go to the Ministry to talk with Shacklebolt."
Processing the new information, the young auror can't help the disappointment that lances through him. Fenrir's presence is one that he has come to crave the further along his pregnancy progresses, to the point that the werewolf's absence has a rather crabby effect on his mood. However, Harry just sighs as he recalls a conversation that he had with the Minister of Magic.
"That's right, Kingsley mentioned that he wanted to talk with Fenrir the other day. The Ministry is very anxious to have a complete, comprehensive map of the Forbidden Forest. It requires a lot of diplomacy and paperwork to allow your group into the territories of so many magical creatures."
Harry's train of thought is suddenly interrupted when a dark-haired witch runs up to Derrick, in her hands is a heavy and ancient looking book. Her round face is flushed as she tries to catch her breath. Harry instantly recognizes Abigail, the industrious researcher of the Auror Department that he just promoted to field work, as she makes unflinching eye contact with the tall beta werewolf.
"Derrick, I need to see Mr. Greyback immediately! It's important!"
"Abigail, can it wait? Fenrir's in a meeting at the Ministry right now. Who knows when he'll get out of it."
"But it's really important!" insists the witch. As she speaks, Abigail's eyes narrow with purpose. "I think I found out something amazing that could change everything we thought about the Forbidden Forest! I just couldn't wait to tell him about it. It's nothing short of remarkable!"
"What's going on, Abigail?" questions Harry, noticing how crestfallen the witch becomes upon hearing that Fenrir is otherwise occupied.
Turning her attention away from Derrick, Abigail is surprised to see her boss casually standing beside Scarlett. The Head Auror has an amused smile as she blanches, the young witch's face becoming a blank sheet. In her excitement, Abigail had completely missed the powerful wizard.
"H-Head Auror Potter?! What are you doing out here, sir?" the witch inquires as she nervously straightens out her robes. "Was there a problem in the last report?"
"No, it was perfectly fine, as always. And Abigail, I've told you before you don't have to call me 'sir'," replies the auror with a good-natured smirk. "It makes me feel old."
"Oh, yes, of course. I apologize."
Taking a moment, Harry thinks over what exactly to tell the younger auror. Abigail is a clever witch(she often reminds him of a younger version of Hermione), so he knows that lying is an insult to her intelligence. However, he still isn't exactly comfortable with letting her know the exact details of the relationship that he has with Fenrir Greyback.
"I'm actually staying with Fenrir," divulges the wizard, answering the witch's question. "For a while now, I've been a bit curious to see your progress in the Forbidden Forest with my own eyes and Fenrir was kind enough to give me a bit of a private tour the other night. It's very impressive that you all have made such headway in such a short amount of time."
"Oh, I didn't know that you and Mr.Greyback were friends."
"Yeah, we're Mates," replies Harry, the double meaning of the term making a grin appear on his face as well as the two werewolves beside him. He subconsciously rubs the side of his neck, touching Fenrir's claiming mark that is still embedded in his skin.
Unfortunately, the action shifts the collar of the Head Auror's shirt and reveals the claiming mark adorning his pale skin. Spotting the tell-tale mark on Harry's throat, Abigail blanches considerably as she recognizes what the bruise means. Then again, after spending so much time with lycanthropes it doesn't take much for her mind to make the connection.
"Oh! That's-ah, wonderful," comments the witch awkwardly after realizing that she was openly staring at Harry's throat.
"Abigail, you said that you had a discovery you wanted to share with us?" prompts Derrick, effectively changing the subject.
"Oh right! Well, I was looking over some older attempted maps of the Forbidden Forest in the Ministry's archives, trying to compare their notes to ours. I noticed how there were specific notes about the species of vegetation and where each plant species could be found. So, I took it upon myself to cross-reference the origins and uses of the various plant life.
"And, what is the issue?"
If Abigail noticed Derrick's tone, she makes no sign of it. Harry supposes she is simply focused on her discovery and a bit over eager to share her thoughts.
"Well, as most of us know, the Forbidden Forest is ancient. Some of the trees have been dated as thousands of years old, some are even from Merlin's time. However, there are new, completely different tree species in the forest that are as young as a century or two. There are even a few species of trees and shrubbery that are native to areas of the Americas and remote parts of Asia, obviously these plants did not come to the Forbidden Forest naturally. These trees were purposefully transplanted here and over time they have massively changed the ecosystem."
"Meaning?"
"Meaning that the Forbidden Forest isn't merely a natural occurrence," replies the witch, finally coming to her conclusion(much to Derrick's relief). "It was specifically cultivated. The Forbidden Forest was planned, landscaped if you will. And I think that it was designed that way in an effort to organically attract certain magical creatures."
"Why?" Scarlett inquires, voicing the question on everyone's mind.
"Well, the most logical answer is to protect Hogwarts."
"But the school has all sorts of wards and spells to protect it," comments Harry, taking a moment to think. "Unless, the creatures in the Forbidden Forest are supposed to be a backup plan in case those spells are negated."
"Exactly!" Abigail exclaims with excitement all over her soft features. "Working on this theory, I sent some samples to Hogwarts' Herbology teacher, Professor Longbottom, who has confirmed my findings. He even sent me this book for reference."
Opening the book in her arms, Abigail begins flipping through the aged pages. The book itself seems to emanate a soft floral and earthy dirt scent that reminds Harry of the Professor Sprout's greenhouses at Hogwarts. Apparently, the tome is an ancient guide to magical plant life as a flowering vine starts to crawl out of the book's spine as Abigail continues to make her case. Harry is momentarily distracted by the sweet orange scent the blooms emit.
"The tall grasses within the Forbidden Forest are a favorite nesting material of thestrals and unicorns as well. Some of the tree species are known to be favorites of bowtruckles. Even the geography of the land has been terraformed to be excellent for werewolf packs as the area has a vast underground cave system. Not to mention the trolls and other creatures attracted by the. . . "
As Abigail starts to ramble on, Harry, Scarlett, and Derrick are silent as they process all the information being told to them by the witch. Multiple looks of surprise are on each of their faces, however the trio all seem to come to the same conclusion.
"So basically, you're saying that the Ministry made this forest and is now enlisting us to fix their runaway problem?" questions Derrick, before a smirk appears on his face. "Fenrir will just love to hear this."
"Well, I didn't say that the Ministry planted it initially," Abigail protests, a blush on her face. "By the look of things, I think parts of the Forbidden Forest were actually planted around the time Hogwarts was erected in the 10th century. The heart of the Forbidden Forest itself is ancient, there's no way to date the exact time it started to grow."
Harry turns to the clever witch with a smile.
"Good work, Abigail."
"T-thank you, sir. I mean, Harry."
When Harry makes his way back into the cottage he shares with his werewolf, a sigh of relief leaves his lips at the warmth inside the small home. He is a bit disheartened to find that Fenrir has still not returned from his business at the Ministry. Shedding his layers of clothes until he is in a long sleeved t-shirt and jeans, he makes his way to the kitchen. The wizard puts away his purchases before plodding his way towards the bedroom. As the pregnancy continues on, the "Boy Who Lived" finds himself becoming tired much quicker than usual(This is one of those times when having an alpha werewolf around to carry you to bed is convenient, no matter what your pride thinks).
So, intending to only doze off for about twenty minutes or so, the wizard sinks into the welcoming, yet empty, bed. He removes his glasses, placing them gently on the bedside table before snuggling under the blankets. A smile makes it onto his face as he is completely enrobed by Fenrir's lingering scent—the next best thing to having the man there himself.
When he opens his eyes next, Harry is surprised to awaken to a darkened cottage. His twenty-minute nap had apparently transformed into a four-hour one.
However, Harry is more surprised to find himself lying on top of a sleeping Fenrir. The wizard's cheek is pressed against the firm warmth of the man's chest, his chest hair tickling the sensitive skin. Deep in sleep, the werewolf snores away, making a chuckle escape Harry's lips. Slowly, the wizard raises his head. It takes a few moments for emerald eyes to adjust to the low light as they take in the man's features that have been softened by sleep. From a quick look around their bedroom, the werewolf had returned home from the Ministry and simply joined his sleeping mate in bed. Fenrir had not even bothered to aim his clothing anywhere near the laundry hamper. Moving slowly, the wizard starts to raise his body in order to move off of the large man.
"Where are you goin', pup?" grumbles out the man, his speech slurred a bit from sleep. Apparently, the man wasn't as fast asleep as Harry initially thought.
For a moment, the wizard is speechless by the reaction that the rough quality of Fenrir's voice arouses. The deep rumble is somehow exponentially more intimate outside their physical bedroom activities. It takes Harry a few breaths to calm himself before settling back on the man beneath him.
"I was just going to my side of the bed, that's all."
"Why?"
"Well, it can't be too comfortable to sleep with me, I mean us, on top of you."
At the comment, Fenrir wraps his arm tighter around the wizard and settles him back on his chest.
"I was doin' just fine until you started to move around. Besides, if I didn't want you here, I wouldn't have put you both here."
"Oh, Alright then."
With that settled, Harry relaxes completely on the man's chest. A large hand begins running up and down his back, easing him back into sleep. As his eyes start to drift close, Harry asks the questions that have been on his mind since he woke up.
"So, how long have you been back?"
"A few hours," grumbles out Fenrir.
"Did everything go alright with Kingsley?"
The quasi-innocent question makes the werewolf smile. Running his hand through the unruly locks of his mate he cracks an eye open.
"Heard about that, did you?"
"Yeah. Word travels fast around the Ministry of Magic."
Fenrir chuckles at the comment, knowing the truth of those words. However, as his mind shifts to his meeting with Kingsley, he takes a deep breath—effectively rising the wizard on his chest with the effort. Harry smirks at the movement as the man's breathing returns to its normal pace.
"It's nothin' to worry about. He just wanted to make sure everythin' is on track."
"Good," replies the wizard, his words slightly slurred by a yawn. "I'm glad it wasn't anything serious."
As Harry falls back asleep, Fenrir stays awake as a certain memory replays itself through his mind . . .
Ah, Fenrir, I'm glad that you made it. How's everything in the Forbidden Forest?"
"Cut the crap, Kingsley."
At the annoyed tone, Kingsley raises an eyebrow. From his seat at his hand-carved desk, the Minister of Magic watches as the large werewolf strides his way into the spacious office. Fenrir's gait instantly lets the wizard know that the man is in no mood for any games. However, Kingsley still isn't completely sure what has him so upset.
"It's common courtesy to inquire into a guest's work, Fenrir."
"We both know that I'm not here to talk about the Forbidden Forest. You could've just sent your Patronus or an owl, for that."
With a deep breath, Kingsley leans back in his seat. Resting his elbows on the arms of the chair, he folds his hands together in thought. The Minister takes a moment to think over his words, as he has no desire to further enrage an already-annoyed werewolf.
"Alright then, I'll just address the issue then. Harry has told me about his situation, that the two of you are mated and that he is pregnant with your child."
Letting the statement hang in the air between them, Kingsley keeps his gaze even on the man before his desk. Fenrir's eyes sharpen, but other than that the werewolf makes no movement to acknowledge the statement.
"I have made sure that all his work for the next six months is nothing too strenuous," continues Shacklebolt. "I've also forbidden him from going out on field investigations. Even though this means I'll be without my best expert on the Dark Arts for quite some time."
"And?"
At the single word, Kingsley's attention is instantly refocused on the werewolf. Fenrir's tone may suggest his frustration but his body language isn't as subtle. The intimidating man glares down at the Minister of Magic in a way few, if any people, would dare.
"And what, Fenrir?"
"Don't insult my intelligence, Shacklebolt. I know that you have 'grievances', so let's hear 'em."
Leaning forward, the large wizard moves his elbows to rest on the surface of the polished desk.
"I'm concerned, I won't lie. Everything is alright now, since this development is only known to select people. However, once the truth comes out to the public, things will be very hard for the two of you. Harry, especially."
"The pup and I will handle it, when it comes up."
"Heed my warning Fenrir. Don't do anything that will give reason for the Ministry to take action. When this becomes known, believe that there will be those that will think you took advantage of Harry. For better or worse, Harry is a symbol, he's the 'Savior of the Wizarding World'. People don't react well to their symbols being . . . tainted, for the lack of a better word. They might even deem it the type of action to remove your mate and child from you."
At the words, a noticeable darkness settles on the alpha wolf. A low growl emits from his throat as the mere thought of Harry being taken away from him makes his inner wolf see red. Stalking closer to the ornate desk, Fenrir places his hands on the surface with the eerie calmness of the apex predator that he is. He locks his intense gaze with the Minister's as his voice comes out in a low, warning tone.
"Potter is mine, Kingsley. He gave himself to me of his own will. I personally promise you that if the Ministry even attempts to take him or our pup from me I will unleash a rampage on all of you wizards that will make Voldemort's reign seem like a fuckin' fairy tale, got me?"
For a moment, silence passes between the two men. Kingsley Shacklebolt cannot help the fear that the intense blue eyes instill. Anger is one thing, but the coldness in the werewolf's gaze is truly terror inspiring. Despite his recent change in disposition, this is the same man that has been accused of tearing wizards to shreds during the war. Not that large enough pieces of the victims' bodies have been found to confirm such atrocities. However, despite all of these thoughts, what truly leaves the Minister of Magic speechless is the reason behind them. This pure rage is generated from the affection that the notorious werewolf has developed for Harry James Potter.
"You're wasting that threat on me, however I will pass it along to the rest of the Ministry if you like," begins Kingsley with a knowing smile. "Fenrir, I have nothing personal against you. And Harry, is an adult, contrary to popular belief. He makes his own decisions."
"Then why this big meetin'?"
"Two reasons. The first reason, even though I am happy for you and Harry, you still have a job for the Ministry to do. As Minister, I just want to make sure that you aren't getting distracted."
"You have the progress map, Kingsley. Obviously, I'm not."
The man lets out a chuckle. His stern face wrinkling up in a smile as his eyes drift over to look at the parchment map sitting on his desk. To Fenrir's credit, the Forbidden Forest is more than halfway charted. The Ministry is more than satisfied with the detailed survey of the lands and the various territories established by the forest's denizens. It has been six months, and the team has made excellent progress and all without any major injury. Even the members of the Ministry that remain distrustful of Fenrir are satisfied with the werewolf's efficiency.
"So, I hear that Harry now lives with you?"
Raising an eyebrow at Kingsley's question, Fenrir's face hardens with anger.
"Did you think I'd leave my pregnant mate alone?"
Putting up his hands in no offense, the Minister continues.
"I was just curious. Let's move on to reason number two. I already can't use Harry in the field due to your 'influence'. I'm afraid that he won't be able to maintain his office as Head Auror if you don't take extra care of him."
"What the hell is that supposed to mean?! I take care of him just fine!"
"What I mean, Mr. Greyback," begins Kingsley, his own tone now as hard as the werewolf's. "Is that he thinks that he can do everything. We both know that Harry is tough, he always has been. However, he is pregnant and now his priority is to take care of the child he is carrying."
The Minister of Magic takes a breath as prepares to level some cold hard truth to the werewolf before him.
"Head Auror isn't just a title, it is a highly-coveted position that all my aurors are constantly vying for. So far, Harry has done an excellent job proving that he deserves the position even at his young age. Every auror that follows him, respects him and we all are indebted to him for ridding the world of the Dark Lord. However, when this news comes out—and you are fooling yourself if you think it won't—there is a very high possibility some will use it to discredit all the work that Harry has done. I don't want that to happen, do you?"
"No, the pup loves his work," Fenrir admits. "It would devastate him."
"Exactly, so I suggest that we both increase our efforts to ease things for him. After all, even the Minister of Magic can only hold off the 'Daily Prophet' for so long. When that day comes, we'll have to think of the best way to present this situation."
The undeniable truth of the man's words make Fenrir think long and hard. As much as he wants to keep Harry away from all the bureaucracy of the wizarding world, it is becoming more and more evident that it is near impossible. Fenrir knows better than anyone that the Ministry of Magic is capable of making life a living hell, especially for Harry.
"Kingsley, I want your word that you'll do everything to protect Harry and our cub. I don't give a shite what any wizard says about me, but they haven't done anythin' wrong."
"You have my word," agrees Kingsley.
Returning to the present, Fenrir eyes drift closed as he takes a deep inhale of his mate, letting Harry's scent linger before exhaling it. His arms tighten ever so slightly around the slumbering wizard, the werewolf needing to feel the reassuring weight of his pregnant mate in his arms. At the action, Harry cuddles even closer to Fenrir with a soft smile on his lips, unbeknownst of the thoughts swirling about in the alpha wolf's mind.
|
Monday sees Taehyung talking to Jungkook on the bus journey home for half an hour, with “I fucking hate exams” as his eloquent opening line.
“Did it not go well?” Jungkook asks sympathetically, a couple of textbooks spread open in front of him as he tries hopelessly to multitask.
“No, the Drama one was fine,” Taehyung answers nonchalantly. “And Biology was kind of shit, but that’s just Biology for you. I’m just pissed that I have to wait another two days before my next one, you know? I mean, I’m so done with exams – I did two in one day; what more do they want from me?” Plus his lack of exams means there’s no reason for him to come into school for the next couple of days, which means no phone call with Jungkook on the way home. That’s what he’s really upset about.
Jungkook laughs at Taehyung’s mini monologue, but then his words sink in. “Wait – you don’t have any exams tomorrow or the day after?”
There’s a pause on the other end of the line as Taehyung shuffles awkwardly in his seat. “I did tell you.”
Jungkook sighs, a little frustrated with himself. “I guess I’ve been so focused on revision that I didn’t really register what it meant. So I won’t speak to you again until Thursday?” Neither of them are going to dance class tomorrow because of exam week, but Jungkook didn’t realise that he wouldn’t be seeing or talking to Taehyung at all.
Taehyung frowns, thinking through the options. He can chat as much as he likes during the day, but he knows from experience that if he’s on the phone to someone while his parents are around, they’ll pressure him for details. Besides, he definitely can’t talk freely with them around and he’d rather not censor himself. It would be too easy to slip up. “I can talk during school time?” he offers.
Jungkook pouts a little, even though Taehyung can’t see him. “I can’t. I’ll be doing revision and even when I’m not, the Pink Ladies will want to know who I’m talking to. Jimin was being so nosy today; I think he feels like he missed out on a lot while he was away. I – I don’t want to risk it,” he explains regretfully.
“I’ll text you. A lot,” Taehyung says decisively. He then looks around at the other people on the bus, slightly wary. He still hasn’t got over his fear of people overhearing his conversations with Jungkook and drawing their own conclusions before he’s ready to confirm anything.
Having said that, he’s getting there. Really. He’s already started to think about who he wants to come out to first – J-Hope, of course, because although a bad reaction is terrifying, he wants his best friend to officially be the first to know – and he’s planning on asking for Jungkook’s help with it as soon as he isn’t so stressed with exams. Taehyung thinks that maybe they should write a script, or something. He’s good with memorising lines.
Nobody on the bus seems to be paying Taehyung any attention, so he continues quietly, “I miss you.”
Jungkook laughs breathily. “I miss you too. I don’t really know why. I saw you today.” He’s aware that it sounds ridiculous, because really he shouldn’t be so dependent on one person. But this is Taehyung, and he’s the exception to all of Jungkook’s rules on social interaction, so why should this be any different?
“It’s not the same,” Taehyung agrees. “We haven’t really seen each other properly since last Sunday. But I’ll talk to you on the way home on Thursday, and then we’ll see each other on Friday night for our date, remember? We just have to last a few more days.”
“Yeah,” Jungkook agrees. “I’ll be so busy with revision anyway; it’ll probably go really quickly.”
Taehyung snorts. “Time flies when you’re having fun.”
“Shut up,” Jungkook chuckles. He then looks down at his music textbook, the reminder of revision prompting him to look down at his notes. Jungkook feels a little guilty for trying to avoid the inevitable workload by talking to Taehyung instead.
“Do you need to go?” Taehyung asks after a second. “I can tell that you’re distracted.”
Jungkook sighs, looking at his notes with a resigned expression as they look right back at him. “It’s my music theory paper tomorrow. I don’t know a word of Italian; how the hell am I supposed to know what ‘andante’ means?” he whinges. “Apparently these are the basics, too. So, in short, I’m screwed.”
Taehyung laughs. “Don’t beat yourself up about it. You’ve still got a few months before the real thing! You have plenty of time to become fluent.”
“Sure,” Jungkook says through a chuckle, because even if Taehyung is being ridiculous, it does make him feel a little better. Especially with Jimin (and his insane work ethic) back at school, it’s good to talk to Taehyung and gain a bit of perspective. Even if Jungkook were to fail all of his exams this week, it wouldn’t really matter.
“I can quiz you, if you want?” Taehyung offers. “I can get up a list of Italian music phrases up on my phone or whatever.”
“That could actually be pretty helpful,” Jungkook says, relieved to have some help, so Taehyung passes the time helping Jungkook revise until he says that he needs to move on to studying the set works. Unfortunately, this isn’t something that Taehyung can offer any help with, so he lets Jungkook go.
They only need to make it to Friday.
***
As expected, Jungkook is so busy with revision that the time actually does pass quickly – as it tends to when you wish it wouldn’t. Jungkook would have preferred having more time to cram, but he supposes it’s just as well that he’s learnt his lesson before the actual exams begin in May.
He wonders whether Taehyung did much work for his mocks in the end. They hardly spoke to each other on Thursday night because Jungkook was trying to cram for his exams on Friday, but even now that Friday’s exams have come and gone and school is over, Jungkook still isn’t satisfied. Hani’s throwing an ‘end of exams (for now)’ celebration for the T-Birds, which of course Taehyung is going to, so they can’t see each other until later in the evening.
They’ve agreed to meet at 8pm, after Taehyung escapes under the guise of having a date. (Technically, it isn’t a lie. It’s neither Jungkook’s nor Taehyung’s fault that all the T-Birds have assumed he’s still dating Jennie.)
When Taehyung shows up at Jungkook’s front door 10 minutes early, too eager to see him, Jungkook is already waiting by the door, just as eager. He opens the door and then Taehyung’s lips are on his, kissing him gently, then a little harder, his hands travelling between Jungkook’s back and neck and arms and chest until Jungkook pushes him away far too soon, breathless.
“I – my mum,” he says incoherently as Taehyung frowns at him. “She’s. In the living room. Dad too.” His tongue darts out to wet his lips unconsciously and Taehyung’s eyes follow the motion, before Jungkook’s words sink in and Taehyung takes a deliberate step back from Jungkook, putting some space between them.
Jungkook tries to regain his breath while Taehyung wonders whether Jungkook’s mother heard them kissing, and then wonders how much kissing they could actually get away with before Taehyung was banned from visiting again. “Thanks for the warning,” he says sarcastically.
“You didn’t give me much of a chance to say anything,” Jungkook grins, heading outside fully and closing the door behind him. It suddenly hits him that this must be the first proper kiss they’ve shared in a public area, and it’s too dark to know whether anyone could have seen. But Taehyung initiated the kiss and surely he would have checked the surroundings already, so Jungkook forces himself to relax. They know what they’re doing.
“How did your last exams go today?” Taehyung asks as they walk down the street, even though all he really wants right now is to kiss Jungkook again. Of course he wants to hear about Jungkook’s week, too, but he can still taste Jungkook on his lips and now it’s all he can think about. He really should have known better than to kiss him as soon as he opened the door, without even greeting him first, but they haven’t seen each other all week and he couldn’t resist.
“They were okay, I guess,” Jungkook responds noncommittally. “I don’t know. I don’t really want to think about it again. If I fail, at least I’ll be better prepared for the actual ones.”
“That’s the spirit,” Taehyung chuckles, not noticing how Jungkook’s eyes stay focused on his mouth after he stops speaking. “Did you do anything to celebrate tonight?”
“Huh?” Jungkook asks gormlessly.
Taehyung stifles a laugh. “I said, did you do anything to celebrate?” he repeats, taking hold of Jungkook’s hand and bringing it to his lips to kiss his knuckles.
“I –” Jungkook falters, his face flushing a bright shade of pink from the outward display of affection. There’s nobody around, but it still makes him feel all funny inside. “I’m just – going out with you,” he answers, stuttering slightly.
“So cute,” Taehyung mumbles, an offhanded comment under his breath, but Jungkook hears it and blushes again.
“How was Hani’s thing?” Jungkook asks as Taehyung drops his hand.
“Very Hani,” Taehyung answers with a laugh. “She bought balloons and played crap music and made us all dance when we didn’t want to. There was alcohol, too, but none of us had any because we have some semblance of self-control, thank you very much. But yeah, it was good.” Suga also left early to meet up with Jimin, and J-Hope was talking about heading to the café to annoy LE just as Taehyung was getting ready to leave, so he didn’t feel too bad about ditching the party. Nobody seemed that interested in where he was going, either, which was a relief.
“I’m glad it was good,” Jungkook says. “It means we didn’t wait an extra four hours to see each other for no reason.”
Taehyung grins. “You know I would’ve preferred to go out with you.”
Jungkook smiles back bashfully. “Yeah, I know. What’s the plan for tonight?”
Taehyung shrugs. “I’m not really sure. All I know is that I really want to kiss you again.”
Jungkook’s breath hitches in his throat before he forces himself to calm down. They kiss all the time – it’s not exactly a novel idea. But something about having to wait for it for almost two weeks makes his whole body feel like it’s on full alert. “I – okay, well, me too. But we need to find somewhere to stop and – will the park be closed by now?” he babbles. “It’s dark, too. I’m not sure if –”
“We can go to the park,” Taehyung cuts in, a little amused by how easy it is to make Jungkook flustered. “It might be a bit dark, but that’s romantic, right?” he adds with a cheesy smile.
“Not if we can’t see each other,” Jungkook points out.
“Huh. True,” Taehyung acknowledges, still staring at Jungkook’s mouth unabashedly. He feels a little guilty for it, because he wants to pay full attention to the conversation they’re having, but God knows that he shouldn’t have kissed Jungkook if he didn’t want to be thinking of his lips all night. He can hardly concentrate on where he’s walking.
“Tell me about your exams,” Jungkook instructs, struggling to keep his mind from wandering.
“There’s not much to say,” Taehyung says evasively.
“You’re making this extremely difficult,” Jungkook snaps.
Taehyung raises his eyebrows. “I just don’t have anything to tell you. They were exams, and I’ve told you about most of them anyway. Do you want me to say I enjoyed them?”
Jungkook shrugs sadly. “I’m trying to talk to you. You usually have more to say than this.”
Taehyung carefully takes Jungkook’s hand in his, looking around nervously to make sure that nobody is watching them. “I can’t help it that I can’t stay focused,” he says quietly to Jungkook. “It’s pretty hard to hold a conversation when all I can think about is how much I want to kiss you again.”
Jungkook glares at him as he tries to ignore the butterflies erupting in his stomach. “We have to wait until we find somewhere more secluded. Your rules, remember?”
“My rules are stupid,” Taehyung says decisively as he leads Jungkook down a side street; a small alleyway with no streetlamps and no people. It’s already dark enough outside that if they press against the wall, nobody will be able to see them.
Taehyung gently pulls Jungkook towards him, sandwiching himself between the wall and Jungkook’s body, before connecting their lips – and yes, Taehyung may be incredibly biased, but he has a feeling Jungkook is the best kisser to have ever existed.
They stand there for a few minutes, kissing innocently, until Taehyung forces himself to draw back. “This is okay, right?” he mumbles, just to make sure. The whole ‘communication’ thing still isn’t his strong point, but he’s working on it.
“Hmm?” Jungkook asks, and Taehyung isn’t sure whether Jungkook is having trouble hearing him because he’s speaking too quietly or because his mind is elsewhere.
But Taehyung doesn’t want to take any chances, so he leans closer to Jungkook to say “Is this okay?” directly into his ear, before kissing the shell of his ear, then the spot just underneath his earlobe, then his neck – because Taehyung is weak and he has no self-control when it comes to Jungkook.
“Of course it’s okay,” Jungkook scoffs, trying to act cool even when he feels his heart doing somersaults in his chest. “What kind of – ah – of a question is that?” he finishes, although he thinks his sentence may lose some of its impact from the way he practically moans right in the middle of it.
Taehyung grins at him, something almost childlike about his excitement, and not for the first time Jungkook gets whiplash at how Taehyung can go from sexy to adorable in a split second. “You like that?” Taehyung asks, before kissing the same spot on his neck again.
“Oh – oh my God, stop it,” Jungkook says irritably, embarrassed.
Taehyung’s eyes flit up to meet Jungkook’s. “Okay,” he says, reluctantly pulling away. “Sorry.” As much as he wants to kiss Jungkook senseless, what he really wants is to make Jungkook happy. But, oddly enough, he doesn’t seem happy when Taehyung pulls away.
“I – Tae, come on, this isn’t fair,” Jungkook whines.
“What isn’t?” he asks carefully. They said they’d try to work on talking to each other and expressing their feelings better, but Jungkook is seriously giving him mixed signals here.
“How can you… be so good at this?” Jungkook asks quietly, almost to himself.
Taehyung frowns. “Good at what?”
“This,” Jungkook repeats emphatically. “Kissing. Making me feel all – weird. You’re just… so good to me, Tae. I – I don’t – shit, this is embarrassing.” He looks down at the ground and Taehyung stares at him, a little concerned.
“Kookie, what’s going on?” Taehyung asks, tightening his hold on Jungkook’s hips protectively. Jungkook doesn’t usually stumble over his words like this when they’re together anymore. He’s supposed to feel comfortable enough around Taehyung that expressing his thoughts isn’t an issue. “You don’t need to be nervous. I – I stopped, okay? I’m sorry for pushing you.”
Jungkook shakes his head. “No, Tae. That’s not – I don’t want you to stop,” he mumbles. “That’s the problem.”
Taehyung’s eyes widen in realisation. “Oh.”
“I can’t stop thinking about it,” Jungkook continues. “About you. Ever since the day after Rosé’s party, when you stayed over… remember when I pushed you out of bed and made you leave the room?” He smiles shyly at the memory, looking a little embarrassed. “I wanted it, then. And I want it now, too.” He forces himself to maintain eye contact with Taehyung, even when he feels his cheeks heating up at the admission. “I guess I’ve wanted it for a while, ever since we got back together. But I’ve just… I’ve felt too awkward to say anything about it.”
“What do you want, Kookie?” Taehyung asks softly, because as much as he loves what he’s hearing, Jungkook isn’t giving him any specifics and he doesn’t want to misunderstand.
“You,” Jungkook says insistently, and maybe it isn’t a very useful answer, but that doesn’t matter, because then Jungkook’s lips are pressing against his, hard, kissing the living daylights out of him, and Taehyung thinks that maybe this will be how he dies. But he’s also one hundred percent okay with that.
It feels more heated than before, but Taehyung is more than happy to go along with it and follow Jungkook’s lead. When Jungkook’s tongue slips into his mouth, he groans a little, realising just how much he’s missed this feeling of having Jungkook so close, and Jungkook smiles against his mouth before kissing him harder.
Taehyung grips Jungkook’s hips almost forcefully as he pushes their bodies impossibly closer, and Jungkook responds by pushing him back against the wall. But when Jungkook accidentally pushes him too hard, he cards his fingers gently through Taehyung’s hair by means of a silent apology.
Taehyung feels himself getting breathless. He’s hooked up with a lot of people and he’s kissed them with desperation, but never has he kissed someone who kisses back so hungrily and urgently, and yet so gently and lovingly, all at once.
As Taehyung pulls away to get some much-needed air, Jungkook leans forward and bites his earlobe. Taehyung gasps at the contact and quickly gives up trying to catch his breath as the air gets stuck in his throat.
When he feels Jungkook’s tongue start to play with his earring, he can’t help the moan that escapes from his mouth. Jungkook smirks, proud that he’s got his revenge from earlier, and Taehyung fights the blush spreading to his cheeks. But it’s hard to remember to be embarrassed when Jungkook is kissing his skin like that, so when another moan spills out of his lips, he doesn’t suppress it.
“You’re – you’re usually so shy,” Taehyung whines as he pushes his body closer to Jungkook’s. “What changed?”
Jungkook leaves a trail of kisses down to his collarbone and then admits, “I guess I realised that you were never going to take things further unless I initiated it. So… here I am. Initiating.” He looks at Taehyung bashfully and Taehyung grins.
“I like you like this. Taking control, and everything. It’s so hot.”
Jungkook smirks in response before kissing him on the mouth again, slotting his leg in between Taehyung’s thighs as he lets his hands run freely over Taehyung’s body. He allows one hand to slip under Taehyung’s shirt and move closer to the waistband of his jeans, closer, until –
Jungkook pulls away suddenly, placing his hands firmly on Taehyung’s chest when Taehyung goes to lean back in. “I think I heard something,” he says, his voice breathless. And although they may feel totally drunk on each other, that one sentence is enough for both of them to instantly sober up.
They both pause, breathing heavily, and over the breathing they can just about hear voices in the distance – then quiet laughter, which gets louder with every passing second. It’s probably just some people having a good Friday night out who happen to be passing by, but it doesn’t hurt to be careful.
“I bet it’s nothing,” Taehyung whispers, but his heartbeat is already speeding up. There’s no way he wants to start this whole coming out experience by explaining why he was making out with some guy against a wall in a dark alleyway on a Friday night. Nope, definitely not how he wants to start that conversation.
Jungkook looks down the street, where he can now see a group of people walking past. It’s surprisingly easy to forget that they’re in public and Jungkook sets a reminder in his head to control himself when he and Taehyung aren’t somewhere private. “There are people walking past. I – I guess we got a bit carried away,” Jungkook admits embarrassedly as he reluctantly puts some distance between him and Taehyung.
Taehyung grins. “I’m not complaining.”
Jungkook laughs, relaxing. “Right. Well… we were on our way to the park, weren’t we? So. You ready to go?”
Taehyung raises an eyebrow pointedly. “In case it’s escaped your notice,” he says, gesturing to the bulge in his jeans, “I’m not really ready to go anywhere just yet.”
Jungkook gulps. “Right,” he repeats. He tears his gaze away from Taehyung’s crotch, trying to keep himself in check, but when he looks up he realises that the group of people aren’t just walking past the alleyway but are in fact walking towards them. “I suppose we should just wait here until these people have come past,” he says, although he sounds a little hesitant. The people walking in their direction – guys around their age, Jungkook notices now that they’re a little closer – seem a little past tipsy and Jungkook isn’t all too convinced he likes the look of them.
Taehyung follows Jungkook’s gaze and then turns back to Jungkook urgently. “Shit. Jungkook. Tell me we’re not in the alley next to the purple house.”
Jungkook frowns. “Uh –” He looks behind him and shrugs. “There’s a purple house right on the corner here? But Tae, why does it matter –”
“Fuck,” Taehyung hisses. “I know those guys. I mean, I don’t know them, but I’ve heard of them. And you probably have too – you know those homophobic douchebags in my year at school?”
Jungkook blinks. “The ones that got really drunk a couple months ago and landed that one guy in hospital for a couple of days?” he asks apprehensively. He really doesn’t like where this is going.
Taehyung nods nervously. “We’re in their alley.”
Jungkook flounders. “Well you’re the one that dragged us down here!”
Taehyung sighs, frustrated. “I wasn’t paying attention, I –” He turns back towards the people and nods. “Yep, that’s done the trick. I’m flaccid.”
Jungkook stares at him. “Taehyung, what the fuck. There are more important things to think about right now.”
Taehyung rolls his eyes, frustrated at himself. “I can’t believe we’re in their street! Which is fucking stupid, by the way, because you can’t own a street unless you’re the council, but whatever. I wouldn’t even care if it was just me, but if they lay a single finger on you then I swear to God I’ll kill them.”
Jungkook raises an eyebrow. “Well, they’re not here yet. They might not have even seen us. Let’s just go.”
“Oh,” Taehyung says in realisation. “Yeah, okay. Let’s go.” But as soon as they start walking away, a bottle smashes right at Taehyung’s feet and he realises that they may have left it too late to escape.
“You dick, that was my vodka you just smashed on the floor,” a loud voice slurs from not far behind them.
“It was empty, you twat,” another voice grumbles back. “Anyway, you really want to let them get away? They’re in our alley; we need to put them in their place.”
Another voice asks, “Who are they?”
“I don’t know, just a couple of faggots,” the first voice responds. “Think we caught them in the middle of a hook-up.”
“Gross,” another voice groans.
Taehyung sees Jungkook frown at the homophobic slur and it makes Taehyung want to put these guys in their place.
“What did you guys think you were doing, fucking around in our alley?” the boy at the front of the group says snidely – and yes, the sentence is beyond stupid, but it’s also a blatant challenge and V has never been one to turn down one of those. Because apparently, Jungkook thinks to himself bitterly, that’s the person that Taehyung has turned into right now.
V raises an eyebrow, too arrogant to seem like he’s not challenging them right back. “My sex life has nothing to do with you. So, if you’d kindly fuck right off, I’ll get back to my date and you can get back to being the biggest twats of the century, sound good?” He’s stepped into the light now, facing the group of guys head on and Jungkook rolls his eyes again. V isn’t even drunk; why is he acting just as bad as the others?
“Your date,” one of the others says, somehow managing to phrase it like an accusation. “You do know that’s not normal, right?”
“Yes, we’re very aware that we’re the scum of the earth and we’ll be leaving you alone now,” Jungkook pipes up from the sidelines, grabbing the sleeve of V’s jacket and trying to pull him away.
Another guy snorts in distaste – how many of them are there? Five? It’s hard to tell in the darkness. “You really think we’ll just let you leave?” he says slowly and Jungkook gulps.
V turns to look at Jungkook and realises that, in his reluctance to just wait until they got to the park before initiating a make out session, he may have completely screwed them over.
“Tae,” Jungkook mumbles, and the look of panic on his face is enough for V to make his decision.
“Go,” he says quietly. “I’ll catch up to you later.”
“What?” Jungkook demands, because that doesn’t even make sense. “You’re an idiot if you think I’m leaving you here.”
“Then I’m a fucking idiot,” V snaps. “Because that’s what you’re going to do.”
Jungkook shakes his head. “Don’t do this,” he murmurs, because it’s bad enough getting bullied for who he is, but it’s even worse when his boyfriend is going to be attacked too and he can’t think of a way to stop it.
“This is my fault,” V mumbles back, more gently this time. “Just – leave, go home, I’ll be fine.”
“You won’t be fine,” Jungkook protests, too worried about V to notice a couple of the boys at the front cracking their knuckles in anticipation.
The guy at the front inches towards him, shooting him an arrogant smile. “So,” he says, turning back to his friends with a smirk. “Who should we go for first? The one who thinks he actually stands a chance, or the one who’s too much of a wimp to try and fight back?”
“You won’t even touch him,” V says angrily, stepping closer again to the group of drunken idiots and further from Jungkook, who’s hurriedly backing away.
One of the other boys raises an eyebrow, vaguely amused. “Oh, yeah? And why’s that?” he slurs, before punching him dead in the face, just because he can.
V smirks, despite the ringing in his head and the way his nose is now stinging. “Because he’s not here,” he says coolly.
The others peer around V in surprise and realise that, by getting closer to them, V managed to obstruct their view so that they didn’t notice Jungkook leaving.
V can only hope that the others are satisfied enough with hurting him that they don’t chase after Jungkook as well.
The guy at the front purses his lips, annoyed, but then he shrugs, like this was his plan all along. “If your plan was to get beaten up by more of us, then well done, you succeeded.”
V rolls his eyes as the boy who punched him pipes up, “So are you going to put up a fight, or what?”
One of the others scoffs. “Please. Like that would even make a difference.”
V shrugs. “Doesn’t matter if I’m playing a losing game. I’m not going to give in that easily.”
And so it starts with him being punched again in the face, then the groin, then the back of his legs so that he’s crouching on the floor. And he fights back, of course he does, because he has pride, but V is also vastly outnumbered and he can only put up so much of a fight before he’s overpowered.
***
Once Taehyung is out of his sight, Jungkook runs.
He runs past the café and past the dance studio and past the street where he and Taehyung had their first post-summer kiss. He runs past the school and past the entrance to the park and he almost runs to J-Hope’s house to get some help, but then he remembers that he’ll be at Hani’s house for the party and Jungkook doesn’t know where Hani’s house is and – even if he did, he can’t even talk to any of them about this. Everything’s a secret and if he wanted to explain it all now, it would take far too long.
As Jungkook keeps on going with no specific destination in mind, his brain insists on playing back to him the memories of being bullied last year, except with Taehyung stood in his place. Somehow, even though he knows it isn’t real, it hurts so much more when it’s Taehyung who’s being insulted and pushed around instead of him.
Eventually Jungkook finds himself outside his own house. He has no idea when he started crying, but he can feel the tear tracks on his cheeks and he can hear that his breathing is unsteady from more than just the sprint back home. He fumbles around in his pockets, desperately searching for his keys, but in his frenzied state he can’t find anything and he slams his hand against the door in frustration.
His mother must hear all the commotion from inside the house because a couple of moments later the door is opening and Jungkook is collapsing into her arms rather pitifully.
“Jungkook, what are you doing here?” She asks, rubbing his back soothingly. “I thought you were seeing Taehyung tonight.” She pulls away from him with a frown. “He didn’t hurt you, did he? I swear to God, if he’s done something to upset you…” Her voices takes on a dangerous edge and her eyes narrow.
“No, mum, that’s not it,” Jungkook insists. “He’s the one who’s hurt. In fact, they’re probably still hurting him right now. And I just left him there. Mum, it’s – it’s like last year, but worse. So much worse.” He flinches as his brain replays the footage of Taehyung being punched in the face and his mother eyes him apprehensively.
She draws him inside and gestures for him to sit down on the sofa, resting her hand on his knee comfortingly. “I’ll give you a few minutes to calm down. But then you need to tell me exactly what happened, and we’ll figure something out together, okay honey?”
***
“I didn’t realise they ever let you leave early,” J-Hope comments as he and LE exit the café.
“Yeah, on days where it’s quiet. I’m surprised, though. I thought it would be busier now that exam week’s just finished,” LE frowns as she shrugs her jacket over her shoulders. The managers told most of the waitresses that they could go home because there were only three customers in the café – one of them being J-Hope, who never ordered anything and left as soon as he realised LE was allowed to leave too. The only waitress still working right now is Solji, because although the café unlikely to get a sudden influx of people with only 20 minutes to go until closing time, they need to keep someone there just in case.
“I guess people were too busy throwing their own parties,” J-Hope shrugs. That’s what he and the other T-Birds did, at least, and they’re some of the café’s more regular customers.
“I guess,” LE agrees noncommittally.
J-Hope looks over at her. “You okay?”
LE shrugs, but J-Hope can tell she feels uncomfortable. “Just don’t want to go home yet. I thought I’d have a bit more time before I had to go back.”
J-Hope smiles comfortingly. “You could always ask Hani if you can stay over.”
LE laughs. “What, you don’t want to invite me over yourself?”
J-Hope rolls his eyes. “I would, if only someone wouldn’t get jealous.”
LE raises an eyebrow. “Is Rosé the jealous type? I thought she was more self-assured than that.”
J-Hope snorts. “I’m talking about Hani. She keeps bugging me about how you guys haven’t had a sleepover in ages. I don’t know what she expects me to do about it, but hell if I ever understand her logic. Anyway, you can come to mine if you want, but I’m not getting involved when she gets upset about it.”
LE grins. “That does sound like typical Hani. Okay, yeah, I’ll text her now.”
LE is busy reading Hani’s reply – of course you can come over! I was so sad you couldn’t come to the party earlier! what even is work, please. your best friend is more important. (get here asap, I have music and snacks!!!) – when she hears something that sounds like a group of people in the middle of a punch-up down one of the side streets.
“Hey, that’s those pricks from school down there, right?” LE asks, vaguely curious as she peers down the alley to watch the sight unfolding. The group of people are only a few metres away, but it’s hard to see them properly in the dark. “It’s not looking too good for today’s target,” she says with a grimace.
LE turns to J-Hope, expecting an answer, but instead she finds him staring at the scene with his mouth hanging open in shock. “LE – I think that’s V,” he says disbelievingly.
Her eyes widen. “Fuck,” she mutters, walking down the alley after J-Hope who’s already striding ahead. The victim is crouched on the floor, trying to shield the blows to his head, and the little that can be seen of his face is streaked with blood – but as the pair gets a bit closer, LE turns on the light on her phone and they can make out the boy’s facial features and… there’s no mistaking it. It’s definitely him.
“Hey, you bastards!” LE shouts angrily. A couple of them turn around in surprise and she yells, “What the fuck do you think you’re doing to my friend?”
One of the boys merely laughs in response, but the other one gapes, seeming to recognise her. He hits his friends and says something to them that LE and J-Hope are too far away to hear, but after that all five of them scrabble to their feet and run away (although ‘speedily stagger away’ may be a more accurate description).
“V,” J-Hope says softly as soon as they reach him. Only at this moment does V look up to see his saviours.
He smiles slightly, even though it makes the cut on his lip bleed more strongly. “I told him I’d be fine,” V croaks.
LE frowns. “What’s he talking about?” she asks J-Hope nervously.
“I think he’s a bit out of it,” J-Hope responds warily. “Don’t worry, I can take it from here.”
“Are you serious?” LE looks at V, now sat slumped against the wall, and winces. “He looks pretty beat up.”
“My mum’s a nurse,” J-Hope reminds her. “I’ll take him back home and make sure nothing’s too serious. You go on ahead, Hani’s waiting for you. He’ll be fine with me.”
“If you’re sure…” LE says, although she seems hesitant to leave. After a moment’s thought, she leans down and pats V consolingly on the shoulder before she sends J-Hope a tight smile and makes her way down the street.
J-Hope looks at V’s appearance and sighs, taking a seat next to him. His clothes are mainly intact, if not a bit bloody, but his face and arms are quite bruised. J-Hope hopes that the clothes aren’t hiding too many more bruises, although he doesn’t feel optimistic. He wonders guiltily how long V was taking punches without bothering to defend himself before he and LE turned up.
“You alright, mate?” J-Hope asks after a minute of silence. If he doesn’t have any words of comfort to offer, then he may as well speak like normal.
V looks up at J-Hope and smiles, although it looks more like a grimace.
“Hey, you know that was LE who patted you on the shoulder,” J-Hope says conversationally. “She obviously really cares – you know how much she hates physical contact,” he jokes.
“Yeah,” V agrees, his voice raw and scratchy. He then coughs loudly and J-Hope tries not to wince at how rough his best friend looks right now.
After another couple seconds of silence, J-Hope gives up all pretence and sighs. “Why were they attacking you?”
V doesn’t speak for a moment – long enough for J-Hope to consider repeating the question. But then he says in a very small voice, “I can’t tell you.”
“Bullshit,” J-Hope snaps. “You’re my friend and I need to make sure this doesn’t happen again, but I can’t do that if you don’t tell me what happened. Did they threaten you or something?”
“No… not really,” V replies helpfully.
J-Hope groans inwardly, deciding to change tack. “How long were they hurting you before we showed up?”
“I don’t know, 5 minutes, maybe 10?” V shrugs in defeat. “It wasn’t that long, really. But it feels like a lot longer when you’re getting kicked and punched repeatedly.”
“Yeah, I’ll bet,” J-Hope sighs. He stands up and stretches, proffering a hand to V. “Come on, we need to get you home.”
V almost laughs. “You think I can go home looking like this? My parents will completely freak out.”
“I’m not sure how you’re going to manage to hide it from them, looking like that,” J-Hope rolls his eyes. “But that’s not what I meant, anyway. You’re coming back to mine.”
V is quiet on the short walk back, but he doesn’t have too much trouble walking so J-Hope assumes that no serious damage has been done. By the time J-Hope opens the door and lets them both inside, his mum is already in the kitchen making a cup of coffee.
“I was wondering where you got to,” she says without turning around. “Do you want coffee? I was just making some.”
“Mum, V’s here too. And the coffee might have to wait,” J-Hope replies.
J-Hope’s mother turns around with a big smile on her face. “Hello again V, lovely to see…” Her face falls as she takes in the sight of his bloodied face. “What on earth happened to you?”
“He got beaten up,” J-Hope says nonchalantly. “He’s refusing to tell me anything else about it, but I wondered if maybe you could have a look at him?”
His mother nods immediately and gets her son to assist her in bringing V through to the living room and lying him down on one of the sofas. (Since reaching the safety of J-Hope’s home, V is too emotionally drained to pay much attention to instructions, so they need all the help they can get.)
Mrs Jung performs some generic medical checks to make sure that V is okay besides the bruises, accompanied by J-Hope who watches them apprehensively, wincing every so often at the sight of the blood. Mrs Jung cleans the blood off V’s wounds as she asks him about the attack – a couple of times she asks questions V has trouble answering, such as “How many times did they hit you?”, which V isn’t sure about because he lost count, or “Why would they do something like this to someone so lovely?”, at which V simply laughs weakly, understanding that it isn’t medically necessary to provide a response.
“All the damage appears to be on the surface,” Mrs Jung concludes, “which means that there shouldn’t be any lingering problems and you should be back on your feet soon. But for now at least, you’re still in a lot of pain and you’ve also had a bit of a shock, so I’m going to get you some decent painkillers, okay?” She smiles kindly at V before exiting the room to find something suitable.
V slowly shifts to a sitting position on the sofa, wincing at the pain. He looks at his friend numbly, but the gratitude is still evident on his face. “Thank you, J-Hope,” V says softly. It’s the first time he’s initiated conversation since J-Hope and LE found him in the alleyway and J-Hope chooses to take this as a good sign.
“It’s okay. I just want you to be alright, mate. I do care, you know?” he responds seriously, trying to make eye contact with V, but V keeps his head turned away. It looks like he’s scared of seeming vulnerable, even though he couldn’t possibly be in a more vulnerable position right now.
“I know,” V replies tightly, and J-Hope can tell just from those two words that there’s something important V isn’t telling him.
“You have to talk to me,” J-Hope says firmly.
For the first time since arriving at J-Hope’s house, V looks directly at him. “Okay.” He says it so quietly that J-Hope almost doesn’t hear it, but he’s been waiting to have this conversation since he found V curled in on himself on the floor and he’s not about to miss the opportunity.
“Whatever it is, I’m not going to judge you,” J-Hope reminds him.
“I don’t know where to begin,” V says sadly.
“Why don’t you start with what you were doing before those arseholes arrived?” J-Hope suggests gently.
V sighs resignedly. Script or no script, he’s got to tell him some time. “Okay. Fine. Right, this might come as a bit of a shock, but…” He looks at J-Hope nervously. “I was making out with someone.”
J-Hope snorts. “Wow.” He chuckles lightly. “For a second there you had me thinking it would be something genuinely surprising. Seriously V, if you think that’s shocking –”
“No, I mean, it’s not – I wasn’t. I mean… I.” V pauses, trying to gather his thoughts. J-Hope attempts to conceal his laughter at the blatant personality change as V stumbles over his words.
As V continues to struggle to find the right words, J-Hope sobers up a little, realising that V must be taking this moment quite seriously (even if he himself is struggling to). He doesn’t want to jeopardise his friend’s trust or end up not finding out what happened, so he holds back the laughter and tries his best to appear supportive. “Go on,” he prompts with an encouraging smile.
“I,” V repeats. He looks down at the ground, his face hidden from view by the hair that falls in front of it. “Okay. It was a guy. I was kissing a guy, and. We’re kind of dating. I – that’s why those guys decided to come over and started beating the shit out of me. They saw us kissing and, well, apparently they had a problem with it.”
J-Hope looks at V in shock. A guy, huh? V’s right – J-Hope definitely didn’t see this coming. But all it does is make him wonder how much else V has kept secret from him.
The thought alone makes him feel a bit upset. Being straight, he’s never had problems of this sort, but he’s known Suga since before he came out at school and he knows from second-hand experience just how tough it can be. But one useful thing he learnt from that experience was just how important it is to give a kind and supportive response to somebody sharing their sexuality, even if you’re struggling to process the new information so quickly.
“Is that why you were worried about telling me?” J-Hope asks gently, deciding to save his other questions for later. When V nods slightly, a piece of J-Hope’s heart crumbles. “V… you know that I would never think of you differently.”
“Oh,” V responds quietly, apparently only just discovering that he didn’t have to hide this part of him, and J-Hope tries hard not to visibly wince. If the boy who he calls his best friend didn’t even know that him liking guys wouldn’t changing anything, J-Hope really isn’t doing his job of ‘best friend’ properly.
“You can date whoever you want,” J-Hope continues, eager to help V feel more comfortable. “It’s got nothing to do with me anyway. But I’ll support you every step of the way, okay? This could never change anything. You’re still my best friend.”
V looks up at J-Hope and smiles. It’s a small, barely-there smile, but it’s something. Especially after what he’s been through tonight, it’s definitely something. “Thank you,” V repeats, more sincerely this time.
“It’s okay,” J-Hope repeats, feeling much lighter. “Come on, let’s hug it out!”
“I can’t; I’m injured,” V protests weakly, but J-Hope leans over the side of the sofa and smothers him anyway. He pats V on the back, maybe a little too hard considering he’s already in enough pain, but V appears to appreciate the gesture regardless.
“You really don’t mind?” he asks after a minute, once J-Hope is sitting back down opposite him.
“Of course not,” J-Hope grins. “I just can’t believe I assumed your date tonight was with Jennie, when your fuck-buddy is actually a guy.”
“My boyfriend,” V corrects automatically, but he looks away embarrassedly when he sees the incredulous look on J-Hope’s face. “He’s my boyfriend,” he repeats quietly. He quite likes the way the words roll off his tongue. Jungkook – his boyfriend. He’s never said it out loud before.
“I – okay,” J-Hope says, still in shock. “Uh. Well. God, okay.” He then plasters a bright smile on his face, a little worried that he’s fucked up by being so surprised. “Your boyfriend. Sure. How long have you been dating?”
“Oh shit, I need to tell him I’m okay,” V says in sudden realisation. He reaches for his phone on the side table, but in his haste he knocks it off the edge. He groans at his own stupidity, his body hurting too much for him to reach round and pick it up.
J-Hope laughs at V’s dramatics and hands his phone back to him. “If we’re telling people, I think we need to speak to your parents first.”
V sighs. “I guess you’re right.” He looks down at his phone and groans again. “I only have 20% battery – there’s no way it’ll last a phone call to my parents and to – um. You know.”
J-Hope chuckles. “Hey, how about you transfer the numbers and we can ring them from my phone?”
“Yeah, okay, that works,” V agrees, before erupting into a coughing fit.
As the coughing subsides J-Hope shakes his head, struggling to come to terms with the state his best friend has got himself into. “From the sounds of it, you really shouldn’t be speaking right now anyway,” J-Hope contemplates.
V shoots him a queasy smile.
After Mrs Jung delivers V a couple of painkillers and a glass of water, which he consumes eagerly, J-Hope passes his phone to V and lets him type in the number for his mother’s mobile phone.
Somewhat expectedly, V lets J-Hope struggle with relaying the message to his mother all alone, because he really doesn’t want to get involved and have to hear her worried questions or demands of who hurt him. And if explaining it will mean he has to tell her the truth about him and Jungkook, he thinks an explanation can definitely wait.
But when V gives J-Hope Jungkook’s number, he insists that J-Hope should put the phone on speaker so that he can hear what’s happening.
The phone starts ringing and V holds his breath apprehensively. He’s not entirely sure what J-Hope will do when he realises who it is on the other end of the line. He wants to mention it – to be able to finally, properly tell someone that Jungkook is his boyfriend – but the words keep getting stuck in his throat.
Either way, he’s hoping J-Hope will figure it out eventually.
It only rings a couple times before the line clicks and a vaguely familiar voice greets J-Hope with a breathless “Hello?”
“Hi, is this –” J-Hope cuts off, looking at the phone embarrassedly. “I actually don’t know who this is meant to be.”
“Who is this?” the voice asks in response.
“J-Hope,” he responds easily. Then, after a pause, “Um, I’m V’s friend?”
“I know who you are; I was just shocked,” the boy chuckles lightly. “No offence, but, why are you calling me? We never really talk? Also how did you get my number?”
“Wait, we talk at all?” J-Hope asks in surprise. He looks at V for an explanation, but V is avoiding his gaze.
“You have no idea who you’re talking to, do you,” the voice deadpans.
“Okay, look, no I don’t, but V’s here with me and he’s dosed up on meds and –”
“Wait, V’s with you?” the voice interrupts urgently. “Is he okay?”
“Yes, he’s fine,” J-Hope sighs. “My mum’s a nurse and she checked up on him so don’t worry. But he gave me this number for his boyfriend, and said that you’d be worried, so –”
“Wait, what?!” the boy splutters, interrupting him for the second time. J-Hope wills himself not to get frustrated: as V warned him he would be, the poor boy’s probably just concerned. “He told you?” the voice asks incredulously on the other end of the line.
“Told me what?” J-Hope asks, a little confused by the boy’s outburst. Didn’t he want people to know they were dating? Is he closeted as well?
“Well, that he’s – and that I’m… you know. I just – I wasn’t expecting – I thought… Uh, I’m in shock. A little. Um.”
It’s only in this moment, when the boy on the other end of the line is reduced to an awkward, stuttering mess, that J-Hope realises where he’s heard his voice before. “Jungkook?!” he splutters. |
Lucifer took a step towards Cas. “What’s wrong? Cat got your tongue?” He sneered.
“Get
away
from me, you can't do anything to me here.” Castiel warned firmly, puffing his chest out to try and make himself look bigger. Lucifer rolled his eyes. “Isn’t that what you’d like to think.” His hand shot out and he grabbed Cas’ arm roughly. Castiel yelped, opening his mouth to scream as he jerked away.
“Ah!” Lucifer pinned a hand over Cas’ mouth. “Shut up.” He hissed. Castiel stared up at Lucifer, his eyes round and pleading. Where the fuck was Dean? The smaller boy squirmed, kicking his legs up to try and get away if possible. Lucifer rolled his eyes again in annoyance. “If you just bent over for me, we wouldn't keep having this problem…”
“No!” Castiel yelped from behind Lucifer's hand, kicking him right in the shin.
Lucifer groaned and jerked, he kept his grip tight on Cas’ arm. “If you do, I wont ever hurt Dean again...he sure looked pretty beat up in that damn wheelchair. It would be so easy to just push him down the schools front steps, wouldn't it?” He raised a pointed eyebrow.
Castiel paused, his breathing ragged and shaky against Lucifers pressing palm. He gave Lucifer a hesitant look, almost distrusting of his words. “Take it or leave it, Cassie.” Lucifer smirked, knowing his struck a nerve. Castiel jerked and shoved Lucifer as hard as he could before he dropped everything he was holding and took off running towards the arcade.
“Till next time, fag!” Lucifer shouted after him. Castiel ran around the building and planted his back against it, sliding down to the floor. He took shaky breaths, blue eyes fluttering closed as the words were called after him.
Lucifer just rolled his eyes and started to walk away when he saw a teenager walking out of the arcade. Sure, he had to be fifteen, but Lucifer was eighteen, and he was actually kinda adorable. Black leather jacket, skinny jeans and styled hair, he couldn't be straight. Lucifer went over and decided to talk to the kid.
---
Sam laughed, nudging Gabe as they played a deer hunting game. “I’m so gonna win!” Dean rolled in, the bright, flashing lights almost hurting his eyes. He looked around, trying to find his little brother. “Like shit, Winchester!” Gabe stuck his tongue out at Sam before he shot another deer. Sam cocked the gun and laughed, shooting a few more deer before he saw Dean and waved at him. “Watch me kick his ass!”
Dean rolled his eyes and wheeled up to them. Sam and Gabe were neck and neck, and Dean honestly didn't know who would win. Sam shot a male deer and got bonus points for hunting smarts, snickering when Gabriel was down by ten points. “I’m so gonna win, you should give up now.”
Dean rolled his eyes and watched the two teenagers meaninglessly compete. “That’s not fair!” Gabe pouted, accidentally shooting a baby deer and losing points. Sam laughed hysterically, his initials coming up on the screen when announcing the winner. “I win! Suck it! Dean, wanna play?” He asked, wiggling his eyebrows. Dean opened his mouth to say no, that they should probably head back to Cas, but what was the harm? “Sure.” He nodded, rolling up and taking Gabe’s place. Sam snorted. “Pft, easy.” He said cockily and slid his quarters into the machine.
“Whos your sugar daddy, Sammy?” Dean asked with a raised eyebrow at Sams new clothes. “Me.” Gabe said. He had noticed that everything Sam was wear was too small or old or worn out, so he dragged Sam to the mall and bought him new clothes using his dad’s debit card. Sam turned red and shot a deer. “Shut up!” He squeaked out in annoyance, glaring at the two boys.
Gabe scoffed. “That bastard didn’t even notice that two thousand dollars were gone from his back account.” Dean and Sam both looked at Gabe with wide eyes.
“Two thousand dollars?”
They both squeaked out at the same time. Gabe groaned inwardly, he hadn't told Sam the price for a reason, and he let it slip. Sam set the fake gun down and covered his face. “That’s more than our dads annual income.” He whined.
Gabriel just rolled his eyes. “Its fine, I could've spent twenty thousand and he wouldn't notice, he’s too busy making millions.” Sam sighed and slouched, giving Dean an awkward look. Gabriel noticed. Damn, he knew he shouldn't have said anything. “I’ll go wait outside with Cas. Sorry if I made you uncomfortable.” He apologized quickly before strolling out, hands buried deep in his pockets.
Sam sighed and clenched his jaw. “Lets just go, Gabe and I can play video games while you and Cas go fuck or something.” Sam mumbled grumpily and walked in the direction Gabe walked.
“Sam-” Dean sighed, grabbing his little brothers arm and pulling him back. “Gabe really cares about you, ya know?”
Sam grumbled, nodding and glancing up at the glass door. “Yeah, I know…” He said, eyeing the guy talking to Gabriel with jealousy. “Lets just go.”
Lucifer had slowly been getting closer to Gabe, putting a hand on the wall behind him and closing him in. Gabriel was being polite enough, but it was obvious he wasn't interested. “You got a girlfriend?” Lucifer asked nonchalantly, looking down at Gabriel with dangerous eyes. “No, but I have a boyfriend.” Gabriel replied calmly.
Castiel snuck back to the car and picked his stuff off the ground, closing the door. Where were they for god's sake! He looked over at the arcade and froze. No way in
hell
he was letting Lucifer hit on his brother. The smaller boy ran as fast as he could, coming up behind Lucifer and punching him in the shoulder. Which sadly wasn't as forceful as he hoped. “B-Back off!” He squeaked out.
Good job, Novak, nailed it,
Cas thought sarcastically. Lucifer turned his head. “Back so soon, Cassie? And why do you care?” He sneered, before turning back to Gabriel, who was slowly trying to inch out from under his arm. “That's my little brother! Get a-away from you him y-you...bastard!” Castiel tried. How the fuck would you take down a giant? He couldn't wait for his growth spurt.
Lucifer raised an eyebrow. “Well…” He said, licking his lips, still looking down at the freshman. “I guess cute looks run in your family, Cassie.” He brought a hand up and trailed it down Gabe’s cheekbone. Gabriel was too shocked to move, he heard about what Lucifer did to Cas from Dean’s constant rants. He fucking
shot
Dean. He figured he could let this asshole flirt with him as long as he left the others alone.
Castiel growled and decided: fuck it. He let out an angry holler and jumped on Lucifer's back, tightening his arms around his neck and his legs around his waist as he yanked back as hard as he could muster. “Don't just stand there! Run!” Cas yelped at his brother.
Gabe froze for a second and he ran inside to get Dean and Sam. Lucifer felt his body being jerked back and he lost his balance, stumbling a bit before he crashed his shoulder against the wall, shaking Cas to try and get him off. “The fuck do you think you’re doing?” He growled.
Castiel yelped in pain, his limbs tightening around Lucifer’s body in determination. “I-I s-said don't you fucking t-touch my l-little brother!” He growled stubbornly.
Lucifer just rolled his eyes. “I didn't know at first! But then I did it to annoy you! And gotta say,
damn
you're hot when you're angry.” Lucifer bickered back.
“And I told you to s-stop...you...you d-dumb ass!” Castiel snapped back.
“Get the fuck off me!” Lucifer groaned, trying to reach back and punch Cas off his back.
“Y-You get off me!” Castiel retorted nervously, scrambling to hold onto Lucifer and duck at the same time.
Gabriel ran up to Dean and Sam. “G-Guys! That dude Lucifer is outside and I th-think he’s gonna h-hurt Cas!”
Sam looked up, a confused look on his face. “Who’s Lucifer?” He asked.”
“Sam, go get someone,
now.”
Dean said sharply, rolling towards the exit as fast as his wheels would allow. Sam nodded quickly and dashed towards the counter, talking quickly with a worker.
Lucifer rolled his eyes and moved his shoulders erratically, trying to get the other teenager off of him. Dean and Gabe made their way over to the door, pushing it open.
It was probably the most ridiculous sight anyone could think of seeing when thinking someone was getting beat up outside of an arcade. Cas was clinging onto Lucifer's back like a terrified koala as the larger boy backed against walls and spun in circles to get him off; the two were bickering like siblings. "S-Stop moving!" Cas squeaked, dodging another punch.
"Get the fuck off!" Lucifer growled, bringing up his hands and trying to push Cas off of him.
"Don't touch my little brother!" Castiel yelped back, tightening his grip against the onslaught of shoved and slaps and punches.
"I won't! He's gone!" Lucifer argued, wanting to get out of there as soon as possible.
"T-Then stop slapping me!" Castiel squeaked, his glasses falling off. The smaller boy whimpered and looked around blindly. "Dammit!"
"Get the fuck off!" Lucifer groaned, squirming around.
"I can't see!" Cas whined, blinking around at the spinning blurs that made up the world. Lucifer reached back and elbowed Cas in the gut, hard. Castiel yelped, letting go of Lucifer to fall to the ground in a ball of pain. He whimpered, clutching his stomach desperately.
"Fag." Lucifer growled, kicking Cas in the stomach, before he ran to his car and drove away, Dean rolling towards Cas as fast as he could. "Cas?!"
Cas let out a choked grunt, curling in tighter around himself. "Ughhhh." He groaned absentmindedly.
"Cas!" Dean threw himself out of the wheelchair and crawled over to him. "Cas... Cas?" He asked softly, running his hands through the black hair.
Castiel nuzzled into Dean's hands, his hazy eyes opening to look at the boy. He smiled awkwardly, his arms slowly falling away from his stomach. "Hello."
"What's wrong? What did that dick do to you? I swear, Cas, I'm gonna kill him. I'm being serious this time, I'm not gonna let him keep doing this shit to you." Dean was rambling, trying to pull Cas closer to him.
"N-Nothing, I was just protecting Gabriel." Castiel said gently, curling closer to the boy so he didn't hurt himself trying to move. "Let's get you to the car, okay?" He murmured, moving to stand up and wincing at the distant ache in his stomach.
"No, wait, lemme go get Sammy and Gabe they'll help you." Dean pulled his phone out of his pocket and called Sam, who was still currently arguing with the manager.
Sam picked up the phone, glaring at the rude man before he walked away to Gabriel. "Dean? Where you at?" He said into the phone.
"Sam get out here, Cas is hurt." Dean said quickly, crawling back to his wheelchair.
"I'm not that hurt! I can stand!" Castiel huffed, standing up and hunching to keep from stretching his abdominal muscles. Sam sighed and nodded, jogging out to the front. "Hey! You guys okay?"
Dean got himself back in his wheelchair and he looked over a Cas with a somewhat red face. "I'm gonna fucking kill him." He swore. Castiel smiled and sighed. "Dean, it’s fine, I promise. What matters is that I kept him from hurting Gabriel." Cas murmured, not mentioning all the stuff Lucifer had done to him in the past day. "Lets go get them home, okay?"
Dean nodded and rolled over, helping Cas up the best he could while Sam went to stand by Gabe. "I love you so fucking much, Cas." Dean said firmly, looking up at Cas with green, red rimmed eyes. Castiel frowned and cupped Dean’s face, his eyes round and worried. "Dean, don't cry, I'm so sorry. I love you too." He said softly, kissing the larger boy lovingly.
"I hate that I can't do anything, Cas..." Dean’s voice was hoarse and he felt like he was gonna break down. "Look at what he did to me, all he does to you.... I just can't anymore..."
Castiel cooed and played with Dean's hair, trying to calm the boy down. "It's going to be okay, okay? I promise you. It'll be okay." He whispered, leaning their foreheads together. "Think about the house."
Dean looked up at Cas with wide eyes. "Am I allowed to think about the kids?"
Castiel's breath hitched, his hands tightening in Dean’s hair before he surged forwards. The small boy climbed onto Dean's lap and pressed up against him, kissing him so deeply that they were basically playing tonsil hockey. Dean grinned a little, closing his eyes and making the kiss as deep as he could, trying to show Castiel how much he loved him. Cas moaned lowly, clutching onto Dean with a desperate need. Sam groaned and immediately clapped a hand over his eyes. "Oh my god! Dean! Stop sucking face! Lets go!" The teenage boy whined.
Dean held up a hand, indicating that he ad Cas needed a minute. Dean lifted the hand and placed it on the back of Cas' neck, the other one cupping Cas' face. Dean and Cas' tongues were almost fighting, but the kiss was full of unspoken love.
Sam gagged. They were literally trying to swallow each other, it was disgusting. Castiel mewled and laced his arms around Dean’s neck, turning red when he noticed Sam and Gabriel and pulling away, keeping Dean’s face tucked in the crook of his neck so he couldn't pull him into another embarrassing moment in front of his brother. "S-Sorry!" Cas squeaked.
Dean's face was light red and he was panting slightly, his lips a dark red, almost bruised, and they were swollen. "Cockblocks." He rolled his eyes at Sam and Gabe and rolled over to Cas' car. "Cassie, you're driving."
Castiel smiled, nodding quickly before hopping off of Dean’s lap and into the front seat. Sam and Gabriel rolled their eyes right back, following the two love birds warily and getting in the back seat. "Cas and I should get home, it's getting late anyways. Dad will be home tomorrow." He said, murmuring the last sentence. Castiel tensed and clenched his jaw. "Yes, we should get going."
Dean reached over and put a warm hand on Cas' shoulder. "Hey..." He said softly. "Everythings gonna be okay, alright?"
Cas put on a fake smile, nodding. "Of course, why wouldn't it be? He will be happy to see us." The smaller boy said, quickly turning on his car and driving home before Dean could say anything else. Castiel parked in the driveway, tilting his head at the closed garage. "Mom must be home as well to clean a bit." He murmured and unbuckled his seat belt.
Dean rolled his eyes as Sam and Gabe exchanged a shy kiss when they both got out of the car. Dean had given Cas his kiss in the car, since it would be too much work to get his wheelchair out and everything jus for a kiss by Cas' door. Sam would be driving them home, and Cas would come pick up his car later or something.
Gabriel giggled excitedly and ran off inside, slamming the door behind him. Castiel smiled and pulled Dean back in, pecking his lips a few times before pulling him into a deep kiss. The smaller boy almost crawled into his lap,
almost.
Dean pouted, and whispered "I love you" to Cas, before Sam got in the front seat. Castiel smiled, his eyes full of love as he stroked Dean’s jaw. "I love you too, baby. More than anything." He whispered. The smaller boy turned and jogged to the front door, stopping in his tracks when he saw his father standing over Gabriel, his fist raised in anger.
He wasn't supposed to be home yet.
Cas sprinted into the house, slamming the door behind him. "No!" He yelled as Zachariah hit Gabriel once. Sam watched Cas take off with a confused look before shrugging and driving to the house. To any onlooker it probably looked like a kid excited to go home. Gabriel curled up on himself. "Cas?" He cried out, trying to protect his head. Castiel ran over, pulling his younger brother to his chest with an angered look so his father couldn't touch him. "You aren't supposed to be here yet." He grumbled, nudging Gabriel towards the door.
"Fucking fag." Zachariah grumbled, trying to land another punch on Gabe, ending up hitting Cas instead. But Zach didn't really care.
Castiel yelped and curled more of himself around Gabriel, clenching his jaw to steel himself over. "Gabriel, go stay the night at Sam's house.
Don’t
say anything." He warned, shoving his brother to the door. It was harsh, but he didn't want Gabriel to be in danger any longer than he had to.
Gabriel looked at Cas with wide eyes. "What about you?" He tried to say, but he was pushed out the door and the next thing he knew, he was running to Sam's house like his life depended on it, which it kind of did. At that point, Sam and Dean were home, both watching boring TV in the living room.
"So..." Sam said, tossing some popcorn in his mouth, "Game of Thrones or Zoolander." The teenage boy commented, gesturing to the screen as he tried to figure out something for them to watch. Dean shrugged. "You can choose, I'll probably end up passing out anyways-" Dean was interrupted by pounding on the door. "You get it, I'm not climbing into that damn chair again."
Sam groaned and stood up, "Goooo away!" He yelled in annoyance. He swung the door open and frowned at the mess of a boyfriend standing in front of him. "Gabe...? What’s wrong?"
Gabe was shaking, sweating and breathing heavily. "D-Dad came home...saw us kiss, wasn't happy...he's beating the shit out of Cas for protecting me." Was all Gabe could get out in between his strained breaths. Dean perked up and fucking
leaped
into his wheelchair. "What?!" Dean rolled over to the door, but Gabe pushed past him, getting water from the kitchen.
Sam frowned and ran past Gabriel, grabbing a water bottle for him quickly. "Baby, you're not thinking straight. Rest for a bit and then tell us, do you want to watch Zoolander with us?" He suggested worriedly.
Gabe shook his head. "Dad is beating the
shit
out of Cas!" He said wildly. "Then what the fuck are we waiting for?!" Dean asked, rolling out the door. Sam grabbed the corner of Dean’s wheelchair before he slid down the stairs. "Dean! Be careful! Y-You said he was coming home in a couple
days."
Sam said in confusion as he looked at Gabriel.
Gabriel shook his head. "He's there,
now.”
Dean growled a little. "Sam, we've gotta go!"
Sam looked back and forth between the two before sighing and running out the door. "Dean, use the back door dammit." He called over his shoulders as he turned on the car.
Castiel couldn't even breathe, his inhale was ragged and shaky, his exhale sounding like a slide whistle. "F-Father, p-please, I promise that it was just me, not Gabriel."
"Saw that fucking fag kissing that boy." Zach growled, kicking Cas in the gut, not even caring that his son was on the floor, curled up in pain. Castiel didn't have a reaction to the kick, his head just lolled onto the cold floor tiredly. "Please." He sobbed out quietly. His father was a rich, old school man. He only cared about two things. Money, and getting rid of all 'sickening' gays. God he wanted to move in with Dean, he hated living here in fear of when the next visiting date would be. Zach spat down on Cas' head. "I'm gonna go get a whiskey. Stay here." Zachariah went upstairs, right at the time when Sam, Gabe and Dean walked in, Cas being only three feet away from the main entrance. Dean let out a little squeak and quickly rolled over. "Cas, baby? Are you alright?"
Sam quickly made room in the car, pulling closer so they could make a quick escape. "Dean! Hurry up! You don't wanna be caught in there!" Sam called, hissing his words worriedly. Castiel didn't move, only his eyes rolling up to meet Deans. "R....
Run.”
He whimpered, his still gaze going back to the doorway to the kitchen.
Dean shook his head. "Not leaving you, Cas." He tried to make Cas stand, but he knew it was no use. Gabe ran in a few seconds later. "Help me!" Dean wheezed, who had Cas halfway on his lap.
Cas cried out in pain and clung onto Dean’s shirt, his eyes squeezing shut to try and take away some of the pain. Gabe tried to heft Cas' legs up, more or less flopping them on to Dean’s lap. "We gotta go!" He hissed. Dean nodded and started rolling out, trying to get Cas to the car before their dad came out and saw them. Castiel’s legs and face hit the door frame, causing him to yelp and jerk. The smaller boy whimpered and looked around hazily at the two boys.
"I'm so sorry." Dean whimpered, tilting so he could get Cas out safely. Damn if it wasn't for this foot...he could’ve protected his boyfriend better. Cas tucked his head into Dean’s chest and curled his legs in. "'S okay." He murmured tiredly. Dean quickly got to the car and all but threw Cas in, getting in himself. "Sam, drive."
Castiel groaned when he fell down onto the seat, his arms folding over his torso. Sam nodded and ran after just in time for Zachariah to step out onto the porch, catching Gabriel by the collar. "You're not going anywhere! You fucking fag. I didn't raise my sons to be so crude." He growled. Sam’s eyes widened and he jumped out of the car, running to get Gabe. "Let go of him!" He screamed at the man.
Zachariah glared and started tugging Gabriel back towards the house by his collar, muttering about how he couldn't believe he was in the same house as a gay. Sam ran after them, he would
not
let this asshole take Gabe from him like that. Zachariah watched Sam run up and grimaced in disgust, slinging Gabriel by the collar onto the walkway. "You can have em, I don't want them anyways. Fucking faggots." He muttered and slammed the door behind him.
Sam ran over to Gabe. "Hey, Gabe... you okay?" Sam fell to his knees, cradling Gabe’s head in his lap. Gabriel crawled closer to Sam and coughed, curling up in his lap. "Go! We need to go!" He said quickly. Sam nodded and stood up, picking up Gabe with a little bit of difficulty and he carried him to the car, and Sam sped home. Castiel coughed and curled into Dean, his eyes hazy and tired. It took them ten minutes to get home before the smaller boy fell asleep in Dean's arms.
"Its okay, Cas, you’re gonna be okay..." Dean kept murmuring to he boy in his arms, running a hand through Cas' black hair. Sam sighed and parked the car, scooping Gabriel back up and carrying him inside and up to his room without a word. Dean got into his wheelchair and pulled Cas into his lap, rolling into the house, almost scared to speak.
Sam sighed and came back downstairs, rubbing his face wearily. "What are we going to do? We can't afford another hospital bill, and I'm sure their father wouldn't pay for Cas'. Gabriel's just a bit scratched up, I can clean him up."
Dean nodded, rolling over to the couch and laying Cas down. "He'll be fine, too, he just needs some bed rest."
Sam nodded, chewing on his lip. "Bed rest, as in just rest. No traumatizing me and Gabe at night." The teenage boy warned. Dean rolled his eyes. "A little pleasure cant hurt." He smirked at his little brother.
Sam gave Dean his signature bitch face. "Yes, it can. It can hurt my ears." He said stubbornly, leaning in with a secretive look. "He sounds like a
girl.”
Sam snickered smugly. Dean glared and punched his brother lightly. "Don’t say that, he's insecure about it." He said, even though he knew it was the truth.
Sam smirked and stood taller. "If I know anything about you, I'd say you like it." He teased his older brother mercilessly. Dean rolled his eyes and blushed. He
did,
he loved how he could make Cas lose his mind. "Shut up."
Sam laughed victoriously and stuck his tongue out. "You
so
do!" He squeaked out evilly. Dean shifted a little in his wheelchair, glaring up at his little brother. "How about you shut up now?"
Sam mocked Dean silently and jogged back upstairs to check on Gabe, leaving the older brothers alone together. Cas groaned and shifted, pulling the couch cushion over his face to block the light. Dean got up and hobbled over before he sat down on the couch, putting Cas' head in his lap. "I'm here, baby..." He murmured softly, running his hands through the black hair. Castiel murmured and nuzzled closer, unknowingly nuzzling into Dean's crotch. He sighed contently, relaxing into the larger boy's warmth. Dean stifled a moan. He was always somewhat turned on around Cas, he was just so
hot,
but Cas' face all over his clothed dick was driving Dean insane. Castiel stretched and yelped, waking up in pain at the use of his bruised shoulders. "Father?" He choked out and sat up quickly.
"No, No, Cas... It’s me, Dean..." Dean murmured quietly, looking at Cas with wide eyes. Castiel's breathing slowed and he nodded, nuzzling back into Dean's lap tiredly. He curled up like a cat and shifted, changing positions again and laying flat, his arms around Dean’s waist and his head in the boy's lap contently. Dean whimpered softly, his cock growing in his jeans, pressing against the side of Cas' face.
Castiel peaked his eyes open mischievously at the tiny whimper, his lips quirking before he started nuzzling lazily, pretending to sleep. Dean didn’t realize Cas was doing it on purpose, and he clenched his jaw, trying not to moan.
"Mmm, someone's friend wants to play." Castiel murmured quietly. He left open mouthed kisses around the bulge in Dean’s jeans, lapping at it and soaking the front of the denim. Dean threw his head back and moaned. "C-Cas, are you sure? You... You went through a lot..." Dean said through a mouthful of moans. Cas hummed and ignored Dean, suckling at the bulge mischievously. He let his eyes become hooded and lazy as he let out an almost inaudible mewl. Dean moaned softly and looked down at Cas with wide blown green eyes. "Cas..." He whispered brokenly, his cock hard and leaking, covered in cloth and Cas' cooling spit. Castiel unzipped Dean’s jeans and closed his slick lips around Dean’s cock, suckling gently. "Mmhm?" He mewled around the boy's length. Dean threw his head back and moaned throatily. "C-Cas!" He squirmed around on the couch.
Castiel smiled pridefully and bobbed his head, taking more and more into his wet heat before he was almost halfway down, the head of Dean's cock pressing against the back of his throat. Dean moaned shakily and brought a hand down to tangle in Cas' hair. "Love you so fucking much, Cas... Wanna impregnate you, want you to have my kids..." Dean rambled, blushing at what he'd admitted. Cas' eyes shot open and he quickly stood up, unbuttoning his pants shakily. He pulled his pants and shirt off and climbed back on top of Dean, rocking down onto him languidly with his bruise covered body. "I w-wish I could give you children." He murmured and kissed Dean lovingly. Dean shook his head. "It’s fine that you can't, Cas..." Dean murmured, kissing Cas back.
"I-I want you to fuck me." Castiel whispered against Dean’s lips. "I want you to fuck me nice and deep, I want you to cum so far inside of me that I can
taste
it. Make my stomach swell, just like I'm having your child" The smaller boy rambled. Dean moaned and leaned back against the couch, pushing Cas down, slowly, onto his cock. Castiel winced slightly, the only thing lubricating the slide was his spit. He leaned his forehead against Dean’s, panting with need. "I love you."
"I love you too, Castiel, so much..." Dean promised, kissing him. "Do you need a minute?"
Cas nodded and kissed back, pecking his full lips a few times as he sat down fully, his legs tired from the whole day. "Love you so much." He whispered again. Dean started rocking his hip and he went to kiss Cas' neck. "Gonna marry you someday, you know that?" He murmured against the soft skin of Cas' neck. Castiel let his head fall back, his lips parted in a mewl. The friction was almost better than when it was all slick and messy. The smaller boy let a tiny, punched out keening noise and buried his hands in Dean’s hair. "Y-Yes..." He murmured desperately. The thought of marrying Dean made him so happy, it was amazing.
"What are you gonna say when I ask you, Sweetheart?" Dean asked, going nice and slow.
"Y-Y-Yes!
'M gonna say yes." Castiel whimpered, his face, neck, and chest turning red at the catch and drag of Dean's cock inside him.
"You’re all mine..." Dean declared, starting to thrust faster. Castiel let out a girlish cry, his back arching as he scrambled to hold onto Dean's shoulders. It was a slow pace. But the friction against his prostate was
insane.
He hazily caught sight of Gabriel and Sam glaring at them from the kitchen, Sam's arms crossed in annoyance. "D-Dean, Dean." Cas coaxed, trying to get Dean's attention.
"Yeah, Sweetheart?" Dean mumbled, his hands on Cas' waist, his hips rolling upwards inside of Castiel.
"Dean, they're wa-ATCHING!" Castiel cried out, his head falling back in euphoria. "Oh my god!" The boy whimpered girlishly.
"Get out!" Dean called over his shoulder, still fucking into Castiel. He and Cas needed this, they deserved it. Castiel let out a delighted wail and tried to crawl off of Dean at the amazing sensations, the pleasure fogging all of his other thoughts. "Dude! Come on! This is gross!" Sam yelped. Dean rolled his eyes and pulled Castiel off of him, pulling his pants back up and getting in his wheelchair, wheeling over to the two boys. "What do you want, Virgins?"
Castiel turned red and hid himself, immediately feeling mortified. "Come on! You said you wouldn't! He sounds like a
girl!”
Sam whined, his foot stomping slightly. Cas turned almost purple with embarrassment, his eyes flitting to his hands in shame as he kept his head down.
"And you sound like a fucking
child!
What do you want?!" Dean glared at his brother, hoping Cas hadn’t heard the girl thing.
"Oh you know, I just came down to get a glass of water with Gabe and unwillingly walked in on my brother and his girlfriend." Sam snapped, glaring at his older brother in annoyance.
"Sam!" Dean yelped, punching his brother in the arm. He would have socked Sam across the face, but he couldn't reach that high. "Shut the fuck up!"
Castiel swallowed thickly and sat up. "Dean, just leave it and come back. W-We can watch a movie or something." He murmured awkwardly.
"Leave us alone!" Dean growled to the two boys before he rolled back over. "Sure."
Sam rolled his eyes and walked back upstairs, grumbling angrily. Castiel kept his gaze down and pulled a pillow over his boner, trying not to feel guilty about making so much noise. "I-I'm sorry." He whispered nervously. Dean snorted. "For what, Cas?" he grinned at him as he climbed out of the wheelchair and onto the couch next to him.
"W-When it feels really good I-I unintentionally start sounding like a girl, and didn't mean to be so weird." Castiel said awkwardly, rubbing the back of his neck. Dean rolled his eyes. "Sam was just being a bitch, that’s all. Don’t pay attention to him." Dean grinned warmly at Cas, putting his arm over the boys shoulder. Castiel smiled, slowly beginning to smirk before he laid back and pulled Dean with him. The boy giggled and leaned up, sucking a single hickey onto Dean’s neck. He pulled back and smugly stretched out. "Pay attention to what?" He asked innocently. Dean’s breath hitched, and he decided to tease Cas back. "Your boner under my throw pillow."
"Mmm, I don't know what you're talking about, because your boner is covered by your jeans." Castiel said back, smiling cheekily. Dean rolled his eyes and his hand flew out, tearing he pillow off of Cas' pale, hard dick. "Haven sucked you off in a while..." Dean smirked, getting off the couch and onto his knees in front of Cas.
Castiel whimpered and pulled Dean back up, a demanding look on his face. "I'm in charge. I want you to fuck me." He said stubbornly, spreading his legs obscenely wide to entice the larger boy.
Dean moaned softly and pounced forward, burying his face inbetween Cas' asscheeks, eating the smaller boy out. "Haven't done this in a while, either.."
Castiel cried out, his body bowing to the ceiling as his slim hands slid into Dean's hair.
"Dean!"
He mewled, his thighs clamping down around Dean’s face to try and push him away. Dammit! He was supposed to be in charge! Not Dean!
Dean pulled away with a smirk on his face. "Sorry, couldn’t resist." He said before he shuffled closer. "Maybe you should punish me.."
Castiel tilted his head in confusion. "How? You didn't do anything wrong." He asked in concern, cupping Dean’s face. Dean just chuckled a little and shook his head. "I don’t know. It’s just kinda hot when you get all dominating and shit."
Castiel smiled shyly and nodded. "Yes, I guess. I just don't like it when you tease me." He huffed, pouting and crossing his arms in faux sadness. Dean rolled his eyes and moved closer until the head of his fat cock was pressed against Cas' hole. With a single thrust, he pushed it in almost halfway.
Castiel’s eyes bugged out of his head and he threw his head back with a mix of a moan and a scream. He's slim hand shot out and grabbed onto Dean’s shoulder, his blue eyes fluttering closed. "Too much?" Dean winced a little, afraid he'd gone too far. “I can pull out...?"
Castiel let a long, drawn out moan. His lips parted and he panted needily. "Sam thinks I sound like a girl, show him
you
make me sound like that." He growled challengingly. Dean let out a loud moan and reached own, starting to pinch at Cas' nipples before he started thrusting into the boy with all he had.
Castiel choked and arched his chest into Dean’s hands. Dean had
never
done that to him before, he didn't even know what it felt like. "Oh my god!" He cried out, his blue eyes rolling back. Dean smirked. "Moan nice and high for me, Sweetheart..." Dean smirked, bringing a hand up and closing it around Cas' neck. Castiel moaned loudly and got cut off by Dean’s hand. He frowned and tried to gasp for air, his eyes widening. The smaller boy wrapped a hand around Dean’s wrist in confusion. Did Dean want to cut off his air?
Dean didn't notice and threw his head back, moaning loudly. He squeezed his hand a little and kept fucking into him, Cas' tight heat driving him insane. Castiel wanted to moan, but fear clouded his senses, bringing only pure terror as he struggled to breathe. "D-Dean!" He choked out, his face turning a deep red. Dean thought Cas was moaning in pleasure, so he kept going, snapping his hips in and out of the writhing boy, feeling his orgasm approach.
Castiel let out a fearful sob, clinging to Dean and trying to move his hand as he flashed back to when Lucifer tried to drown him in a pool for fun. "D-Dean, Dean p-please." He choked out weakly. The smaller boy passed out, slowly going limp in Dean’s grasp as his face turned a purplish blue. Dean smirked and came deep inside of Cas, before he opened his eyes at the noise and looked down, his face going from lust to worry. "Cas?!"
Castiel’s slim fingers slipped from Dean's wrist, going limp where Dean’s palm pressed into his neck. His flat chest wasn't rising or falling, his purple face turning almost a pale blue at lack of oxygen.
"Shit!" Dean hissed. "Sam!" He screamed, not even caring that he was naked and still buried deep inside of Cas. Gabe, who had Sam’s cock deep in his inexperienced mouth hadn’t heard, but Sam did. Sam looked up and frowned, groaning in annoyance. "What do you want you manwhore!" He hollered mockingly. Gabe looked up at Sam, a raised eyebrow, before he realized he was talking to Dean. Gabe started bobbing his head, loving how Sam’s cock tasted on his tongue. "Just get down here!" Dean shouted, close to tears. “God dammit! Why am I such a fuck up!” He hissed to himself.
Sam groaned loudly and pulled back from Gabriel hesitantly, smiling awkwardly. "Sorry, the princess demands a squire." He said in annoyance and pulled on his clothes. The boy jogged down, standing at the stairs with a glare. "What do you want?" He snapped, not seeing Cas behind the couch wall.
Gabe pouted, but threw on one of Sams way-too big shirts, loving how it made him look like they just had sex, and followed him. "Where’s Cas?" He asked. Dean swallowed down his pride and started talking. "Yeah, I told know you told us not to have sex but Cas and I were fucking and he was really liking it and I started choking him-" Dean rambled.
"DEAN!" Both of the boy's shouted in disgust, Gabriel grimacing at the thought of Cas 'really liking' it and Sam at the fact that his brother did that. "You have a choking kink?" Sam gagged dramatically, pretending to hurl on the floor. Dean rolled his eyes. "Shut UP Sam!" He groaned. "Yeah, come here, he's like, all blue and shit."
Sam raised an eyebrow, not moving from his spot. "You asphyxiated him?" He asked in a monotone. "I'm not coming over there unless dicks are covered."
Dean rolled his eyes and got a shirt, covering Cas' lower body. He pulled on Cas' boxers and motioned Sam over. Sam jogged over and glanced at Cas, his eyes bugging from his head. "What the fuck!" He yelped, quickly moving to feel for the smaller boy's pulse. "Why the fuck were you pressing down that hard?" Sam asked stubbornly as he pressed in a different place, feeling for any sign of life from the boy who basically looked dead.
At first, Dean was unsure as of why Sam was apologizing, but then Sam pressed his lips to Cas' and Dean’s eyes widened. He shifted on his feet, trying not to feel jealous, Sam was just trying to help. Castiel sucked in a breath and choked, sitting up and rolling over onto his stomach. When he saw Sam staring a his boyfriend’s ass, he decided to put an end to it. "Well, that;’ enough of that." Dean glared at his brother. Going over to his pants, he tossed Sam a bottle of lube. "Go wild." Before he went over to Cas. "Cas, hey, baby, are you okay?" He asked softly, kneeling by the couch Castiel nodded and curled into Dean's grasp, whining at the unsatisfied feeling in his stomach, and the feeling of finally breathing correctly. "D-Dean." He gasped, wrapping his arms around the boy's neck.
"I'm so sorry, Cas..." Dean murmured, kissing Cas deeply. "I'm so fucking sorry..."
Castiel pulled Dean on top of him, his anxiety melting away at the feel of his boyfriend’s apologetic love. He knew it was a mistake, he was a little shaken up about it, but it just felt like he woke up after being really tired and falling asleep unwillingly. Cas kissed Dean back, twining their tongues together like it would pull the larger boy closer to him. So much for adventuring through kinks, they really needed to learn how to warn each other. Dean reached down and jerked Cas slick cock off, pressing it against his tight entrance. Castiel tilted his head and pulled back, looking down between their legs. "Dean?" He asked, squinting as he tried to see past the boy's hand.
"Yeah?" Dean whimpered silently, popping the head of Cas' smaller cock inside of himself. Castiel gasped and turned red, his hands scrambling at the couch. "D-Dean! B-But I'm not even big!" The smaller boy whined in embarrassment. He hated how he couldn't give Dean the same pleasure he gave him, it was also embarrassing when he had to remember he didn't have a monster cock like the rest of the jocks his age.
Ugh.
Dean just chuckled a little and rolled his eyes, letting out breathy moans, since Cas was fucking
inside of him.
"Want you to cum in me..." He murmured.
Castiel whimpered and put on his best pout with puppy eyes. "B-But I want you to come in
me!"
He whined childishly, his eyes becoming round and pleading as he tried to win Dean over. Dean let out another breathy moan. "Oh Okay, Cas.." He whimpered quietly as he pulled off. "But I do want you to fuck me." He smirked, before he got in between Cas' legs again, pressing the fat head of his hard again cock against Cas' hole. Castiel whined again, closing his legs with a childish pout. "But how will I come in you with a soft penis!" He grumbled bluntly, "I'm not like you! I don't know how to magically remain rock solid." The smaller boy rambled nervously.
Dean just chuckled a little and closed his eyes. 'You just wanna get dressed and watch some TV or something? You seem kinda stressed, Cas."
"M-Maybe you should
fuck
the stress out of me? Hm?" Castiel countered with a suggestive look. The smaller boy batted his eyelashes and bit his lip, running his hands down his chest to circle an inch away from his nipples. "I'm still aroused and it's your fault." He said with a glare.
"Shit..." Dean let out a little breath, running his eyes over Cas' body. "Cas..." He swallowed thickly. "Maybe we should do this...elsewhere? Like, not a couch that we don’t even have much space on?"
Castiel nodded and stood up, ignoring the burn in his muscles. It would all disappear soon when he finally just came instead of having these weird ends or half orgasms with Dean. Castiel smiled and jogged to the stairs, waiting for Dean. Dean looked at the stairs warily before he ended up crawling up them, using his hands, but he did get up, standing next to Cas and panting lightly. "So... Wanna try something new?"
Castiel smiled and nodded, frowning at how Dean seemed to not being healing fast enough. The smaller boy cupped Dean’s cheek, kissing him gently. "Mmm, and what would that be?"
Dean felt a warm feeling spread through him and he grinned down at Cas, assuming the feeling was love. "I dunno." He shrugged. Cas tilted his head and laughed, letting his gaze drop to the ground. "Up against a wall?" He offered quietly, immediately turning red. It wasn't a position they had done before, but now that he thought about it that was a bad idea with Deans foot. "Nevermind, let me look something up?"
Dean nodded, blushing a little also. "Ok." He limped to his room, noticing he could put more weight on his foot without it hurting, but only a little. Castiel giggled shyly and padded after Dean. The boy stood with his back to Dean, bending over to search for ideas online using his laptop. Dean moaned a little at Cas' exposed ass, before he limped over and slid right in, loving how Cas was already slick and open. Castiel yelped and slapped his hands down onto his computer, his lips parted in a mewl. "D-Dean!" He gasped in surprise at being filled.
Dean smirked. "Yeah, Cas?" He started rolling his hips. Castiel bit his lip, tiny noises of pleasure being muffled with every rock of Dean's hips. He stood up and flattened his back to Dean’s chest, his arm moving over his shoulder and wrapping around the nape of Dean's neck. The boy pulled Dean into a kiss, muffling his pants with Dean’s lips.
Dean let out a soft moan also, his hands tight on Cas' hips. His eyes fluttered closed and he wanted to picture this, remember this moment forever. "I love you so much, Cas..." He whimpered in a broken voice, his cock thrusting in and out of the boy. Castiel pulled back, his lips only micrometers away from Dean's. "I love you too, Dean." He murmured. When Dean started thrusting, the boy's eyes became hooded, he let out tiny moans and 'uh's with each slide in.
Dean let out a breathy moan and he kept going, sliding a hand from Cas' waist to his dick, starting to jerk Casiel off. "Wanna feel you shake and hear you moan when you cum, Sweetheart. Dean started snapping his hips faster, and weirdly enough, his foot hurt less than usual. Castiel’s eyes were half open and he let his head fall back onto Dean's shoulder. "Ohmygod! M-More, I want more." He begged as his toes curled on the floor. "I won't break, make me scream." Cas challenged to spur Dean on.
"Shit, Cas..." Dean whimpered out, bringing the hand that wasn’t jerking Cas off down to play with Cas' rim, slipping a finger in alongside his cock as he started to pound into Cas. Castiel moaned shakily, he arched his back, causing his hips to fall into the perfect angle. The smaller boy cried out and quickly flattened his back to Deans chest again, panting and mewling at the feeling.
"You like this, Cas?" Dean asked, giving Cas a slow thrust, pressing right into the boys prostate.
"Dean!" Castiel moaned loudly, his eyes flickering under his hooded lids. The boy's lips parted and he scrambled to hold onto some part of his boyfriend. Dean smirked and started to pound into Cas again. "What’s gonna push you over the edge, huh, Cassie? What’s gonna make you fucking
scream?"
Castiel’s back arched, his mouth open in a perfect 'o' as his eyes rolled back. "Ohmy
god!
Dean! Dean, oh godddd!" He babbled, his face and chest flushing red. The smaller boy felt like he didn't even deserve the pleasure Dean gave him, Dean was a sex god, and Cas couldn't even muster up the courage to fuck him. Dean brought his hands up again and started pinching at Cas' nipples, being way more harsh than he needed to be.
It was all Cas could do but not implode right then and there. He wailed in delight, his whole body shaking as he clung to the back of Dean's head. "Oh- Dean
YES!"
He screamed in pleasure, causing Sam to throw a pillow at the wall. "Oh my god shut up!" He hollered in annoyance. Dean ignored him and kept fucking into Cas, his orgasm quickly approaching, but he wanted Castiel to cum first.
Cas let out choked moans, wailing like a whore. "S-So deep." He moaned loudly, squirming at the unrelenting pleasure swarming through his nerves. "Dean...Dean I'm gonna..." He mewled, his toes curling as his breathing picked up. Dean brought a hand up and tilted Cas' head, forcing Cas to look up into Deans green eyes. "Cum for me." He demanded, before smashing their lips together, kissing Cas hard and deep.
Castiel let out a muffled scream of ecstasy against Dean’s lips, practically choking on the larger boy's tongue in his mouth as he came. He cried out a shuddering wail, trembling and jerking in Deans grasp as he came all over the desk, and unknowingly...his open computer.
Dean watched as Cas' cum flew, all the way to the open laptop where there was a video of them on it...? Oh, god. Dean felt his fucking heart stop. They were…they were
live streaming.
"Cas!" He yelped, jumping forward and slamming the computer closed. Castiel slumped forward and giggled drunkenly, rocking his ass back against Dean’s cock. "Mmm, come inside me." He murmured playfully, pulling Dean down into a lazy kiss.
Dean pulled out and sat on the bed. "Oh shit..." He murmured to himself, his head buried in his hands. Castiel frowned and turned around, awkwardly hiding his ass. "I'm sorry, did I do something wrong?" He asked in concern. "I-I can suck you off, if you want, I can make it up to you."
Dean shook his head. "No, Cas, we just accidentally livestreamed us having sex to the entire student body."
Castiel froze, his brow furrowing. "N-No, I was only on a website t-that gave position recommendations." He said quickly, opening the laptop. The smaller boy paled when he saw what he also had open. He had the fucking school website open for homework, he must've accidentally hit the computer hard enough to open the previous tab.
Oh shit.
He was last on to livestream to his robotics group for the tournament discussion that he was missing. Which meant he live streamed. Castiel rapidly went to the ended live video, his eyes filling with tears at what he read.
5k viewers.
People must've shared it. Dean walked over and bent down, also looking, reading the comments. It was a mix of disgust from their peers, and support from weird people they had never heard of before in their life, and probably just some horny teenagers. "Hey, Cas, it’s fine, don’t cry..." He murmured.
"T-They didn't see you! You were behind me or your face was cut off from the s-screen! T-They s-saw my f-face." Castiel stuttered in fear, curling up in a ball on the floor. The amount of hate comments and perverted comments, one comment with the most likes from
Lucifer.
He was so going to cry, one hundred percent. Dean closed the tab and kneeled next to Cas on the floor. "Hey, Cas... it’s fine, peoples nudes get leaked all the time, in a week from now, no one’s gonna care anymore, and they’ll be onto the next stuff."
Castiel whimpered and shook his head, "N-No, it's usually just Lucifer, and n-now e-everyone is g-going to w-w-want to hurt m-me." The smaller boy stuttered, crawling into Dean's lap and burying his face in the crook of Dean's neck. Dean wrapped his arms around Cas. "Why would he wanna hurt you?"
Cas pulled his head back and glared at Dean with a stubborn look that practically screamed 'have you not been with me since the beginning of all this?'
Dean chuckled a little, despite the situation. "Yeah, but I mean why would he want to hurt you more than usual?"
Castiel slowly frowned and buried his face back in Dean's neck. He wasn't going to tell Dean that Lucifer was getting more and more pressing on having sex. He could be strong for Dean, he could handle it on his own. Dean could tell that Cas was hiding something, but he just wasn’t sure what. "Cas.." He coaxed. "C'mon, you can tell me. Did you steal his lunch in kindergarten or something?" Dean grinned a little. Castiel clenched his jaw and wrapped his arms around Dean’s neck, shaking his head like a sleepy child. Cas wouldn't even hurt a fly, much less go up to the second scariest guy in school and steal his lunch.
"C'mon, Cas..." Dean pressed, his strong arms wrapped around Castiel. "How about, if you tell me why he hates you so much, I'll answer anything you ask me, truthfully?"
"You seriously will?" Castiel asked lowly, looking Dean dead in the eyes with a look that showed he was asking a question Dean wouldn't wanna answer. Dean noticed the look. He liked his privacy, but he loved Cas more, and he needed to know why Cas felt unsafe. "Yeah, I swear." He nodded.
Castiel sighed and chewed on his lip nervously, playing with the hair at the nape of Dean's neck. "H-He just
really
wants me to have sex with him...and it's getting scary." The smaller boy murmured. "When I was out in the woods, he tried to rape me because I couldn’t see and I was alone. And when you went to get Sam and Gabriel in the arcade it took a while and he tried to fuck me in the car but I got him to leave. He hit on Gabriel so I mustered up so courage to distract him." Cas murmured quickly.
Dean stiffened. He knew that Lucifer wanted to have sex with Cas, but he didn’t know that it was that serious. "I'm so sorry, Cas..." He murmured, before he said what he dreaded. "What’s your question?"
Castiel shrugged and gave Dean a hateful glare. "Dean Winchester." He started. "Did you, or did you not take my whole Manga collection and keep it at your house. Then say that you had no clue where it was." He said sternly, puffing his chest out with a stubborn look.
Dean had been holding his breath, expecting to be asked if he was cheating or something, which he wasn’t, but if he stuttered even slightly Cas would’ve been suspicious, but then Cas shot him with that and Dean couldn't breath he was laughing so hard. "What?" He choked out between laughs, looking at Cas.
"Did you steal my Manga collection!"
Castiel whined nerdily, pouting with round puppy dog eyes. Dean was still laughing, but he nodded. "Gabe put me up to it, I swear!" He pointed to under his bed, where the large, cardboard box of manga was stored.
Castiel squeaked and ran as fast as he could to Dean’s bed, diving underneath it with his ass in the air like a puppy grabbing his toy from under the couch. He reached inside of the box and pulled out a book, sighing in content and staying where he was. "He's so hot I could cum." He murmured to himself, staring at the boy on the Manga’s cover. Dean laughed and crawled over, looking at the book cover. "Damn, now I've got competition?" He pouted.
Castiel didn't even bother coming out from under the bed. He hid the cover and quickly flipped the book open, his ass swaying in excitement. "I haven't read these in almost six months you asshole!" He whined and sighed as he began to read the first page.
Dean smirked, looking at Cas' ass. He still hadn't cum yet, and that perfect ass was just begging to be pounded for the third time today. He silently crawled up behind Cas and spread the boys asscheeks apart quick and rough, pretty sure he made the skin there burn with the force of it. "Can your anime boys do this to you?" He purred in jealousy, before he dove in on Cas' ass, eating him out almost wildly.
Castiel yelped and hit his head on the frame of the bed from how quickly he jumped. The smaller boy moaned and grabbed onto the carpet uselessly, his mouth open in surprise. "Dean! A-Ah!" He mewled, clenching around the larger boy's tongue. Dean just smirked and kept going. "First, gonna make you cum, just from this..." He swore, biting lightly at Cas' rim. "Then gonna fuck you, make you read out loud from your manga shit, just so I can hear you mess up every time..."
Castiel panted, turning a dark red as he tried to back out from under the bed, only fucking himself on Dean’s tongue more. He whimpered and bit his lip, burying his face in arms desperately. "Mmmmmmmmggg!" He whined, his voice muffled by the bed and his slim arms.
Dean broke character for a moment. "You okay, Cas? Can you breathe under there and shit?"
Cas spread his legs wider, showing off his pink, cum covered, spit covered hole needily. "Mhm!" He replied, his slim arms snaked back and flattened on his asscheeks, spreading them for Dean to spur him on. "L-Love your tongue so m-much." He murmured.
"Fuck..." Dean whimpered, before he dove back in, licking and sucking at Cas' far from virgin hole like a madman. "Holy fuck..." He whispered, bring a hand up and slipping a finger in.
Castiel almost screamed, his mouth opening in surprise as he flattened his chest to the floor. The smaller boy reached farther back and laced his hands in Dean’s hair, holding him place with a high pitched moan. "J-Just like that!" He cried out. Dean fucking loved it when Cas got all needy and started making Dean do things. Dean smirked and prodded around, until he found Cas' prostate, he kept rubbing it with his finger as he licked and sucked Cas' rim around his finger.
Castiel’s thighs began to tremble with pleasure as his toes curled, his hands tugging gently at Dean’s hair in praise. "Oh dear g-god! Oh...oh my
fucking
god y-you're t-tongue!" The blue eyed boy babbled as he flew over the edge. He came with a loud wail, his legs clamping together and jerking as he rode out the waves of pleasure. "Do y'all ever fucking stop?" Sam hollered from his room, sounding more and more annoyed with his horny older brother.
Dean reached under Cas and caught some of the cum shooting out of the boy, before he brought it up and fingered it in, pushing Castiel's own cum inside of himself. "Ya liked that?"
Castiel squeaked when Dean slid a finger back into him. "Nnn! O-Ohhh, yes. God yes." He whimpered, rocking back onto Dean’s thick fingers. How could Dean keep going and
going
and
going?
Cas wouldn't be able to last that long even if he tried. Dean smirked, his own cock hard and heavy and leaking. "Can I fuck you? Or is that too much?" Dean asked softly.
Castiel nudged Dean back and crawled from under the bed, holding his Manga with him. "I-I want to s-see you. Is that okay?" He asked shyly, holding the book to his chest.
Dean laughed a little at how cute Cas looked. "Of fucking course its okay, Cas." Dean grinned at him, scooting back. "You wanna do this on the bed or on the floor?"
"B-Bed, so you don't hurt your foot. I don't want you to hurt yourself." Castiel said as he pulled Dean on top of him and laid back, his hand shyly brushing along Dean’s chest. "I love you."
"I love you, too." Dean smirked, crawling in between Cas' legs and pressing his dick against Cas' slick hole. "Start reading, baby."
Castiel blushed and timidly started reading from his book. "T-Tuskima l-looked up f-from the crowd..." He began, trying not to become embarrassed from Dean's smirk. It was so fucking
hot
dammit! How was he supposed to read? Dean smirked again and started pushing inside of Cas, loving when he heard the boy stutter or moan in pleasure. Castiel stumbled over his words, his eyes becoming hooded before his head fell back to the mattress. "O-Ohhhh yes." He whispered drunkenly.
Dean loved how he could make Castiel lose his mind like this. "Want me to fuck you nice and hard, baby?" Dean looked down at Cas when he was fully inside. Castiel swallowed thickly and his book fell from his hands, his lips parted and his eyes lazy. The manga was long forgotten, laying next to them face down. "Mmhm. Fuck me like a rag doll." He murmured absentmindedly, not even realizing what he had just said over the feeling of Dean filling him up.
"If you insist..." Dean smirked and let himself go, snapping his hips in and out of the pale boy below him.
Cas was so shocked by the sudden force and tempo change that he arched his back and came immediately, his blush spreading down to his chest as he gripped the sheets. "oH FUCK!" He yelped in pleasure.
Dean came a few seconds after, pulling out to cum all over Cas' chest. "Marking you up, Sweetheart..." He smirked, before he flopped down next to Cas. "I'm tired." He yawned. Castiel groaned tiredly and curled up next to Dean lazily. "M gonna wake you up, so don't worry about it." He murmured.
"I love you." Dean murmured, glad he had a daily alarm on for school. He wrapped his arms around Cas and kissed him, before he passed out.
|
Ladybug didn’t hide her confusion at the question Adrien had asked her. He wasn’t surprised at that reaction; he did start in the middle of his train-wreck of thoughts after all. It also didn’t surprise him that her hand pulled away from him, although he mourned the loss of contact more than he would have thought. The two sat in silence, unsure how to explain themselves or answer any questions.
Suddenly, Ladybug’s gentle touch returned to his face, causing him to meet her gaze. There was still the remains of confusion, but it was eclipsed by a look of resolve that fit well behind her mask.
“There is no one in this world I trust more than you,” she told him, brushing away the tears she could reach with her thumbs. He wanted to melt into her touch, to soak in her words, but the whispers in his mind held him back.
“Then, why do we have to keep secrets from each other?”
His voice sounded so weak, that it nearly made her cry herself. She wanted so badly to be completely honest with someone for the first time since she put on the earrings, but she also knew transparency wasn’t a luxury a superhero could afford.
Talking with The Guardian allowed her to see Adrien’s weaknesses as objectively as was possible when he was someone she knew so well. He was an asset of Gabriel’s, willing or unwilling. With the battle at its peak, she couldn’t afford to make any mistakes. If they could just hold on…
A crash from downstairs pulled her attention away from the blond, both gazes moving to the door. Blood rushed through her as she realized that it was most likely Hawkmoth’s newest minion.
She turned back to Adrien, who had his mouth open to speak. She spoke first.
“Stay here and hide. Don’t move until I come back.”
“But-”
“No,” she told him, moving her hands away from him and standing up, “You aren’t Chat Noir anymore, and I can’t let you get hurt.”
He looked as though he wanted to argue so she added, “Please.”
Her plea seemed to be enough to have him slowly nod to her request. She turned to leave the room, but his call to her made her stop and look back at him.
He stood up, but his gaze didn’t quite meet hers.
“Please be careful, Milady… I don’t know what I’d do if-“
His warning was cut short when her lips landed on his. It was short, but still left him stunned when she pulled away.
“Don’t worry, Adrien. Everything will be alright.”
She took out the window, leaving Adrien to find a place to wait for her. If he was to be completely honest, he hated knowing that she was out there without him. He was supposed to protect her.
But, then again, the part of his brain that kept him in line reminded him that knew this was going to happen when he gave his word to his father, to their enemy. When he submitted to his weakness and surrendered his ring to Master Fu.
The loss of Chat Noir only made Ladybug more important for the safety of their city. But it also left her to fight without someone watching her back. Not that she wasn’t capable- Adrien knew she was- but it never truly sunk in until he watched her swing away that his place was now on the ground, hoping that she would be okay but unable to assure it.
He chosen to give up his ability to fight by her side, so he would have to live with any consequences that came from that.
Ladybug landed on a nearby rooftop to catch her bearings, her heart simultaneously fluttering and breaking because of the same boy. Although she had no idea why he would come to a conclusion like Marinette and Ladybug knowing each other, the question on his lips was clearly enough to distress him. The possibility that she would tell someone things that she wouldn’t tell him.
What had happened to make him consider that she would lie about her unwavering trust in him?
The sound of smashing reminded Ladybug that she didn’t have the luxury of contemplating her partner’s thoughts. Not with an Akuma inside the same building he was.
Both she and the Guardian had hoped that Hawkmoth wouldn’t attack so soon, and surely not so close to home. But if something had happened between Adrien and his father, perhaps Gabriel needed to let out some steam by ruining the day of another unfortunate soul.
She notice the large front doors opening, but she didn’t see anyone leave the mansion. However, her eyes did catch a familiar blogger, doing what she always did during akuma attacks- filming as much of the action as possible.
Ladybug dropped down behind the mansion into a garden of sorts and transformed back into her alter-ego. Master Fu had told her that the ladybug miraculous wasn’t intended to fight alone and had given her the ability to call in reinforcements. Marinette couldn’t have been more thankful for his foresight to make sure she took them when she left his home that morning.
She reached into her purse to pull out two almost identical boxes. Her hands trembled slightly, knowing how dangerous her position was. If Hawkmoth was to discover she had more than just her miraculous…
“Marinette,” Tikki called out, bringing her chosen out of her spiral, “Master Fu wouldn’t have given them to you if he didn’t think you were the best person to have them.” She was right, but it didn’t comfort the ravenette as much as she would have hoped.
“But, what am I supposed to do after I give Alya her necklace? Do I leave her while I try to find someone else?”
“I think it will be clear when you have to make that choice,” Tikki told her, sounding more like the wise goddess that Marinette so often forgot the little bug was, “But, remember, Ladybug isn’t intended to be in combat long without a black cat to create balance.”
Marinette nodded, knowing time was not on her side, before stowing away one of the boxes and changing back into her spots. Once masked, she made her way to Alya, whose back was to her as she tried to explain to the audience at home what she was seeing.
“Guys, the akuma seems to be inside the Agreste Mansion, but I can’t seem to find it, Chat Noir, or Ladybug anywhere.”
“I’m right here,” Ladybug told her leaping into frame, “And, I’m hoping that Rena will be here soon too.”
Alya, realizing what Ladybug was implying, cut her video feed and turned to the hero. Before she spoke, a pair of heavy footsteps came running up the sidewalk.
“Alya, are you sure the Akuma is in- Ladybug?”
The spotted hero gave a small wave, mentally scolding herself for not being more aware of who else could be around. Now she would have to think of a way to get Nino out of harm’s way without blowing Alya’s identity as Rena Rouge.
Thankfully, Alya spoke first.
“Oh, Ladybug. I’ll be happy to assist you in… that thing we discussed before.”
It wasn’t a convincing lie, and Nino didn’t buy it.
“Alya, what are you talking about? We need to get somewhere safe.”
He went to reach for Alya, but she pulled away, causing Nino to still.
“What is happening?” He turned to Ladybug, “Why do you need Alya right now?” He looked beyond them at the house; “Is Adrien in danger or something?”
“No,” Ladybug assured him, “he’s okay.” Adrien was far from okay, but he wouldn’t see danger if she and Alya could get suited up without a distraction. Unfortunately, Nino wasn’t going to make it that easy.
“Then, what is going on?” he asked, directing that question to his girlfriend, who crossed her arms to disguise her anxiety over the situation.
“It’s nothing to worry about, Nino. Just go to the cafe across the street, where you will be safe.”
“Not without you.” Nino’s voice was now both confused and pleading. Alya shook her head.
“You have to.”
“Why?” Nino asked, “If this is about the Ladyblog, I’m sure your viewers would understand you needing to be safe...” He was clearly just looking for anything to connect the dots, and Ladybug was reminded of Adrien’s random grasping at straws in the quest for answers.
She looked over at Alya, who wore the same guilty expression she knew she had had when asked her identity. Then, brown met blue, a silent plea was exchanged, and the spotted heroine handed over the small box that held Rena’s power, wordlessly giving Alya the choice of where this conversation would go: would it continue down the path of white lies or would she want to come clean to Nino to stop him from thinking he should protect her?
The part of the spotted heroine that was undeniably wearing Ladybug’s mask was shocked that she had given Alya that control; it was the most important rule of being a holder after all. And, if she wasn’t willing to tell Adrien her identity, how could she justify letting anyone else tell someone?
However, the part that was a teenager in love just wanted some sort of transparency in the world, some sort of honesty between lovers. She knew she couldn’t tell her loved ones anything- Ladybug was too important to Hawkmoth’s plans to give him that kind of advantage- yet, Rena wasn’t Ladybug.
And this wasn’t Ladybug’s choice to make.
Alya looked at the box in her hands, resolve quickly replacing the uncertain gaze that had colored her irises.
“No,” Alya started, “This isn’t about the Ladyblog. It’s just…”
“Just what?” Nino’s golden eyes were now pleading, “What aren’t you telling me?”
Alya gave a conflicted smile, before placing a kiss on his cheek.
“Superheroes can’t just tell people their secrets, can they?” she asked him coyly, letting realization sink in, before running towards the mansion in search of a place to transform.
Taking that as her cue to leave, Ladybug swung off after her fox-themed friend. Knowing Alya, she would probably need reassurance that she wasn’t just going to lose her miraculous after breaking the only rule she was given.
Ladybug quickly found her in the garden-like spot she had just hidden in.
“I’m sorry, Ladybug,” Alya apologized, “I shouldn’t have said that. I know you told me not to tell anyone.”
“True, but I understand why you did,” the veteran hero assured her, “Your boyfriend doesn’t seem like the type to leave you behind without a reason.”
“No, he’s not.”
Alya crossed her arms, but it was clear her annoyance with Nino ended with that motion. Her large eyes met her hero’s.
“Do you want the miraculous back?”
Ladybug shook her head; “I wouldn’t have handed it to you if I didn’t still trust you with it.”
A relieved smile covered Alya’s face as she opened the box, revealing Trixx, the kwami of illusion.
“Trixx, let’s pounce.”
Alya was surrounded by orange light, before being revealed as her hero form. Ladybug smiled.
“Let’s go, Rena. We have an akuma to purify.”
|
He watches them until they’re out of sight, apprehension building. Shit. He’ll probably have to tell Will— Not about the Billy thing, but about the—
No details though. Just—
And no mentioning Tommy. Yeah, in part because Tommy would hate people knowing, but also he gets the impression Will is not the kind of person impressed by a jackass like Tommy H. any more than Robin is.
Hah.
He really is a jackass.
—
Thinking about it too long still makes him—
Yeah. No point upsetting himself before what could turn into an upsetting conversation.
He creeps back into the house, kind of wondering if Will’s still going to be there. It’s— He feels like the bad guy. Wow this stuff sucks.
But Will is where he left him, looking the picture of misery. As he comes into the room the boy looks up and for a moment he sees defiance before the kid speaks, ‘I was going to try and convince you that you didn’t see anything, that you’re wrong about whatever you think you saw, but what’s the point? I get it, ok? I’m gross. I’m disgusting. I’m a freak. I’m— it’s not like I want to kiss you or anything, so you don’t need to worry, you don’t need to beat me up or— or— I just— I can’t help it! I don’t want to be like this, I never wanted— I know. Ok. I—' and now Will’s crying.
It makes him feel terrible. Like this is all his fault— ‘No—’ he begins, trying to explain, but the boy just keeps talking, babbling ugly, half coherent self-hate, and the more he tries to reason with him the louder and more upset Will becomes.
It triggers that urge to comfort that seems to end up with him hugging guys even though it’s not really a guy thing to do— Tommy, Billy— though with Will it’s different— and honestly— Actually, he almost doesn’t believe Billy even let him— and— he reaches for Will, but the kid makes a wounded, scared little noise and flinches back— and now he feels even worse.
‘Will, come on man,’ he tries. ‘I’m not going to— fuck. I would never hurt you, not for that, not for anything. It’s ok. I promise it’s ok—’
‘It’s not!’ the kid wails. ‘I’m a fucking faggot.’
It’s ugly, isn’t it, that word— He doesn’t let himself think about it much but honestly, underneath it all, he hates it whenever it slips out of his dad’s mouth, Billy’s mouth— though most of the time the guy doesn’t seem to mean it— maybe not that time he snarled it at Dustin— shit. Yeah. He can never let Billy find out— but most of the time— Hearing it from Will. Cruelly self-directed—
‘I am too!’ he yelps, and then, ‘Kind of. Half. I mean—’ wow, he can feel himself going red right now. It’s a strange and awkward thing to admit. And even though Will just called himself a— that word— he almost expects the boy to be grossed out, to react the way Will expected him to react. ‘I’m bisexual,’ he eventually manages. ‘I like both. So, um—’
The kid stops, tears running down his face, eyes massive, ‘What?!’
‘I’m bisexual?’ he repeats, but the anxiety of the situation makes it come out like a question. ‘Fuck! Kid, look, I like both girls and guys—’
A pause, and then, ‘Does Nancy know?’ eyes even bigger, as if that was possible.
‘No!’ he yelps. ‘No, she— please don’t tell her.’ What if she thinks even worse of him— Oh God.
The next thought that crosses the kid’s mind is apparently, ‘Is Billy your boyfriend?!’
‘Oh God please don’t tell him either, he’ll kill me!’ is about all he manages in face of that.
Will blinks. A tear— obviously not fresh, but from before— wow he is feeling bad about all of this— squeezes out between his lashes and joins the others on his cheeks. ‘Since when? No way. No way is Steve Harrington bisexual— if you’re just saying that to make me feel better—'
‘Why would I do that?’ he blurts out. And why does everyone say his name like that when they discover he’s bisexual— Well. Robin and Will, but— why is it so unbelievable that “Steve Harrington” is—
Whatever it is he is. All the things he is.
Will opens his mouth like he’s got an answer, but then hesitates, doubt creeping over his face. The kid blinks. Mouth shuts. Then opens again, ‘Wait— so does Dustin know?’
‘What?’ he squeaks. ‘No. No way. Please do not tell him either— Oh my God kid, don’t tell anyone. The only ones who know are you and me and Robin.’
‘Robin?’ the boy’s eyebrows climb up his face. ‘Your girlfriend knows?’ The way it’s said pretty much screams “if your girlfriend knows you’re bisexual why is she still your girlfriend?” Which is bad enough, but—
‘Robin is not my girlfriend,’ he sighs out. Can’t a guy and a girl be friends without everyone being so weird about it?
‘Because you’re bisexual?’ Will straight out asks.
‘No!’ he yelps, scrubbing both hands roughly through his hair. ‘It’s not— Will, kid, it’s nothing like that. Ok? Robin doesn’t think being bisexual— or gay— is dirty or gross or whatever it is you’re thinking— it’s just—’ he can’t exactly tell the kid Robin’s a lesbian without her saying he can, so— ‘You can be friends with people without wanting more than that, can’t you?’ he thinks for a moment, Mike isn’t the best example, but maybe— ‘You don’t want to kiss Dustin, do you?— unless you do. In which case that’s fine. It’s—’ oh God this is bad. Especially since he’s been feeling gross and wrong and guilty for his own— for Billy— but. This is not about him. This is about Will. He doesn’t want the kid to feel bad. To feel— So instead of how he feels about things, the things he tells himself, he needs to focus on how he wishes things were, the things he’d secretly like someone to tell him.
‘There’s nothing wrong with being attracted to other guys—’ he tries. ‘It’s just how you— how we— are. We’re not dirty, or insane, or diseased, or hurting anyone— I mean, seriously kid, who would you ever try to hurt? You’re like. You’re the nicest— Even Billy likes you, and he pretty much hates anything with a dick—’
And then Will bursts into tears again and he starts panicking again, apologizing, but then Will is lurching at him and sort of awkwardly hugging him/collapsing against him, so he wraps his arms around the boy and they list over into a pile on the floor.
After a moment he realises it’s a different sort of crying. Less the horrible, scared, self-condemnatory tears of before, more— sad. Will seems sad. It makes him feel like he’s about to start crying too, but he tries to bite it back. It’s not—
All this isn’t about him. It’s about Will.
He does his best to comfort the kid.
And he learns a few more things. Like how the other guys know what Will is— even if they never talk about it really. About how they’re good about it— except Will’s scared they’re only good about it, only don’t reject him, because of what happened. The Upside Down. Because what happened makes him something even more other— something they have to be careful of. That Will’s also scared that Mike knows— not just that Will likes boys, that Will likes Mike— and only puts up with him out of guilt or something— and there he learns what the dark haired boy said, about it not being his fault that Will doesn’t want to kiss girls— and it makes him wince. Imagine what that must have felt like— And that sometimes Will thinks he hates Mike as much as he wants to kiss him— that being around the other boy hurts, and Mike just doesn’t make it any easier. And Will is trying so hard to be ok— not just about being gay, but about everything. Trying so hard to just keep going, to make believe everything is the way it always was, but it’s not and the poor kid is getting sick of it. Sick of pretending. Sick of who he is. Sick of trying so hard to keep everyone together when they just seem to want to couple off and split up and—
Leave him alone.
And the way Will isn’t even sure he wants to be who he is anymore. A loser— the kid’s own words, not how he would have put it— interested in comics and nerdy bullshit and drawing and—
‘I don’t even know if I want any of it anymore, so how can I pack it?!’ the kid sighs, gesturing around the room. ‘I mean, you have to grow up sometime, right? Leave all this behind—'
Oh God is he out of his depth.
‘You’re still a kid,’ he points out. ‘You don’t have to decide that kind of stuff now.’
‘I’m not that much of a kid,’ Will says, ‘I’m only, like, four years younger than you—'
‘Five,’ he corrects automatically, but Will isn’t listening.
‘—You must have been an awkward kid at some point, you must have, you know, decided to grow up, you can’t have just been Steve Harrington forever.’
‘Why do people say my name like that?’ he muses, before shaking it off. ‘It’s not so simple, you know? I never had to decide to “grow out” of what I was into as a kid or anything, because when my mom decided I was too old for something she’d get rid of it—’ like the way she’d stripped down and redone his room to her image of “teenage boy” a few months before he asked Nancy out. He feels his face scrunch up into an unhappy grimace and tries to smooth it back into something calm and grown up and comforting, ‘— and there are some things she got rid of that I wish she hadn’t, even if they were childish.’ Like the teddy bear his grandad had given him when he was born— and, ok, most of the time he’d kept it in the cupboard, but that was more because if his dad ever saw it he’d make some comment and less because he didn’t value the thing.
Will is staring at him. ‘That is messed up,’ the kid breathes out, making him flinch.
‘Yeah, well—’ he shrugs, looking away.
Will nudges him gently with his shoulder, and when he looks over at the kid, the boy’s got a funny look on his face that doesn’t quite match the words, ‘So what do you think I should do?’
He glances around the room, at the stuff still unpacked, then back at Will. ‘You should probably pack it— but that doesn’t mean you have to unpack it. You can always leave it all in the boxes, see how you feel without it?’ That’s sensible, right? He hopes so. He hopes he’s helping. ‘There’s nothing wrong with wanting to explore who you are, you don’t have to stay the same— but there’s also nothing wrong with who you are right now,’ wow this is getting sentimental, but, ‘You really are a good guy Will— and you’re not a loser. Take it from me, I was— well, you know what I was. I was Steve Harrington—’ great, now he’s doing it himself, ‘—and it wasn’t that great, and most of the other Steve Harringtons in this town are— a lot of them are really shitty people— or, if not shitty, then— shallow. It’s not worth it to be them. I’ve liked myself a lot better since I became whoever it is that’s not Steve Harrington.’
‘You’re still Steve Harrington,’ Will says, shoulder bumping him again, ‘You’re just not Steve Harrington.’
‘I have no idea what that means,’ he says, except he kind of does.
|
Over the next couple of weeks Magnus found his and Alec’s apartment invaded most of the time. For the first few days he was foolish enough to imagine that it was a coincidence. But shortly after that he began to see a pattern. Almost whenever Alec went to work someone appeared to keep Magnus company. It was like they were taking shifts to ensure that he was alone as little as possible. And, without a doubt, to check that he wouldn’t overexert himself. For a man who’d spent centuries looking after himself such sudden attention… well, took a lot to get used to.
One rainy morning he woke up to noise coming from the kitchen. At first he was sleepy enough to wonder if it was Alec. Until a far more feminine voice swore, loudly. Followed by a male voice. “… said that you knew this recipe…!”
Magnus got up a little faster than his head would’ve appreciated, eager to salvage what was left of the kitchen. As soon as the ensuing spinning sensation stopped he pushed himself to motion. If the kicking in his stomach was any indication, his daughter shared his dread.
Izzy and Simon were working on something that was probably supposed to be actual food. It was quite hard to identify the charred remains. At least it looked like a fire extinguisher wouldn’t be necessary. The stench nonetheless made nausea skyrocket and Magnus fought a small war to keep himself from vomiting.
Izzy’s hiss of pain helped chase away his momentary discomfort. She was cradling her right hand, which she seemed to have burned with the frying pan. Magnus sighed and moved without thinking. “The Lightwood family and cooking… Why don’t you let me give that hand a look?”
Neither Simon or Izzy was fast enough to stop him before it was too late. Before his hand ghosted uselessly above the minor injury. And it wasn’t until then Magnus’s drowsy, sluggish mind remembered that the magic he felt deep inside him was the baby’s, not his. There was nothing he could do anymore when those he cared about were hurting.
That bleak realization hit him like a sledgehammer. Doubled by all the hormones coursing through his body. It was like a wound that hadn’t even started to heal properly had been torn wide-open once more. Only sheer willpower kept him from cracking under the pressure building up inside his ribcage.
Then Izzy grabbed his hand, which was still raised and wavering, and wrapped her fingers firmly around it. After a delay he returned the hold. A few seconds of silence passed by before Izzy gave him another squeeze, then let go gently. “I’ll stop by at the bathroom to fix up kitchen mishap 201.”
Magnus wasn’t quite okay enough to sound or seem amused. But he felt his features soften while he inspected the breakfast disaster. “I’ll try to put together something a little more appetizing than… whatever this was supposed to be.” It was a tiny bit of comfort to concentrate on something he was still able to do. “And don’t worry, I won’t tell Alexander that you two coaxed me out of the bed.”
Simon released a nervous half-laugh. “Yeah, ah… I’d appreciate that. He’s… not exactly my biggest fan as it is.” The vampire went on shortly after Izzy had left the room. “Look… I… actually came here this morning to see you.” The young man shifted nervously. “A few days ago there was this… undercover mission. And… I spent a little while in the same cell with Iris.” Seeing his fast-rising startle and anger, the vampire hurried to continue. “Don’t worry, she’s still very much locked up. But… She’d been turned into a mundane. You know, by Aldertree’s project. And she said… some stuff. About how it feels to live without magic.” Simon studied him with a frown of worry while he did his best to focus on gathering ingredients instead of the emotional turmoil threatening to boil over. “Are you… okay?”
The seemingly simple question made Magnus freeze in the middle of motion. He swallowed thickly, squeezing a tomato almost hard enough to crush it. “Honestly?” He inhaled a deep breath. “If it wasn’t for the baby… I’m not sure what I’d do to get my magic back.” He knew that there was a way. A desperate, terribly dangerous method. But there was absolutely no way he was going to risk the fragile life growing inside him. Without noticing it he pressed his hand against his abdomen. Feeling the movements inside helped lift the dark veil threatening to cloud his mind a little. “Right now… I’m focusing on her.” And she was more than enough reason to keep fighting even through the worst of days.
He tensed up, more out of surprise than anything else, when without a warning Simon pulled him to a hug. He had to remind himself several times that this was a friend before he managed to relax. “Not… that I’m complaining, but… What’s this all about?”
Simon shrugged. “You just… looked like you needed this.”
Magnus didn’t know how to comment. The baby did. Simon yelped when there was a strong, purposeful kick. “What…? Was that the…?” the vampire sputtered.
Magnus came close to laughing. “Don’t take it personally. She… tends to do that when people touch me.”
Simon snorted. “Well. She’s definitely Alec’s daughter.”
Some time later Magnus observed the interaction between Izzy and Simon from the corner of his eye. It took him a long moment to notice that subtle, barely detectable change. The first sparks of something new. Once he spotted it a tiny, knowing smile appeared to his lips.
/
A couple of evenings later Alec panicked irrationally when he came home and didn’t find his fiancé immediately. Until it crossed his mind to check out the room Jace occupied for a while, once upon a time. What he discovered brought a smile to his face.
Magnus lay on the bed, curled up comfortably and fast asleep. There was a piece of paper right beside the slumbering man, and Alec inspected it curiously. To find a list of things that a nursery would need.
Magnus… was nesting.
“I know that Catarina’s still insisting on bedrest”, his mother’s voice whispered. Full of warmth. “But he was too restless to stay in the bedroom, so I decided that this is the next best thing.”
Alec smiled. Then frowned, his ever-hyper-active protective instincts taking over. “He’s okay, right?”
“As okay as he can be.” Maryse gave the sleeping man a fond look. “He reminds me of myself, when I was expecting you. He’s just as scared and excited.” She then frowned. “He… mentioned something about the pregnancy advancing quickly.”
Alec nodded, the tension from before intensifying. “It hurts him, sometimes.” His stomach knotted while fears he’d been wrestling with for weeks threatened to boil over. “Catarina’s helping him with it.” He hoped, for the sake of his fiancé and their unborn child, that the help would be enough.
“You look like you could use some sleep, too.” His mother was already putting on a coat. “Call me, at any time, if either of you needs me. That’s what moms and mother in laws are for.”
Alec smiled, and not for the first time marveled how far they’d both come in such a short amount of time.
Maryse was honestly supposed to leave right after. But just before closing the door she realized that she’d forgotten her purse. On her way out she peered towards the room where her first-born was with his beloved. The sight made her pause.
Alec did his best to lay down slowly and gently. But the slightest movement of the mattress, or perhaps something as simple as Alec’s presence, was enough to rouse Magnus. Barely, anyway. Not a word was said. The look the lovers exchanged spoke everything necessary.
Seeing her son love someone so fiercely… To be loved as much in return… It made her feel more than a little choked up.
Alec settled down with a yawn. As soon as he lay comfortably Magnus took his place right beside the taller man. Then guided one of the archer’s hands to his stomach, which Alec accepted with visible eagerness. With Magnus’s barely visible bump between them the two exchanged a languid, loving kiss.
That was when Maryse decided to leave. She’d already intruded on the private moment too long. Outside the apartment she wiped her eyes, surprised to find them moist.
/
Early in the following morning Alec woke up to a sound that immediately brought chills down his spine. A groan of pain. Over the past week or so those had been such common occurrences that he knew what was going on even before gently lifting the hem of Magnus’s shirt. True enough, dark, angry bruising sneered back at him.
Magnus groaned again. And bit back a grimace. “Not again…”
Alec swallowed hard and caressed his beloved’s hair while his other hand reached out for a phone. “Try to relax. Catarina will be here soon.”
Magnus nodded and leaned against him, trembling slightly from pain he refused to admit. And Alec held him, because it was the only thing he could do. It was maddening to feel so utterly helpless.
Fortunately Catarina arrived swiftly, with a deep frown on her face. “Not again”, she sighed, mimicking her best friend’s words from not too long ago. Then got to work.
Just like every time, Magnus looked away from her glowing hands. Knowing all too well why, Alec tightened his embrace and hoped that it was enough comfort. Needing magic to be used on him repeatedly after losing his own… It was a bitter insult to injury. And then there were the potentially life-threatening elements.
Stress like this was the last thing Magnus needed.
“Why is this happening so frequently now?” Alec demanded once Magnus had retreated to the bathroom.
Catarina sighed heavily. “This seems to be the last trimester of the pregnancy. Which means that the baby’s growing much faster than before. And the baby’s position is also problematic. I dread to imagine how many internal organs are under pressure.”
Alec shuddered. “So… The baby’s coming soon, right?”
“Looks that way.” What she refused to say was loud in the air. (They could only hope that the little girl inside Magnus was ready to be born before the man’s body would reach its limit.) Then, determined to direct both their thoughts elsewhere, Catarina grinned. “Also… I found what you asked me to.”
A couple of hours later, once Alec had managed to reassure himself that Magnus would be alright, the young Shadowhunter was busy with what Catarina smuggled in. It was a beautiful, white crib. The second he saw a picture of it he knew that it was the one for their child. He just hoped that Magnus would agree.
Apparently he was about to find out sooner than he’d planned. Because while he was trying to figure out how to put together the trickiest bits a sleepy voice came from the room’s doorway. “Alexander, what…?” Magnus paused. “Oh…!”
Alec glanced towards the older man, trying to read his emotions. “I… get it, if you think it’s too soon. And we can always return it…” He stopped short upon noticing how moist the other’s eyes had grown. “Magnus?”
Magnus sniffled. “Don’t you dare return it. It’s perfect.” With that Alec was tackled to the floor, his arms full of his fiancé who was kissing him with fiery passion.
The crib didn’t advance further that night.
/
A few days later Magnus was trying to make the most of his emotionally and physically best day in what felt like forever. Perhaps his head was pounding and his stomach cramped every now and then. But the sad truth was that it was the most comfortable he’d felt in a while. So he sauntered to the guest-room and began to continue the plans for a nursery. Determined to focus on the good things coming to keep what he’d lost and all the threat looming around the budding happiness from consuming him.
Magnus was so deep in thought that he shivered when there was a knock on the apartment’s door. He frowned and the baby started moving around restlessly. Slowly and reluctantly he headed to the door. And regretted his decision the second he saw who came knocking.
There was something like despair on Robert Lightwood’s face. “I’m aware that I’m not welcomed here, but… Magnus, please!” The plea was so unexpected that it stopped the warlock from shutting the other out. Robert went on the second he saw his opportunity. “I’ve been trying to contact Alec, but he won’t listen to me. I was… I was hoping that you might.”
Magnus nodded slowly. Then moved out of the way to let the other man in. He hoped dearly that he wasn’t making a huge mistake. “You have five minutes”, he announced.
Robert ran a hand through his hair. “Clave has a file on you”, the man blurted out, clearly determined to use the time he was given well. “I caught a glimpse of it, but didn’t have the kind of an authorization to read it.” Robert’s jawline tightened. “I… I think they know about the baby, somehow. I have no idea what they’re planning on doing with that knowledge.”
Cold filled Magnus’s whole body while he shielded his abdomen with his hand. The thought of someone aside his father being after his child… “Why are you telling me this?”
Robert sighed. “I may not be the biggest supporter of your relationship with Alec, but… That’s my grandchild you’re carrying.”
Magnus had no idea if he should’ve believed anything that came out of the other man’s mouth. Nor did he have the time to decide. Because all of a sudden the kind of pain he’d never known before took over his stomach. He groaned and sough support from a wall to avoid slumping to the floor.
“Magnus?” Robert’s voice sounded frantic and incredibly far away. “What’s going on?”
Magnus tried to answer. Instead he fell into a fit of coughs that made him feel like he’d been stabbed repeatedly. Dazed and increasingly alarmed, he lifted a hand to his lips when something trickled to his chin.
His fingers came back stained by blood. |
Rick didn’t remember his dreams from that night, but by the time he became aware of himself in the morning the memory of the moment when he had killed that man was playing again and again and again in his head, only he imagined he could feel what he had felt, so he had a pretty good guess about what had occupied his mind while he slept.
He felt an intense rush of nausea and got out of the bed as fast as he could without disturbing Judith, who was sleeping right next him, between his body and the wall. He attempted not to make noise to not wake Carl up either, entered the bathroom, and threw up as soon as he reached the toilet.
He let the contents of his stomach, half of it bile, go out and leave that bitter taste on his mouth for a few minutes in intermittent rushes. A couple times he thought he was done, but then his brain went to the messier parts of the earlier day and the nausea came back in full force. When he simply had nothing more on his stomach to throw out, he shakily wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and got up slowly. He went to the sink - which had an actually working water system - and tried to rinse the taste his mouth off, then his hands. He was so absorbed in his thoughts that he cleaned them five times, and when he realized it, he sighed tiredly. After a moment of hesitance, he decided to shred his clothes off and enter the shower.
He had already showered far too much to be considered simply thorough the day before. Despite Negan’s intention of keeping all of them around for a while longer, seemingly very interested in them, it was clear that none had the energy to entertain him. Therefore a displeased but understanding Negan had them all shown to their rooms with the promise that, starting the next day, they’d all become useful to the community.
Everyone had to share rooms, at least for now. Not Rick. He and his kids were given a room - the biggest one, too - all for themselves in a separate area. Negan had led them there himself. It looked like the thing about having a whole lot his attention on Rick due to his psycho side was true, although Rick was very sure that his status as the leader of the newcomers had weight in it too. Negan had draped his arm over Rick’s shoulder, not minding the dry blood on him, and as they went through the hallways he cheerfully asked for details of the carnage. Carl listened as his dad complied, Rick was aware of that, but he couldn’t find it in himself to ask Negan to wait for another time, and he didn’t want to start this hopefully new stage of their lives with hiding things from his son, either. He knew that what he’d find in his son’s eyes - eye - when he looked at him again would be the same than when he had ripped that man’s throat with his bare teeth.
At the very least, Judith couldn’t understand him yet. He’d take comfort in what he could.
As soon as Negan left them alone Rick locked himself up in the bathroom and threw his clothes into the laundry, although he wasn’t too sure they could be saved at that point. He got under the hot water and scrubbed, scratched, rubbed, rubbed and rubbed until the water at his feet didn’t have a single hint of red. Even then, he kept going, frantically and almost anxiously, until he realized he had used almost a third of the bottle of soap they had. He sighed and forced himself to stop, guessing his rational mind had to win the battle at some point. He let the water fall over him a few more minutes, dried himself up and put on a clean pijama he found on the drawers. He fell on his bed, and the prospect of finally, actually resting had him completely out in less than a minute.
Now it was like it had been for nothing. He saw his skin, saw that it was clean. Still, he couldn’t help but imagine there was something sticky and foul on it, refusing to let go. He soaped himself up until he could barely see it under the white and let it go away under the water, and even then he could still feel some trace of it on him. The next time would do the trick, he thought, only it didn’t nor did any of the next, always leaving less than the previous one but always leaving something .
He knew he’d chosen to put it there himself and now he couldn’t get it off. It wasn’t on his skin. It was on his mind.
He eventually managed to force himself away from the shower and slowly dried himself up. He was breathing steam and the mirror was completely fogged up. Rick took the towel and swiped it across the glass, forming a stripe of clear reflection of his own face, the lower half of it. Most of it was occupied by his beard.
Rick scratched it absently. It really was wild, and it wasn’t a lie that it made him look dangerous and feral. Like the man who hadn’t hesitated to make a carnage out of a living person less than a day ago. Someone who belonged on the outside with the dead rather than within walls.
He didn’t even realize when he took the decision, but the next thing he knew was that most of his beard was on the sink, the rest covered in lather and slowly disappearing under the razor. He nicked himself repeatedly on his haste, but he couldn’t bring himself to care as long as he got it out of the way. He couldn’t stand being the man from yesterday anymore. He couldn’t be that far gone.
There were several bleeding points on his face by the time he was done and it stung sharply when he put the aftershave on, but he smiled brightly at his reflection nonetheless. His face felt light and fresh, he could feel the cool water directly on his cheeks for the first time in quite a long time, and that symbolical act had let him almost forget about the feeling of unexisting dry blood on his arms for the briefest of moments. He nodded at his reflection, satisfied, and wrapped a towel around his waist to go outside.
What he found was Negan on his bed, in jeans and a simple beige t-shirt, lying on his back and smiling brightly at a laughing Judith, who he held up high in the air and gently shook her as she spread out her arms like she was a little plane. His expression as he watched her wriggle her little chubby arms would have made Rick think she was his daughter, if it wasn’t because, well, she was Rick’s.
Rick blinked at the image. That wasn’t precisely what he had expected to find in his room and he wasn’t quite sure what to do with it, either. He shifted his weight on his feet, waiting for some sort of acknowledgement, a reaction from the man to let him know how to react himself. Since Negan didn’t look like he had noticed him at all, Rick cleared his throat awkwardly, fidgeting some more. Negan’s head turned to him and his eyes opened wide. Rick couldn’t help but notice that the man took his sweet time giving him a dedicated once-over before going back up to his face.
“Fuck me sideways, Rick! Who knew you actually had a face under that angry racoon!”
Negan carefully set Judith back on the mattress and stood up in a swift movement. He was standing right in front of Rick in a couple long strides and then he went still, inspecting Rick’s body and face with his usual heavy gaze from up close. It didn’t make Rick feel threatened anymore, but that didn’t mean that it didn’t make him squirm a little bit either, especially when Negan lifted his hand. The man’s fingers brushed faintly over his chest, making the briefest stop on the gunshot scar over his shoulder, before ending up on his face. Without any sort of sense of personal space, Negan’s fingers closed over his cheeks and moved his face around to take a better look, playing him like a doll just like he had on their first meeting.
“Well, shit ” he finally commented, breaking the absolute silence that had settled in the room. “No wonder Judith’s such a cutie, her father’s a fucking babe himself. I’m gonna be honest here, Rick, you’re adorable as fuck and I kinda feel like making out with you.”
Rick raised a skeptical eyebrow and had to purse his lips to stop himself from snorting. Negan’s fingers slipped down his cheeks and came together at his chin. He tilted his head backwards and half-closed his eyes as he smiled cheekily, tongue between his teeth.
“Gonna miss that psycho beard, though. I was gonna have so much fun using it to boss you around. Although this might work just as well” he mused as he shifted to grab a rough fistful of Rick’s hair. It made Rick gasp, more out of surprise than anything else, and he started feeling some heat spread over his cheeks. Negan’s face was far closer than it should.
Negan gave a couple experimental tugs and clicked his tongue. “Ain’t doing the trick, I’m afraid. Such a fucking shame.”
“I guess that’s better for you. I was planning on getting a haircut too, I’d have hated to disappoint you with that as well.”
“Oooooh, so you’re going from full wild mountain man to full ken doll? Can’t wait to see it, you’ll be dashing as fuck, all proper king of prom with a murderer heart beneath. Kinda like James Bond. It sort of tickles my balls.”
Rick couldn’t help his snort snort this time as he finally got fed up with Negan’s touchiness and pushed his hand away in an almost playful way. Negan complied easily enough, shrugging and stepping back. Rick picked some new clothes from a drawer with the sensation that Negan was attentively watching his back, although he seemed to be focused on Judith again when Rick turned around, and locked himself back into the bathroom to put them on.
“What are you doing here, anyway?” he asked once he got out a minute later. “First you say talking to me is wasting your ‘precious as fuck time’, and now you’re in my room first thing in the morning. And by the way, where’s Carl?”
“I sent him down, told him the doc wanted to see him” Negan explained easily. “I was bullshitting him, but it might be true as far as I know so let’s hope there’s still some work to do on that hole of his and I’m not making the lad run around for nothing, huh?” he chuckled, completely ignoring the stormy look that briefly crossed Rick’s face. “Told him to go get breakfast afterwards, you should probably join him at some point. As for the other thing, well, you’re not a waste of my time anymore, are you? Yesterday you were because I thought you’d be boring, simple as that. Now? Oh sir, I think you’re gonna be quite the entertainment for a while.”
He flashed Rick a toothy smirk, cold and sharp, at the same time his eyes shone. It was the exact same expression he’d had when hearing about Rick’s little murder, and Rick had no doubt about why Negan thought he’d be fun. His throat suddenly felt dry, his arms felt foul again, and for the first time he looked down to avoid Negan’s gaze. The man snorted.
“What is it, murder boy? You gonna act shy like a virgin about to be eaten out for the first time? It’s almost cute. That’s not fucking fair, man, you don’t get to be badass and handsome and cute all at the same time.”
If Negan’s teasing was supposed to lighten the mood, which Rick didn’t think it was, then it utterly failed. He felt his stomach become a tight knot, and without looking at Negan he went to take Judith from the bed. He muttered an apology and entered the bathroom again to get her ready for the day, half hoping that Negan would be gone by the time they got out. No such luck, though, and Negan was smiling brightly to welcome them back ten minutes later, once more immediately invading Rick’s personal space without a care in the world.
Negan led him down to an enormous room with many windows allowing in the morning light. Rick subconsciously stopped for a second and held Judith closer to his chest when he saw it was full of people. There were several tables across the room, most of them occupied by people having breakfast. All of them turned their sights on them as soon as they walked in, making Rick feel on edge and his breath hitch. Negan side-eyed him, amused, before making a dismissing gesture and causing everyone to go back to their thing.
“Maybe you should try relaxing the fuck up. You’re safe here.”
Rick grunted a half-response, but in that moment he saw his group, all together in one of the bigger tables in a far end corner of the room, and the remark died on his lips. He did relax a bit then, some of the tension leaving him as he sagged and smiled. He quickly walked up to them. Negan didn’t follow. Once close enough, he noticed that they all seemed to be on edge as well, keeping their heads low, their voices quiet, and shooting brief looks around every now and then. Rick’s arrival and subsequent sitting down with them seemed to calm them down a bit, although a different kind of uneasiness settled on most of them.
No one quite managed to hold his gaze for longer than a few seconds and a brief, somewhat hesitant in some cases, smile before dropping their gazes down. By that point, even all those who had gotten there first had to have heard about what he’d done the previous day, and he didn’t expect those who had watched him do it get over it so soon. Only Carol seemed to be relatively at ease, although Rick could easily read her watchful eyes taking note of everything happening in the room as she pretended to just eat.
Carl approached to take Judith from his arms and Rick easily offered her to her brother. Not having dared to meet his son’s eyes the previous night and not having had the chance earlier in the day, he was relieved to see that Carl didn’t avoid his eyes, even if there was that strange, confused mix of feelings Rick had expected to see. He nodded at him nonetheless, a gesture of ‘it’s OK’, and Rick nodded back. He rejected the tray he was offered, stomach still uneasy, and faced all of them.
“How are things here?”
“This place is secure” Carol replied, voice even and controlled. “The defenses seem solid and the organization is efficient. I’d say that we’re good.”
Rick licked his lips slowly and nodded at her, giving her a little smile to thank her for her support. Next he shifted his attention to Michonne, who looked like she was about to defy him in some way but then changed her mind, shaking her head lightly.
“It’s alright with me. We’ve had a good sleep tonight and we’re being fed. People are being friendly enough. I can’t say I’m too comfortable, but then again neither was I when I first entered the prison.” She made a brief pause, like she had to think of what to say next. “I don’t approve of what you did yesterday, Rick, but I get it. I’m not sure staying here for good is what I want, because I don’t approve of what they do either, but if it allowed us to be here right now, then I think it was worth it.”
The smile Rick gave Michonne was much warmer than the one he’d given Carol. He did appreciate her support immensely, but he knew what Carol was able and willing to do if she thought it was necessary. Michonne, on the other hand, had a stronger moral code, was open about what she thought and she still understood him, had his back regardless of it. Rick had always appreciated that immensely, and now he felt that it allowed him to leave some of the weight on his shoulders behind and be comfortable on his own skin. She must have seen the gratefulness in his eyes, because she managed to smile back at him.
Rick maintained eye contact with her for one more second before shifting his attention to Daryl. He limited himself to nodding curtly, which Rick chose to interpret as agreement with what Michonne had said, and he smiled at him too. Those were the people whose opinion he valued most, and everyone else apparently decided to follow their lead. Except for Gabriel, who always looked far too lost to be in the world he lived in, they seemed to mean it, and that was all Rick could ask of them.
The conversation died down after that, but the silence that settled wasn’t necessarily uncomfortable. Maybe with a little more time they’d have started talking as if they weren’t on strange environment, but a while later Simon approached the table, looking completely done with everything.
“Hi” Rick greeted with a small nod of his head, and Simon was friendly enough to ease his expression a bit before nodding back. “Here for business?”
“Afraid I am. Boring business. You people, I know you’ve had a few rough days, but bluntly said, you’re gonna have to make yourselves useful sooner rather than later or things won’t work out too well. I’m gonna have find something for you all to do.” He reached down and took some of Daryl’s breakfast, lazily putting it into his mouth. “I see you’re done here, so let’s go somewhere else, hm?”
Without waiting for an answer he turned around and started walking away. People were very much not done, including Daryl, but a nod from Rick had them standing up and following anyway, in varying degrees of comfort with it. Simon led them out of the hall, through the hallway and into a much smaller, but still spacious room. Negan was in there, reunited with his bat now. He grinned when he saw them coming in.
“Hey there, Simon! Excited to do useful, productive shit and find stuff for these fuckers to do?”
Simon sneered something at Negan which made the man laugh. He was the image of bitterness as he took a chart from a table, sighing in defeat before doing so, and started going through it as he muttered lowly to himself.
Some followed him deeper into the room immediately. Others, like Michonne and Sasha, were slower to do so. Rick was about to go when he felt Negan’s gloved hand close tightly around his forearm, pulling him closer. Judith, who he was carrying, stirred a bit. He offered a questioning look but Negan just shrugged. He looked at Tara.
“Hey, you, cute thing! Why don’t you come over here? Yes sweetheart, I’m talking to you, don’t have that dumb look on your face. And everyone else stick to your shit.” The others looked away, back to Simon, as a bewildered and quite intimidated Tara approached. Negan flashed her a grin.
“You look like you’re the sweetest little thing, sweetie. Are you?”
“I… I guess I try to be?”
“Good enough for me. ‘Cause see, I wouldn’t want to put this little one in your hands” he commented as he took Judith away from a surprised Rick’s arms and planted her into an equally surprised Tara’s, “unless you were. Rick’s gonna have to leave the cutie for a while, and I’m sure you’ll do a good enough job in his absence. If something as much as makes her pout, there’ll be a hell of a shitstorm coming on the bastard responsible, but I’m sure you won’t take your eyes off her so no need to worry, right?”
Negan winked playfully at Tara, who nodded vigorously, face a tad pale, before turning around and joining the others. Rick, slightly open-mouthed, stared at the other man.
“What the hell was that about?”
Negan leaned easily against the wall. A moment later, when Rick didn’t move, he grabbed his arm and pulled him into the same position. “I already know what shit you’re gonna be doing around here, Rick. No need to make poor little Simon figure out something to give you only to tell him it was for jackshit afterwards. I’m afraid he’d kick me in the balls and I can’t afford to wait for them to stop aching for a good fuck, you know. You’re gonna be walking around with me, so let’s give the little one some peace away from the fucking filth also known as my vocabulary, huh?”
Rick blinked. Why would Negan want him to follow him around? “What’s it I’m gonna do, then?”
“Hell, are you fucking stupid? You might be ‘cause I just said it. Your job’s gonna be walk behind me, no hidden messages underneath. Entertain me. Learn how things work around here, what we got. Keep those lovely big eyes of yours open and fixed on my pretty face. Sounds sweet like a good night of non-stop fucking, right?”
“Why?” Rick inquired after a beat, brow furrowed. He expected to be put to do something actually useful. In the face of Rick’s question, Negan gave an easy chuckle and shifted a few inches to be facing more towards Rick, who unconsciously did the same. Negan’s eyes met his, and although his grin was mostly amused, they expressed something else. Rick felt it was something like gleeful excitement and careful calculation mixed in one.
“Why? Because, Rick, as soon as you’re done adapting to the Sanctuary I want you in my direct service. And because I still need to decide if I want to take your murder-happy instincts and turn you into even more of a killing-motherfucking-machine, or if I want to tame you and turn you into my docile, obedient little bitch. Both are tempting as fuck.”
His grin grew ear-to-ear wide when he saw that Rick had nothing to answer to that, pleased with it. He turned his attention to the group across the room as if nothing had happened, but Rick kept looking at him, heartbeat a little bit too fast. He thought about those eyes and he thought what would happen if that man had ever been his enemy. He shivered. He commanded just with his eyes and the sound of his voice, and the only thing Rick could say with certainty about him at that point was that Negan was incredibly more dangerous and scary than Rick was.
He hadn’t even known him for two days, hadn’t seen him do anything bad, and he already knew that. It made him uneasy, but not nearly as much as it made him want to know more.
He was snapped out of his brief distraction when Negan caught his attention and pointed with his head to the rest of the group.
“Those two beauties over there, what’s the deal with them? All gloomy and quiet, makes me feel fucking sad just to look at them, and usually a woman like that would make little Negan very, very happy. It’s like they’re on a funeral rather than being given jobs out of the kindness of my heart.”
Rick followed Negan’s indication with his eyes and found that he meant Maggie and Rosita. They were indeed standing noticeably apart from the rest of the group, and while they had their attention put in an a small-scale argument starting between Simon and Daryl, they weren’t too into it. They had inexpressive faces, standing close enough to one another to brush their arms together in a gesture of comfort.
Watching them like that made Rick’s heart ache. He gritted his teeth in rage, and suddenly having killed that man the way he had didn’t make him feel a taste of bitterness in the back of his throat.
“Maggie and Rosita” he eventually said. “And you could say they are in a funeral. The man I killed yesterday, he killed two of ours, Glenn and Abraham. Maggie and Rosita were with them, respectively. They’ve just only begun their mourning.”
Negan emitted a long, low hum after that, eyes on the two women again. There was silence for a brief second, and Rick almost thought Negan was sorry for what had happened, but as soon as the thought entered his head the man beside him whistled loud and long. Everyone looked at him, and after a moment of basking in the attention, he signaled for the two women to approach and for everyone else to go back to their thing.
By the time they were in front of them, Negan had hid his easygoing expression, replacing it for one of seriousness. Maggie seemed careful in the way she eyed him while Rosita looked simply as pissed as she had been at everyone lately, and Rick felt irrational tension at what might be about to happen. Negan placed his hand over his heart, solemn.
“Rick was just telling me about what great men Glenn and Abraham were” he lied smoothly, “and it’s a goddamn tragedy what happened to them. I’d have been delighted to have them here with us. You two must be hurting a hell of a lot now, and I want you to know I’m willing to do anything” he let the ‘anything’ hang on for a few seconds, “to offer you any sort of comfort this poor fucker can.”
Rosita looked completely unimpressed. She stared at Negan through narrowed eyes before muttering a quick and incredibly scathing ‘thank you’ and giving him her back, going to where she was a minute earlier. Maggie seemed simply surprised, if a bit put off, but her voice when she thanked him sounded far more genuine.
Once she left too, Negan’s smirk broke back into his face and he animatedly patted Rick’s back before opening the door and dragging the man out with him. He started walking down the hallway immediately, Rick on his heels.
“Ah, widows. So full of pain, so needy for some good old-fashioned and dirty comfort !” he crooned like it was an extremely funny joke he had decided to share with Rick. “At least one of them’s gonna end up in my bed, I bet you. I think Maggie’s hotter, but did you see Rosita’s face? Oh my, she was about to slap me! I bet she’s wild like a fucking tigress on bed, scratching my back and making me bleed as I pound into her. Oh, I’m gonna have so much fun.”
Negan couldn’t see it, but Rick was staring at his nape, mouth slightly open, tense, eyes hard and knuckles white. He felt the sudden need to slam the man into the wall and punch him until he passed out. He was talking about taking the pain of two women had he brought with him - one of which had joined him so shortly after everything started and who he considered part of his closest family - as if it was a tool for him to use to get laid. Negan’s words also stirred something in deeply buried memories, about a woman who thought herself a widow and sought comfort in someone else’s arms, a situation that had eventually led to something that still ached in the deepest part of him if he slipped and let his mind go there.
“You’re absolutely disgusting” Rick sneered, tone matching his words, before he could stop himself. Even if he had been able to, he didn’t think he would have.
Immediately, he hit Negan’s chest when the man turned around to look at him. Looking up at Negan’s face made him see that he was opening his eyes widely in disbelief. In a matter of seconds, he went from that to laughing his ass off, bending back and clasping Rick’s shoulder as if he’d said the funniest shit ever, and then Rick’s back hit the floor with a burning ache in his cheek after Negan punched him hard and fast.
He groaned and cupped his face, unable to react in any other way for a few seconds. When he opened his eyes it was to find Negan looming over him, all hints of amusement gone, eyes dark and furious.
“I think I owe you a fucking apology, Rick. My incredibly charming and friendly behavior has led your shit self into believing a very big, stinking bullshit. You and I ain’t partners and we ain’t equals. I’m boss and you obey, that’s it and you’ll behave accordingly. Keep your fucking mouth in check or I’ll have to sew it shut.”
The image automatically settled in Rick’s mind and he didn’t need anything else to know that it wasn’t an empty threat. He felt his heartbeat hard in his ears, his blood ran cold, and he nodded quickly before Negan thought he didn’t accept it.
“I’m sorry! I’m sorry.”
The bat landed on the floor, between Rick’s legs and dangerously close to his groin. “You’re sorry? You’re sorry, go kindly fuck yourself, Rick. But I guess that’s a motherfuckingly touchy subject, you’ve learned your lesson and I got to punch you and put you in your place, so I’ll let it slip. Just use your goddamn brain next time you think outright insulting me is a good idea, you shithead.”
Rick nodded again, and with that Negan’s anger was gone as quick as it had come. The scowl disappeared and his lips turned into a small grin as he let his eyes wander over Rick’s body under him. He offered a hand and an utterly confused Rick accepted it. Negan lifted him without much effort and turned into his heels, continuing with his walk as if nothing had happened.
“Very productive heart-to-heart moment, don’t you agree? I feel like we’ve given a huge step forwards in our relationship, Rick, that’s fucking beautiful. And if we ignore the whole disrespecting me aspect, I gotta say it’s refreshing as fuck that you said that, little bitches always keep their mouths shut. You see, the problem wasn’t what you said, but that fucking tone you used. Maybe once I’m sure you’re not gonna get any wrong ideas about how our little relationship works, I’ll let you run those pretty lips of yours wild.”
Rick couldn’t help but snort, even if he was rubbing his aching jaw as he walked. The hit hadn’t been extremely hard, but he could taste a hint of blood on his tongue. Negan was completely nuts, saying one thing and then the almost opposite, leaving him a very narrow range of action. Every time he opened his mouth he left him more confused, and Rick guessed all he could do was wait until he was used to the man and could read him better.
Negan seemed to go surprisingly quiet for almost a minute as he walked, and then he spoke again, voice much softer this time.
“I got to admit that might have been extremely bad taste, though. I say shit like that all the time, you’ll get used to it. But keep in mind that if anything happens it’ll be because they’ll be willing, Rick, don’t doubt that. I want you and me to get along.”
“I don’t doubt it” Rick replied simply, the far too little heat in his voice being his way of saying that he wanted to get along, too. Negan gave him a quick look over his shoulder, and his brief smile looked genuine. Rick almost felt compelled to smile back.
Negan spent all morning walking Rick around and showing him most parts of the factory, never keeping his mouth shut for more than two minutes at most. Rick kept his eyes open to every little detail he could catch, regarding Negan’s community and Negan himself, too. In a couple occasions he watched him deal with some minor problems, and what he saw confirmed what he had previously thought; his decisions were tough but reasonable, and the way people looked at him was respect with a little hint of fear. Negan seemed aware of it and to be extremely satisfied with it. It was, after all, the most perfect combination of feelings a leader could cause on their people. It ensured urgency to please and obey with no risk of ever being betrayed out of fear and hate.
Yes, underneath that crazy behavior was a brilliant, calculating mind, Rick thought as he watched Negan not-so-subtly threaten a man who was being far too problematic. He had created a system that worked well and which he had complete control over. He may be borderline brutal, if he wasn’t all talk, but despite everything Rick found himself thinking that Negan was worthy of being admired. If anything, he couldn’t stop looking at him with a sliver of careful fascination in his face.
They eventually reached one of the upper levels, Negan’s arm once more across Rick’s shoulder, the man commenting something that was supposed to be funny but all it did was put an unimpressed look on Rick’s face, which in turn made Negan chuckle.
“You look like you got a fucking tree up your ass with no lube. God, how can anyone stand you? I’m gonna have to come to the rescue and get you to stop being so goddamn bitter.”
“I think I’d rather be bitter than being, you know, a psychotic clown with poor sense of humor.”
He paled a bit when he realized what he’d said, and his body went somewhat tense as he waited for Negan’s reaction. However, instead of acting similar to how he had before, Negan limited to snort.
“Now, that’s how I like it, Rick. No real disrespect there, just two friends good-naturedly telling each other what scum they are. A classic.”
Then, Negan saw something up ahead that made his expression lighten up even more than it already was. Rick followed his gaze and by the moment he saw a beautiful redhead woman walking in their direction, Negan had already walked up ahead to meet her. When he did, he greeted her by hungrily closing his mouth over hers and leaning forward into her body, surrounding her in his arms.
Rick stood there awkwardly, not knowing what to do as Negan elevated the woman and swept her around himself before settling her on the floor. She was laughing lightly and Negan was grinning. Then they turned to Rick.
“Rick, may I introduce you to my fucking gorgeous wife, Frankie. Frankie, this is the badass I told you about last night.”
He saw a look of apprehension briefly cross her face and he had no doubt what exactly Negan had told her about him. However, it was gone a second later, replaced by a bright smile as she offered him her hand. The tug in his stomach remained, though.
“Hi, Rick. It’s nice to meet you.”
“Likewise.”
Rick shook her hand as he tried to control his expression. A wife was something he hadn’t expected Negan to have, it just didn’t fit with the vibe the guy gave off. Specially when it came to his mind that a couple hours earlier Negan had made very clear his interest in having Rosita or Maggie in his bed. He tried to not let his smile falter as he wondered if she was aware of her husband’s actions or if she was blissfully ignorant. He couldn’t have made a great work, however, because her brow furrowed a little bit.
“Is everything alright, Rick? You look concerned.”
“It’s nothing” he answered as his eyes flickered to an unconcerned Negan. The seconds his gaze lingered on him were apparently enough for Negan to read him - it was starting to get scary, and he didn’t know if he had a far too open face or if Negan was simply too used to reading and playing people - because he waved his hand dismissively.
“Nothing to worry about, sweetheart. I just told him earlier I’m planning on banging someone, and right now he must think you’re my only wife or something like that.”
Understanding dawned on Frankie’s face and she smiled at Rick reassuringly. He frowned in confusion, though.
“Not you only wife, you say?”
“Oh fuck yeah! There’s too much Negan for only one person, you see” he commented, accompanying his words with a sway of his hips. “Got a bunch of them, they get along nicely ‘cause they’re all lovely as fuck and because that way none of them has to bear with my alarmingly high sex drive, so they don’t mind if I sleep out of our happy, big marriage every now and then either. Besides, if I had only one woman Lucille would get jealous, and I can’t have my girl feeling bad!”
That explanation left him even more confused. His frown deepened. “Lucille?”
Negan blinked at him as if he was goddamn stupid. Then his eyes opened wide and he groaned as he took a hand to his forehead, hitting himself.
“Fuck, I forgot to introduce you! That’s disgustingly rude of me to both you and her.” The next thing Rick knew was that Negan’s expression had morphed into a slasher smile and that his wired bat was within inches of his face. One of the spikes was so dangerously close to his eye he could see the light reflecting on it, and he almost stumbled in his hurry to step back. Negan grinned wider. “This, my dearest Ricky boy, is Lucille. You haven’t got the chance to see her in action yet, but let me tell you, she’s awesome and downright vicious. That’s why I fell in love with her.”
Rick bit back a ‘why am I not surprised’ comment and just raised his eyebrow in disbelief.
“You gave your murder bat a fucking name?”
“You bet your sorry ass I did” Negan crooned, apparently delighted at hearing Rick say ‘fuck’. Rick eyed Frankie, who shrugged imperceptibly and rolled her eyes as a fond smile settled on her lips. Negan looked warmly at Lucille for a few more moments and then settled her down and shifted his attention to his wife. One of them, in any case.
“By the way, sweetie, I want you to cut Rick’s hair.” When both of them raised their eyebrows, he stepped closer to Rick and ran his hand through his hair slowly, letting wavy curls catch and swipe through his fingers. Rick shivered into the touch, not completely displeased. “He said he wants a haircut, and I think I trust his pretty head with you. After all, you have some goddamned skilled hands.”
Rick was pretty sure that said skill had nothing to do with haircuts, if the heated looks those two were giving each other were any indication. Regardless of it, no matter his complaining and his insistence that it wasn’t necessary, he ended up back in his room, sitting on a chair and with a towel around his neck. He was sulking a little bit, while an amused Negan sat across from him in his bed, smirking, and Frankie stood behind him working on his hair.
“He’s pretty, ain’t he, Frankie?”
“He sure is, Negan.”
The man ignored Rick’s slight blush as much as he had been ignoring his glare. “I’m glad you think so, honey. I think I’ll get him to join a threesome with us at some point. Or a whatever-fucking-some, if the girls feel like joining. He’s a babe after all.”
Rick’s blush intensified and his hands turned into first from fighting the embarrassment. However, before he could say anything, Frankie stepped back and spoke to him.
“That’s it, then. I sort of slipped, so I had to make it shorter than planned to make it look good” she explained, her voice sounding sheepish. “Hope you don’t mind.”
Rick hummed thoughtfully and ran a hand through his hair, making some of it fall on his face. He blew upwards to try to get a bit of it off. It was short enough for it to feel rough instead of soft against his palm, and for him to touch his scalp easily. If memory served him right, the last time he’d had it that short was at the very beginning, so long, long ago.
“It’s good, as far as I’m concerned” he reassured with a nod.
Negan got up, smile gone and its place taken by a thoughtful, observant expression. He walked up to where Rick was sitting and looked down at him. He lifted his hand and let his knuckles brush heatedly through his now short hair and shaved cheek, ending up on his chin before falling down.
“I said you’re a ken doll earlier, but that’s bullshit. Barbie and Ken wish they were half as fucking pretty as you, Rick” he whispered, voice low and resounding. Rick couldn’t help but shiver again, which made Negan’s lips curl into a small smirk and his eyes shine.
He looked up behind Rick’s back. “Frankie, that was so goddamn gracious of you, and I know you want to admire this work of art, but now it’s business time. I’d appreciate it if you went to do some other shit somewhere else.”
“Of course” she replied, sounding more bothered than angry. She said goodbye in a friendly manner and Rick responded, but he only heard her leave because his eyes were too busy still locked on Negan, who had gone back to stare right back at him.
They remained still, in the silence that fell between them, for a couple of minutes. Then, without breaking the visual contact, Negan walked back until his legs hit the bed and he sat down, body leaning forward towards Rick, his hands crossed over his legs.
“Rick, I’ve been with you all morning, kept you talking, and yet you’ve barely said anything about yourself. That hurts as fuck. I’m making an effort here to get to know you and you shut down, which I very much don’t like. So now you’re going to be the one who speaks and I’ll listen for a while. Go on, pretty boy.”
Rick swallowed thickly, breaking the contact with Negan’s deep gaze. He unconsciously bit the inside of his lips, taking the towel to clean some of the loose hair still in his head, doing it as slowly as possible as a way to gain some time. Negan seemed content to give him that little time, but eventually he couldn’t pull it off anymore and he let the cloth fall to the floor with a sigh.
He tapped his fingers on his knees, still looking down. He had reached a certain level of trust in Negan, but the thought of sharing things with him made him feel uneasy, a pang of anxiety piercing his chest. He closed his eyes and breathed deeply, attempting to calm it down.
“I’m known to have an extremely big and beautiful part of myself, Rick, but it ain’t my patience.”
Negan’s warning came without a hint of his usual amusement, and all it did was increase the irrational anxiety. However, Rick dig his fingers into his jeans and forced himself to speak, without looking up. Everything before the world went to shit wasn’t relevant anymore, not for Negan, and not for himself. Therefore, he decided to start at the point where everything had, well, started for real.
“I was in a coma when the dead decided that graves are too boring. Got shot in the job, I was a cop. By the time I woke up at the hospital the world had been wrecked for a couple months. I had no idea what the hell was going on and almost pissed myself a few times.”
He was interrupted by a loud whistle coming from Negan. “Fucking fucked fuck! Now that’s a way to say hello to a nice morning after a nap!”
Rick smirked bitterly despite himself, a bitter gesture. “You bet it was.”
He continued talking, and judging by Negan’s expressive commentary, he was finding it interesting, although his replies were fewer and fewer as he went on. Finally, he interrupted him right after he was done talking about to Governor.
“Point one, Rick, it’s rude as shit not to look at the person you’re talking to, me in this case. You know, your goddamned boss. So as enticing as I know my crotch is, get those eyeballs up here.”
Rick obeyed, hesitantly but he did. Negan had his head tilted to the side, a curious look in his face. He inspected Rick’s expression for a few moments before licking his lips and going on.
“Point two, as fascinating as all that shit it, I already know you’re our resident Mr Awesome McCool here. You’ve been avoiding personal stuff, Rick. Start spilling, I wanna hear.”
“Why do you wanna hear?” Rick retorted, unable to keep the defensive edge out of his voice. Negan’s expression hardened a little.
“I don’t like you questioning me, Rick, that’s very nasty shit. But since I’m feeling kind, I’ll just tell you that I’m interested in you. Not just the killing machine, the fucked up little man driving it too. I’d advise you to tell me something personal now .”
Rick gritted his teeth but nodded quickly. He closed his eyes for a second and breathed deep. For some time now, he had been focused on keeping going and making his family do the same. He’d had no time for introspection nor memories, and therefore the drawer that contained the ones Negan was demanding was now dusty and hard to open. He didn’t even know where to start.
However, some things that day had opened a sliver to get into it. An unfortunate comment about Judith taking her looks from him, a mocking mention of a widow’s pain. Rick’s nostrils widened and he opened his eyes, not avoiding Negan’s now.
“The first person I killed without needing to was my best friend” he started, voice controlled and hard. “Or he had used to be. His name was Shane. We were on the same group and tried to work along, but he was for too violent about what needed to be done and at the time I was far too soft and naive. That was the surface. Remember I told you I woke up in a coma? Well, meanwhile, he had told my wife I was dead. I think he actually thought I was. But he had fallen in love with her, offered her comfort just like you want to give Maggie and Rosita. He slept with her a few times, but when I found her and Carl it was over as far as she was concerned. He didn’t do anything at first, but we started crashing all the time and then Lori was got pregnant and she wasn’t sure who the father was and…”
Rick made a pause. He breathed deeply, having talked a bit too fast, and he felt his heartbeat stronger than it usually was. Negan’s face was somehow solemn to go with his unusual quiet mood. Rick couldn’t read him further than that.
“He tried to kill me, take me out of the way so Lori, Carl and the baby could be his.” Rick’s tone had slipped into clear sorrow now, but a hint of pure, uncontrolled anger was noticeable under it. “He actually got to the point of having a fucking gun pointing at me. I managed to talk him out of it, he was lowering the gun… and then I killed him. Stabbed him in the stomach. I could’ve tried to let everything work out, but it was so much easier , Negan. With him gone I wouldn’t have to worry about anyone trying to impose the wrong decisions. But that wasn’t it, not really. The real reason was that I couldn’t have ever forgiven him for trying to take my family for himself, and when he died I felt relief . If I hadn’t killed him there, I would have done it sooner or later anyway. Given he didn’t kill me first, of course.”
He made another pause, seeing if Negan wanted to comment something. The man continued fixed on him, but remained silent. He nodded.
“With Shane, I… I lost faith in people. He’d been so close to me all my life, and he tried to fucking kill me. My best friend! It was then that I saw what this world can do to people, and I’ve never given my trust to anyone who hasn’t earned it since then. The day I killed Shane I killed the man I used to be.”
With that he was done. He lowered his gaze to his knees for a second and saw that his hands were a fist so tight that his nails were digging into his skin and almost broke it. He forced himself to relax and wait for some sort of response from Negan. Only Negan’s eloquence seemed to have fled him, or at least he chose not to use it, because the silence stretched on and on. Rick kept his eyes on that unchanging face, until the man finally let out a long, low whistle.
“Holy fucking shit . That’s some freaking heavy shit right there, Rick. Wow, no wonder you’re so ruthless if you had to learn that way that your friend was fucking scum. How did your family take it?”
“We didn’t know that everyone came back by then, so I didn’t break his skull. Carl had to shoot him. He was just a little kid back then, so he was too busy barely dealing with it to be angry at me. Lori and I had an argument that lasted until she died giving birth to Judith. I didn’t get to make up with her” Rick answered in his driest tone.
In that moment Negan’s expression was overcome with a hint of something different than the dedicated attention he was giving Rick, but as soon as it was there it was gone, and Rick didn’t have time to read it.
“Well, holy fucking shit again. Heavy stuff everywhere, huh?”
“And I guess that if we’re gonna get something actually useful out of this conversation” Rick continued as if there had been no interruption, voice still hard, “ it’s that I’m not a ‘killing machine’, or a ‘psycho’ or nothing you want to think I am. I used to be a very peaceful person, Negan, and everything that’s come afterwards has changed me but I’m still the same man. What I did to that guy yesterday… I can barely recognize myself there. It scares me, and if you want honesty I’ll tell you that I wish I never have to do anything of the sort again. I’ll do it, if you need me to or I have to, but get out of your head that I get off on it.”
Negan’s expression finally changed then, taking a wry tone. He leaned forward even more, dry smirk on his lips.
“What, you weren’t always a cold-blooded murderer? Well, surprise surprise, sir, no one was! Well, I’m quite certain at least one or two sick bastards were, but you get what I mean, don’t you? Of course I know you don’t want to be like that, deep down in your chiseled chest, but the point is that you’re willing to be if you think you got to and that’s what I like about you, Rick. You kind of make me think of myself.”
Rick’s eyebrows shot up, surprise almost taking away the storm that had been unleashed on his mind. He hadn’t expected Negan to offer any sort of information about himself in response.
“You too?”
“No, Rick, I was born with Lucille in my hand and I crushed the doc’s head because I thought he was the ugly fucker that made my momma cry. Who the hell do you think I am, exactly?”
The dry humor put a small smile on Rick’s lips. He let himself slip away into a different mood and leaned forward, mimicking Negan’s position.
“I don’t know, Negan. I don’t think I’ve ever met a man like you.”
“Oh, baby, there ain’t no men like me” Negan replied, wolfish grin in his lips and gentle shake of his head. The gesture made a shiver run down Rick’s spine. It started to look like that was a very Negan thing to do to him. He realized he wanted to know more.
“What was your life like, Negan?”
“Disgustingly average” the man answered with a small shrug. “I didn’t really mind all this night of the living dead shit, it didn’t take anything from me and it spiced things up. I do miss my car, though” he added a moment later, wistful smile on his lips. “A Chevy Impala. Ah, she was a thing of beauty, my girl.”
“Why am I not surprised that you’re the kind of guy to call a car ‘she’?”
“Wipe that smirk off your face, Rick, I’m a fucking gentleman and a lady like that deserves my respect.”
They both chuckled, light and easy. They gave each other a smile, Rick’s smaller than Negan’s but somehow more open, although that didn’t mean Negan’s was forced or false. Rick wasn’t sure what that expression on the man’s face intended to say. He didn’t worry about it and just enjoyed the comfortable silence that had settled until something poked at his mind. His expression faltered briefly. He licked his lips.
“Negan” he called. “You haven’t really answered me. A life doesn’t go down to a car.”
“Mine did, as far as you’re concerned.”
Both Negan’s voice an expression had suddenly taken a sharper, colder tone, a clear warning that Rick really wouldn’t like what’d happen if he decided to ask further. Rick’s eyes widened imperceptibly, but a second later he nodded in silent acceptance. Negan’s face softened somewhat after that, looking a bit like Negan’s own version of sheepish.
“Nothing personal, Rick.”
He didn’t add any clarification and Rick didn’t ask for it. He nodded again. “It’s OK.”
Silence fell down again, easy and comfortable. Rick didn’t know how long it lasted, but he was starting to think about breaking it when the door of the room opened. They both turned and saw Carl at the doorstep, holding Judith in his arms. He looked surprised to see Negan there, as well as his dad’s haircut, but he decided not to question it.
“Don’t close the door, brat” Negan said good-naturedly just before Carl did so. He stood up, picking Lucille and swinging a bit on his heels. “I guess this is my cue to leave you the fuck alone, huh? Sweet as hell morning, Rick. Don’t you miss me, you’ll be seeing me again quite soon.”
He walked out the door, making a pause to tickle Judith a little before leaving. When he was gone, Carl gave his dad a quizzical look, but Rick limited to shrug. Carl did so too and left Judith on the bed opposite Rick’s, sitting down beside her.
“How’s everything, Carl?”
“It’s good. For now Simon’s put me to arrange things in a storage room with Eugene. The doctor said I‘m good but I shouldn’t make too much physical effort yet, so I got to go pick Judith up from Tara and come back here.”
Rick nodded and inspected his son. Although the infection had gone down a lot after a single night of proper rest and taking a few antibiotics, Carl’s skin still had a hint of an unhealthy paleness. He was incredibly better than when Rick saw him the previous day, though, probably because instead of a hole with some pus, now he had a white, clean bandage over his eye. He seemed to feel good enough, too, so Rick guessed he could leave that worry aside. The physical side, at least; Rick could still feel a certain artificiality in his son’s behavior, the pretense that everything was alright when it certainly wasn’t. They would talk about that, at some point, just not now.
“And you? How was morning with Negan? He looks like a bit of an asshole” Carl asked back, lying down on the bed, arms crossed under his head. Rick nodded.
“He is. But it wasn’t bad. I’d say it was good, most of it” he answered with a faint smile on his lips. Sure, Negan was… unique, but despite all his rough sides, Rick found himself thinking that he actually liked the man, not just admired him.
Carl hummed, ending the conversation with that. Rick let it happen and reached out to Judith, who spread her arms towards him and smiling when he carried her into his lap. He smiled as he played with her, Carl fondly watching them from his bed. It’d be nice to spend a while like that, just enjoying time with his children and feeling safe. |
Kagami had unconsciously slowed down next to Aomine after they had stormed out of the Healing Unit. They were both still walking a bit awkwardly, their rhythms slightly off. Neither were used to setting their pace to others, usually it was the other way around. So every time they'd make a decision to go one way the other seemed to want to go the opposite. It made it for a very aggravating walking situation.
Damn Takao! He'd looked like he was enjoying their terrible situation when they had left. Though now that the anger and shock was wearing off a bit the first thing that came to him was, what now? They'd be stuck together for at least three days, so that meant everything; meals, sleeping (though mostly for Kagami's sake), and other things he'd rather not think of like… bathing.
Sure here in the Old World they generally bathed together, but in the New World they had showers for private use only. Kagami had been getting used to the way some things were different here but that was with his comrades, bathing with Aomine is something else entirely.
Kagami paled, oh god where is he going to sleep? HOW are they going to sleep? He glared at the string tying them together. Knowing Aomine he wouldn't keep his grubby, touchy hands to himself.
Sighing he stopped walking and turned to Aomine, "Oi, bastard. What are we going to do now?"
"Baka. How should I know?"
"…I suppose you wouldn't want to sleep in the Soldier's Quarters huh?"
Aomine shot him an incredulous look, "Oh fuck no. We're definitely staying in my room." Kagami cursed, he really didn't want to go back there. It was secluded and…closed off. Kami-sama only knew what would happen there. Not to mention all he could think about was what had occurred the last time that he went into Aomine's room. He shivered, which he wasn't certain was in fear or excitement.
"Well then come on," Kagami tugged on the string to lead Aomine away from the Healing Unit.
"Um I knew you were stupid but I didn't know you it was this bad. The Mansion is the other way."
He shot a glare at Aomine, "dumbass if were staying in your room then I need my clothes and stuff. Unless you're offering yours up?"
Aomine's nose wrinkled at the thought, "Nah, lets go then and get your shitty stuff." Kagami's eye twitched, this guy really knew how to piss him off.
They stepped through the corridors to the Seirin segment of the Soldier's Quarters side by side. All the while dread was creeping up on Kagami, the more he thought about it he hoped there wasn't anyone in there. How was he supposed to explain this situation? ("Oh yeah guys our souls are so damn compatible that they got stuck together"… "Hm? Oh we're just connected on another level is all") He could hear the laughter already, his ears burning in trepidation.
Aomine raised an eyebrow at the pained expression and slumped shoulders Kagami was sporting. "What's wrong with you?"
"Oh you mean other than the fact I'm going to have to deal with a perverted, ganguro asshole for three days, figure out how I'm going to train, and work in the Cooking Unit? Hm… I don't know!" Kagami's voice slowly got louder towards the end till he was almost shouting.
"Geez, forget I even asked," Aomine grumbled, a little put off. He didn't know why he asked in the first place, it was very unlike him to notice about others.
Kagami sighed. He felt a little bad for snapping at Aomine when this was the first time that he'd said something without insulting him. "Ugh. Forget it. I guess were kind of in the same predicament after all. I'm just frustrated about this shit."
"Stop being such a girl about everything."
Forget feeling bad, the guy was a dick. He glared at the bluenette before opening the door to the regiment sleeping area and came face to face with almost all the Seirin platoon. They were lounging around, in their free time of the day it seemed. Though once Kagami and Aomine stepped through the doorway everything went silent. He guessed that they made a pretty interesting pair by the way their eyes bugged out in shock. It was pretty well known that Kagami did not like Aomine at all, and vice versa (though that was heavily debated behind their backs –it is a fine line between hate and love).
"Kagami…General Aomine?" Hyuuga said a bit disbelievingly. Kagami knew the exact moment that he noticed their string, if possible their eyes got wider and mouths dropped open. "What the hell is that?"
Sighing for what felt like the fiftieth time Kagami pinched the bridge of his nose. "Uh…A string." He scowled when Aomine cracked up at how dumb he'd sounded.
"…"
"Okay…? Why is there a string between you?" Koganei inquired tentatively as if sensing Kagami's mood.
"Magic accident when we were training." Best to keep it simple. It's not like they needed all the other details.
"Hm. That seems like a hassle. Is there any side effects?" Kiyoshi spoke while coming to look at it closer.
Aomine and Kagami shared a look, they never did ask Takao that. But since he never said otherwise, "No."
Izuki looked like he was about to blow, to which Kagami glared at him. He knew what was coming. "Oh god I'm sorry Kagami… So you guys tied the knot huh?" Hyuuga just slapped Izuki and gave him an apologetic look. Though the others chuckled behind their hands.
"Ignore Izuki. You came for your clothes then Kagami?"
He blinked, "Uh, yeah. How'd you know?"
Hyuuga snorted in amusement, "Because you knew there was no side effects its obvious you already went to the Healing Unit. Since it's still on you I'm assuming that you can't get it off, therefore I came to the conclusion that you're here to get your sleeping things. General Aomine would never sleep in the Soldiers Quarters."
Aomine smirked at that, "Damn straight, especially not in Kagami's bed. Now grab your shit already."
"Shut up you'd love to get into my bed." Kagami almost slapped himself after he said it, the look on Aomine's face proof that he'd regret it.
Almost immediately a dark gleam came to those eyes and the smirk stretched into a deliciously sexy smirk. "Ooh?" He sauntered over closer to Kagami and drawled, "Is that an invitation? Hm… Tiger-chan?"
He turned around quickly before he could see the very evident flush he was sporting and started packing his stuff. "My name's Kagami, not 'tiger' and its most certainly not a fucking invitation. You'd probably never leave," he turned to face the still smirking Aomine once the blush was under control.
"Kagami-kun."
"GAH~!" Everyone freaked out when the blue haired boy seemed to appear in the midst of them.
Kagami gripped at his heart, "Fuck! Kuroko you little shit, where'd you come from?"
Aomine nodded at the guy, "Yo Tetsu." He was the only one who'd only jumped a bit. The only reason was he's probably used to it from the past hundred or so years.
"I've been here the whole time. I was waiting for you guys to stop talking. It seemed like you were enjoying yourselves."
His eye twitched, "Enjoying myself? How the hell did that look like I was enjoying myself?"
With a straight face Kuroko answered, "You always glow whenever Aomine and you fight. So I figured it was from happiness."
Aomine laughed at that, "Man you just can't admit you have a crush on me." A smug look appeared on his face, "It's alright, nothing to be ashamed of. I am sexy after all."
"I DO NOT!" Kiyoshi and Hyuuga were holding him back from pummeling Aomine. Which was a harder task than usual because of the string. "AND YOU'RE NOT SEXY! EGOTISTICAL BASTARD," though that was a complete lie. Not like Kagami was ever going to admit it.
"Aomine-kun."
"Haa?" Blue eyes clashed with blue.
"Your face glows too." Kuroko gestures towards the fuming redhead. "It's only around Kagami-kun. I can tell he makes you very happy." Thankfully Kagami didn't hear (he was still shouting insults), or he may have looked closer at the slightly flushed cheeks Aomine had.
"Tch. What are you going on about? That baka does no such thing. I've only known him for two days, not counting the opening ceremony."
"Time doesn't matter with feelings Aomine-kun," he deadpanned.
Aomine scoffed, "Now you're just making shit up. There are no feelings between Kagami and me. Unless you count lust, or anger."
Kuroko let out a small smile, then turned to the now out of breath Kagami, "You never showed up to our practice session."
"Oh… I kind of forgot," he smiled sheepishly, itching the back of his neck. "Sorry."
Kuroko eyed Aomine and the string between them, almost like he was amused. Then dryly said, "I see that. Seems like you were busy." Aomine looked away pointedly, only Kuroko could make him feel awkward. "Are you done packing Kagami-kun? I want to get some training in before its dark."
"Yeah, let's go."
Kuroko took them to an empty training room in the Mansion. It was a special room that was used only for magic training. There were runes and magic guards all around, on the walls, floor, and ceiling. The room was almost like a library but only the expanses of the walls were covered in books. One table and a couple chairs stood off to the side, they were all covered in protective spells also.
"You know if the damn Kaijo regiment was allowed to train in here then this string shit wouldn't have happened," Kagami grumbled.
"Sorry Kagami-kun. Most non-purebloods aren't allowed in the Mansion." The bastard was obviously not sorry at all. He was reveling in Aomine and Kagami's pain just like the rest of them.
"Tch, whatever." Aomine dragged Kagami to the table, took a chair and sat down. He wasn't going to stand the whole time if he was going to have to wait here.
"Kuroko," he paused and chewed on his lip for a moment. "I'm just warning you. Magic and I, let's just say we don't get along very well. As in it hates me. Ruthlessly."
"Kagami-kun, you obviously are capable of magic if Momoi-san's scan said so." Kuroko shot him a curious look though; he wondered what Kagami had meant.
"I know I'm capable of magic, but that doesn't mean I'm good at it. Actually I think it endangers me more than it helps."
"You just have to find the right type for you. Don't worry Kagami-kun. Akashi-sama put you under my care, so that means I'll keep trying till I find the answer." Those apathetic blue eyes bore into Kagami making him squirm a bit. He just gave up, there was no point fighting the guy.
"You always get your way don't you?"
Aomine answered for Kuroko, "That's for damn sure. If there was a magic like that I'd say Tetsu possessed it."
Kuroko gestured for Kagami to sit down while he waved his hand and sent various books soaring towards the table. "First is a practical lesson."
Kagami groaned, "Fuck."
"It wont be that much I promise," Kuroko said. "Now first we'll go over some general human magic. Most that manifest powers don't have unique magic's that they control unlike vampires. There is Offensive and Defensive magic's then there is also the most common that everyone can do such as Conjuring. The most usual general types are elemental, psychic, witches, and enchanters. Each one has spells made up of offensive or defensive magic, though some tend to lean toward one or the other. Such as Enchanters, whom are usually defensively inclined."
He pulled out a book and showed it to Kagami. Then he went on to explain more in depth about each of them. "Though almost all humans can do any type of magic, they usually are only adept at one or two. So it's not shocking that you say you aren't good at magic." Kagami was very doubtful, to his knowledge he'd tried every type without success. Other than his still unknown healing powers the other magic's usually blew up.
"Let's do a general test for each."
"Greaatt. How long is this gonna take Tetsu?"
"As long as I want Aomine-kun. Complaining is not going to make it faster." Aomine pouted a bit and went back to laying his head on the table.
Kagami stood up so he was facing away towards the center of the room and not the table. "Don't be surprised when none of them work." Kuroko smiled a bit and proceeded to teach him one of the easiest spells for enchanters. It was a simple force push, but simple for Kagami? Not so much. Right as he did the required hand movements plus words and the spell left his hands he knew it was bad. Halfway into the room the whole thing burst into flames and flew outwards, making Kagami duck. Kuroko just put up a blockade of wind for him and Aomine.
"BAHAHAHA!" Aomine was slapping the table with glee. "That was the lamest fucking excuse for magic I've ever seen!"
"OI! Shut your fuckin' mouth! I said I was bad alright?!"
Even Kuroko seemed mildly shocked, "I don't think I've ever seen a spell do that before. You did all the correct steps…this is quite a conundrum. Though its safe to say that you are definitely not an enchanter."
He huffed and crossed his arms. "Lets get this over with." This time is was an elemental spell, one for fire. Kuroko had seen how it had burnt into flames before bursting, so he was hoping that maybe it was an indication.
"Sciretur ignis," he shouted aiming towards a conjured mannequin. His hand was held out to guide the fire but it didn't seem to do what he wanted. It crackled and turned almost white before lightning formed, and shot from it. Kagami instantly stopped channeling his magic after it practically made the mannequin combust, "Huh, that one wasn't that bad!"
Two pairs of astonished blue eyes turned to face a seemingly proud Kagami. He turned to them and grinned, but it faded when he saw them. "What?"
"You think that wasn't that bad?" Aomine gaped. "I dont wanna know what's you doing terribly. You'd probably destroy the whole mansion, defensive spells or not." Kuroko nodded in agreement.
He scowled, "Yeah well I hit the target."
"It wasn't even the same damn spell! Bakagami, if your spells go that haywire then you never know what the hells gonna shoot out of your hand."
"Whatever Ahomine."
This process continued on for another three hours, before they exhausted most of the easy spells from each of the general magics and some even from more reclusive magic's. All the while Aomine made fun of his shitty attempts and antagonized the frustrated Kagami. Neither noticed the confused yet speculative look in Kuroko's eyes. It shouldn't be like this, he'd never seen anyone quite so bad at human magic before. Even those that had a unique ability never had a disastrous outcome on all the other magics.
Kagami was panting at this point; doing magic for an hour straight would tire anyone out so three was pushing it. Especially since he never practiced. "I think that's enough for today Kagami-kun. We'll pick this up in two days. Try to be on time next session."
"Yeah yeah. See ya later Kuroko."
Aomine dragged Kagami further away from the door where he had paused. It was clear the redhead didn't want to be there, which made Aomine a little giddy. Embarrassing Kagami was quickly becoming one of his favorite hobbies. The human just had too many amusing expressions, and he never failed to entertain Aomine. That he also never backed down to a confrontation with him also made Kagami automatically more interesting than any other human he'd met, and even most vampires too.
Ever since his powers and skills had blossomed Aomine had fallen into a dark place. The hope of ever finding someone that was at least somewhat of a challenge dwindled after the first two hundred years. But after that opening ceremony, when he fought Kagami, something had changed. It'd been a while since he felt something like hope. So he'd been trying to crush that feeling ever since, to no avail. Aomine glanced at the grumbling Kagami, whom was sorting out his bag; he just didn't want to be disappointed again. He didn't know if he could take it.
He'd been trying to suppress it by avoiding the redhead, going so far as to stay in the mansion where he knew he wouldn't be. But when Akashi had assigned him to train him and they'd been tied together he knew it was going to be a downward spiral. Seeing the redhead's eyes light up with fire or his face flush, or even that angelic smile was becoming addicting. And he hadn't even touched on the topic of his blood yet.
Aomine didn't realize he'd been staring at Kagami so when he noticed him giving him a slightly worried look he broke out of his trance. "What?"
"Nothing baka, come on. It's getting late and we have to be up early," he was pulling him to the bed when the string tensed. Aomine raised an eyebrow over his shoulder.
Kagami's mouth was open in shock, then his eyes narrowed suspiciously, "Okay. Who are you and where's Aomine?"
"The fuck's that supposed to mean?"
He just kept glancing around, "You have to be a stunt double or something. Aomine would never say something so considerate."
Aomine sneered, "I'm just tired, this wasn't about you."
This time is was Kagami's turn to raise an eyebrow, "you don't even sleep."
Aomine paused, quickly thinking of a way out of his lie. "Vampires need to regenerate their strength when they're out in the sunlight for too long." Which wasn't a complete lie.
"Huh. Didn't think about that. Makes sense," Kagami was more inclined to believe that Aomine hadn't been thinking about Kagami than that he'd actually thought about another person.
Aomine turned back, before getting on the bed he pulled off his pants, leaving only boxers on. Kagami did the same and awkwardly climbed on the bed. They lay side by side in silence. "Better not roll around aho," he finally said to break the tense stillness in the air.
"Tch, shut up baka."
"Aho." Somehow when Kagami said the insult, it didn't really sound like an insult.
Aomine just made a noncommittal grunt and closed his eyes, flicking his hand to turn the witch lights off. He fell into his trance surprisingly easily, but Kagami couldn't help but squirm a bit. Pulling the covers up a bit further he inhaled to try and relax but almost choked when he smelled something amazing. It was slightly spicy and there was something unique about it that made him stuff his nose in the pillow. Almost immediately after realizing what the hell he was doing he jerked his head forward. He did not just smell Aomine's pillow, nope, definitely not. Fuck, that was something girls did, not men. Especially not to other men! What the hell was happening to him?
Trying to calm down he evened out his breathing. Thinking about it would only cause him to panic more. He put those terrible contemplations out of his head and pondered on what Tatsuya and Alex were doing, and if they were alright. Those were his last thoughts before he slipped off into an unstable sleep.
The world was a blur of color, the once green ground covered in red, even the sky was red, like it wept bloody tears for the horror of what was being committed. Kagami stumbled over something; looking down he realized it was Hoshikawa. His mouth was open in a silent scream, blood pouring out of the gaping hole in his stomach. Blinking, he shakily let out a breath; there was no time to scream for the death of his friend before the next person was on him.
Terrible howls of death and anger surrounded him, making his head swim with the sensations. But oddly enough what was in front of him was clear as day to him, it was as if everyone was going so slow. Kagami twirled around the man, slashing under his guard. A gurgle was let out of his mouth before he fell to the ground, never to move from his deathbed. Trying not to picture his face as he had cut him down, he moved on to the next. This was for his friends, for his country, he tried to reassure himself. Though all the excuses felt empty.
Even as he struck his enemies down his stomach clenched in pain. This was all wrong, THESE PEOPLE AREN'T YOUR ENEMIES his mind screamed at him. But he couldn't stop. His body seemed to move on its own. Tears ran down his face, but his sword kept getting bloodier and bloodier. More Ishiyama soldiers fled through the magical barriers that were steadily being put up. All these people he was fighting, they were people he knew, people he'd visited when he went to their country. It just wasn't right, how did it come to this? His soul cried out at the monstrosity around him, cursing Zenchou for what he had caused.
A pile of bodies laid strewed around Kagami, streams of red flowing from various nicks his body had acquired. Yet he felt none of them, only the pain of his heart crumbling. This shouldn't have happened… he should have stopped this. None of the fights he'd fought in before was ever this awful or bloody.
A helmeted captain from the Ishiyama faction spotted him and carved a way through to Kagami. By now Kagami's mind was somewhere completely different, his instincts had taken absolute control of his actions. It was all he could do to stay somewhat sane in this battle.
The man circled around him, contemplating on where to attack. Kagami's eyes followed him wearily. A flash was the only warning before it had begun. They clashed swords, beginning the deadly dance of life or death. As much as Kagami hated killing, the thrill of the fight never failed to bring out his competitive spirit. And what a fight this was, the captain was very skilled. Only attacking at the open spots Kagami had, as slight as they were.
Kagami blocked the swords downward stroke before kicking out a knee to hit a wound the soldier already acquired before. He hissed in pain and automatically dropped to a knee, Kagami hesitated at the look in the man's eyes. There was no hatred there, only sorrow. Sorrow for his people dying, sorrow for the pointless war, sorrow for Kagami.
He stumbled back, falling to the ground as he dropped his sword. Looking at his hands he only saw red, he moved franticly trying to get the blood off. No matter how hard he tried it wouldn't go away. He looked up at the sky and then he screamed.
|
"Ford! What the hell are you doing?!" Seb cried.
He gaped at his older brother who had used a half finished dress to clean the mess he did in the lab. He threw the ruined fabric to the trash, wiping the dusts of his hands.
"I had a leaking of some chemicals, fortunately you have a lot of useless fabric for me to use!" Stanford smirked.
"What the fuck is wrong with you?!" The blond cried. "I worked hard on that dress! You can't just come and ruin it!"
"At least you can make another, one, demon!" Ford glared harshly. "You ruined my life and I didn't have a chance to fix YOUR mistake!"
Sebastian threw himself to his brother and threw both of them to the floor. "IT WAS AN ACCIDENT!" He punched him in the chest a few times before the taller man turned around and with the blond under him, he started strangling him, wrapping his 12 long, fingers around his neck.
Seb's eye widened what his older brother was doing. "F-Ford...!" He choked out with tears in his eye. "S-S-Sto-"
"Die, monster!"
Seb was paralyzed with fear. He couldn't breathe! He couldn't breathe! He was going to die!
He was sorry, he was sorry, he was sorry , he-
Dark spots started dancing on his vision as Ford laughed loudly.
He deserved it. He deserved to die. He ruined his brother's proyect. He ruined Stan and Dillon's life. He was a lying, freak monster, maybe if he died, Fordsie would stop hating him so much...
"-tian!"
"-bastian!"
"Breathe!"
"SEBASTIAN, BREATHE!"
Sebastian woke up startled and took a mouthful of air to fill his lungs before letting out a terrified scream.
"Sebastian! Seb! Seb, calm down, it's ok!"
The man's tears were already streaming down his face when he realized he was in his room, he was with Stan, he was safe. He let out a sob and clung to his older brother as he trembled.
"He was going to kill me..." Seb choked out. "Ford wanted-"
"Sh..." Stanley held his brother as he cried, watching the blond's shoulders bounce up and down. "It's ok..."
It was not ok. Stan cursed under his breath. Sebastian shouldn't be dreaming of their triplet trying to murder him. It was horrible.
"I wouldn't let him do that..."
'Because he will join him. He doesn't really like you, you ruined his life, your nephew lost his father, he won't forgive Fez and he will hate you forever. Useless, freak, monster!'
Seb's eyes closed even tighter as he cried, digging his nails into his wrists.
He hated having nightmares...It was so ironic it made him cry even more.
-.-
The Shack had been under repairs for days now, but it was finally ready to open in a few days. After the Stans' return, Seb's loyal and hardworking employees, Soos and Wendy, had come to help with the reparations, just like they did when Gideon destroyed it.
Everyone helped, even Stanley and Stanford, much to his brothers' surprise.
"Tha-Thanks for helping us, Fordsie. I-I appreciate your help." Seb gave his older brother a shy smile. Ford simply rolled his eyes and continued hammering the nails.
It is not like Stanford really cared about the 'Mystery House' or whatever, he didn't plan to keep the junk his brother had done to trick people (typical), but this was his house, and he didn't want it destroyed...It definitely wasn't because Sebastian liked his dumb tourist atrraction.
Besides, he had all the mysteries in Gravity Falls, and he decided to create something called 'The Sascrotch'? Ugh!
The Shack was done to be opened again next week, so the Pines had a few days to relax.
Mabel wanted to see her family close again. The tension around them was literally killing her!
Dip Dot didn't do his nerd and sciencey stuff anymore. He used to do them with Seb, but now that he refused to talk to their uncle, he wanted to do it with Uncle Ford. Their older uncle barely came out of the basement, occupied on his own nerd stuff, and he never let them help!
Dipper didn't have his Journal anymore (something Mabel mentally thanked God for existing because if it hadn't appeared, she knew her twin would still be sulking and whining for his videogames), and he couldn't go with Uncle Ford and learn from him either.
It made Dipper upset and Mabel hated to see her bro with that long face.
She also noticed the blond was quieter than usual. It wasn't normal, Sebastian never shut up. Mabel didn't like the sad expression he wore since his brothers came back.
He should be happy now that his triplets were back! It wasn't fair that his own brother was making him sad.
Mabel watched Seb from the door slowly peel some carrots for lunch.
"Uncle Seb?" She called softly.
"Hey, pumpkin..." Seb smiled.
Mabel knew it was Dipper and Uncle Ford making her uncle sad because they didn't trust him...
She hugged him tightly.
But she had also hurt him and she should properly apologize.
"I am sorry, Uncle Seb...I trust you, I am sorry I didn't, I was a huge poophead." The girl apologized sadly.
"Mabel, it wasn't your fault..." Seb sighed and crouched to look at her in the eye. "I know I couldn't have expected you to trust me, I was a monster."
'You Are'
"No, you are my uncle, I shouldn't have forgotten that..." She wiped her tears with her sleeve.
Seb hugged her again. "It is ok, Shoo-um, Mabel...I am not angry, I am just so happy you trust me again." He put his hands on her shoulders and smiled.
The girl smiled brightly, glad her uncle wasn't upset with her. Her smile decreased though when she saw he had bandages on his wrists. She hadn't noticed because he was wearing a long-sleeved shirt, but from her position, she caught a glance under his sleeve. "What happened with your wrist, Grunkle Seb?"
Seb's eye widened and he stood up, pulling down his sleeve a bit more. "I-I had an accient with-with some scissors making a dress..."
Some scissors yes, but in the bathrooom. An accident that just so happened to accidentally cut him lots of times.
"Oh." Mabel frowned worriedly. "Be more careful next time, it looks painful."
'No it wasn't! It was hilarious!'
Monsters deserve it...
Seb kissed her forehead. His wrists didn't matter right now. "I will...Do you want to help me make lunch?"
"Ok! I can add glitter!" She exclaimed and grabbed a wooden spoon. Seb chuckled. "No thanks, pass."
-.-
The next day, Mabel got Dipper to interact with Seb, at least a little bit... at least put them in the same room. With Uncle Stan's help, they tricked the boy into going into the Gift Shop with them. When Dipper saw Seb there, he looked down and just quietly continued reading Journal 2. He had managed to get it from Uncle Ford after capturing the Ghost. The Author said he could trust him with his other journals! That have been the best day ever.
Mabel and Stan shared a look before sighing. Seb was unaware of their failed plan and continued organizing the stock with a sad look on his face.
Stan sat behind the counter with his legs on it as he watched from Seb's phone videos of his son. Carla had sent every single video she had for Stan to see and spammed Seb's chat with them. He smiled at the 5 year old on the video, he was making a presentation for mother's day at school and he was singing adorably.
Mabel came back from the kitchen with a big bag of cheese boodles and sat down next to him. "What are you watching?"
"Oh, this-this is Dillon...He is my son..." He told the girl proudly. Mabel hummed at the name.
"Oh, oh! I talked to him at the beginning of the summer! His name was funny so I remembered it. I didn't know he was your son!" She gasped and stuffed her mouth with the snacks.
"Shermie didn't tell them about Dillon..." Seb told her softly. "He.. doesn't think you could come back...He never talks to Carla..."
"Why?" Stan frowned. "Yeah! That's super mean!" Mabel exclaimed. "I would have loved to meet my cousin, right Dipper?!" Mabel asked her twin. The boy didn't know what they were talking about. They had a cousin?
"I guess it would be... nice?" Mom didn't have siblings but the few cousins he knew were...nice? But liked to bother him about his birthmark. He hoped this kid wasn't like that.
"You should totally meet Dillon once Stan meet with him." Seb smiled widely. They were almost the same age, they would be best friends!
Minutes later, Mabel was on the floor, grinning and proud of herself after she ate the entire bag of cheese boodles without using her hands. Quite the accomplishment indeed. "Aah~Lazy Tuesday..."
Stan grinned. After being turned to wood by a crazy ghost with pending issues, and having to repair the house, yeah, he was enjoying the laziness. Seb nodded at Mabel's statement. He had been thinking the same Stan had.
His older brother sighed content. "Heh. Yeah, you are right, kid. It's nice to finally have a day where nothing interesting happens whatsoever..." he cursed his big mouth when Ford suddenly came out of the vending machine fighting a Cycloptopus on his wrist.
The four people on the Gift Shop screamed at the sight of the green ugly creature.
"Get down! Don't let it taste human flesh!" Ford shouted as he punched it. The cycloptopus hissed at Ford and dropped off his hand to crawl around the room.
"What the heck is that?!" Seb cried, too disgusted to even shoot fire at it.
"Can we keep it?" Mabel smiled brightly.
Stan looked for his brace knuckles he always carried on his pockets and punched the creature off the counter. "Kill it, Ford! How did you let it escape?!" He shouted.
"It squeezed out of its cage!" Ford replied as chased the creature around, knocking stuff to the ground. He managed to corner it and grinned. Stan noticed he was wearing his electric gloves. Speaking of which, where did he put his?
"Patience... and-"
The cycloptopus' eye turned into a screaming mouth and the scientist grinned. "Gotcha!" He shocked it with his gloves. When the creature was electrocuted and neutralized, he turned to face with family with a huge adorkable smile as he held up its burnt body.
Stan covered his mouth at the horrible smell. It smelled like if death could barf! And Seb made a disgusted face.
'Fuck! Olfactory sensory neurons activated!' Bill2 announced.
"Fuck, Stanford! Take that shit out of here!" Seb glared and covered his nose. Ford scoffed. "I can chase any monster I want, it is my house!"
"Y-yeah, well, it is my Gift Shop! So take it out!" Seb glared. Ford rolled his eyes and walked away with his head high. He wasn't leaving because that demon asked him to, but because he needed to continue working.
Dipper, in a now or never impulse, ran towards his oldest Uncle before he left. "Uncle Ford! You need any help with that? I've read all about these creatures in your journal" He opened the page to prove his point. "And I think I know how to-."
"No." Ford interrupted him. "I'm sorry, Dipper, but the dark weird road I travel, I'm afraid you cannot follow..." He said dramatically. Stan and Seb shared a look and groaned. "Well, call me for dinner!" He waved at the preteen before closing the vending machine door behind him.
Seb sighed. Stanford was so dumb. How couldn't he notice Dipper was dying to be with him? He admired him, he looked up to him and he should let him help with...whatever he was doing downstairs. He wished he knew, but he had taken all the triangles and eyes from the basement, afraid Bill could be spying on his work. Now he couldn't see either.
"Maybe next time then? Or not? Or never..." Dipper sighed sadly. It wasn't fair!
"Aww, Dipper, don't take it so hard." Mabel put a comforting hand over his shoulder and Stan groaned. "No, kid. Poindexter is a dangerous know-it-all so take it hard! The stuff he's messing with is even worse." Ford had some crazy as heck experiments, and he had wanted to continue messing with the portal. He told him, threatened him actually, not to continue.
"I will check any damage Sebastian caused." Was his response and it was the last nerd thing Stan heard from his brother. He couldn't help but feel a little annoyed. After 13 years together, fighting space monsters and building from scratch a machine which blueprints were put given by a literal alien All-knowing demon...did Ford still not trust him enough to tell him what he was going through?
Stanley liked to think he just was doing nerd experiments like he said, and thought it was dangerous for the kids to be close to them. Which they were. Ford built a literal door to their demon to a crazy space dorito!
"Do yourself a favor and stay away from him" He said finally in a gruff voice and closed his arms.
Dipper looked at the golden six-fingered hand on the Journal. "But, Uncle Stan, all summer long I've wanted to know who the author of the journal was...And now that you are back, the guy basically lives in our basement and I can't even talk to him!" He wanted to spend time with Ford like he did with Stan and ...how he spent time with Sebastian...But, all that...was fake no?
"Meh, no one cares about what happens in the basement! You belong up here with us!" Stan patted his head.
Seb raised an eyebrow at Dipper's pout, but Mabel continued smiling. "Yeah! Besides, the season finale of Duck-tective is airing this Friday!" She informed her twin. "That's all the mystery you'll need this week! Quack with us, Dipper! Quack, quack quack quack!"
'What the fuck?! That's so stupid! Haha, weird kid. I like her'
Seb made a funny expression between a scowl and a smirk, as both emotions crossed over.
Stan laughed and started making duck noises too. "Hehe, yeah! Quack quack, quack quack..."
Seb settled with a soft scowl as the two marched around the Gift Shop quacking and moving their arms as if they were wings.
Dipper looked at the light coming from behind the vending machine. He frowned when his sister marched up to his face. "Quack quack quack, a quack quack quaaaacck. Quuaaaaa...!" She pouted and pointed at the boy as he deadpanned. "Why isn't he quacking?" She pouted at her uncles.
"Because he is boring! Woah!" Stan raised a hand for Seb to high six but his blond brother turned to face Dipper. "Kid, how about we go capture our own monster?" He smiled. "It-It can be fun! I...I miss our adventures..." He confessed quietly.
'Boo hoo! So sad, get over it! No one likes you! He hates you because we are a demon, Sebastian! Why are you so stupid to understand?! I think you lost too much blood opening your veins…' Bill2 spat.
Seb absentmindedly rubbed his wrists.
"Oh! Yes! Let's go!" Mabel smiled. Anything to get Dipper to interact with her uncle again would do. Dipper looked at Seb. "No, I pass. I'll go into town." He declared.
"I-I can-" Seb started but Dipper was already by the door. "I don't want to be with you! Just leave me alone!" he grumbled.
"Dipper!" Mabel frowned and pouted angrily. The boy didn't reply and closed the door behind him. The girl huffed. He really was acting like a poop-head! She knew she had also been mean, but she wasn't anymore! And she had told Dipper that Uncle Seb was still their uncle even if he had been Bill but he just…doesn't listen! All because he trusted Uncle Ford who shouldn't be trusted because he was acting like a huge meanie to his younger brother!
Stan and Mabel shared a worried look as Seb made a small, sad smile. "I-It's ok, Shooting Star…You can't force him to be with a monster if he doesn't want to…" He rubbed his sixth finger.
"Uncle Seb…"
"I'll be in my-um, in the room, can I go, Stan?" After all, it was Stan letting him stay with him, he would be sleeping on the couch, or the floor if he hadn't. His brother gave him a little nod and he walked away. He locked the door behind him once he was safe in his room and sighed tiredly.
The blond curled up on the floor, hugged his knees to his chest and closed his eye tightly. What was he going to do to get Dipper to trust him again…He-He knew who he was, who he had been, but how could he make his nephew understand that he wasn't Bill Cipher anymore?!
Ford was never going to like him again, he will never see him as his brother again…He was going to kick him out at the end of the summer…And Dipper would leave hating him forever…He was going to tell Shermie and then his little brother will hate him as well! Because he was a monster…He was Bill, he was a demon! NO! He wasn't! He was-he was not-anymore-Bill-freak-monster-demon-he was-he wasn't-
Sebastian screamed loudly as his head started pounding and Bill2 started laughing. He hadn't heard him so loud for years… He was Sebastian, he was Sebastian! He wasn't Bill! Not anymore! He had told Miz he wasn't Bill because he wasn't! This was a different form! He was a human! He had a family! He was a human! He was Sebastian, he was Sebastian, he was Sebastian!
He was starting to have a meltdown, rocking back and forth as his body trembled and fire leaked his arms. He didn't want his family thinking he was a monster! But he was one! How could he make them believe it if he didn't believe it himself…?
'You are pathetic, you are a stupid, ugly, filthy freak! Why don't you simply understand none of them likes you?! They pity you! Because you are a failure! That's why Sherman never sees you! You are pitiful, they are using you! They just want to get rid about you!'
"Tha-That's not true…!"
'Stan is just using you. He wants to know about his family, the family he lost because of you! AH HAHAH! Do you REALLY think he will need you after he gets his son back?! He'll want you to stay away as far away as possible! Just like everyone else! They won't want to see a stupid, useless freak monster! Because we are a demon, that's why you will never be normal, you will never be accepted, never a real stupid human! Freak! Freak! Freak!'
Seb leaned against the wooden door, mouth agape as he tried to scream but couldn't, as he tried to breathe but couldn't. He didn't want to be left alone...not again...
He hadn't had this kind breakdowns in so long, and since his brothers returned, he had hurt himself and cried more in two weeks than he has had in years. It wasn't fair…It wasn't fair he worked so hard to bring back his brothers. It wasn't fair that he worked his ass off, didn't sleep, suffered and sobbed to finish the portal to bring the stupid assholes he stupidly loved so much, just to get hate and lose them again for who he was in his past.
Sebastian closed his eye and hid his face between his legs as he struggled to breathe. He lifted his sleeves and dug his nails into his healing wrists, reopening his wounds. "Shut up, shut up, shut up, shut up, SHUT UP!"
Seb stayed there, staring ahead with a glassy eye as the warm blood streamed down his wrists. He tried to calm down his breathing, he tried to blink back the tears. He shouldn't cry, crying was just his eyes leaking and it was so stupid he was crying for something so stupid like…his family possibly hating him and not wanting to see him never again…
Mabel and Stan decided to give their uncle/brother some space for a while. If they tried to talk to him now, it would be worse, so they were going to wait a little bit and then they will attack him with hugs. While the girl went to draw and write in the living room, Stan was pacing. It has been a while, he should go check on Sebastian. That idiot was really affected by emotions, he was capable of anything while sad.
"I'll make him come out, I'm tired of this." Stan informed the brunette girl and walked away. Mabel nodded and continued writing. She planned to send this to her parents. They were still in Hawaii after all. She would have liked to go too, she could have meet cute Hawaiian boys, but Gravity Falls was cool too. She wouldn't have met her uncles if they hadn't come…
She finished informing her parents about how gravity reversed itself and almost destroyed the universe and totally wrecked the whole town. It had been in the news for days, the rebuilding, interviews, and the destruction.
"But the coolest part of the summer was when we discovered Uncle Sebastian had this portal-thingy, and his triplets came out of it!" She wrote fast. "We didn't know we had an uncle and now we have three for the price of one!" She looked at the door where Stan had been pacing. "They are adorable together, but they don't know it, and they fight a lot. They aren't like me and Dipper, the best twins!" She smiled a little. Even if she couldn't convince Dipper, they were still best friends and will always be together !
"Dad, it wasn't nice hiding the existence of your older brothers." Mabel said aloud as she wrote. "Now you all need to have a huge adorable hug and help your brothers be best triplets again." She drew triplets holding hands and smiled hopefully. She was going to get this to happen!
Meanwhile, Stan knocked on the door. "Sebas? Um, hey..." He grinned sheepishly. "Are you ok now?"
Sebastian opened his eye. He looked down at his wrists were his wounds had quickly healed. Damn Axolotl, not letting him bleed to death, and he stood up. Fuck. He had blood on his clothes.
"Seb?"
"Uh...Give me a moment!" Seb panicked as he took off his shirt and made another one float from his closet towards him.
"Why?"
"Because I am doing something!" He growled as he put on his new shirt and kicked the shirt under the bed.
"If you are there jerking off, I swear-"
"AH!" Seb shrieked. "I am not doing that, what's wrong with you?!" He finally opened the door for his brother and Stan grinned down at him. "I got you out."
"You are an asshole..." The blond gave him a little smile. Stan grinned and pulled him close in a gentle hug. "Are you ok? We were worried there"
He just pities me…He doesn't care… Seb thought as he put his head on his shoulder. He didn't care though, he would try to enjoy this as long as it lasted. "I-I am fine now…" But only because he had bled until he fell asleep. It calmed him. Pain wasn't that hilarious anymore, but it made him happy to know he had been punished, because he deserved it. He deserved to be in pain and suffer. That's why he had been hit and punished as a kid, then suffer as a teen. It has been a while since he had suffered for real.
Stan heard the front door opening and closing. Dipper must be back. The man with long curly hair looked down at his brother, he knew he wasn't feeling really fine, he could read it on his conflicted face, but simply patted his curls comfortingly. Damn, he was so short compared to him and Ford, almost a head shorter. "You sure?" He asked and Sebastian nodded. Stan sighed softly. "Alright…" He smirked. "I ran out of videos…Can I get more?" He made a pleading face and Seb laughed. "Alright, I'll ask Carla to send me more videos." He told his brother and Stan wrapped a muscled arm around his neck.
'He's going to kill us?' Bill2 asked confused.
"Stan! Haha! I can't breathe, you ape!" Seb tried to push his triplet away.
They walked back into the living room where they found Dipper, Mabel and Soos talking. Stan let his brother go and his eyes widened when he saw the familiar rulebook his nephew was holding. "What?" He couldn't believe it! That was the nerd game Ford liked so much! "Is this that game that's mostly math and writing and isn't anything like the picture on the box?!" He teased, but Dipper's brown eyes widened in glee.
"Yes! It is! You wanna play with me, Uncle Stan?!" Dipper asked his uncle. The man returned the game to him and laughed.
"Ha! Look, kid, I prefer to do my dice rolling in Vegas! Besides-" He grabbed the rulebook from the box and grimaced as he scanned the pages. The fuck was this? "-only a game designed by nerds would have 'charisma' as a fantasy power! I have that in excess!"
Seb rolled his eye.
"Heh! HAHAHA!" Stan laughed loudly when he found something funny. "Check this out: When facing yon adversaries, shield thyself, under an elfin buttress!"
Stan moved his butt and Mabel, who was sitting on the table, burst out into laughter. "Say that again!"
Seb shook his head as his brother and Mabel continued making fun of Dipper's game. He had to admit it was pretty fun.
"Buttress!" They laughed.
"Hey!" Dipper pouted upset and took the book from his annoying, laughing uncle. "Laugh all you want! You guys just aren't smart enough to understand it..." He mumbled and hugged the book to his chest.
Soos, Seb wondered when he came, said. "Heheh. Sorry, dude, but it is kinda nerdy... Well, I'm off to lay siege to a goblin fortress" He pulled a cardboard helmet and cardboard sword out of nowhere and put it on. "To my grandma's backYARD!" He ran out.
Seb knew how to play DD&D, Ford loved that game as kids (Hehe, Fordsie Fresh) and because he was the only one who was willing to play with him, Ford taught him...Well, they always ended up arguing because apparently Seb was not following the rules...but that was beside the point.
"Hey Pin-Dipper! I can play with you! You said you wanted someone to play!" Seb offered with a grin. "I know how"
Dipper looked at his book and bit his lip. He really, really wanted to play, but…He turned to look at Sebastian who was still smiling. Was it worth it? He was still angry at him for not telling him, but he didn't know what to do with the information of who he really was. He didn't trust him yet…
"Yeah! You know what? That is an EXCELLENT idea, kiddo!" Stan declared and he picked up Mabel to put her on his shoulders. "We will be busy preparing everything for our series finale amyway!" He proudly admitted his niece got him obsessed with the series. In only a few weeks he was up to date with the story. He didn't sleep a few days.
The brunette clung to his brown hair and laughed, catching what he was trying to do. "Yeah! You can go play your weird stuff outside like cute nerds! Come on! Run!" Mabel kicked her legs and Stan ran away, both of the laughing.
Dipper sighed and turned to look at his waiting uncle. "Ok…I guess we can play…" He mumbled. Seb's brown eye lit up and he gave the boy a huge fanged and grateful smile. "Thank you, Dipper! Come on! It will be fun!" He grabbed the game and ran away laughing as Dipper sighed. The blond tripped in the short stairs to go outside and face-palmed on the ground. He quickly stood up though and started laughing, even with the bruise he had gotten on the cheek. "I'm fine!"
The boy rolled his eyes. Oh boy…He was crazy…
They installed the game just outside the shack, in front of the couch. Gompers trotted towards them when he saw them and started watching them without blinking. It was kinda creepy but there was a reason why Seb let it stay when he suddenly appeared as a baby. Seb and Dipper set up the game and started playing, but even with how much he tried making the quest interesting and fun, the boy's uncomfortable expression didn't leave his face.
"Hey, you rolled a seventeen! You can actually try to slay the dragon!" Seb smiled softly and Dipper just nodded. He wrote a few things down on a chart. "The dragon was slayed…" He mumbled and gave the dice to his uncle. Ugh, this was getting boring, maybe he should start obsessing over Wendy again… Playing with Sebastian wasn't as fun as it used to be…
Of course it wouldn't, not with the prejudices emanating off the kid like waves.
Seb received the dice and sighed. "Look, kid…You don't have to play with me if you don't want to…" He put the dice down. "I know you don't feel comfortable with me, Dipper...I know, and I GET it..." Seb sighed tiredly. "But I wish you remembered that I have always been there to help you..."
He pinched the bridge of his nose as Dipper looked down. "I won't tell you that I wasn't a demon, because I was...In SOME sort of way...I still am...I don't like it, and it is still very confusing for me, but I still share the same soul" After all, he met Miz because she wanted to meet her alternate dimension selves...If he wasn't Bill Cipher, he wouldn't have been able to see her to begin with.
"Pinetree...What I mean is...I love you, just like I love your sister and your Dad...our family, and that is not something that Bill did very often-" Bill was so ready to let his parents die. They were jerks, though, so maybe that isn't a good example. "I learnt this while growing up, human, like you..."
Dipper rubbed his arm awkwardly. But, that couldn't be right, no? He HAD to be lying...But what if he wasn't? Was it actually possible for Bill to love his family? Mabel said uncle Seb had always protected them and made sure they were fine; she trusted him because even after knowing who he really was, and being so mean to him, he still loved her.
Sebastian had been insisting on doing stuff with him for days. He saw him uncomfortable, and suggested to leave...That...was a nice thing to do.
"I-thank you...It...Was nice hearing that" Dipper smiled at him. It was small, but it was a true smile. Seb still beamed at it.
Gompers, deciding to ruin the moment, takes the dice from Sebastian who scowled. "Damn, animal! Gompers, give it back!" He quickly grabbed it and tried pulling it out of the goat's mouth.
Dipper joined in the pulling. "Give it back! Come on, Gompers, let go!" The boy managed to pull it out but he fell backwards and the dice rolled away under the porch on front of a hole. "Aw, man, my 38-sided die!" He went after it.
"Be careful, kid." Seb hadn't notice that hole. More stuff they needed to fix!
Dipper crawled under the porch and reached for his dice, but the ground fell out from underneath him. "Whoa, wha-AAAAAHHHH!"
"Dipper!" Seb jumped to his feet and crawled to the hole. "Kid?! Kid! Are you ok?!"
Dipper hit a few boxes as he fell, knocked a few things to the floor and landed on the floor of the basement with an "Oof!"
"Dipper!" Are you ok?!" Seb shouted, managing to see down his nephew from the hole.
"Y-Yeah...!" He called back and he looked around. He was in Uncle Ford's lab! This was so cool! Journal 2 was on the floor, along with a broken jar with the cycloptopus in it, and yes! His dice!
He picked it up and yelped when a voice spoke behind him.
Sebastian squinted his eye and hearing to try to listen to their conversation, he knew Ford was surely scolding his nephew, but his stupid, limited human hearing didn't let him. So, stupidly, he got out of his body to float down there and spy on them!
"-work is far too dangerous for a single living soul to spend even one second i- wait! Is that a 38-sided die from Dungeons, Dungeons, and More Dungeons?!" His brown eyes widened.
Dipper looked at his hand and smiled. "Yeah! Y-you know that game?"
Ford frowned and posed dramatically. Sebastian and Bill2 rolled their eyes simultaneously. They knew this pose.
"With pen and paper, shield and sword..." Dipper joined him. "Our quest shall be our sweet reward!" The two laughed, amused.
Ford took the dice from his nephew and examined it. "This is my favorite game in the whole multiverse! I can't believe they still make it!"
"They do!" Dipper nodded excitedly. "Do you want to play?"
Seb looked away as Bill2 laughed at him. "Ah! Hahaha! So the kid just didn't want to be with you! That is so pathetic!"
Ford frowned at Dipper. "Do you mean I must stop everything I've been working on at once…to play?" Dipper was about to tell him he didn't have to, but then Ford smiled widely. "Of course! Let's play!" The cycloptopus jumped to Ford and clung to his face.
Dipper and Seb gasped but Ford easily pulled it off him, his face was covered by welts, he was disheveled, but he was still smiling. "That's... going to leave a mark."
Seb sighed before he returned to his body upstairs. He blinked to adjust his blurry sight and packed Dipper's game before he left it sitting on the porch. He would need to come back for it to play with Ford anyway...
When Seb left, much Dipper and Stanford's obliviousness, the boy's looked up at his oldest uncle. "Oh, but I was playing with Uncle Seb...Should I call him?"
Ford smiled and waved a dismissive hand. "Nah, it is ok, we are fine on our own! Besides... I don't trust him in my lab..." He sobered. "You understand that, right Dipper?"
The boy looked down and nodded. Uncle Ford had every right to decide who came down here. Uncle Seb told him he really liked them, Mabel trusted him, but Mabel was too kind, she trusted too easily. If the portal had been an actual world destruction machine...
Dipper guessed he could give Sebastian a LITTLE chance to show him he was a different Bill...But...
He looked at Ford who was once again chasing the Cycloptopus around. "Come back here!"
Ford didn't trust him, and he didn't want to play with him. Dipper shouldn't force him to do it. BESIDES! Uncle Seb told Dipper himself that he was ok with not playing with him if Dipper got bored! So this was ok, right?
"Alright! I'll bring the game!" Dipper smiled and ran away.
Meanwhile, Mabel and Stan were getting ready for their season finale. The kitchen was full of so many snacks and soda bottles that it was impossible for them to actually finish it all.
"Okay. We've got everything we need, I think. Look what I did!" She showed him a box full of food that had a cardboard ramp. "I made mouth-ramps! So we can pour food into our mouths without taking our eyes off the screen!" She poured some popcorn and chips into her mouth to demonstrate how it worked. "Nom, nom, nom!"
Stan gaped. That was the best invention of the century! "Well, I found spare taxidermy parts Seb and Soos use to make attractions and recreated the main character!"
The head of a turkey was stapled to a beaver's body and the man imitated Duck-tective. "Quack, quack. I'm the duck detective! Who stole my bread loaf?" It was really creepy, but Stan was really proud of himself.
Mabel cackled. "Hahaha! That is SO messed up! Dipper and uncle Seb would LOVE that!" She grinned contently. She couldn't believe they were playing together!
"Heh. Yeah. How do you think those two are doing? I haven't seen them all afternoon, I bet they are so busy in their nerd game to notice!"
As if on cue, Seb entered to the kitchen, alone. "Hey, guys..." He smiled sadly.
Mabel face-pal6med and Stan groaned. "Where's the squirt?"
"He will play with Ford now..." The blond grabbed a handful of popcorn from Mabel's invention. He said nonchalantly, as if it wasn't a big deal. "He was quite happy to know Ford played DD& more D..." He popped it into his mouth and frowned when he fell N&Ns mixed with the salty snack.
But you were getting along again! Mabel thought frustrated. She sighed. Why would Dip change from uncle like that? That was so mean!
"Well...we still have space for one more to watch with us the season finale~" Mabel offered with a smile. If Dipper didn't feel bad for making this poor man's heart ache, she was going to make him happy again!
Seb smiled at her and ruffled her hair. "That would be great! Thanks, Shooting Star."
"It is nothing! I am the kindest girl after all!" She laughed and the middle and youngest triplets started tickling her.
Dipper and Ford installed the game as soon as the kid brought it to the basement. Their adventure started as Stanford acted as the dungeon master.
To show off, Ford twirled the dice around his 6 fingers. "Alright. You've entered the chamber... Princess Unatainabelle beckons you!
But WAIT! IT'S A TRAP!" Ford cried and Dipper gasped loudly.
"It is actually an illusion casted by Probabilitor the Annoying!"
Dipper smiled. "You know his weakness, right?" He asked and the two Pines said at unison "Prime-statistical anomalies over 37 but not exceeding 51!"
Dipper rolled the dice and cheered when he got the right number. "Yes! Uh! In your face, you cardboard wizard!"
Ford chuckled and held up the picture of Probabilitor. "Hm, the old boy looks a bit different than he did when I was a kid."
Dipper shrugged and nodded. "Mmm, yeah, they change the art every few years. Thankfully you missed the period when the creators of the game tried to make it 'cooler'" He quoted with his hands and grimaced.
Ford innocently raised an eyebrow. "Really? When?"
"Um...The 90s? I think?" Ford froze and Dipper continued. "All the characters had neon clothes and the spells were written like rap songs! It even had a cringy catchy theme song! Can you belie..." Dipper trailed off. Wait. How old were the triplets again? Dad was 28, so the three turned 38 this year and...NO WAY!
"Uncle Ford, you LIVED that period!" Dipper screamed.
"I was blinded by the colors and the coolness, I swear I didn't like it that long!" Ford shook his hands and Dipper burst out laughing before he could stop himself. He fell backwards holding his stomach.
"Dipper!" Ford scolded as his cheeks turned red.
"Yo-You sang the-the song?! And-and the rap spells?! Oh man!" Dipper wheezed. Must have been dark times those 90s indeed!
Ford grumbled and grabbed the laughing kid. "Stop you little-!" He picked him up and put him upside down before starting to shake him.
"N-N-N-O-O-oh-oh!" Dipper laughed as he was shaken, his hat long fallen. "I flip the cap back, and roll the dice! Don't step to the wizard cause the wizard don't nice!" He teased and Ford groaned loudly.
Dipper fell to the floor laughing as Ford laid down on the stone. The shame was killing him...
The boy wiped a mirthful tear and looked at his uncle with a grin. "Uncle Ford?" They were friends right? He surely trusted him now!
"Yes, Dipper?"
"So..." The kid rubbed his arm. "Well, I have asked Uncle Stan about what is behind the portal and where have you been...but he doesn't really tell me." He smiled. "So~! Can you tell me? And, oh! What have you been doing down here? Are you working on something behind that curtain?"
Ford sighed. He couldn't tell Dipper...He hadn't even told Stanley. It was way to dangerous for them to know, he didn't want to expose his family to Bill...
Ford knew he had been a fool for getting tricked by Bill, he wouldn't let him get ny closer...
He had enough with his traitor BILL brother for that.
"It's best if you and the family stay away from that subject. Honestly, I'm not sure any of you could handle the real answer..." Ford mumbled. What would they think of him?! They would blame him for the rift...And it was kind of his fault... he built the portal, but if Sebastian hadn't shown up that day...
"But, but I can handle it-" Dipper started but he was interrupted.
Ford grinned. "Ah-ah! But I can show you something I brought back with me!" He was glad he was cleaning his stuff today! He pulled out a bag from his pocket and dumped out the contents. He grabbed a black box and showed it to his nephew.
"An infinity-sided die!"
Dipper's eyes widened. "Woah... that's so cool. And... Impossible!"
Ford grinned proudly. "Stanley was proud I won this, where it is not important right now, but we got in trouble lots of times because of this! You know why?" Dipper shook his head. "Because these things are outlawed in 9,000 dimensions! Look at those symbols. Infinite sides means infinite outcomes! If I rolled it, anything could happen. Our faces could melt into jelly. The world could turn into an egg! Or you could just roll an eight." He shrugged. "Who knows? That's why I have to keep it in this protective cheap plastic case!"
"Now!" The six-fingered man clapped his hands. "-back to the game! You've got Probabilitor on the ropes!"
Dipper wanted to ask more, he still didn't know why Uncle Ford knew so much about Bill, and why exactly he said Uncle Seb was evil. Mabel and Uncle Stan didn't seem to believe it, and Dipper wasn't sure who to believe yet...but he decided to remain silent about it. He was spending time with the Author and maybe he could get him to trust him more in the future!
With that in mind, Dipper nodded with a huge grin. "I'll defeat that old man!"
They played until late in the night. Ford and Dipper had dinner as they played, claiming a hero didn't have time to take a break, so only Mabel, Stan and Seb had dinner together.
Mabel pouted the entire time. She...was glad Dipper was having fun with Uncle Ford, he also deserved to be happy and all...but she would have liked him to watch Duck-tective with them, together!
She got ready for bed after giving her two uncles a good night kiss and Dipper wasn't in their room yet.
Mabel sighed and crawled into bed before closing her eyes. Why was she feeling upset? It didn't make sense...It was great Uncle Ford was finally letting Dipper do nerd stuff with him...but that didn't mean Dipper will stop being with them too, right?
Was she being selfish? She just didn't want...to end up all separated like the triplets. Dip was her twin and her best friend, she was just worried to lose him...
When she finally managed to go to sleep, Mabel suddenly heard noise in the room. She guessed Dipper returned but she was too tired to do anything. The noise got louder though and she grumbled when she realized the light was on.
"Hohoho man. And then, if I had a dragon here, and then a plus three fire mode-"
Mabel finally sat up rubbing her eyes. "Dipper, are you going to go to sleep? You've been saying dork words for hours..."
"Sorry, Mabel, I got to finish this dungeon. It's going to totally stump Uncle Ford tomorrow, I can't wait to see the look on his face!" He squealed.
Mabel looked down with a sheepish smile. "You're uh, spending a lot of time with Fordsie lately, huh?"
"You have no idea! I knew the author must be cool, but he's better than I imagined! And, he doesn't make fun of me all the time, like you and Uncle Stan do..." He mumbled the last part. Mabel laughed.
"Give 'im time, haha Heyooo!" She paused, realizing her brother wasn't reacting. "Nah, you got me..." She muttered. "You got me..." She repeated to herself but then asked again. "What about Uncle Seb? He was really happy to play with you."
Dipper clenched his pen a little tighter. "Mabel...I just prefer playing with Uncle Ford..."
"But he could have played with you two…Are you sure it isn't because you still believe Uncle Seb will possess or trick you like Bill did? He wouldn't!"
"I didn't say that."
"Then why you don't want to be with him?"
"Mabel, just drop it!" Dipper shouted. "I just don't want to!" He huffed and continued drawing.
The girl stared at Dipper for a while and eventually laid down, her back facing her twin. She was just trying to help...
-. -
Mabel felt an awkward tension in the air the next morning. She was not liking this division. Breakfast was served and Uncle Ford and Dipper sat together, talking about some nerds stuff neither of them understood. They ate as fast as they could and then ran away laughing, leaving them everything to clean, like the big meanies they were.
Stan and Sebastian sighed. Stan passed the dishes and dirty pans to Seb as he washed them. "Um, I invited Grenda to watch Duck-tective with us! It is ok, right?" She smiled at them adorably just in case.
"Of course!" Seb ruffled her hair. "You always invite your friends over without me knowing, what's the difference here?" He asked and Stanley snorted loudly. Mabel rocked on her heels. "Well, I thought maybe you would like to be just the three of us…"
"If you want to bring your friend over and that makes you happy, just do it, we don't mind, right Fez?" Seb looked at Stan who nodded. "Yup. Can we finish with this so we can go watch the show already?"
They finished cleaning the kitchen and putting everything away before going to change clothes. They also had to have their snacks ready! They wanted to enjoy the season finale as much as they could! And that included stuffing their mouths with food to muffle their screams! Mabel put on a duck-tective sweater she made specifically for this important event and a detective hat. The doorbell rang and Mabel squealed before opening the door for her friend. "Hey! Grenda! Thanks for coming!" She hugged her and let her in.
"Of course! I'm so invested in the lives of these characters!" Grenda received the hat Mabel handed her and put it on. She giggled loudly when two thirds of the triplets came down the stairs grinning. Mabel was so lucky to have cute uncles.
"Hey~ Look at you two! All dressed up!" Stan was wearing a suit and a red bowtie as Seb wore his usual formal yellow clothes.
"It's a big night, we HAVE to be!" Seb grinned and nudged his brother playfully. Stan grinned and pulled out what he found hidden in the wardrobe. "Sebastian, look at this." He showed him a red hat with a golden symbol on it.
Seb stared at it. Where…Where did Fez find that…? Was-was this another fixed point?! Was Stan supposed to wear it?! It-It was his symbol after all… He unconsciously took a hand to his back…
"Didn't Filbrick had one of this?" Stan asked his younger brother who nodded. "I think so…Maybe Ford accidentally brought it when he moved here?" Seb shrugged. He hadn't seen the hat before. "Will…Will you wear it from now on?" He asked softly. Maybe it was destiny…
'He is FEZ. What ELSE?!'
Stan stared at the hat and shrugged. "Meh, why not? I will when I help you and Soos in the Shack, give Mr. Mystery a new look, huh?" He laughed.
He put the hat on Seb, ignored how it floated and turned to the girls. "Alright girls, I think we all remember where we were, when we learned Duck-tective was shot…" They looked down when an alarm went off.
Mabel gasped loudly. "Viewing positions, everyone!"
Everyone ran towards the living room and Seb grabbed the hat from his head before he held it in his hands for a few seconds. "Guess it wasn't destiny…He didn't wear it…"
Bill2 was silent before he spoke. 'But that's his symbol in our zodiac…He can't be anything else…'
Neither of them knew.
Seb shrugged and left the hand on a table. Didn't matter, the show was starting!
He stopped in his tracks though when he saw the girls and Stan standing on the doorway. He looked inside the room and frowned. Dipper and Ford had laid their game and lots of papers all over the room. Grenda was trying to kill the graph paper.
"What the-?!" Seb gasped.
"Dipper, could you maybe move this to another room?" Mabel asked her twin but Ford laughed as he shook the dice. "No dice! We ran out of room in the basement and we're going for a world record! Now, dice!" He threw the dice and it rolled a 32. "HAH! 32, YES! 7,000 points damage!"
Dipper groaned but laughed as Ford crossed his arms over his chest, proud and with a smug grin. "Oh! You got me!"
Everyone groaned loudly. Seb looked at Stan to do something. "Oh, why, why with this? You wanna break a record, Ford? You already got it with world's nerdiest man!"
"Hey! At least I'm not all keyed up to watch a kid's show like you and demon!"
Mabel looked at Dipper with a serious look, telling him with her eyes to do something!, he just called Seb a demon again! When everyone knew it WASN'T true! But her brother stayed silent.
"I AM NOT A DEMON!" Seb growled. "And I'll have you know that Duck-tective has a big mystery element! And a lot of humor that goes over kids' heads!"
"I don't get a lot of it, but I like animals in human situations." Grenda smiled.
Mabel huffed and looked at her younger brothers. "Uncle Stan, UNCLE SEB, do something! It starts in a few minutes!" She said Seb's name louder, maybe that way her oldest uncle will understand he was wrong and being mean.
'He just called demon in front of everyone…He will convince everyone you are really a demon…then you will be alone, will you let him get away with that? You love your pathetic little family no?' Bill2 purred.
Seb growled and moved to take a paper off the TV. Ford jumped and grabbed his wrist harshly. The blond grimaced a bit but continued glaring. "Move that and pay the price…"
"Oh, what, fifty magical dwarf dollars?!" Seb taunted the man and he let go of his wrist. "Don't mock our fantastical monetary system!"
"Oh god, guys, no, stop, please stop." Stan grimaced as they started fighting once again. "Like, how about you argue after the episode?"
His triplets ignored him. "I'll mock all I want, it's my TV room!" Seb challenged and Ford growled. "It is MY HOUSE! You wouldn't even be here if I hadn't let you, you-" He grabbed Seb by his shirt and dragged him close to him.
Dipper's eyes widened and gasped. "Wait, Uncle Ford!" He quickly called. They were brothers, triplets, even if Uncle Ford didn't trust Seb…One thing was ignoring him, and one super different was trying to hurt him physically. "Hey, Uncle Ford, how about Uncle Seb join us? We might actually have fun together." He looked into his uncle's pocket and pulled out the red bag with lots of dices.
"Great! But in another room…?" Stan mumbled.
"What?! Dipper, but he is going to ruin everything! He doesn't even know how to play well! He had never finished a game!" Ford scowled, remembering how when they played as kids Seb got distracted and didn't pay attention to what he told him. "Don't trust him so easily, remember who he is!" He grabbed the bag from the kid.
"WAS! I WAS!" Seb screamed. "Don't put my nephew against me, Stanford! I am NOT DEMON! And I am not going to ruin your stupid game!" Seb's hands caught in flames before disappearing.
'He hates you, he will put everyone against you, you will lose them, you will be alone like the monster you are, like you deserve!'
"You know what?!" He snatched the bag from him. I don't even want to play with you!" Dipper's eyes widened. "No, no, Uncle Seb, wait!"
"I will never play this stupid game again!" He raised the bag to throw it. He had played with Ford when no one else did when they were kids. He learnt the stupid rules for HIM! He spent nights awake playing for HIM! He was embarrassed for HIM! And all this ungrateful bastard did was scream at him and call him names!
"SEBASTIAN NO!" Ford cried desperate.
"Even if our lives depended on it!"
Stan recognized the bag and gasped. "Sebastian, no wait!"
Seb threw the bag to the floor and the dices spilled out, including the infinity sided dice which rolled out of it's box.
"No! What have you done?!" Ford pulled at his hair.
"Oh fuck." Stan cursed as the dice started glowing. A ray of light stroke the box of the game and suddenly, the characters of dungeons, dungeons and more dungeons were standing in front of them. Everyone gaped at them and Dipper crawled back.
"Mortals of dimension 46'\, kneel before me and-" He rolled his dice. "-snivel! I am Probabilitor! The greatest wizard in all of mathology!" He lifted his scepter that started to glow. "Give or take an error of 0.4."
"Eh, is this normal?" Stan grimaced.
Dipper smiled nervously and everyone started backing up. Seb stood in front of the cowering girls, Stan in front of Dipper and Ford was growling in front of everyone. "Have you come to send us on the quest of a lifetime because we're the smartest players you've ever met?" The boy asked nervously.
"You are the smartest players I've ever met! That's why I'm going to eat your brains to gain your intelligence. It's what I do."
"It's his thing." An ogre nodded.
"What?!" Dipper and Seb cried.
"Seize them!" Probabilitor shrieked, pointing at Dipper and Ford with his scepter. Ford lifted his coat and grabbed his gun from his belt. "Your math is no match for my gun, you idiot!" he was about to shoot when the wizard shouted. "MATH RAY!" The ray was so strong it blew a hole through the wall, knocking Stanford to the floor. "I'm not here to play games!" Stan and Seb watched frozen as their brother and nephew were grabbed by the ogre and then they were flown away, following Probabilitor who flew away screaming "Now to the forest, for the ultimate game!"
"Oh no! That crazy wizard is going to eat our brothers' brains!" Mabel screamed pulling at her hair.
"But, if you think about it…the room's free now, who wants to watch Duck-tective?" Grenda asked.
"GRENDA!" Mabel shouted. "We have to stop 'em!"
Seb crossed his arms and sat down on the floor, pouting. "No, Ford can fuck himself if he wants. I hope Probabilitor enjoys his brain. Maybe then he will stop acting so mighty."
"UNCLE SEB!" "SEBASTIAN!" Mabel and Stan screamed at him.
Seb sighed tiredly. 'Wait. Why would you save him? He just said he doesn't like you! He hates you! Why would you even want to help someone who things you aren't more than a disgusting, filthy, freak monster?!'
Seb sniffed. He worked too hard fixing the portal to lose him over a nerd wizard. "Alright… I guess if we have no other choice than to go on an epic wizard quest." He smiled slightly.
'You are so stupid. Saving them over and over, helping them when they DON'T LIKE YOU! You STILL love them! How can you be so STUPID?! Don't you see love makes you stupid?!'
The girls cheered and Stan frowned. A what now? Didn't matter. They were going to save their brothers. "Everyone grab a weapon."
Seb's hands caught in flames, Stan grabbed a bat from the couch cushion, Mabel happily chose a rake and Grenda lifted up a chair. "Heh, nice!" She grinned. They used trashcan's lids as shields.
"We're coming for you, Dipper! And Uncle Ford! And possibly that hot elf, if he's got anything to do with this.
As Dipper and Ford watched the brain-cooking pot with fear, the group of four ventured into the forest. They walked around warily, careful of their surroundings in case something appeared.
Seb slapped his back. "We must be getting close. These fairy bites are getting more frequent…"
And ogre suddenly stomped in front of them and they gasped startled. "Halt! Yon interlopers are trespassing on the ancient forest of Probabilitor the wizard! If ye wish to pass, first, ye must complete seven unworldly quest, each, more difficult than the-"
"NOW!" Grenda roared and hit him on the head with the chair she was holding, making him collapse.
Seb lifted a bark with his mind and let it drop on the ogre just in case. Mabel poked its foot with the rake. "Is he…dead?" She pouted.
Stan put a hand on her shoulder. "He's magic, sweetie. I'm sure he's fine…" Mabel nodded and continued walking. The triplets and Grenda watched her walk. Stan turned to look at them, who knew better. "There's no cops in the forest. We take this to our graves." He warned them and they nodded seriously.
They reached the clearing where Probabilitor had their brothers tied up. They hid behind some bushes and frowned, awaiting the right moment to attack. They saw Dipper panicking. "What do we do? What do we do?!"
"Stop thinking, Dipper! The more wrinkly your brain gets, the more he'll want to eat it!" Ford frowned and glared at the wizard.
Probabilitor grinned evilly at the Pines. "And now, a little math problem: when I subtract your brain from your skulls-" He hit Ford and Dipper with his staff before he continued. "-add salt, and divide your family, what's the remainder?"
"Now's the right moment!" Stan announced and their rescue team nodded. "YOUR BUTT!" Mabel shouted and the four of them jumped out of the bushes, holding their weapons.
"What?! My butt isn't part of this particular equation!" Probabilitor frowned. "Drat! How did you make it past my one guard?"
Dipper's eyes lit up when he saw his family. Yes! He knew they were going to save them! He saw Sebastian with his hands on fire with an angry scowl on his face. He-He came to save them too. Even after he was mean to him and changed him for Uncle Ford…The boy looked down. He felt bad for judging Sebastian so hard…He was paranoid, he was scared, 'Trust no one', especially Bill Cipher, but he was wrong. And he felt sorry for being so mean. If they made it out of this alive, he was going to apologize to him. He HAD to.
"Very well..." The cannibal wizard said. "There's only one way your family can save you. YOU must defeat ME in Dungeons, Dungeons, and More Dungeons: REAL LIFE EDITION!" He created a game board. "Hahaha-hahaha!"
"What? Oh, come on!" Stan groaned and Seb pouted. Play to safe their brothers' lives?
'Well, too bad you just said you wouldn't play again' Bill2 basically shrugged in his mind. 'You said, even if our lives depended on it!'
"I choose my characters..." Two ogres appeared in the game. "Versus…yours…" He grinned evilly and Seb's eye widened as Dipper and Ford were transformed into elf characters he easily held in his ugly mathematical hand.
Ford grimaced as he examined his clothes. He touched his ears and gasped horrified. "Ah! My ears! They're so pointy!"
"There better be something protective under this tunic!" Dipper pleaded and turned around to see under the tunic. "Oh, no there isn't!"
Seb didn't know if he should cry or snort with laughter. He couldn't lose Ford to a cardboard wizard! He spent years trying to bring these two idiots back! And, even if he hated him…he didn't want him to die…
"Seriously, can't we just, like, arm wrestle or something?" Stan groaned and the wizard smiled. "Come on, this game is a lot of fun. I had my mom pack me a lunch!" He took out some apple slices out of a paper bag. "Ew, apple slices? I'll eat you last."
Stan, Seb and Mabel shared a look and rolled their eyes. They sat down in front of the board game. "Uh, just make with the rules, ugly." Stanley grumbled and pulled out a chewing gum to pop into his mouth.
"The game is a battle royale. We help our characters by casting spells determined by rolls of the dice. If you win, I'll go back to my own dimension!"
The three Pines smiled and Mabel clapped.
"But if I win, I eat their brains." Probabilitor grinned evilly.
Dipper looked at Ford with a worried expression. Ford's face said everything. He was confident they were going to die. "Hey, I'm not sure this is such a good-"
"De-!" "Wait!" Seb interrupted Stan before he could agree. He pulled his brother away and frowned. "Stan, we can't risk getting them hurt like that!" He whispered to him.
'Why not?! Imagine all the blood coming from their skulls!'
"But we can win!" Stan whispered back. "Yeah, just like we can lose…I-I have an idea, follow me." He turned to look at the wizard and changed his eyepatch from eye, showing off his yellow one. Stan turned him a little, as he was staring blindly too much to the left. "I have a better deal…how about this?"
The Stans gasped as Seb changed his body. He grew a pair of yellow, clawed arms, his hands turned pitch black as his yellow eye turned to red. His torso wasn't fractioned yet. "Why would you want to eat pathetic human brains when you could have one from an all-powerful and ALL KNOWING demon?" He grinned, showing off his sharp fangs. Of course he was lying, but Probabilitor didn't know that.
'What the hell are you doing?! We are going to get killed for two ungrateful pieces of shit! They don't like you! Why would you do this?! They deserve to die!'
No. Dipper is just a kid. And Ford is better than me anyway…He will change the world, like everyone always said…I am nothing.
'Even if you are stupid, good for nothing, stupid, worthless piece of filth, they STILL deserve to DIE! Not you!g' Bill2 screamed.
Ford and Stan frowned. What the hell was he doing?
Probabilitor hummed, examining the demon as Seb continued. "So, how about this…If we win, you leave from our dimension…If you win, you can eat MY brain." At least, that way no one important was dying…
Everyone stared at Seb in shock. "Uncle Seb…" Mabel frowned worriedly. "Sebastian, we can find another way." Stan frowned, realizing how dangerous this situation was.
"Just accept the deal!" Ford shouted and Dipper looked up in shock at his uncle. Was he really willing to sacrifice his own brother like that?
Probabilitor grinned at the demon with greed, drooling at the thought of acquiring all his knowledge and power! "DEAL!" Seb's hand was engulfed in flames and he shook hands with the wizard. A sudden burst of energy running down his spine. Then he went back to his normal form.
"Oh boy…" Dipper frowned. Ford frowned as well, but was reassured that at least Dipper would be safe if they lost…
"Let the game... BEGIN!" Probabilitor rolled a 13 and grinned. "Attack!" The ogres ran forward and tried to hammer to Dipper and Ford with their clubs. Uncle and nephew screamed and ran around the board game, jumping and dodging their attacks. "AAAHH!"
"What do we do? What are our moves?!" Stan grimaced. Why didn't he never hear these two nerds playing?!
"There are no move, you have to make them up!" Seb grimaced and grabbed the dice. It rolled an 11. The face turned red, indicating he couldn't make a move. "FUCK!" He cursed.
"What? Really?" Stan narrowed his eyes. Probabilitor rolled the dice and he got 16. "The ogres develop enhanced speed!"
Dipper and Ford screamed as they tried to run faster from the ogres. "SEBASTIAN!" Ford screamed as he saved Dipper from being smacked by an ogre and the blond winced. "Sorry…" He shoved the dice to Stan.
"Stanley play! This game involves math, but also risk, and imagination!" Ford ordered. For Tesla's sake, even if Probabilitor wouldn't eat their brains, they would die in this board game!
"Risk?" Stan grinned, rubbing his palms together.
"Imagination?" Mabel imitated her uncle. "Hey, just make something up! It's just like lying, Uncle Stan!"
Stan looked panicked but Seb refused to grab the dice, scared to roll a low number and miss a turn to win. "I cast, uh... shield of... shielding!" He rolled a 14. Ford was hugging Dipper and both were screaming, about to be beheaded, when a blue shield appeared in front of them. Dipper and Ford smiled and Stan high-sixed Seb. "Ha! We're doing it!"
"Shield of Shielding Reversal Spell!" Probabilitor the Annoying rolled the dice and the shield disappeared. Ford put Dipper behind him as the ogre advanced towards them.
"I cast: Giggle Time Bouncy Boots!" Mabel cried and rolled the dice. Suddenly, boots with silly eyes and springs appeared on Dipper and Ford's piece. "Haha!" Seb laughed as their brothers started jumping over the angry ogres. "With a hot flamey sword!" As Dipper and Ford jumped, fire swords appeared in their hands. "Super hot flamey sword!" The sword got longer. When the boy touched the ground, he jumped over an ogre and sliced him with the sword. Behind him, Ford gave a war cry and killed another ogre.
"No!" Probabilitor shrieked and Seb grinned. Haha! Looks like he won't get dinner today! "Drat you! You'll never outrun my-" He rolled the dice. "Ogre-nado!" An ogre-nado moved closer and closer to Dipper and Ford, whose swords were blown away.
"Uh…" Seb looked at Stan, who was frozen, not knowing what to do. Luckily for the dumb brothers, Mabel came to the rescue. "I cast: CENTAURTAUR! YAH!" She rolled the dice and a horse with another horse body for a head appeared and neighed.
Ford stopped panicking to admire the weird creature. What in the world?! It was incredible! But, he probably shouldn't think too hard about how it or he would have a crisis.
Stan and Seb blinked. "What?" Seb muttered and Stan turned to look at their niece with a smile. "Mabel, I am so confused and so proud right now."
Dipper and Ford ran for their lives as the ogre-nado went after them. They reached the centaurtaur and quickly get on to run away.
"Go! GO Dipper!" Mabel cheered. "You can do it! Come on!" Seb shouted. "Come on, you guys! Go! Go!" Stan pulled at his hair.
The elves shouted as the centaurtaur ran into a smaller room. It disappeared at the entrance and both fell to the ground. The ogre-nado fell apart as it tried to follow them in though. Safe!
"Yeah!" Mabel hugged Stan's arm and the two men smiled relief as the ogres fell to the ground. "We won!" Seb sighed. Dipper and Ford were about to shake hands when a huge disgusting monster picked them up. They gasped in horror.
"Hahaha yes! I was saving the worst for last!" Probabilitor laughed maniacally. Stan, Seb and Mabel gaped. "What's that?!"
"Oh no!" Dipper grimaced. "The Impossibeast! Hey, I thought they banned this character!" Ford frowned.
"Think again! I'm playing the controversial 1991-1992 edition!" The wizard laughed and the Impossibeast slammed Dipper and Ford against a wall. Seb bit his finger. "What do we do? How do we kill him!?"
"I'll think of some weapons!" Mabel assured as she shook the dice. Ford shook his head and looked at Sebastian, feeling actually sorry for him. "You don't understand. This is the most powerful monster in the game! He can only be defeated by rolling a perfect 38! But the odds of that are-"
Stan took the dice from Mabel and started shaking it. "Hey, long odds are what you want when you're a multiverse class gambler! Alright, Stan, you can do this..." He took a deep breath and Seb looked at him nervously. "Papa needs a new pair of…NERDS!" He threw the die and everyone leaned in with anticipation. Seb was about to move it with his mind when they saw it landed on a 38.
'FUCK FEZ DID IT!'
"NOO!" Probabilitor screamed and put his hands on his head. Stan laughed and hugged Seb closer to him with an arm. "Sorry, nerd-wizard, but you ain't eating my brother today. All your smarts are no match for dumb luck."
Dipper looked at Ford and smiled widely at him. His Uncle grinned as he glared at the wizard.
Mabel raised her fists. "I cast DEATH MUFFINS!" Dipper and Ford gave the Impossibeast a smug grin as muffins with dynamite sticking out of them appeared in their hands. Then they threw them into the monster's mouth.
"Huh?" The Impossibeast mumbled before it exploded in muffins. Stan, Seb and Mabel cheered loudly as their brothers appeared next to them, alive, safe and with their normal clothes again. The girl quickly hugged her twin, laughing relieved and Stan, after seeing Seb wanted to approach Ford but didn't dare to, he dragged them both into a tight hug.
The hot elf that had being hugged by Grenda all this time, closed the rule book and shook his beautiful hair. "The game is, like, over. Excelci-whatever."
Probabilitor cried out as he started disappearing and the Pines watched him with smug grins. "No! I'm returning to my own realm! I'm turning into pure math! What are the ooooodddsss?" Then he was gone.
"Haha! Deal it with, wizard idiot! HAHAHA! PINES, PINES, PINES, PINES!" Stan chanted and his niblings and brothers joined him.
Dipper looked at his uncle Stan. "That was amazing! How did you know you'd win?!" Stan laughed and went over to get the die. "Hey, a gambler never reveals his secrets…"
Seb noticed the chewing gum he stuck to the bottom and burst out laughing. Stan was a genius!
"Man! That was fun for ages 8 to 80! Or a million or however old you guys are!" She teased the three men who frowned at unison. "Mabel!" They shouted.
Stan sighed. "Y'know…I'm sorry for making fun of your game yesterday, kiddo. Sure, it might be too nerdy for me, but it's just the right amount of nerdy for you and my brothers. If you wanna hang out sometimes, I won't get in your way."
"Actually, after all that, I could use a little mindless fun…" Dipper rubbed his arm and Grenda spoke. "Guys! We can watch the second showing of Duck-tective! It's not too late!" She squeaked the Duck-tective toy she had been carrying with her all day. Stan and Mabel cheered and he picked up both girls before running back to the house, leaving Seb, Dipper and Stanford behind. "Is that the couch?" Dipper pointed and Seb nodded. "Yeah, it was out weapon to save you…Come on, or Fez is going to eat all the snacks!" The blond picked up the stuff they brought with his mind and Dipper followed him with a small smile.
Stanford watched them go and he looked down, rubbing his six-fingered hands awkwardly.
As they went back to the house, Seb asked Dipper if he'd like to sit down. He nodded and Seb sat him down on the floating couch, making the child laugh. "Cool, huh?" Seb smiled at him and Dipper nodded, holding tight as the couch tilted from side to side. He took a deep breath. "Uncle Seb…Thanks for risking your life to save me and Uncle Ford…" He sighed. The blond smiled. "It was nothing, how do you think I'd let a crazy math wizard eat your wittle brain?! What would I tell Shermie?!" He cried exaggeratedly and both laughed. Dipper quickly sobered though and rubbed his arm. "I am sorry, Uncle Seb…I-I think I got carried away by my fear and paranoia…"
Seb made the couch float in front of him inside of his side and looked at his nephew. "Dipper...I can understand why you were so wary about me…I-I mean, I won't deny it, I really WAS Bill, and while I do not have all his knowledge or all his memories, I know enough, and I know that makes me suspicious."
"But-But I shouldn't have stopped trusting you…I totally forgot how you always help us and-" The couch stopped moving and he saw Seb had stopped it. "Kid, it is ok. I am just so glad you like me again! You don't have to apologize!" He lifted his hat to ruffle his hair. "Now. Duck-tective! Duck-tective!" Seb chanted and Dipper smiled and chanted back. He was glad Uncle Seb wasn't angry at him for treating him the way he did. He surely would be angry if someone had called him names or ignored him, or being plainly mean to him for weeks. Seb wasn't angry. Something the Bill they met would totally be, and probably torture him later. The blond just got incredibly sad and depressed (to the point of hurting himself again after years, but Dipper didn't know that). Another difference there. If only he had seen them sooner.
Uncle Ford was the Author, and he knew more than any person Dipper had met, but he was wrong about Sebastian. He didn't know why Ford hated Bill so much, he didn't know what happened and he hoped to learn soon from the man himself, but he should know whatever awful thing that demon did, his brother wouldn't do as well…
Everyone crowded in the TV room to watch the episode. It was exciting and full of intrigue, Mabel, Grenda and Sebastian let out high-pitched screams from times to time as they replayed the last few episodes from the constable's point of view.
Ford went to make himself coffee at the kitchen, grab some crackers so his stomach wouldn't try to kill him later, and then went to the vending machine. He had work to do. He heard screams and shouts in the living room though, and he went to check what was going on. Oh. Right. They were going to watch their silly cartoon. Seb was sitting on the couch, curled up with Dipper and Mabel was on…his dinosaur skull, what was his dinosaur skull doing there?!, Stan was on the floor with Mabel's friend, Brenda?, and Soos.
Seb caught him staring at them when the commercial break started and he smiled at him. "Hey, Sixer, wanna watch with us? I know that maybe you won't understand, but we can explain you super quick what it is all about." He offered.
Ford looked at Stan scowling at him, what did he do this time?!, and then back at Seb. "No, I-I am fine. I will go to my lab, I have work to do…Um, Dipper?" He looked at his nephew. "You can come downstairs after-after your show if you wish." He nodded and walked away. That was the right thing to do, right? Stan said he had to spend more time with the kids…
He missed how Mabel pouted at him. Right…Uncle Fordsie called Dipper because he was the intelligent one. Well…It didn't matter! She had TWO great uncles as well!
Ford went back to the gift shop, grabbed his forgotten cup of coffee and went downstairs. He sat on his chair and sighed loudly before he pulled out his journal to write about today's weird adventure. Again, Sebastian's fault, but…he really enjoyed playing with Dipper today. It was fun. He had drawn and written about the infinity-sided die while Dipper set up the game, now he had to talk about Probabilitor. "Or…if we are formal…Probabilitor Pythagorus Decimaldore the 3.1415th…" Ford mumbled to himself with a small smile as he wrote. He finished drawing the centaurtaur, reminded himself once again not to think too hard about it, and leaned back on his chair.
He had seen what Dipper wrote in his journal. What he thought were just doodles, were actually impressive notes about the creatures he had encountered, he even added some missing information he left incomplete years ago. He…he was really impressed of his nephew, not only did he share his love for DD and more D, but he was also fascinated by the paranormal like him! And today, battling with ogres, he was so determined and brave. He liked that. He even had a birth defect like him! He discovered about his birthmark days ago, and to say he was surprised was an understatement. He liked Dipper, he was a great kid, and…maybe he could be his ally, maybe he could trust him with his secrets…
He knew he shouldn't tell a kid about this important information, he was just a boy, intelligent brave, but a boy anyway, but who else could he tell?! Of course he wouldn't tell Sebastian, this was all his fault, Stanley…He loved Stanley, but…he didn't like all this stuff. He didn't understand weirdness and the supernatural, and he had forced him to go through 13 years of hell. He couldn't continue burdening him with this. Mabel was a sweet girl, but maybe she wouldn't understand either.
Dipper was his only choice. But…he had seen him getting closed to Sebastian again. He was worried about what he might be planning. He was Bill! And Bill wasn't to be trusted! And-And William didn't count! Because he was a good one! But Sebastian had been a bad Bill! That had made his other dimension suffer!
The "power of love" as he stupidly claimed, didn't change people like that. Just because he grew up with them doesn't necessarily mean he is different…Could it? He did cry a lot as a kid…and as an adult, he looked kinda sad when he said he didn't want to watch TV with them…
But no! Bill was like that! He tricked people! Just like he tricked him! And Sebastian was still the responsible for all of this! He pushed them through the portal! He ruined his life just because he was jealous of him! Because he was nothing! Because he was the real freak and he was better, he was more than him! That was why no one could say Ford was like Sebastian, he wasn't! He was better, he had to be better! Just like fa-father said!
Ford hadn't realized he was shaking. He remembered Bill telling him exactly the same…But Bill lied, so everything he said was a lie?
"Deep breaths…deep breaths!" He muttered to himself as he did so. Argh, headache…he was going to have a headache…
He looked up. Ok! Even if Sebastian wasn't as bad as he thought…He…did sacrifice…himself today…He still ruined his future on purpose! And Ford could hold grudges for years. So, pouting like an angry and stubborn child, Ford leaned back on his chair, chewing his pen. He chewed so hard it exploded on his face and he leaned back so much he fell to the floor, all at the same time.
He coughed and spat the ink. Bleh, bleh. He was a mess.
-.-
In the living room, they finally reached the hospital's scene. They recalled Duck-tective was shot, but the screen turned black just after that, and they heard a quack that didn't sound quite like Duck-tective's quacks…The fandom had gone nuts, but today was the day to see what really happened…
"I'm going to that big pond in the sky…" They read from the subtitles and Stan sniffled to keep his tears from falling.
The constable sniffed. "I just don't understand who shot you. The only person clever enough to defeat Duck-tective is-"He gasped. "Duck-tective!"
Everyone jumped when he was hit in the head by a bedpan. He was knocked out and he fell to the floor as Duck-tective looked up. "Time to finish the job... BROTHER!" The new duck with a small goatee exclaimed and Duck-tective screamed terrified.
"He had a twin brother all along?!" She poured her can of chips on Seb. "That's the big twist we've been waiting for!?"
"WHAT A RIP-OFF!"
"I predicted that, like a yea-" Soos stopped though when the scene continued. A bomb suddenly explode and the Pines and friends gasped loudly. Duck-tective quacked and coughed and when the smoke dispersed, a new shadow appeared. It was another duck, identical to Duck-tective except for the long scar over his closed left eye. "Follow me if you want to live" They read the subtitles. Duck-tective seemed shocked. "Brother…I thought…we all thought you were dead…"
The scar duck grabbed his wing. "I didn't want to see my triplets again like this…" They left the room, with goatee duck on the floor.
Seb, Stan, Mabel, Dipper, Soos and Grenda gaped with their eyes wide at the screen when the credits rolled by. "WHAT?!" Stan gasped. "I NEED MORE!" Seb pulled at his hair. Soos looked at his phone. "Oh man, I just lost a 200 dollars in a bet…" He pouted, and Mabel screamed. "OH MY GOD, I DIDN'T EXPECT THAT!"
After they calmed down from the initial shock, screamed a bit more, and after Grenda was picked up by her parents, Seb declared it was time to go to bed. The kids and Stan groaned but agreed anyway. Before he went to change though, Dipper went to the basement, he knew the code, Uncle Ford told it to him! And he found him reading something.
"Hey, Uncle Ford?" Dipper called and the scientist turned around. "Oh! There you are, Dipper!"
The kid walked to him. "You, you said you wanted to see me?" Ford nodded. "Oh yes…I put the infinity-sided dice in a better container…" He started explaining and showed it him. Dipper smiled as Ford put it away on a small locker. "This'll be here if you ever need it…" He told the kid. He hoped not, but who knew.
"Really? Even though I got us into the whole game-playing mess?" Dipper rubbed his arm. Ford shook his head with a small smile. "It wasn't your fault…But, I guess we both got carried away too… Guess we'd both gone for a while without a friend…"
Dipper smiled, then Ford sobered. "Dipper, can I tell you something?" The kid nodded and followed his uncle.
"You asked me earlier what I was working on. Well…" He pulled down a curtain to show him he had gotten rid of the portal…Like, he should have done years ago… "I dismantled the portal. An interdimensional gateway is too dangerous for the world it feeds into. That's why I was mad at Bil-Sebastian for using it." No. He had to be careful with what he said around Dipper. He couldn't afford to lose his trust or his friendship.
"He saved me and Stan but, as I feared, the instability of the machine created this…" He opened a little drawer and held up a transparent sphere, resembling a snow globe, which had a black blob in it. "- an interdimensional rift... I've contained it for now, but it's incredibly dangerous. Dipper, I don't want you to tell anyone about this. Not Stan, not Sebastian, not even your sister. You understand?"
Dipper gasped. Was-Was Uncle Ford really trusting him with something so important like this?! "O-Of course, Uncle Ford! I will not tell!"
"In my time I've made many powerful enemies… but, Dipper…" He knelt in front of him and put a six-fingered hand on his small shoulder. "I trust you with this secret, it is important, and I think you can keep it that way."
Dipper squealed internally. Ford nodded and stood up to ruffle the kid's head. "Now get yourself to bed. I have much research to do…" That was true. He needed to find a way to get rid of the rift, or contain it for a long period of time.
The boy puffed up his chest proudly. "Goodnight, uncle Ford! You won't be disappointed!"
"I know I won't…Goodnight, Dipper" He watched the kid leave the basement and he sighed. He put the rift on the little drawer it had been. He hoped he made the right decision… |
System: Nairn Location: Space
Lance’s hallucination was a side effect of the Sugkie too, combining badly to his overdosing of Eyre. It wasn’t something they liked to think about, but as they listened to Lance lay in the cave of Torous, they realised just how desperate Lance had been to talk to someone that his mind had conjured a friend for him. But it’s not too long until the hallucination and Lance venture down darker roads, shown by the fear of not being good enough, thoughts driven from Shiro’s lectures. [I don’t want to go with them.] The pirates. But his words mean that he has considers it. It is still a possibility, even if he doesn’t like it. But even Pidge can’t track the Pirates, so they know Lance hasn’t been able to.
LANCE: [Keith.] The Red Paladin raises his head at his own name.
LANCE: [Keith’s here. I called out to him; I spoke to him before they took me. He’s still on Torous. He didn’t leave me. He should be coming to find me.] There’s rattling, and movement, before Lance keeps talking, his voice stronger now.
[It doesn’t matter if I’m a place holder. They haven’t replaced me yet. They still need me to fly Blue and I will. I’ll fight alongside them until they ask me to step down.]
That’s the truth of the matter for Lance. That’s what they think of him. A “place holder.” It’s not true, but the fact that Lance believes it is what is important. They’ve let him think that, unknowingly so, but then there must’ve been something said that started all of… this. Lance didn’t just wake up one morning deciding the world hated him.
[–But until then, I am a paladin of Voltron and I will fight those that threaten others. And that includes them.]
It wasn’t “until anything.” Lance would be a Paladin until he quit of his own volition, or the war with the Galra ended, or… No. Keith wouldn’t think about Lance dying. That was absurd, it was—
LANCE: [Ovule is our target.] He’s readying himself to fight his way out; not knowing Keith is in the cave with him, waiting for the perfect time to strike.
And before anyone can speak, the Comms screamed noise. At first it’s a foreign cry of pain. Then it’s shrieks and curses and screaming, with Keith shouting over all of it. KEITH: [NO! Lance keep fighting!] There’s too much sound to pull words from it. But it doesn’t matter. Keith is fighting alongside Lance. They’re fighting their way out, fighting their way to home.
Gun fire, shouting. Keith is laughing. Lance cried out.
KEITH: [Lance, get up, we’re leaving. Lance look out!] LANCE: [I can’t—]KEITH: [Lance!] LANCE: [Keith no!][You're not going anywhere,] the aliens curse and Lance is crying out, Keith remembering as they grab him and try to drag him away, dragging him from Keith’s side, back towards the tunnel. [LANCE!]
More yelling, more gunfire. Lance screaming for Keith, Keith crying out in pain as he’s beaten to the floor, too stubborn to fall, urging the aliens to raise their heels and kick Keith until he crumples to the floor. LANCE: [Keith NO!]And he’s calling out for to another, blind in panic, forgetting the creature does not exist. [Help him! Ignore me, you have to help him!]
Lance’s guttural cry bleeds in their ears, listening to the pure rage as he demands Keith be released. He wasn’t, of course, but he has their attention enough that when the sound of Keith’s sword slicing through the air, the pained cries of aliens follow. The paladins are cursed, but they’re together, Lance’s voice coming clear through Keith’s Comms from the way that Lance is leaning against him. He’s obviously not under the effects of Sugkie, but something else as he starts to joke with the Red in the middle of the fire fight.
KEITH: [We have to go.] LANCE: [You know, I was fancying a picnic. We’re in no rush.] KEITH: [Well I’m not up for a picnic. It’s not my style.] LANCE: [Too mainstream for a first date?] KEITH: [How about we discuss this later? Over dinner or something.] LANCE: [Alright Mullet, that’s a deal.] KEITH: [Now get going!]
Yeah this was definitely the usually flirty-Lance. No mind control here. Although, the fact he was flirting with Keith raised eyebrows. Keith gave them all a good hard glare but no one said anything. They didn’t drop their knowing smirks though.
Not until Lance cried out and Keith is telling him to get up and run. They hear the Blue’s blaster go off, hear lasers hit their targets. KEITH: [Lance I’ve got them, just go!]
Suddenly there’s explosions. Keith explains the pirate ship is firing on them, listening as Lance tries to sacrifice himself for the Red’s sake. [Go,] he keeps saying, Keith remembering the firm way Lance’s smirk sits on his lips as he shoves him towards the pod, just a little too far from their reach as the pirates close in around them. LANCE: [Keith, get going. You can’t stay here. Get to the shuttle and go.] KEITH: [Now’s not the time to play hero.]
The voices shout, Keith cursing them, daring them to come forward. One must because they hear the clash of swords, the dark voice laughing at the [pathetic little human.]LANCE: [Keith!] [This chiarecht is mine! Take the Blue, but I want him alive.] KEITH: [Over my dead body!]
Swords clash, insults are thrown but Keith is yelling orders to Lance and they’re running before the aliens can deliver a killing blow. KEITH: [Lance, go! NOW!] LANCE: [Keith wait! I can’t… I can’t—]
The paladins hear the thrust of the engines, hear the missile explode somewhere behind as the nitro boost takes Keith and Lance up, up into Torus’s atmosphere.
Whatever tension filled the bridge quickly dissipated at the sound of Keith laughing, gleeful little [thank fuck for nitro] making even the Red smile. He had saved Lance. With a barely formed plan and no backup, he’d gotten in and got Lance out.Lance is laughing too, exhaustion twisting the sound until they die down softly, Keith calling out for Allura for a portal, but unable to reach her due to the Pirate’s jammers.
KEITH: [That was scary, huh?][I’ll say. I think I’ll be happy if I never see that planet again.] [Any time in this lifetime will be too soon,] Keith agreed, the boys laughing together, just waiting until the adrenaline leaves their systems.
LANCE: [Hey Keith.] When Keith doesn’t answer, Lance continues. [It’s not that bad. Just a little theatre make up, nothing more.] Oh yeah, Keith had finally seen the damage. “Liar,” Hunk hissed angrily, but he falls into silence, letting Pidge comfort him where they sit close to one another near the Green’s chair.
LANCE: [Keith, honestly, it doesn’t hurt. Okay, maybe it does, just a little bit, but it’s not as bad as it looks. I’ve been through worse, hell, we’ve all been through worse.] There’s noise, clinking of glass and Keith kicks himself as he realised he sat and watched as Lance continued to overdose on the “pink lemonade.”
LANCE: [We’re both fine—]KEITH: [Define fine—][We’re both fine,] Lance repeated, his words steady. [You’re fine, I’m fine and that is all that matters. We’re both fine and that is all they need to know.] KEITH: [They? Who’s they?] LANCE: [The team.]
Shiro shot the Red Paladin a look. “I told you. He told me to keep it a secret,” he shrugged. And because he had thought that was what was best, he had. Hindsight is a bitch.
KEITH: [The team? You mean you don’t want to tell them—]LANCE: [No I don’t—]KEITH: [But how will you explain—]LANCE: [My injuries? The aliens. They’re pirates. They jumped us when we split up, but that’s all the truth we tell them. I didn’t get captured or kidnapped or beaten up—]KEITH: [But you did—][Keith just listen to me!] Lance is angry, his voice filled with the same emotion he had used back in the cave. [We can’t go back and tell the team that I got kidnapped and that you killed aliens trying to get me out. We’re protectors of the Universe against the Galra, and yes against threats like the pirates, but we don’t kill. The whole reason I can sleep at night is because when we fight the Galra, I know that practically eighty percent of the time they’re just robots, and not actual living beings, just programmed toasters armed with laser guns. And the cats we do end up fighting don’t get killed because we’ve usually managed to defeat them before they join the fight, or they retreat, or… or heck, I don’t know, but I just know that we don’t kill them.]
[You didn’t kill anyone. I didn’t get captured. We were separated to make the mission faster, got caught up in a sandstorm and fell into an ambush. We got the parts we needed and we got away. End of story.If they ask questions, just don’t tell them anything that will make them think we can’t work together. I can’t keep causing more problems.]
The team look angry again, but it’s just a mask to hide their hurt. Lance truly thought they thought less of him. Enough that he forced himself to endure the pain of the fissure in his back. The idiot.
A beeping signal alerts an incoming message, Pidge’s voice the one they hear first. [Hey guys nice to see you’re— Woah, Lance are you alright? What happened?] LANCE: [Just a little run in with space pirates. We had to leave behind the shield generator, but we’ve got everything else.] [Space pirates? You mean the same—?]LANCE: [No idea, but seems like they’ve got a grudge against Voltron. You mind opening the hangar door? We’re two clicks out.] [Sure thing, meet you there. Do you need Coran to start warming up a healing pod?]LANCE: [Yeah, if you don’t mind. I could use some beauty sleep.]
A click cut’s Pidge’s feed off, Lance quickly readdressing Keith before they reach the Castle. [Keith, promise me you won’t say anything.] KEITH: [Lance—]LANCE: [Promise me.] KEITH: [Alright, I promise.]
>>--> -------------------- >>--> <--<< -------------------- <--<<
They’re not angry at Keith, or course not. Lance had asked him to keep a secret and he, respecting his teammate, had gone with what he thought best.So no, they didn’t blame him. But that didn’t stop them being angry at Lance’s decision.
“Oh god, I want to ring his skinny bloody neck,” Pidge hissed, skipping the return. They were all there, they knew that Lance had brushed them off, although now they realised the severity of what he was ignoring. “That’s not helping Pidge,” Shiro said, tone filtering into the “Dad Voice” he reserved for when the Space Kids were getting unruly. “No? Well it sure as hell helps right now. God if I could just get my hands on him—”“Well you can’t,” Keith snapped, just as bloody stressed as the lot of them. He’d rather be stuck back battling Zarkon for his life than where he was right now.
Reviewing footage was only helping so much, but the reminder that they all blatantly ignored Lance was a harder feet to swallow, watching as he dismissed himself from Coran’s care and disappeared into his room. Pidge left the feed running, waiting for his appearance while Hunk tracked the location of all the Trigamon. They saw one put the space suits by the garbage disposal, but nothing more for the moment.
After a Varga or two of staying in his room, Lance left it, heading along the corridor to no place in particular it seemed. Pacing was a particular pastime for those that couldn’t sleep, Lance’s path taking him to the lower halls. He stopped outside one door for a while, but instead of entering continued. He re-entered the infirmary, stole more supplies and shuffled back to his room, before anyone could find him not resting.
The Trigamons relatively behaved themselves whilst Lance slept, as if they knew they couldn’t get to their prize just yet. The waiting game continued until dinner. As the team and their “guests” ate in the dining hall, Lance emerged, fully dressed, from his room, looking worse of wear, as if he hadn’t slept at all. Coran suspected he hadn’t. Overuse of Eyre may have caused it, meaning the effects of the coma-like state Alteans experienced was reversed to extended periods of no sleep for Humans.
He turns back for a moment, voice clear. [I didn’t think you would join me.] Then he’s reaching out, a hand resting on nothing. [Thanks.] He continues on in silence. Yet Lance can’t seem to stop himself from turning back towards the rooms, as if he’s torn between looking for his teammates. He’s caught up in his mind, head turning as if he hears his name called, the dazed look of day dreaming wiped from his features. [Yeah, you’re right.] Because he’s talking to his hallucination.
Lance walks some more, feet letting them lead wherever, looping over as he wanders nowhere in particular. He’d outside the door in the lower halls again, then he’s walking past the training deck. By the time he’s outside the dining hall, the Paladins have already retired to their dorms, the Trigamon claiming a room on the level just below that. Except for three, that have gone to hunt for the Blue Paladin. They find him stood in a corridor. He’d stopped there, eyes glazed over, body almost limp as his mind zoned out, allowing the creatures to walk up and drug him again. An injection to the back of his neck and he crumpled to the floor. There was no fit, no convulsing this time, and the Trigamon slunk back into the shadows as Lance pulled himself from the floor. [Help me up. We need to go to the infirmary.]
They think he’s speaking to the Trigamon. But they make no move to approach; in fact they’re already on another level, scurrying back to their den like rats. Lance is on his feet, leaning against the wall, thanking no one in particular until they realise that it’s to his hallucination. He’s losing himself, quicker and quicker and no one had seen or heard that the boy needed help.
Lance makes it, just barely, to the infirmary, collapsing on the floor after downing another vial of Eyre, waking only to drag himself to the training deck. Outside, he stops. He’s arguing with his hallucination that seems to block his path. [Get out of the way. I need to train. I need to get stronger so I won’t be a burden again. I need to get stronger. What happened on Torous was my fault, and I ended up relying on Keith to get me out, even if I didn’t know he was coming to save me. I need to be able to save myself; I can’t keep relying on everyone else.]It’s hard to listen to. Harder because Lance isn’t there for Keith to tell him he’s wrong. He’s not weak. It was an ambush, it wasn’t his fault.
[What is there to believe? It’s the truth. They’re all so strong, all so good at something, and I’m just me, struggling to keep up with them. If I stop, for even a second, I’m going to get left behind. I know they all don’t think I’m worthy to be a Paladin]Allura is shaking her head. “It’s not true.” But Lance doesn’t believe that.
[If I keep screwing up then they’re bound to replace me sooner rather than later, so yeah, I’ve got to get stronger. I have to put my all in, I’ve got to reach their level, I can’t slack, I can’t take things easy, we’re not kids, this isn’t a game, Lance this is war.]
The boy stopped, eyes wide, mouthing the words that ring too true to Shiro’s. He looked like he was panicking, but the moment passed. He took a breath and tried again.
[They can’t trust me at the moment. I keep screwing up. The cargo-ship, on Torous, god knows they think me and Keith can’t speak three words without wanting to kill one another. If I can train, I can get stronger and…] He trailed off, fighting more than just his hallucination that won’t let him train. [I need to get stronger, so that no one else will have to put their lives on the line because of me.]
That is his true fear, Keith realises. Not that he’ll be replaced or shoved to the side. He fears making a mistake that will cause another to get hurt. Or worse, lose their life.
Keith stared at the boy he thought he knew. He thought he knew Lance, funny, jokey, not really all that serious until he needed to be. At first, Keith thought him stupid and cowardly, thinking Lance to be ignorant and naïve when he cracked jokes through the mission. He thought it was because Lance didn’t know how to be serious, didn’t understand the situation that needed brains and thinking and concentration. Not jokes and puns and bubbling laughter. But then Keith came to understand him. Or thought he did. He thought he saw the smiles as reassurances to Hunk and Pidge, he thought the jokes were there not to mask his own cowardice, but to take the edge off of fear the others may have felt as they faced the Galra horde. He thought he understood Lance. But Keith was wrong. They were all wrong.
Even Hunk and Pidge who had spent the most time with him, back at the Garrison while all he thought about was making Shiro proud and desperately searching for a way to find Shiro alive and well. Coran and Allura only knew Lance for a short time, but they were just as surprised to see the real face behind the mask, vastly different to Lance’s portrayed character.
It seems Lance wins the fight against his companion, or himself, because he’s entering the training hall, verbal instructions his only words as the room warms up. Lance is more aware of his surroundings now, drawing out his bayard before he’s fully stepped into the training ring, calling out the start of the training regime. His motions are robotic yet with the fluidity of water; every movement precise and smooth that has Keith utterly entranced. No move, no feint or blow is wasted. He has perfect balance, perfect form as he rolls and dives away from the gladiators. When one blow crashes into his right thigh, Lance pulls back. But instead of calling out defeat, he forges through the pain, taking the combatant out with a triple shot to its face.
The androids fall at his command, slow, stop and get back up when he wants to try moves again and again until they’re practically flawless. There’s no unnecessary talking and after three vargas, Lance has barely broke a sweat. How often did he do this? Just how advanced was he? And he still thought himself lesser than them all?
It is late at night when Lance sheathes his bayard and begins training hand-to-hand, his movements less sure, less precise, his body taking damage where punches and kicks break through his guard. Just when Hunk says he can’t watch anymore, Lance calls out for the end. His body can give no more and he retreats back to his room, blanking Coran, Shiro and Hunk who come knocking for him. They see Keith walk past the door, staring intently several times and even the mice squeaking outside his door, running around, making noise to try and draw the Blue Paladin out.
But then comes the banquet, and while the team party and let themselves be distracted by the Trigamon, Lance brings himself from his room and finds himself outside the banquet hall. He looks in, watching them, but makes no move to join them. He wears a tired expression, sadness pulling at the corners of his mouth. He tucks himself into his hood and leaves them, returning to his room.
The Trigamon’s distraction stretched well in the night and some of the following morning too. Sometime between midnight and very early morning the Aliens began to tire, settling down on the sofas in a giant snuggles pile. Shiro carried Pidge to their room, the other Paladins retiring as well, disappearing into their own quarters, just as the corridor lights began to illuminate, guiding a lonely sharpshooter to the training deck.
>>--> -------------------- >>--> <--<< -------------------- <--<<
The team watched as Lance fell forward, his legs catching him before he could crumble into a tangle of limbs on the training deck. Hunk threw up his hands, watching as a gladiator’s blade cleaved downwards, sparking against the floor, right where Lance had been, just before he rolled away. They heard his panicked yell, [stop training programme,] before letting himself collapse to the floor. He was breathing heavy, eyes closed.[Tired,] he whispered, the recording only just picking the words out the gulping breaths, Lance inhaling air like a man who found water in the desert. [I can’t,] he said, fighting with himself, the word a broken sob between gasps.
But the boy could and he knew that, struggling to his feet, body drenched in sweat, his face twisted as he body titled. He didn’t fall, but he wasn’t quite standing. He fell once, twice and didn’t rise afterwards, body succumbing to sheer exhaustion. But Lance’s sleep wasn’t peaceful and he woke periodically, calling out for an “Anadón” every time he opened his eyes. His words, in his mother’s tongue, were lost to them, slurred and pulled by sleep as Lance drifted back off again.
When Lance wakes, he doesn’t retire to his bedroom as he had the time before. Instead, he takes himself to the observation deck, seemingly oblivious to Keith and Shiro who enter, train, and leave all while the boy leans against a corner wall, hand caressing thin air and a soft voice the speaks. To Anadón. His hallucination.
The day passes quickly, with the team kept from Lance. The Trigamon too. They hunt for him, but he’s not found in the nook of the observation deck and for that the team are thankful.
The boy lets his body rest, his mind lost to reams of information stored in glass caches, pulled from little units in the observation deck. Anadón keeps his company and they talk. [It’s okay Anadón. I’m not tired.] They don’t know if he’s lying or not, but he looks at peace, just reading. “That explains it then,” Coran mutters, and they watch as Lance learns the secret to withdrawing another mark. He curses Coran for “babying them” before taking to the sparring ring just to try the voice commands that he’s found. The team watch as the gladiators act more programmed, their movements strategic. Of course Lance flies through the simulations with an almost bored expression, every now and again calling out to Anadón, or thanking him.
When his movements began to get sloppy, Lance called an end to training and ransacked Coran’s Eyre supply. He found Eleiryian too and coated that on the skin he could find without removing his suit. “That foolish boy,” the doctor whispered, eyes watering as he watched the damage unknowingly inflicted. Lance was simply trying to bypass the pain, unknowingly dealing himself more damage with every vial downed, every administration of the gel that numbed his body and his mind.
The real enemy here is Lance, destroying himself in an attempt to get stronger. He thinks he has something to prove, he thinks that just hammering through all the walls he builds to block himself will be enough. And maybe it would’ve been. But something made Lance leave, even as he excels in combat.
Hand to hand is his next opponent, cursing in misery as he thinks himself a failure, facing twenty six and only taking out three. Before he can be overrun, he barks out a command that stills the bots in their positions.Then he’s trying again, better, stronger, laughing as he rolls far from his attackers. Then he abandons his task and draws his bayard.
They all watch, baited breath, as a pulse radiates in the Blue Paladins’ hands, his bayard shaking. And suddenly it’s shifting its form and Lance holds his gar in the light, electricity arcing from its tip. A laugh causes him to lose focus and it disappears from him, but then it’s back, held out Just as a gladiator charges forward, Lance spearing the castle technology as electricity shot from the tip like a lightning bolt, the gar lighting up with Altean Energy.
Lance let out a bark of laughter, pulling his gar from where he’d lodged it in the gladiator’s chest, lifting it up with a satisfied whoop of excitement. But something jarred him. The Bayard shone blue, Lance’s grip weakening as it morphed, the light like elastic, snapping back into the first mode, leaving Lance’s hand burning from the sudden rush of energy. He laughed again, but it was weaker, forced almost. He was unable to keep his grip on the handle as his Bayard clattered to the floor.
[Blue, Blue I did it,] Lance said excitedly, turning in the room as if she was there, his eyes searching. [Blue, I did it.] But Blue must’ve not been happy. Lance’s smile vanished, his words unsure. [B-Blue?] He speaks as if she understands, his words dying on his lips. [It’s not, Blue, I know what I have to-]
Blue’s disappointment is too much for him. The team hear her roar through the feed, remembering that this was what woke them all, remembering their own lions calling them from sleep as Blue and Lance fight inside his mind.
The boy crumples to the floor, holding his head, ignoring the tears that stream down his face, the begging sobs for Blue to forgive him caught in his throat. [Please don’t fight.] Lance whimpered, pressing his fingers to his temples, trying to block out whatever he can hear.
Keith sees himself on another screen, bursting out his room, nearly crashing into Shiro. Hunk is banging on Lance’s door, Pidge shoving him aside and the door is opening. Lance isn’t in there, but they don’t know that, and then they’re running to find him, spurred by the worry they share with their lions, concern for Blue who thunders in the hangar, roaring for someone to save her Paladin. They failed her.
[I’m sorry Blue, I’m sorry, please stop. Stop fighting,] Lance whimpers, knees buckling and he’s laid on the floor of the training deck, curling in around himself to block out the sounds in his mind. He tries to block out the sounds of Keith too, who has finally found the boy in pain, pulling at hands that try and block out sound, sight, pain.
Pidge skips that too. They don’t need to listen to Lance brushing off help, so they don’t. They know now he doesn’t sleep; only waiting for the crowds to disperse before he’s in the training room, fighting, punching his way through horde after horde. The only rest he gets his when he passes out, then he’s up, fighting again, digging his own grave deeper and deeper, taking longer and longer to come up for air. Keith and Shiro force him to stop of course when they find him that morning, not hiding on the observation deck, but pinned beneath a spar bot, cursing and screaming because he can’t seem to get one move right, he’s fed up with calling out for the training regime to end. It’s Shiro who ends it, rushing over dragging Lance out from underneath the Gladiator, giving him a once-over to check that he was alright. There’s no questions, no lectures. Just space, because that’s what Keith and Shiro thought the boy wanted.
They let him leave with no qualms, focused on themselves and their training while Lance wonders the corridors, slipping in and out of dissociative episodes that leave him stood, mindless, or crumpled to the floor, muttering to himself. It’s hard to watch, harder still when Lance walks numbly past Allura and Hunk who call out. But when Lance ignores them, they don’t follow and they don’t pester. Hindsight was a bitch.
Lance’s wandering continues, taking him from the training hall, down to the lower corridors, to the bridge, the kitchen, the infirmary. Then finally, he’s in the entrance hall, seventeen floors above, staring down at the grand staircase sweeping between the first and third levels with a blank look on his face. Hunk lets out a distressed noise when he sits on the railing, his legs swinging over the drop. And then he’s talking, breaking their hearts with what he tells his companion.
[Of course. I think I will always miss it. It is home after all. It’s where my family are.]
[Maybe. Once. But they’re not family anymore. Family cares for you. They don’t care for me, and not me for them. Not anymore.]
[I want to go home,] Lance says, tears tracking lines down his face. [I want to go home.]
And they all are on their feet, watching as the boy drops his head, let’s go and his body is tilting forward—
[Paladin?]
It’s like all the lights turn on in the room. Their hearts in their chest, Keith’s fingers curling too tight, leaving little crescent marks in his skin as he watches Lance tumble back, back onto the balcony, on his feet, turning to see who has called to him. It is the three Trigamon. The Silver, Green and Blue. The ones that have been infecting him. [Paladin? Are you okay?] the blue one asks fake concern in their voice because they know, no he’s not alright, they’re doing this to him.
[I’m sorry, I was watching the stars,] Lance says, looking back up, as if he could actually see the stars. He can’t of course, but Lance doesn’t realise that. [You watch the stars from here?] the silver Trigamon asks, looking up to the ceiling too. It ushers to the Green, and in the quickest or motions, it is behind Lance, the contraption in its furry paw, the needle pressed into Lance’s skin as he injects him with another dose of Sugkie. Lance doesn’t feel it, he won’t, he’s completely numb. [Not always. But here is quiet.]
They’re satisfied with Lance’s response supposedly, talking with him, continuing even when he doesn’t talk back. They have to repeat themselves sometimes, but with every time, their creepy grins only grow. They continue this until noise distracts Lance and he looks over the balcony to where the other Trigamon make a show of leaving, thanking the Paladins and disguising the fact that three of their pack are not with them.
[Will you join them?] [No.] The answer is quick and blunt. Because no, Lance does not want to join them.
[You don’t want to be with them?]The Silver has the audacity to sound surprised. [They’re busy,] Lance says, lying through his teeth. His anger builds, easy to see, dismissing himself quickly without turning back to the three that are not finished with him yet. [Tonight?][We’ll have to administer the rest of the dose. We can’t stick around longer than Nix’s moon cycle. Gereen will be growing impatient.]
>>--> -------------------- >>--> <--<< -------------------- <--<<
When the team finally found Lance in the training hall, he’d already been fighting, and had taken down dozens of combatants by himself. The last one was from a horde of twenty, but now it was alone.
Lance executed moves with precise movement, making the motion of fighting the skilled bot child’s play. Perhaps it was for an Altean child, but when Keith turned to look at Allura and Coran, they both wore mixed expressions of awe and shock. And maybe a little fear.
[Lance, what did I tell you about training alone!] Shiro had been worried; they all were, thinking Lance was pushing himself too hard, too soon after Torous. They were right of course, but they hadn’t known then.
[You told me not to.] Lance’s attitude was the first sign that all was not well, but they’d been blind to it. [Lance—][I want to train Shiro. You can’t keep stopping me. I’m healed already; never mind the cryo-chamber.] He thought they were only there to get in his way, thinking they didn’t want him to train because they didn’t want him strong [It’s not about stopping you; it’s about you pushing yourself. Training is good, and you’re getting better I can see that, just from that there. But, Lance you’re doing it by yourself. What if something happens? What if you’re knocked unconscious or your hurt yourself bad and no one is here to help you?][Keith trains by himself, and you never say anything to him about it.] [I trust Keith to be able to take care of himself.]
Lance can’t hear the concern. He can’t tell that they’re only there to help him, they care about him, they love him. But it’s already too late.
[Fine, you don’t trust me. What else do you want to get off your chest?]
“Do we have to watch this again?” Keith asks, but Shiro points out neither Allura or Coran were present for the initial fight. “You don’t have to if you don’t want to Keith. We’re almost finished reviewing the feeds anyway.” The big guy was the first to excuse himself, mumbling an apology before he slipped out. Pidge hurried after him at a trot as the scene unfolded in harsh argument.
[Don’t speak to him like that! Look, whatever’s up with you at the moment is your problem, but stop taking out on him. He’s just trying to help.][Oh, and you are too?] Lance growled, turning on Keith who had moved to stand up for Shiro. [You think, just because you think you know more than them that you know what’s going on. But then, I’ve bet you already told them. I bet you told them as soon as I turned my back, all of you, having a lovely little tea party without me while you talked about all my mistakes—] [I didn’t say anything. You made me promise and I kept that promise. But then you clammed up and you didn’t say anything to anyone, so of course we’re going to worry about you—][Worry about me?] Lance scoffed; his smile so obviously fake. It had always been fucking fake and why couldn’t they see that. Why could they see his true feelings?[Yes worry about you! These past few days have been stressful enough, and this is the third time me and Shiro have caught you in here when we all know you still need to heal properly. We even said, “don’t train until Coran has checked you over,” but you didn’t listen and you’re back here. Recklessness is meant to be my flaw Lance, not yours.]
And that was as much patience as Keith could manage, as he gave his own apologies and left the Bridge and the sounds of him and Lance fighting. The last time he saw him. And Lance had tried to kill him. |
Sirius knocked on the door again, his first attempt having received no response. He took this as an opportunity to take in the place, shifting to look around at his surroundings.
He stood on the step in front of the nondescript, homely cottage, which was just as about as depressing as he’d expected when Albus had given him the coordinates of Remus’ “current living situation”. Another emotionless husk of a home for the man who refused to take up more space than was absolutely necessary; Remus, who would willingly fall on his own sword before taking what was rightfully his. The same man who had believed him to be a murderer capable of killing his own best friend for over 12 years.
Sirius took a step back and pulled out his wand, prepared to let himself in if necessary, but dropped his arm when he finally sensed movement behind the door.
The door swung open and Remus appeared, drying his hair with what looked like a hand towel, eyes wide and mouth slack like he’d seen a ghost. Sirius scanned the man in front of him, not bothering to disguise the gesture, drinking in everything that’d changed since their reunion almost a year ago, everything he wasn’t able to notice on that panicked night, distracted by accusations and moonlight.
He started at the bottom and worked his way up, cataloguing Remus’ bare feet and too-short trousers, his gauntness, looking much like he had after arriving on the Hogwarts Express at the start of their fifth year, surprised at having sprouted nearly half a dozen inches over the span of the summer months. Hands, still large and lovely, criss-crossed with more scars than he remembered. Shoulders hunched in, the posture of a man who didn’t frequently take guests.
And his face, oh , his face. This, Sirius remembered from their last encounter; he was beautiful—breathtakingly so, even after so many years. Sirius stared up at Remus’ face, taking in every new contour, wrinkle, scar. Eyes wide in—shock? Confusion? Sirius couldn’t place it, not used to interpreting others’ expressions and his memory still failing him in so many ways.
As he continued to stare, trying to puzzle it out, Remus cleared his throat.
“It’s you.” Remus avoided his gaze, looking around and behind him, unsettled.
“Albus didn’t tell you to expect me?” Sirius asked. Sirius didn’t pretend to know what was going on in the old man’s head, but not owling Remus to warn him of his arrival seemed especially cruel.
Remus shook his head.
“No, he did, it’s just—I didn’t—“ If anything, Remus looked even more unsettled. Wanting to put the other man out of his misery, but feeling completely out of his depth in how to go about it, Sirius really stared at Remus now. The man was stammering, unsure of himself, a look that Sirius hadn’t seen on him since they’d been at school, back in the early days, before they’d been comfortable with each other. Before Remus had trusted them. Back when he’d had no reason to have any faith in them.
“Didn’t expect me to show?” Sirius smirked, eyes sharp and without mirth. He hadn’t known what to expect from Remus, but this fumbling hesitation wasn’t it. He didn’t like it. Sirius knew his presence was merely to be tolerated, but he’d much rather have it out with the other man than be tiptoeing around each other for the foreseeable future.
Remus deflated, signaling Sirius’ failure in sparing the man more misery, but he let Sirius in the door. Small victories, then.
As Remus led him in, Sirius took in the place. Not that there was much to take in—the door opened into a small living room, with a tiny kitchen to the left and presumably the only bedroom and bathroom to his right. The inside was just as unremarkable as the outside, and would seem almost uninhabited if it weren’t for the books stacked up, covering nearly every surface Sirius could see, and a significant portion of the floorspace as well. Remus crossed the room in a few long strides, expertly avoiding the teetering stacks, putting as much distance between them as he could given the tiny space. His eyes continued to dart around, landing everywhere except on Sirius.
“Well, erm—“ Remus started, voice too loud for the quiet of the cottage, surrounded by nothing but kilometers of countryside. He stopped almost immediately as his eyes finally fell on Sirius. The moment lingered between them, and Sirius raised his eyebrows, unsure how to react.
Voice softer now, Remus tried again.
“Now that you’re here, I suppose...” Remus glanced around the room, as if the answer for how to finish that sentence lay among the books or blank walls.
Sirius was at a loss. The night they’d reunited was full of euphoria—witnessing the pieces of his plan finally falling into place, feeling Remus’ skin against his own for the first time in over a decade, finally properly meeting Harry—and despair—Wormtail’s escape, their unexpected run-in with the wolf, having to say goodbye to Harry after so little time—yet this version of Remus was nervous, hesitant, clearly holding back. Why? Sirius felt wildly unprepared to deal with the man in front of him.
Desperately hoping answers would reveal themselves with proximity, Sirius followed the other man into the room, careful not to disturb the books that surrounded them.
As he approached Remus, he was taken aback by the sense-memories that hit him. Sirius had forgotten Remus’ physicality, what it felt like to be near him: the space he took up, his smell, almost overwhelming in the small room. Sirius had forgotten the way the corner of his mouth twitched when he wanted to say something, the way his eyebrows knitted together when he was trying to solve a problem, both tells crossing his face as he stared back at Sirius. The air around them felt magnetic, almost as if there was magic bouncing between them, sharp and tingling as an electric shock. Sirius was struck with the overwhelming desire to bury his face in Remus’ neck and not come back up for air.
Losing himself in the intimate feeling of their togetherness, Sirius almost didn’t catch it when Remus finally broke the silence.
“—Cigarette?”
“Hm, sorry?” Leaning back from where he’d started to sway into the other man, Sirius felt dazed, and Remus looked back at him in confusion. “I said, do you want to go out for a cigarette?”
“Oh—sure, I suppose.” If they were smoking, at least he didn’t have to speak, and really, Sirius didn’t feel to be in the position to turn down any of Remus’ proposals.
Remus patted his trouser pockets, pulled out a pack of cigarettes, and opened the back door, which led out into a poorly-kept garden. The steps were clear, though, and Remus sat down on the top one, stretching out his legs and leaving room for Sirius to sit next to him.
As Sirius took his place beside the other man, Remus pulled his wand out of his back pocket and lit the tip of the cigarette he’d pulled out. He took a long drag, gazing out over the garden in the late afternoon sunlight.
“Dunno why I always do it out here, s’not like there’s anyone to be bothered if I smoked in the house,” Remus mumbled, quietly shaking his head.
Sirius tried to parse Remus’ comment, feeling he was missing something, another layer of meaning, perhaps. “Yes, well, probably for the best, what with all the paper in there, y’know?”
Remus looked back at him, slightly bewildered.
As he breathed in the smell of smoke, Sirius’ mind took him back to late nights in the astronomy tower, the two of them passing a shared cigarette back and forth. He pondered their circumstances: why had they always gone up there? Why not just stay in the dorm? It had always been so cold, nothing like the muggy June heat that surrounded them now.
Remus passed him the cigarette, and for just a moment, their fingers brushed. Sirius felt it more in his chest than his hand—the aggressive jolt like a miniature heart attack he forced himself to ignore.
As Sirius raised the cigarette to his lips, trying to remember, he took a deep inhale in. Suddenly, as if the familiar taste had unlocked a hidden door in his mind, it hit him. The smoke—it had been James that had hated the smell, banning cigarettes from their dorm room on principle, refusing to budge despite Sirius’ pleading. All the evenings spent with Remus because of that, just the two of them, skinny legs dangling in spite of the chill of the astronomy tower. And Remus still wouldn’t smoke in the house, because of—
Sirius immediately started choking. He blamed it on the shock of the memory combined with the fact that he hadn’t touched a cigarette in 12 years, but as Remus’ eyes scanned him, concern and guilt written all over his face, Sirius didn’t have it in him to explain. He finished coughing, eyes stinging, and passed the cigarette back to Remus, miserable.
He could barely keep facts straight in his head, his memories hidden behind locked doors and knitted together, nearly impossible to distinguish from one another. He’d been living rough, on his own for nearly a year now, and even rougher in the dozen years before that. He knew he looked a mess, unwashed and haggard from irregular meals. He hadn’t expected things between them to go back to the way they’d been before, knew it was impossible even if he had wanted that, but he’d hoped that at least Remus would be able to look him in the eye. Even if they couldn’t go back to what they were, maybe they could be friends.
They were the only ones left—relics from a war gone horribly wrong, left, battered and bruised, to fight the same enemy with seemingly none of their strongest players. The memories that did resurface were painful, in hindsight, but he and Remus were undoubtedly tethered to each other—there was no way around that.
Sirius reached over, plucked the cigarette from Remus’ fingers, and before the other man could say anything, took a quick pull that he let out in a frustrated huff. Remus could avoid him—or try to, in that woeful excuse of a cottage—blame him for what happened, refuse to come to terms with their past, but Sirius would not be pitied. Azkaban had taken so much from him, and after spending a year trying to gather the pieces of himself, he knew he’d rather go back on his own than be seen as a victim.
Remus eyed him, as if he expected him to launch into another coughing fit at any moment, but didn’t say anything. They sat there, together, on the steps, passing cigarettes back and forth and watching the sun set over the hillside.
Sirius broke the silence, curiosity getting the better of him.
“How’re we gonna do this, Moony?” The nickname felt intimate, a familiar shape in his mouth, even after so many years. Sirius himself didn’t know exactly what he was asking, and maybe he was referring to anything and everything: their next move, the war, them.
Remus stayed silent for a moment, his face closed off. Sirius wished desperately for the times back when he could read Remus like a book, back when the other man’s face was even more familiar than his own, but he felt locked away from those sorts of memories, his own mind slamming doors in his face.
“I’m not sure,” Remus finally admitted, quietly enough that he could be saying it more to himself than Sirius. Remus raised his gaze and met his eyes, and finally, Sirius could recognize the emotion. Remus was afraid.
Unsure what to do, but wanting to comfort the man, Sirius reached out and tentatively brushed his fingers over Remus’ knee, lightly resting his hand there.
Remus looked down at where Sirius touched him, his eyes softening. His shoulders relaxed out of the tight line they had assumed in the minutes they’d been sitting there, and while neither of them had moved, they suddenly seemed much closer, the point of contact between them burning.
Sirius didn’t know what to do. It’d been so long since he’d touched another person of his own accord, and the closeness was a bit overwhelming. As he looked over at Remus, the other man’s face seemed so near his own, and for the first time that evening, Sirius sensed no trace of nervousness.
He was getting lightheaded, the smoke and lack of food and onslaught of memories getting to him, and that combined with the look in Remus’ eyes that Sirius really wasn’t ready to unpack had him completely caught off-guard when Remus grabbed his shoulder.
Sirius flinched aggressively, and Remus immediately pulled his hand back like he’d touched a hot stove. Both men looked at each other in alarm, Remus dropping the cigarette and putting it out with his foot. He then rose, wordlessly, and reentered the house.
Sirius didn’t get a good look at his face before he left, but it didn’t matter. He was mortified. Remus had gone to all the trouble to put him up, and Sirius knew his presence was unwelcome, yet he just had to go and remind the other man how damaged he really was. No, he certainly wasn’t the attractive, carefree young man he’d been in their youth. Now, he was just a neurotic, broken man, a shell of who he once was. No wonder Remus didn’t want to be around him.
Sirius scrubbed his hands over his face and rose to his feet. Taking one more look at the disheveled garden, lit only by the rapidly diminishing twilight, Sirius turned on his heel and walked back into the cottage.
For the next few days, Sirius didn’t bother himself with anything more than moping around the house. That first night Remus had given him the bed, leaving no room for argument. Now, every night, he transfigured the lumpy sofa into something approximating a cot and slept in the living room, while Sirius spent his nights prowling the bedroom, either unable or unwilling to sleep, even he wasn’t sure. He got by on naps as Padfoot during the day, which gave him something to do besides glare out the windows or at Remus.
The issue was how ridiculously small the cottage was. Unless one of them was in the bedroom or bathroom with the door shut, they couldn’t be there together without practically bumping elbows. If Sirius had a staring problem before, it was nothing compared to now. He watched Remus almost obsessively as the other man went about daily tasks: reading, writing, looking out windows lost in thought. Sirius knew that Remus knew he was being watched, but it didn’t matter—Remus-watching became an essential part of his routine.
He did eventually try to be productive, doing the laundry or washing up after tense meals full of stilted conversation. Sirius had always been the tidy one between them, but he wasn’t going to risk messing up the books, so he left those along, instead cleaning around them, dusting and sweeping where he could. If Remus found this strange, he must not have thought it worth mentioning.
He also made further attempts at sorting the mess in his head. With Remus around, and in such close proximity, every day he was faced with a new barrage of memories resurfacing; the way Remus held a book triggering one, a rare look of amusement that crossed his face bringing up another. Sirius did his best to catalog and make sense of each of these recovered memories, trying to understand them in the context of what he already remembered or had been told of his past. It would’ve been so much easier with Remus’ help, someone to confirm whether he and James had actually transfigured the suits of armor into those floppy balloon people that Muggles place in front of used car lots. But he couldn’t shake the thought that if Remus knew the extent to which Sirius was having trouble remembering things, he’d pity him even more, and that was the last thing Sirius wanted.
There were other memories, too, ones that he knew were missing. Certain memories only Remus would be able to help him remember. Whenever one of these memories was revealed to him, perhaps by Remus passing behind him in the kitchen especially close, or one of the rare moments where Sirius caught Remus staring back, it was like he’d experienced an electric shock; the hairs on his arms stood on end, a tingling in his stomach, anticipation rising so quickly he felt he might throw up. The sensation was absolutely debilitating, and he was willing to do almost anything to feel it happen again.
Sirius noticed that Remus’ lingering looks came with startling frequency when he wore the other man’s clothes. Remus had always been a bit taller than his friends, and after that famed summer growth spurt, had absolutely towered over them, Sirius included. Sirius had never been bothered by this, and in fact enjoyed Remus’ height for purely selfish reasons, but it did make sharing clothes a bit tricky. Sirius, having shown up on Remus’ doorstep with nothing but the clothes on his back and an extra sweater tucked into his sack, had invited himself into Remus’ wardrobe without a second thought.
The last few days had left him lounging about the house wearing Remus’ old t-shirts, extra-long on him and with collars stretched enough to show a fair bit of collarbone, along with jeans that slung low on his hips and had to be rolled several times to not look ridiculous. Sirius finally had the opportunity to clean up once he’d arrived, so while he might not have been the looker he once was, he knew in theory that he was still easy on the eyes. And so did Remus, evidently.
“So I was thinking,” Remus began. They’d been circling each other like vultures all morning, and Sirius had guessed something like this was coming.
“Oh?” Sirius asked. He ran one hand through his hair, leaned over to the side, and felt his t-shirt slip further down, exposing more of his collarbone.
He watched Remus’ eyes track the motion, his mouth go slightly slack. Jackpot.
Remus dragged his gaze back up and pursed his lips.
“Yes, well. I was thinking we could go to town—it might be nice to get out a bit, see people and whatnot. We’re running out of necessities anyways, and we could get you some of your own clothes while we’re at it!” The latter half of the last sentence came out in a rush—Remus might have been flushed, Sirius couldn’t tell in the shadows.
“It might be nice to have some of your own things. You’ll be able to stop wearing my old junk, at least.” Sirius could practically hear his sigh of relief.
Sirius shifted in his seat again, this time exposing his lower stomach as he made to stretch.
“Whatever you say, Moony. You know I’m easy.” If the jig was up, he at least wanted to get a little more mileage out of it.
Remus turned away immediately, but not before Sirius spotted the flush traveling from his cheeks, downward, unmistakable this time. Well then—maybe things were looking up, after all.
Remus’ car was exactly like the house: nondescript, underwhelming, perfectly functional, in a depressing sort of way.
As they exited the house and made for the car parked outside, Sirius went to grab the keys in Remus’ hand.
“Can I drive?” Sirius asked. He’d been taught how to drive a car shortly before he’d got his bike. He’d learned from—who had he learned from? Not James, he wouldn’t have ever bothered with something so Muggle, and he doubted Remus would’ve had the patience to teach him a skill so complicated when they were 18. He looked expectantly up at Remus, whose face had gone carefully neutral.
“I’m not sure if that’s the best idea.”
“What? Why ever the fuck not?” Sirius asked, defensive.
“It’s just, I’d feel better if I drove.” Remus had clearly hoped that Sirius wouldn’t make a big deal of this, but Sirius couldn’t get past his offense. Remus couldn’t even trust him to drive a goddamn car the two miles into town—how incompetent did the other man think he was? Did he think Sirius was about to fly off the rails at the drop of a hat, or did he still harbor suspicions that deep down, Sirius was truly unhinged?
“Listen, Sirius, it’s not a big deal. I just think you should get a little more settled before taking on too much. You might overwhelm yourself.” Remus looked regretful, but Sirius could tell he wouldn’t be swayed by any persuasive bargaining. So that was it. Remus thought him a delicate flower, too fragile to do strenuous things on his own, like operate heavy machinery or be intimate in any serious way.
“Fine,” Sirius said, climbing into the passenger seat and kicking his boots up on the dash. “Let’s go.” He stared straight ahead, pointedly not looking at Remus. He heard the man let out a sigh outside the car, then open the door and get in.
They drove into the town, which was cute, in a sleepy, run-down sort of way. They stopped in the tiny grocery store, picking up eggs, milk, the Muggle sugar cereal Sirius was particularly fond of, extra chocolate for Remus. They also stopped in the thrift store, picking up shirts, jeans, and trousers, all in sizes appropriate for Sirius—Remus checked and double-checked the tags. Sirius found some particularly obnoxious band t-shirts, so he didn’t consider the charade a complete loss. They brought their bags back to the car, but before Sirius could get in, Remus stopped him.
“Hey, fancy a walk? There’s a trail through the hills just past the next block—might be nice to stretch our legs.”
Sirius thought they’d done rather a lot of leg-stretching, what with all the shopping, but clearly Remus had something in mind, and far be it from him to get in the way of one of Remus’ plans.
He nodded, smiling slightly and waiting for Remus to lead the way. If he had to guess, now that they were out of the cottage he bet Remus was angling for a proper chat. Not that Sirius was going to complain, it was actually rather kind for Remus to bring any sort of serious discussion about their history onto neutral ground. But Remus was always good at that, though—being rather kind, that is.
They hiked around the outskirts of the town, leaving the quaint buildings far behind, and heading into the hillside proper. Tall grass surrounded them on either side, and the early summer sun was hot on the back of Sirius’ neck.
They’d been walking for nearly 15 minutes, with Remus deliberately avoiding his eyes, when Sirius couldn’t take it anymore. He turned toward Remus and slowed his pace.
“Let’s have it out, then.”
It took Remus a moment to react, but he slowed as well and turned himself to look blankly at Sirius.
“I know you didn’t bring me here just to have a look at the scenery,” Sirius said. He was starting to get annoyed with the coy act.
Remus sighed. “Sirius—“
“Don’t Sirius me,” Sirius interrupted.
Remus was starting to get frustrated. Good, Sirius thought to himself.
“I don’t know what else to say!” Remus snapped, gesturing wildly at the nothing around them.
Sirius stopped completely now, and they looked at each other a moment.
“You don’t trust me anymore. You haven’t for a long time. Before the war, probably.” Sirius had been considering those words for a long time.
“Sirius—“
“No, just let me say this. We didn’t trust you either. I didn’t trust you. You were always gone, doing this and that, supposedly for Dumbledore, but you could never give us any details—what were we supposed to think? We knew there was a spy, and you couldn’t look anyone in the eye, not even me. I tried to tell myself you were always a shit liar, but trying to get you to say anything, to just talk to me, was like pulling teeth. So when Peter and I switched I—“ he took a deep, shuttering breath. “—I thought I was keeping them safe. From you.” Tears welled up as he continued.
“And I’ll never forgive myself for that. Because I loved you, Moony, I really did. But I had no faith in you, and it cost me everything.” The tears that had been stinging his eyes were now falling in fat drops down his cheeks.
Remus didn’t reach out to touch him, but he started to speak, quietly at first.
“I knew it was a mistake. Keeping everything from you all, that is. But you especially. There had never been any secrets between us, but suddenly I was building a wall, and I told myself it was to protect you, but really I think it was to try and protect me.” Remus’ voice was getting tighter and tighter. “God, I loved you so much. It scared me, how much I loved you. I didn’t know who to trust, and in a sense I was only sure of two things: that I couldn’t trust anyone, and that I loved you. And the worst part of all, after it was all over, was that I still loved you!” Tears fell from Remus’ eyes now, too.
“They told me what you had done—I won’t pretend to have seen through it. I believed every word they told me. But I still loved you, Pads, and every day it killed me just a little bit more.”
Sirius was shaking with silent sobs at this point, and through his tears he could see Remus’ composure had similarly been lost.
“Well, we’ve really fucked ourselves up, then, haven’t we?” Sirius said.
Remus chucked, wet and a little hysterical.
“I suppose so.”
Their conversation didn’t really fix anything, but it didn’t make anything worse, either, so that was something. Sirius still spent his days split between trying in vain to fix his brain and watching Remus do the same three things on repeat.
The issue was that their conversation hadn’t revealed any information that he didn’t already know. He had years of evidence—well, maybe not anymore—to prove that he and Remus had loved each other—memories of them saying it , for Merlin’s sake! He didn’t need confirmation that Remus had loved him back then, he needed to know if he loved him now . Was the chasm—all the pain, the war, and the years spent apart—too much? Was Sirius too broken to love now? Remus had said loving Sirius had killed him—that didn’t seem a good sign. But still, he got feelings, inklings… Remus would look over at him, or touch him lightly, without thinking, and Sirius couldn’t help but wonder if they could again have what they’d lost.
His own brain wasn’t helping matters, however. He hadn’t exactly been in the best place, emotionally, that is, going into Azkaban, so in an ill-advised attempt to salvage himself in there, he’d gotten into the habit of forgetting his own existence. While imprisoned, he could go days, weeks even, without a memory or thought of himself. That way, he never risked a positive thought for the dementors to target him for, and he was left alone, for the most part. It was a very rudimentary form of legilimency, but as much as he despised the practice, he owed most of his remaining sanity to it.
The problem was that this was a very difficult practice to get out of the habit of doing. It was not uncommon for him to find himself roused by a gentle touch from Remus, having accidentally ‘gone away’ for an entire afternoon. He knew this concerned the other man, but with so much left unspoken between them, he didn’t know how to explain it. Remus already treated him like glass, like he’d break if handled roughly, and it made Sirius want to scream.
They didn’t touch, except for when they did. Remus passed him his tea yesterday afternoon—their fingers brushed, only for a second, but they both jerked like they’d been burned, the cup dropped and hot liquid splattered all over the floor, physical evidence of their own hesitation toward one another.
The Moon arrived, signaling passage of time in the face of everything. The morning before, Remus still hadn’t mentioned Padfoot, so Sirius didn’t bring him up. He wanted to help, desperately so, and all the new scars marring Remus’ face and hands told him that the other man could use it. Still, they tread so lightly around each other these days, Sirius didn’t know how taboo any mentions of the Wolf would be taken. He resolved to bring it up later that evening—ever the procrastinator, even with nothing enjoyable to put things off for.
Sirius had managed to cajole Remus into taking his bedroom back, convincing him that he got absolutely no use out of it, as he didn’t sleep properly anyways. And really, Sirius couldn’t stand to see Remus walk around all hunched-over anymore, like he was 30 years older than they really were. As Remus exited the bedroom that morning, he headed straight to the kitchen, but over his shoulder, he called to Sirius.
“You know, I’ve been meaning to tell you, some of your old things are in the garage outside—you might want to go through them at some point.”
Sirius hummed noncommittally, but was secretly intrigued. Why did Remus have all his old things? Why hadn’t they been thrown out?
He spent the morning puttering around the cottage, not wanting to seem too eager, but by lunchtime he couldn’t hold out anymore. He may have been listless, but he was also bored out of his mind, so he headed out to the garage and pulled the door up.
The room was dusty and didn’t look like it’d been touched in years. Boxes lined each side wall and took up most of the room. Sirius glanced inside the open ones, mostly uninterested, and saw assorted papers, books, and trinkets. He wondered, but didn’t want to get his hopes up, until he lifted up on his tip-toes and spotted, behind a particularly tall stack of boxes—
“Yes!” He let out a whoop of joy at the sight of his bike, dusty but whole. The sight of her still brought the rush he got the first time he laid eyes on her, and he immediately scanned the rest of the room, looking for anything he might use to—
He spied a toolbox on the far end of the garage, which he immediately grabbed and then sat down to work on the bike, genuine contentment filling him for the first time in what felt like a very long time.
Somewhere along the line, a memory resurfaced that reminded him how often he used to get carried away tinkering on the old girl. More time must have gone by then he realized, because while he came into the garage at the peak of the afternoon, he could tell by the slant of the light that it was now almost twilight.
He heard footfalls by the door, and soon Remus was there.
“Ah, you’ve found her then.”
Sirius didn’t raise his head, but replied.
“Yeah, and she’s in a right state after sitting here useless for so long.” He grunted, finished using the large wrench to tighten the bolts holding the back wheel together. Finally looking up, Sirius smiled. “It’s alright, she’s got me back now.”
There was a small smile on Remus’ face, almost wistful, but he turned to leave.
“Well, I’ll leave you two alone.”
“Wait, Moony-“ Sirius started, not knowing what to say, but not wanting to let the moment slip past them. “Can you hand me the smaller wrench while you’re up? I can’t reach it.”
The garage was not large, and with the bike having been pushed up against the far wall to make room for other junk, the space Sirius had wedged himself and his tools into was downright minuscule. It was frankly ridiculous, farce plain as day, for Sirius to ask Remus to hand him something that he could easily lean over and grab for himself, but if Remus saw through him, he didn’t say anything.
Crossing the garage in a few long strides, Remus moved past the bike and behind Sirius himself to grab the wrench. Sirius was made aware of exactly how small the spot he’d chosen was as Remus’ chest brushed his back, the other man pushing up against him. Remus rifled around the toolbox for what felt like hours but simultaneously only fractions of a second. They were touching, shoulder to hip, and it was glorious.
Sirius started to lose himself in it: the warmth that Remus gave off, his solidness, the harsh smells of motor oil and leather from the garage mixing with Remus’ unique scent, tannin and Muggle paperbacks and something uniquely Moony. It was heady, and before he knew it, a familiar feeling below his belly button began to stir. Through the heat of Remus on his back and the garage, its scent now redolent, overwhelming his senses, and the tug of—it couldn’t be— arousal in his belly, the sudden increase of pressure on his back didn’t register, until—
“Fuck—“ Remus gasped as he grabbed onto Sirius’ shoulder for balance, having almost fell over after reaching down for the wrench, and nearly sending himself, the bike, and half the stuff precariously balanced near them toppling to the ground.
Sirius reflexively grabbed Remus’ hand on his shoulder, covering it with his own to help steady him. The skin-to-skin contact set his nerves singing, and he looked sharply at Remus over his shoulder at the same time as the other man.
Their eyes met in a moment of wild panic, neither sure how to proceed. They stayed there for a second, neither making a move, both seemingly holding their breath. Remus’ scent was even more intense face to face.
Remus was the one to break the silence.
“You’ve got a—“ he set the wrench down on the seat of the bike and gestured with his now-free hand toward his own right cheek, which, Sirius belatedly realized amid his own haze, was stained red. Sirius raised one eyebrow, half in confusion, half because he didn’t trust his own voice at the moment.
“Oh, just let me—"
And then Remus reached out and tried to wipe at the grease stain on Sirius’ cheek with the pad of his thumb. Sirius could feel his own cheeks flaming, suddenly aware of how close their faces were to each other now, but couldn’t help himself from reaching up to grab Remus’ wrist.
Remus’ thumb stilled, and Sirius in turn began to rub his own thumb along the thin, translucent skin of Remus’ wrist. The other man’s breath was coming heavier now, and Sirius felt drunk on their closeness, overcome with this feeling of confidence. Remus leaned in even further and—
Sirius stilled. Pressed up against his lower back and the swell of his arse, he could feel Remus, long, warm, and unmistakably hard. He let out an involuntary gasp, nearly a whimper, when suddenly, Remus wrenched his hand from Sirius’ grasp and stood, turning away and walking to the doorway.
“I’ll see you later. Don’t wait up for me,” he said without turning around. And before Sirius had the chance to respond, he was gone.
Sirius spent the evening pacing the length of the cottage, back and forth, running the events of the afternoon over and over again in his mind, trying to figure out where he went wrong. He didn’t mean to push Remus, had only been trying to get the other man to show his hand, but he’d cocked everything up in the process. Now Remus had to deal with the Wolf, alone, because of him. While Sirius knew Remus had been handling things well enough on his own in their years apart, he couldn’t help but feel tremendously guilty, haunted by Remus’ scarred visage every time he closed his eyes.
With Remus’ form impossible to set aside, he started thinking about other elements of their confrontation in the garage. He’d certainly succeeded in producing a reaction—perhaps a little too well. His thoughts slipped in and out of focus, memories from that afternoon—of Remus, hot and hard, pressed up against him—suddenly mixing with memories from his past: his own hands on Remus’ shoulders, holding himself steady as he sucked a mark into the other boy’s neck; both of them squeezed together in a closet, rutting against each other wildly as they covered each other’s mouths to keep from making noise; his own wrists in Remus’ hands, pinned to sheets and writhing, the whole scene framed by curtains of Gryffindor red and gold.
He sat down and ran his hands through his hair, trying to get a grip on himself. He felt arousal pool in his belly, and would’ve been surprised, had he not been half-hard ever since he’d left the garage. Guilt, regret, and lust all washed over him, an absolutely dreadful combination, but he couldn’t seem to calm himself. Instead, he dove further into his own mind for the memories that had been taunting him ever since his arrival.
A certain memory stuck out to him, from when they had just moved into their apartment after graduating, Sirius realized. The apartment, paid for with Sirius’ inheritance from his Uncle Alphard, was located in central London, and while it was the size of a matchbox and a bit run down, Sirius had never been more happy. It had everything they needed, and more importantly, it was theirs.
It must have been nearly four in the morning, their friends only just having left following a raucous yet jovial housewarming party. Remus was dozing on the sofa, nicked straight from a Muggle estate sale not too far from there, but Sirius was still wide awake, having tidied the entire apartment following everyone’s rambunctious departures.
He took a moment to take Remus in, who had always been so different in sleep, unguarded and innocent. He joined the other man, cuddled up to him and whispered:
“Moony.”
“Hm?” Remus didn’t open his eyes.
“Wake up.”
“What? Why?” He said through a yawn.
Sirius leaned in even closer.
“I want to go christen the bedroom. We didn’t get the chance, earlier.”
Remus opened one eye, all mischief. If Sirius knew anything about Remus, it’s that he would always choose certain activities over sleep, absolutely insatiable, especially near the Moon. Sirius hopped up off the couch and headed toward the bedroom.
“Unless you’re too tired of course. I’m feeling tired too, now that you mention it…” Sirius stretched then, showy, knowing Remus was getting an eyeful of his exposed lower back, jeans clinging tight and low.
Sirius didn’t know if it was because of the Wolf or if it was just one of those Remus things, but the other man was deceptively strong for his build. Either way, Sirius was caught off guard, but not surprised, when Remus snuck up behind him and lifted him off his feet, throwing him over a shoulder. Sirius could barely make it out through his laughs:
“You absolute animal!”
Remus chuckled as he entered their bedroom and threw Sirius onto the bed. Crawling over the other man and baring his teeth comically, he admitted:
“Maybe—you do enjoy it, though.” Remus punctuated this statement with a kiss to Sirius’ neck, only a hint of teeth.
Present-day Sirius forced himself out of his reminiscing, feeling empty. Had they really been that happy? That carefree? Sirius felt so far away from his life before Azkaban, which hadn’t been perfect by a long shot, with beatings and disownings to be contended with, but before then he’d never been so consumed by the negative aspects of his life. Now he felt as if every day was something to get through, made manageable only by Remus’ near-constant presence—however, it seemed he’d finally managed to ruin that as well.
Resigned, Sirius fell back into his memory.
They were both naked now, and Remus was taking his time, kissing and licking over every square centimeter of Sirius’ bare flesh. Sirius was impatient, while Remus had always been partial to taking his time. Finally, he managed to pull the other man close to whisper in his ear.
“Fuck me, Moony.”
Remus’ pupils dilated at his words, but he didn’t say anything. He simply moved his hands down Sirius’ sides, muttering a wandless charm under his breath, and spread Sirius’ legs to kneel between them.
Leaning over Sirius, still not touching his cock, he kissed his face and neck sweetly, almost chastely, and Sirius was about to make a comment about getting a move on when he felt pressure against his hole. Remus was pressing the pad of a thumb, not pushing in, just pressing, teasing at his rim.
“Merlin, Remus,” Sirius whined.
Sirius was panting, fully hard now. He pried open his jeans and shoved a hand in, gripping himself. He briefly considered the wisdom of what he was about to do, but he’d been chasing every fleeting pleasure he’d happened upon since returning, and he wasn’t feeling particularly restrained tonight. It’d been ages since he’d done this, but now that he’d started he couldn’t seem to stop.
Remus was three fingers deep now, moving methodically but, Sirius contended, much too slowly. Sirius was trying to push himself down, trying to take more, faster, but Remus laid his other arm over the man, restricting his movement.
“Moony, please, I’m ready—oh—“ Whether Remus brushed his prostate at that moment on purpose or merely by chance, he couldn’t say, but the breathy sound he made cut off any further pleas.
Remus pulled his fingers out of Sirius, wiping them on the bedclothes, but instead of making moves to line himself up with the man, brought his face close to Sirius’.
Sirius thought the man was going to kiss him again, but instead he spoke softly.
“I don’t think I told you so, but this is the happiest I’ve ever been.” He said the words so matter-of-fact, Sirius was surprised this wasn’t the hundredth time he’d heard them. Still, confused, he had to ask:
“You mean, like, doing this right now? Or like, the new place, because I told you we’d find something—“ Sirius rambled, but Remus cut him off.
“Being with you. Your boyfriend. Lover, whatever.” Remus sniffed, and Sirius was suddenly struck with fear that the other man might cry. “I just love you a lot, okay?”
“Oh, you giant sap.” Sirius threw his arms around his love. “I love you too, c’mere.”
They embraced for a moment, and parted only to meet in a passionate kiss.
“Can we keep going, please?” Sirius whispered.
Remus grabbed Sirius’ arse, kneading it lightly as he nodded. He gingerly arranged them so Sirius lay on his back, legs thrown over Remus’ shoulders, and lined his cock up. For a moment he just stayed there, moving his cock back and forth between Sirius’ cheeks, nudging his balls.
“Moony, please, if you don’t fuck me for real soon, I think I’m going to implode.” Remus chuckled.
“Well, we wouldn’t want that, would we?”
At first, Sirius could only feel blunt pressure against his hole, but then the head of Remus’ cock had penetrated that tight ring of muscle, and in one smooth slide, the other man was in him.
“Move, Moony, please,” Sirius practically choked.
Remus started slow, but soon was fucking him in earnest, his balls slapping against Sirius’ arse as he nailed his prostate over and over again.
“Fuck, Moony, fuck—“
“Fuck!” Sirius practically screamed as he came, twisting in ecstasy. He relaxed, pulled his hand out of his pants, breathing hard, and looked around for something to wipe it on.
Sirius snatched a cleaning cloth from a basket of laundry and cleaned himself up, rolling his eyes at his own predictability. He didn’t know if it was in poor taste to get off to a memory like that, considering the overall state of things, or if it was just pathetic.
The rush of endorphins subsiding, Sirius again felt the wave of guilt and remorse wash over him because of their situation. He looked around the cottage, and it suddenly seemed huge without Remus’ presence. Tears sprung to his eyes as he was overwhelmed with a sudden sense of loss: for his old self, for his relationship, and now Remus himself, too.
He finally managed to doze off on the couch around dawn, but was startled awake soon after by the sound of a key in the lock. Remus appeared in the doorway, looking battered and bruised, but with no major injuries that Sirius could see. Still, the circles under his eyes were almost purple—the man was practically dead on his feet. He jumped slightly when he noticed Sirius on the couch, but Remus didn’t say a word, just toed off his shoes and walked directly to the bedroom, shutting the door behind him.
Sirius, unable to fall back asleep after Remus’ sudden entrance, was torn between taking advantage of any outlet for his nervous energy and trying to make as little noise as possible, not daring to disturb Remus’ sleep. He spent the morning cleaning quietly and obsessively, scrubbing corners and floorboards, wiping nonexistent dust off books and shelves, ways to keep his own jittery hands from turning on himself. He could’ve done it all in minutes with his wand, but there was something to be said for the laborious nature of the Muggle way; it made it more satisfying, as if the hours spent keeping up the house made their life there seem more real. When he finished, he showered, cleaning himself as meticulously as he had the cottage, sending the evidence of last night’s indulgence down the drain.
It was nearing mid-afternoon when he was finishing the washing up of his lunch dishes, still-wet waves of hair barely brushing his shoulders, when Remus finally exited the bedroom. He still looked rough, there was no getting around it, but admittedly it was an improvement upon his arrival that morning.
“I made you a plate, if you think you can stomach it. Left it in the fridge.” Sirius’ voice was tight, reluctant to overstep any lines with the other man, but his caregiving instincts had taken over.
“Oh—thanks,” Remus said, voice rough. “Yeah. That’d be nice.” The other man was acting reserved, sheepish almost, and Sirius assumed it was because of the awkwardness the events of yesterday left them in.
Remus sat down at the table and began eating, slowly, as if to keep from making himself sick. Sirius put away the last of the dishes and sat down across from him, avoiding the other man’s eyes. He wished he could go back in time, just keep it in his damn pants for once, and maybe they could’ve avoided all this trouble. He knew Remus could handle himself, but he couldn’t get over that he’d messed up this one thing, the one way he could’ve actually helped Remus somehow, a way for him to pay back the trouble of having to put up with him haunting the cottage these past weeks.
“—W’hff t’nta wn’n.” Sirius couldn’t make Remus out through the food in his mouth, so he gave the other man a scathing look for the appalling table manners. Seems you could take the boy out of high society, but never high society out of the boy, no matter how hard he might try.
Remus had the sense to look chagrined, chewing and swallowing before he continued.
“We’ll have to go into town, then.”
“Hmm, I suppose.” Sirius wasn’t exactly thrilled at the prospect of spending more time in an enclosed space with Remus, but he wasn’t about to give up his one chance to get out and stretch his legs, so to speak.
Remus finished his meal and they cleaned up together. Soon they were walking out to the parked car again, and as Sirius approached the passenger seat, Remus stopped him with a hand on his upper arm.
“Wait. Would you—could you drive, actually?” He cleared his throat. “I’m still not feeling great.”
Remus’ brow was furrowed, like he wasn’t one hundred percent sure he wanted to offer what he was offering, but Sirius was intelligent enough to see what he was doing. He took the peace offering for what it was, but, Sirius rationalized, it wasn’t like he hadn’t noticed Remus limping his way to the car in the first place; he truly wasn’t doing great, either.
Sirius, deciding not to say anything, simply nodded once and slipped into the driver’s seat, grabbing the keys from Remus’ warm, calloused fingers, pointedly not remembering what those fingers had done, where they’d been so many years before. Remus glanced down when their fingers grazed as well, and for a split second, Sirius thought he saw a look on the other man’s face that might’ve meant he was remembering the exact same thing.
They exited the grocer together, arms weighed down with bags full of tinned beans, ripe tomatoes, ingredients for pancakes at Sirius’ insistence. They loaded up the car and sped away, the summer sun still hanging over them in defiance of the rapidly approaching evening.
The energy between them had changed, any lingering tensions lost amongst bags of crisps and fresh produce. Perhaps it was the perspective thrust upon them by being forced to confront the existence of other human beings, the utter mundanity of the Muggle world; maybe they just didn’t have it in them to hold grudges in their old age. Either way, Sirius was thankful for it.
Sirius looked out the window, at the sunlight that bathed the hills in warm, golden light. He decided to take the scenic route home, desperate to prolong the feeling of freedom that these trips provided. It had been so long since he’d felt any semblance of control, but behind the wheel of the little car, it was as if all the anxieties he had about salvaging the tatters of his mental state, about his relationship with Remus—well. They didn’t fade away, exactly—I mean, the other man was right there , not particularly easy to avoid—but they suddenly felt like manageable problems. Sirius didn’t often get the sense that he was doing a good job at anything, anymore; merely a presence to be tolerated. Here, he felt like he was capable. If he could do this, at least, maybe he could make things work. He felt hopeful.
He glanced over at Remus and couldn’t keep the smile off his face. The other man had his feet kicked up on the dash and was leaning against the window, eyes closed in either contentment or genuine sleep, Sirius couldn’t tell. For all his wolfish attributes, he couldn’t suppress the thought of a cat sunning itself after a particularly strenuous morning.
Remus opened his eyes, catching Sirius staring at him. He returned Sirius’ smile, and Sirius was suddenly struck with the need to give something to this man, desperate to return to the closeness that they had slowly been returning to.
“Hey Moony?”
The use of the nickname must’ve tipped Remus off that Sirius was about to get into something, because his posture shifted slightly, deliberately casual.
“Yeah, Padfoot?”
“You know how I, er, don’t really sleep much?” Sirius cringed internally at his own bluntness.
Remus looked at him carefully, as if he didn’t want to scare him off.
“Yes, I’ve noticed.”
Sirius steeled himself, willing himself to continue.
“Well, it’s um. It’s not my only issue. There’s more, I mean.”
Remus didn’t say anything, just waited for Sirius to continue.
“Um, my head—my memories, that is. I don’t really remember stuff from before. Well, I remember some stuff, more and more all the time, really, but there’s gaps. Or sometimes I can’t tell how it’s, uh, how it’s all connected.” Sirius’ eyes were determinedly ahead, not looking at Remus.
“Before, in Azkaban,” Sirius could feel Remus tense, “I was just. It was easier, better, to not think about things. The good things. Because then, well, the dementors couldn’t take it from you, you know? So I would just not think about things. Not think about me, or us. In order to cope with it all.” His voice was shaking now, his hands too. “So I still, um, go away, sometimes. Force of habit. I know you’ve noticed.” He dared a glance at Remus, who was staring directly at him and gave a tiny nod.
“Right, and so, once I got out, I didn’t really realize how much I’d,” Sirius took a deep breath, “how much I’d locked away. I got some of it back over the last year, but not nearly as much I’ve recovered since being here.”
The “because of you” was left unsaid, but it hung between them, nonetheless.
“Some of it’ll be gone forever, maybe. I don’t know.” He finally turned his attention to Remus, whose eyes were full of concern.
“I’m sorry,” Remus said, and Sirius winced.
“No! Not about that, I mean, I know you don’t want me to—” Remus was running his hands through his hair, looking conflicted.
“I’m sorry about last night. I know—“ he broke off, suddenly reserved. “I think, at least, that you might’ve wanted to come with me?” Sirius’ eyes were darting between Remus and the road, wanting to devote everything he could to this conversation, but not wanting to break the delicate atmosphere, the spell of truth around them.
“I—yes. I wanted to.”
Remus turned to the window, looked over the hills. Sirius watched him, waiting.
“You know it’s dangerous. Circumstances have changed so much since we were kids, and because of that, things are worse in a lot of ways. There’s too much, years, really, of resentment. Between me and the Wolf.” His voice was firm, and he turned, looking pointedly at Sirius.
Sirius deflated. Remus let a deep breath out.
“But I’m not going to lie, I think you being there, Pads, would make things more… manageable. Last night, I think he could,” Remus paused, reservation returning, “smell you on me, or something. He didn’t understand, spent ages searching, howling—looking for Pack.” Sirius couldn’t stay quiet anymore.
“I want to help! I mean, I just think I could be there, and Padfoot could run with the Wolf, you know—it’s been so long,” he finished lamely. Remus, however, looked at him with genuine appreciation on his face.
“It was the least he’s torn me up in years. Going through all these Moons alone, I just—” Remus’ voice was quiet, and Sirius was struck with the gravity of what the man must have gone through in their years apart, the tip of the iceberg.
“There have been a couple of close calls. Every month I wonder if it’s the last moon I’ll see. If I refuse help from those offering it,” he looked up at Sirius with a humorless smirk, “I probably won’t have too many left.” He paused again.
“A couple years ago, the thought didn’t trouble me too much. Now though, I’ve got things to live for. People.” He let out a dry laugh.
“Albus still calls on me, but you know all about that.” Remus sobered quickly. “And Harry. Teaching was the happiest I’d been since… everything.” Tentatively, he laid a hand on Sirius’ shoulder. “And you’re back, now.” He removed his hand and looked away. “So, yeah. I think I want to stick around a while.”
Sirius was struck by serendipity of their circumstances in that moment. Two broken men, who against all odds and against forces that would destroy nearly everyone else they’d held dear, had somehow found their way back to each other.
Sirius grabbed Remus’ hand, squeezed once, and brought the other man’s knuckles to his mouth, kissing softly. As he rounded the corner to the cottage, he murmured under his breath, just loudly enough for Remus to hear:
“Alright then, Moony. Me too.”
Nearly a week later found Sirius sitting on the kitchen counter, surrounded by the comfort of late, late night. True to his confession to Remus, he still didn’t really sleep, instead losing himself in the utter silence of the cottage, disturbed only by the breeze filtering through the bushes outside or the occasional small animal that scampered past.
After the full moon and their trip, Sirius and Remus had reached a kind of equilibrium. Instead of the awkward, stilted interactions that had filled the past weeks, they were quieter, but the silence was comfortable rather than uneasy. In the evenings, rather than stare at each other and pretend like they weren’t looking, they talked; about their pasts, the memories they shared and their years without each other. Sirius asked questions, trying to suss out where the holes in his memory were so that Remus could help fill them. Sometimes Sirius would get so excited about something he’d remembered, he’d practically shout over Remus to finish the story, complete with his own flourishes and embellishments. Sometimes they would find a particularly large gap, and Sirius would spend the rest of the evening listening to Remus’ soft murmurs, going on about this or that series of events that transpired during their years together as boys.
Remus had always been a fantastic storyteller, and there were few things Sirius cherished more than the sound of the other man’s voice, rough from years of cigarettes and moons, soothing him with tales from their past. It was on these nights that Sirius often found himself teetering in that dreamlike space between sleep and consciousness, and here, more than anywhere else since his return from Azkaban, he felt truly safe.
It was inevitable—they grew closer. Sirius didn’t pretend that he was surprised, knowing that the other man was his equal counterpart in almost every way—a matching set, they were, had always been. He didn’t resist, wouldn’t have been able to even if he wanted to, but he knew he and Remus were quickly slipping past a point of no return. They had finally tapped its roots, and now the intimacy that blossomed between them was a luxury Sirius didn’t think he’d be able to give up. It made him bold and cautious in equal measure, but mostly it made him pay attention: to himself, to Remus, to how they were both together and apart. Sirius thought—hoped, really—that he saw a change in Remus during their time spent together. The other man seemed more awake, lighter, almost, like he’d forgotten, at least momentarily, about all the things that weighed him down. Sirius, for his part, knew he was better around Remus—happier, sharper, more alive than he ever thought he’d return to being. He only hoped the other man felt the same.
He shifted on the counter, having heard movement from the bedroom, when he saw Remus exit and quietly shut the door behind himself.
“You’re up late,” Sirius said as the other man crossed the room to the kitchen.
“Early, actually” Remus gestured with his shoulder to the window where, over the hills, he could see the beginnings of a sunrise peeking out.
“Ah, right then.”
“Tea?”
“Hm,” Sirius hummed, noncommittally. Leave it to the British to invent the solution for every awkward entrance, blundering occasion, passive-aggressive silence. Even they could benefit—what do one neurotic, bent, ex-aristocrat, ex-con wizard and his academic, working-class, werewolf ex-lover-slash-maybe-potential-future-lover do when greeting each other on opposite sides of 5AM? They have tea, of course!
As Remus puttered around the kitchen, Sirius took the opportunity to study him. The orangey-red light of the sunrise cast the kitchen in a sleepy glow, like the cottage had been lit by the light of a giant match, something out of a dream or one of those arty films Remus was always trying to get him to watch. It spilled across the surfaces and planes of the room, all cluttered with various books, dishes, and stacks of notes. Most significantly, it caught Remus in profile, the orange light picking up the coppery tones of his hair, the light freckles that dusted his cheekbones and neck, the long lines of his sweater-clad form in motion.
Remus let out a little huff of air, the same one he always made when the water took too long to boil, despite him being perfectly capable of using magic to speed things along. Sirius could almost hear the inevitable reply, “You know it never tastes quite right like that, Sirius.” God, he loved this man.
“I still love you, you know.”
Silence. That is not quite what he had meant to say, aiming for something more along the lines of “Thank you for letting me stay with you,” or even, “I appreciate that you’re still here after anything that’s happened between us.” But, then, those things would only have been an approximation of the truth and, as James had always said, better out than in.
Having picked up on the glaring lack of kitchen noises, he finally dared a glance at Remus. He was standing completely still, still in profile, staring straight ahead with absolutely and—clearly—deliberately no look on his face. He opened his mouth, closed it, and then opened it again, saying:
“Love me like, ‘I’m your oldest and best friend left’ kind of love me?” The blank mask was slipping, and Sirius could see painful doubt shining through. Sirius snorted.
“Remus, I think it’s been a very, very long time since we’ve been ‘friends’. Unless you still believe that bullshit I was putting on in fifth year when I convinced you that friends could do stuff as long as it was over the covers, eh?” Sirius' eyes twinkled at the memory, then looked back at Remus.
The other man looked stricken. His face, the most closed off Sirius had even seen it, barely moved as he said, so quiet it was almost unintelligible:
“Please, be serious.” The look on his face told Sirius not to take the bait.
“Remus, you are without a doubt the smartest man I’ve ever met, but you can be unbearably thick sometimes.” Remus opened his mouth to protest, but Sirius continued before he got the chance.
“I love you. Not as a friend. Not as a brother. Not as a lover.” Sirius raked his fingers through his hair, desperate to make his point clear.
“I love you as all of those things. Or, or none of those things—more than them! I’m not—this isn’t—“ he huffed, and then met Remus’ nervous eyes.
“I love you in every way I know how to love someone. You’re the only person I know who loves me, not for what I can do for you, or for what I have, or what I could be—you love me for who I am, right now. Sometimes, I feel like I’m not enough—like I’ve lost too much of myself along the way. But you remind me of everything I still have. You’re everything, Moony. You’re all I want.” Sirius could feel tears in his eyes, but stubbornly refused to let them fall.
“Sirius, I—“ Remus gripped the chair next to him, hard. Sirius spoke up:
“I know you may not feel that way about me anymore, but—“ Remus cut him off there.
“Sirius, don’t. How could I—in what universe could I not want you?” Sirius closed his mouth, wide-eyed, and Remus continued.
“I’ve loved you as long as I can remember. I genuinely don’t know who I was before I met you, before I started loving you. I never, ever stopped. When you betrayed me back at school, when I thought I might die during the war, all those years when I thought you killed them, finally, finally, when you came back.” Remus’ words were thick and heavy with emotion.
“I never stopped. I will never stop. I don’t want to. I want you, forever.” A shiver ran through Sirius at those words. Remus looked him directly in the eyes as he asked his next question.
“Are you sure this is what you really want? All of it?” Remus looked at him as if this question had a deeper meaning, one that Sirius was supposed to pick up on.
“I want to be with you, just like we used to be. I love you so much.” Sirius’ words were honest, but he fidgeted on the counter.
“But?” Remus asked, raising an eyebrow.
“But, I—“ Sirius began. “I don’t—“ Sirius cleared his throat and began again.
“It’s been so long. You— I haven’t— The last time we—“ He let out a breath. This was much more difficult than he thought it was going to be.
“There was never an opportunity for me to be intimate with anyone. I didn’t—I wouldn’t’ve wanted anyone else, even if there were. So I might not, er—perform. In the way that I used to, that is. It’s… been difficult for me, at least. You’ve seen—I tense up.” Remus was wide-eyed, clearly trying to keep his expression under control. Trying to reassure him, Sirius continued.
“Not that I can’t—and not that I don't want to! I do, more than anything. It’s just… you shouldn’t feel poorly if I don’t respond—it’s not your fault, it’s my fucked-up head, is all.” Sirius glanced up. Remus was silent for a few seconds.
“Out of practice, too, I bet.” Remus looked as if the words had escaped his mouth without consulting him first. Sirius met his eyes willfully.
“Oh, certainly.”
Remus stood in front of him, hands clenching and unclenching as if he weren’t sure of his next move. He crossed the space between the two of them, and Sirius let his legs fall open so there was room for Remus to stand between them. Remus moved nearer to him now, set his hands on the counter on either side of Sirius’ thighs. Sirius let his eyes rove over Remus’ face, noting the tiny freckles, the small spot near his ear that he’d missed shaving.
They were almost exactly the same height like this, and when Remus leaned into him, Sirius accommodated willingly. Remus’ lips brushed over the pulse of his neck, and Sirius could feel the other man’s breath tickle the fine hairs there. Sirius stretched, baring his neck even further, but Remus did nothing more than ghost his mouth up to his jaw and back down to the junction where neck met shoulder, hovering, yet not applying any real pressure. Sirius tried to take more, shifting to press himself closer to Remus, but as if he could read Sirius’ mind, Remus managed to stay just out of reach.
“Moony,” he let out in a soft breath.
“Hm?” the other man asked, lost in his own ministrations.
“Kiss me.”
Remus made his way from Sirius’ neck to Sirius’ lips, where he resumed his ridiculous hovering maneuver. Against the divot of his upper lip, down to a corner, around the swell of the lower lip, again and again, like a dance that Remus led, Sirius wont to follow.
“Remus.” He barely moved his lips to let it escape, Remus so close to him. He knew he sounded whiney now. “Please.”
Remus’ eyes met his, only for a second, as if to confirm Sirius’ meaning, but finally he increased the pressure. They were kissing, but only just. A chaste, gentle brush of lips, more appropriate for an overly affectionate aunt than the love of your life. Sirius did his best to try and deepen the kiss, but Remus’ lips were firm and unmoving against his own. Sirius pulled back slightly to look at the other man.
“What are you doing.” Sirius asked. Remus looked back at him, calculating.
“You know, I don’t exactly perform the way I used to either,” he murmured. “It’s an unfortunate symptom of the fact that we’ve reached our mid-thirties.”
Sirius threw his head back and let out a humorless laugh.
“Ha!” He barked. “Well in that case, I promise not to make fun.” Sirius schooled his face back to seriousness.
“Honestly, Moony, tell me what you’re thinking.” Remus met his eyes with a measured gaze.
“Pads, I want to go slow,” Remus said. “For me and for you,” he added, but Sirius could always tell when he was bullshitting. Sirius started a barely-there pout.
“Well, what if I want to go fast?” He asked. Remus snorted.
“Seriously!” Sirius said. “I didn’t tell you all that stuff just so you’d hold out on me in an attempt to protect me from myself. That’s not fair to me or you. I’m an adult—you need to let me make my own decisions.” Remus didn’t look totally convinced, but Sirius could tell his resolve was cracking. Sirius continued.
“What if I tell you? You can ask me, and I’ll tell you if you can go faster or if I need to stop. Please, Moony—I want to try.” He punctuated the request with an expression pulled straight from his memories—some more family-friendly than others—one that he knew had extraordinary power over Remus.
“Oh, Christ , Sirius.” Remus leaned back a bit, still standing between Sirius legs, and scrubbed his hands over his eyes. “How am I supposed to say no to that?” He dropped his hands and looked at him, blinking a bit.
“You’re not,” Sirius supplied, a roguish grin replacing the pout. Suddenly, a thought occurred to him, and the smile dropped from his face.
“I mean, that is, unless—you don’t want to?” Sirius hadn’t even considered this possibility, but he’d rather never touch the man again then force him into something he didn’t want to do.
“Which is completely fine, you know, I’d just thought, you know, because of the looks you give me sometimes, and also there was the garage the other day, but the full always did make you a bit randy, and anyways I’d never hold you to anything like that—“
“Sirius.” Remus interrupted. “Stop.” He went on. “Before you have an aneurysm—yes, I would very much still like to sleep with you.” Sirius let out a breath he didn’t realize he was holding.
“But more importantly, I want you to be sure you still want to sleep with me.” Sirius tried to interrupt, but Remus blazed on. “I want you to be sure you want to do this now . That you aren’t just trying to recreate the relationship we had before in order to make things good like they were back then.” Remus tried to keep his tone even, but Sirius could tell all of this was getting to him, and he rushed to reassure the other man.
“Remus, I know we can’t go back to then. But you make me feel things now , good things, things that I haven’t felt for a very long time. And I want to pursue those feelings, not because I remember liking them, but because I find every dumb little thing you do absolutely, infuriatingly attractive. And don’t tell me I only remember finding those things attractive, because I know for a fact that you never used to wear your reading glasses on a necklace, or fall asleep every time you read without a record on.”
Remus flushed at his words, but Sirius could tell how pleased he was.
“You like the necklace?”
“It’s the stupidest bloody thing I’ve ever seen. The house is so small it’d be literally impossible to lose your glasses.” Sirius leaned in further to whisper in Remus’ ear. “ It’s so sexy. ”
Sirius felt Remus shiver, and suddenly the other man was leaning in and he was being kissed properly for the first time in more than 13 years.
Sirius immediately surrendered himself to the feeling of Remus’ mouth on his, the slow, methodical movements stirring telltale signs of arousal in his belly. He’d forgotten how thorough Remus always was like this, frequently leaving Sirius begging for more. He knew the other man got off on it, and if he was being honest with himself, he did too.
He felt Remus’ hands on his lower back, toying with the hem of his shirt, ghosting his hands over the skin underneath. Sirius wrapped his legs around the other man, trapping him, and threw his own head back in pleasure, where it hit the kitchen cabinets lightly.
“Fuck,” he let out, and Remus attached his mouth to Sirius’ neck, kissing and biting in earnest now.
“Moony,” Sirius breathed heavily. Remus hadn’t stopped touching his back, in fact had been moving further upward, caressing the prominent shoulder blades and notches in his spine.
Remus hummed, took Sirius’ earlobe between his teeth, then licked up the curve of the shell and buried his face in Sirius’ hair, holding him close.
Remus held Sirius tightly, and Sirius stroked his back in turn as the other man pulled him even closer into himself. Speaking into his hair, Sirius could barely make out Remus saying:
“M’never letting go of you, Pads. Not again.” Tears immediately sprung in Sirius’ eyes, but, choked up, he managed:
“I know, Moons. M’not going anywhere.”
They stayed there, in the kitchen, for several moments. Eventually, Sirius disentangled himself and asked, “Can we go to bed, Moony? Please?” He used his sweetest, most coaxing voice, the one that had nearly always gotten him what he wanted. Remus eyed him, saying:
“Merlin, you’re a force to be reckoned with, even now.” He walked away from Sirius, out of the kitchen. Over his shoulder, he added, “Well, are you coming? There’s not really any point in me going back to bed alone.”
Sirius scrambled off the counter and followed Remus to the bedroom, where the other man had already laid down, still in his pajamas, Sirius now noticed. Sirius immediately crawled over him, but he hesitated a second. Remus noticed and immediately asked:
“You alright? I was just joking then, we don’t have to do anything. We can just sleep—“ but Sirius interrupted him.
“No, I’m fine,” he really looked at Remus, trying to convey his honesty. “I just… I wasn’t sure we’d get here.”
“Oh, Pads.” Remus ran his fingers through Sirius’ hair, and he leaned into the touch.
“I wasn’t sure either. I wasn’t sure if this was what you wanted. Wasn’t sure if it’d be good for us.” Remus sighed, but before he could continue, Sirius spoke up, all righteous indignation.
“Not good for us! I don’t know about you, but you’re the best for me.” He punctuated this statement with a kiss, smacking and dramatic, “The one true cure-all, phoenix tears be damned.”
Remus let out a snort of laughter, but stopped short, as if surprised the sound came out of him.
“God, I love you.” Remus looked directly at Sirius, like if he blinked the other man might disappear. Sirius leaned in close and then, unable to keep his mouth off Remus’ for a moment longer, closed the distance between them.
Damn , he had missed this. It was like rediscovering a favorite book—he knew exactly what to do, his body responding almost automatically, and every move he made, every slide of lips and brush of hands was perfectly in sync with the man under him. One of Remus’ hands had shoved his shirt up and was smoothing along his back, and the other was intertwined into his hair, pulling lightly. Remus greedily ate up every little sound he made, and Sirius would’ve been embarrassed had he not been so turned on. It was all he could do to grip Remus’ shoulders tight, lightly brushing one thumb along the soft skin near his collar. Sirius was aware of the place where their hips were connected, couldn’t put it out of his mind, their mouths connected and moving together in tandem with his rutting.
“Moony—“ he gasped as they broke apart. “ Please , I need more .”
Remus tutted at his whining, but rolled them over so Sirius was under him, pulling off his own shirt in the process. Sirius was overcome by the sight of new scars littering Remus’ torso, running his thumb over the ridge of a particularly ghastly one, which started right under the other man’s left collar bone, stretching down to his sternum, and nearly reached his bottom rib.
Looking Remus in his eyes and sensing his apprehension, Sirius didn’t say anything. There would be plenty of time to deal with the scars, physical and emotional, left over from their time apart. Right now was about starting new.
He leaned over and kissed the top of the scar, near Remus’ shoulder, gently. Then he pulled off his own shirt and laid back down, desperate to get Remus back on him. Remus didn’t return immediately, though. Instead, he sat back on his heels, looking at Sirius as if in a trance. Sirius grabbed Remus’ hand, pulling lightly, and the other man came willingly. Sirius pursed his lips. He knew he didn’t look as he once had, and while regular meals at the cottage had helped some, his ribs still jutted out, his arms too skinny from years of malnourishment.
Remus had shaken himself out of his stupor and noticed his silence, pinning Sirius with a knowing look.
“You,” he said, pausing to land a kiss on Sirius’ lips, “are bloody.” Kiss. “Fucking.” Kiss. “Gorgeous.” Kiss.
Sirius blushed, rolling his eyes.
“You don’t need to say that.”
“Since when am I in the habit of stroking your ego undeservedly?” Kiss. “I mean it.” Kiss. “A+,” another kiss, “and I’m not in the habit of giving those, either,” he added with an over-exaggerated wink.
Sirius couldn’t help himself, he chuckled, and added:
“You’re absolutely ridiculous.”
“I’m right .” Kiss. “Amazing.” Kiss. “Lovely.” Kiss. “Beautiful.” Kiss. “ Perfect .”
Sirius was starting to get restless in that wonderful, twitchy way he got when Remus went on like that, and so he closed his eyes and wrapped a leg around Remus’ back, urging the man on.
“Moony, please ,” he pleaded.
Remus continued his kissing and praises, almost under his breath now, but expanded his area of activity. He would move from Sirius’ face and neck downwards, over a nipple, ghosting over Sirius’ abdominals and lower, barely touching him and making Sirius hyper-aware of his every move. Sirius’ skin was hot all over, oversensitive, Remus’ teasing driving him totally out of his mind in the best of ways.
“Remus.” He threaded his fingers with the other man’s, pulling him up to look at him. His eyes were blown and glassy, and Sirius was sure his were a matching pair. “I want you,” he admitted through the lump in his throat, “I want you so bad.”
Sirius brought Remus’ hands to the waistband of his pajama bottoms, lifting his own hips and guiding him to pull them off.
“Fuck, Pads.” Remus looked him up and down, his gaze burning on him like a physical touch, and Sirius shuddered.
Sirius should’ve known better, but he thought Remus might’ve taken the opportunity to move things along. Instead, the other man returned to his thorough, methodical ministrations over his body, albeit now with more tongue. The sensation was heady, and Sirius felt almost drunk on it. The man moved up and down over him, to his face, neck, and chest, down to his hip bones, teasing him with soft licks and bites, kissing what felt like every centimeter of him.
Every time Sirius would think Remus was going to put his tongue where he really wanted it, the other man would skirt around his cock, which was growing heavier and more flushed by the second, and begin the trail back up his body.
“Please, Moony,” Sirius panted.
“Please what?” Remus continued to move his mouth over the mole near his left nipple.
“Please just, ngh—“ he broke off, “do something.”
Remus just hummed, muttered, “alright,” and—oh.
Sirius would remember that wicked smile Remus gave him for the rest of his life.
At first, Sirius thought Remus had played him, as the other man continued his trail down, around his cock, across the jut of his hip. Then, however, he moved further down, throwing Sirius’ legs over his shoulders, continued kissing and licking, lower and lower until—
“Fuck! ” Sirius sobbed. With no warning, Remus had licked a broad, wet stripe over his hole, and Sirius had nearly bucked off the bed in shock.
Remus immediately shot up, utter mortification written all over his features, his eyes searching Sirius.
“I’m sorry! Sorry—I should’ve—I’ll stop—“ however, Sirius cut him off there.
“Christ, don’t you dare—keep going!” He growled, throwing an arm over his eyes at the same time as he threw his head back.
Remus’ eyes were wide as saucers, but as he processed Sirius’ words, he slowly sunk back down. He began again, this time with tiny licks and nibbles up his perineum, then back down, circling around Sirius’ hole with the tip of his tongue, not entering, just applying pressure, then easing off. Altering his pattern seemingly at random, Sirius couldn’t predict what the man was going to do next, every moment leaving him alternating between begging for more stimulation and crying out, shocked in writhing pleasure.
He was in a state. Sirius had nearly forgotten—how could he have forgotten?—his certain fondness for this activity. Remus had always indulged him with alarming frequency, leading him to believe that the other man harbored just as much, if not more, of a love for it. Now, he was keening, breath coming in wild heaves, and, absurdly, he felt he might cry. His arousal had sharpened to such a fine point that it was almost painful, and he gripped the base of his cock to keep from coming. Still, he ground his hips down, back into Remus’ face, trying to coax his tongue deeper, to take more, faster.
“Moony,” he sobbed again.
Remus rose for air, wild-eyed with saliva dripping down his chin, and taking a deep breath, asked:
“What is it, love? Are you still alright?”
“I—I need more.” Sirius shook his head, “Faster, something. It isn’t enough—“ he took a stuttering breath as Remus thumbed at his hole, catching on his rim.
“I want, um—” Sirius, for all they’d already done, was suddenly shy. Remus caressed his cheek with his other hand, whispering:
“Tell me, Pads. Anything, anything at all.”
“I want to ride you.” Remus’ eyes went wide, pupils blown, and he immediately nodded and reached for the bedside drawer, pulling out a small tube of lubricant.
“Do you want to prep yourself, or shall I?” Remus touched the small of his back reverently.
“You can do it, I, uh—“ Sirius blushed. “I miss it.”
Remus kissed him deeply, then, and guided Sirius to lay on his stomach and opened the tube, squirting some out while Sirius got comfortable.
Sirius felt his finger at his entrance, which was already slightly loose from their earlier activities, but Remus still entered him with nearly unbearable tenderness.
“Moony, you can go faster. M’not gonna break.”
“Hmm,” Remus hummed, “I could.” He kissed the top of Sirius’ head. “I like this part, though. You’re so pretty.”
Sirius moaned at the combination of Remus’ words and a second finger entering him. He spread his legs and tried to cant his hips back to take them deeper, but Remus laid his other hand on his lower back to keep him still.
“Remus, please, please, I need more. Faster. You’re an insufferable tease, you know.”
Remus didn’t say anything, but Sirius could tell he was silently laughing at his back, but slipped another finger in, so Sirius took it as a win.
Finally, after what seemed like ages, Remus pulled his fingers out of Sirius and laid down beside him. Somewhere along the way, Remus had pulled his own pajama bottoms off, and Sirius took the opportunity to stare at Remus’ cock, just as long and hard and perfect as he’d remembered.
“Are you sure you still want to do this?”
“Hmm, what did we say about questioning me?” Sirius asked arrogantly.
Remus glared at him, rolling his eyes, but wouldn’t let up.
“Yes, okay? I’m sure—I’ll have you know I’ve been fantasizing about this, if it makes you feel any better.” Sirius sat up and threw a leg over Remus to straddle him. Remus looked up at him as if that might’ve been the fact to break him.
Sirius felt Remus’ cock, long and hard, nestled up between his arsecheeks, and tested the position by rubbing back against it a bit, wanting to see if he could sober Remus in a more enjoyable way.
Remus let out a sound like he’d been punched, but just to be sure, he did it again.
“Shit—“ Remus groaned, which he soon followed with a startled laugh.
“You absolute menace! You'll be the death of me—it’s a wonder they let you roam about!”
“Well, they don’t, really…” Sirius smirked, “That’s why you’ve got to put up with me, see?”
“Ah, of course. Well, I suppose I’ll take one for the team, then. I certainly wouldn’t want anyone else to have to deal with you like this.” For all the teasing, this last comment really seemed to get Remus going, if the tightening of the man’s grip on his hips was anything to go by.
Sirius lifted himself on his knees, guided Remus’ cock to his hole, and slowly began to sink down, letting gravity do most of the work. The burn was uncomfortable, but the sensation was strangely familiar, as if he’d last done this only the week before, not over a decade ago. He let the feeling overwhelm him, tried to lose himself in the feeling of embodiment, of connection to the man underneath him.
“Christ, Sirius.” Remus’ eyes were closed tightly, but Sirius’ were wide open, his jaw slack as well, as he tried to get used to the sensation. Pretty soon he felt his arse snug against Remus’ hips, and after taking a moment to fully adjust, he lifted himself up, and then slammed himself back down on Remus’ cock.
“Fuck!” “Christ!”
They both cried out at once, unable to tell who had said what, but as Sirius began to move himself up and down on Remus’ cock, both of them lost in a world of pleasure, Sirius leaned his head back and wrapped a hand around himself, lost in the utter bliss of it all. Suddenly, Remus was speaking, and Sirius had to focus hard to understand what he was saying.
“God, do you even know what you look like? I’ve thought about you like this for years, you absolute marvel.” Remus leaned up to kiss him deeply.
“You were made for this, love. Absolutely perfect, bouncing on my cock like you love it, so good for me—“
“Fuck, Moony.” Sirius was lost in pleasure, Remus’ words turning the energy thrumming through his veins sweet, like sticky honey.
“Tell me Pads, honestly, did you think of this? Did you dream of me inside you again?” Remus was looking right at him now, and Sirius could barely think straight.
“Yes, oh god, I did,” Sirius gasped, biting his lips—he felt so, so full.
“Christ, just, you, and your mouth, and fuck, this,” Remus took his cock in hand then, wrapping his hand around Sirius’, already on himself, and began jerking him in time with his own movement up and down.
“Shit, Remus, I’m gonna—“
“Come, Sirius.”
As Sirius felt a wave of pleasure overwhelm him, his orgasm hit him, and nearly seconds after, he felt Remus spill inside him. His limbs flailing, Remus pulsing inside him, Sirius felt completely disoriented, leaning over to try and gather his bearings.
Finally coming to, both of them twitching in the aftershocks, Sirius gingerly lifted himself off of Remus’ softening cock and laid down beside the other man. Remus reached over to grab some tissues to clean them both up as best he could, and then immediately wrapped his arms around him as Sirius snuggled his head under the man’s chin.
As both of their breathing calmed, the worries started to set in on Sirius again. Would they be able to make this work again? They both had so much healing to do, how were they going to handle that in light of all the work that needed to be done? What did the future hold in store for them?
Remus must have felt him tense, because he kissed Sirius’ head softly and whispered:
“Love, forget about it. Whatever it is, we’ll deal with it later. Together.”
Sirius sighed, cuddling further into Remus’ chest, and closed his eyes. A sense of calm washed over him. Remus was right—together.
For the first time in years, Sirius slept the night through.
|
Unbeknownst to his fiance, Sam had stormed out to the Impala and crawled inside. He pulls his phone out and jabs contact information for Dean, tapping his fingers against the dashboard anxiously while waiting for Dean to answer. When he finally does, he says, "I'm in the Impala. I need to talk to you."
A flutter of wings is the only warning he gets before Dean appears in the car with him. "What?"
"They want to send Dad to Hell."
"No way! Dad's already been there once, he doesn't deserve to go back!" protests Dean.
"I know, I know. We'll figure out a way around it."
"How?"
Sam shrugs helplessly. "I haven't gotten that far yet."
Dean sighs. "Okay, new topic then. Any other ideas on your crazy visions?"
"No. Dead end on that front too."
"Do you have any idea of when your visions take place?"
"No, absolutely none. It's driving me crazy, not having any answers."
Dean sighs again. "We'll figure it out, all of it. We'll keep Dad out of Hell, and we'll get you seeing only normal things." Thus saying, he turns to look at Sam, really look. "Dude. When was the last time you slept?"
Sam shrugs helplessly. "We had sex all night two nights ago, and most of the day. I didn't sleep then. And last night I got an hour before I was woken up with that nightmare or prophetic vision or whatever telling me I had demon blood."
"Why don't you climb in the back and catch a few more Zs? I'll look out for you."
Sam should do the responsible thing. He should return to the hotel, find his fiances, and discuss the definition of true evil with Michael. Barring that, he could be trying to find ways to keep his father out of Hell, or even planning his wedding. There are a lot of things he should be doing. He does none of them. Instead, he follows Dean's suggestion and crawls into the backseat, curling up into a ball. It's not comfortable, even less than when he was a child sleeping sitting up, tilted onto Dean's shoulder. But he's too tired and he drifts off without further problems.
He feels as though he's just closed his eyes when he falls into another nightmare, this one featuring him standing in Lucifer's Cage as he looks around. There's dark figures in chains, and Sam approaches one of them. The angel looks almost dead, but there's no mistaking Gabriel.
The scene changes suddenly, Mary Winchester smiling at him before she slides up to the ceiling and bursts into flame. John's voice, disjointed as he screams, "This is your fault!"
Sam sits upright. "I don't think it's going to help. I can't sleep."
"I'm right here Sammy, I can-"
"Dean, I just had another nightmare. I can't do this. It's fine. Let's just go back inside."
Sam walks begrudgingly back into the hotel. He should go talk to Michael if he's not going to sleep.
Michael is easy to find, if only because he is in the room next door to Sam's own. Sam raps on the door impatiently, ready to battle for what he thinks is right- a more equal division of the souls going to Hell, and also a way to keep his own father out of it. Michael will most likely disagree with him, and with that thought Sam pounds harder on the door.
Cas opening the door stops Sam in his tracks, because he hadn't necessarily considered that anyone other than Michael might open the door. But now, face-to-face with his brother's other fiance, Sam is left floundering for no reason. "Cas. Hey."
And when had he suddenly been unable to talk to Cas, of all people? At one point, Sam would've considered Cas a best friend.
"You don't look good."
Sam shrugs helplessly. "Nightmares, ya know? Anyway, I'm here to talk to Michael. Is he around?"
"He's in the bathroom. Showering. You could wait for him, if you wanted."
Sam sits down, flopping down on the edge of the bed. He tilts his head, hearing the faint sound of singing coming from the bathroom. His eyebrows crawl up his forehead. "That's Dean."
"He's brushing his teeth."
"So let me get this straight- your fiance and your other fiance are in the same bathroom. One of them is naked, and you just trust they're not having sex without you because you're 'waiting til marriage'"?
"Wouldn't you?"
"No!"
Cas tilts his head, squinting at Sam like a confused puppy, long enough for Dean to finish brushing his teeth and exit the bathroom, then kiss Cas long enough to make Sam vastly unconformable. Seriously, is it necessary to make out in front of him?! He is learning far too much detail about little sounds Cas makes deep in his throat when kissed. Michael comes out just as Sam is considering finding an angel blade to blind himself with.
"Good morning, Samuel."
"For the last time, it's Sam!"
Michael heaves a sigh way too similar to Dean. "Good morning, Sam not Samuel. What do you need?"
"What is the definition of true evil?"
"Why do you need to know? Wait, don't tell me, let me guess. You had a meeting with the demons today. You can't figure out how we send people to Hell. You want to revitalize the process somehow. How am I doing?"
"I want to keep my dad out of Hell."
Michael dismisses Sam instantaneously, without even turning to look at him. "Not going to happen."
"But he's a good person!"
Michael snorts.
"I'm serious!"
"No he wasn't. Your father is a bad man."
"The strength of one's convictions-" Sam begins.
Michael rolls his eyes before interrupting. "Is that what you're calling it? Strong convictions? There is nothing that makes what he did all right. He lost Mary and that was a tragedy, but that doesn't mean he had a right to hurt you!"
"He was blinded by vengeance and a thirst for revenge. He needed to make it right- and he did. He did what he set out to do. That's a good thing."
Michael huffs, storming over to sit on the chair near the bed. "What you don't seem to grasp is that just because you are doing something because you believe in it does not make it right."
"Sure, but it was a demon. That was the right thing to do."
"No, listen," Michael begins, looping his fingers around his knee, "let me put it a different way. There's a man trying to get into heaven, alright? He believed that he needed to rid the world of people who believed other than he did. So he died as a suicide bomber. Should he go to heaven?"
Sam freezes. "That is a completely different scenario," he chokes out after an indeterminate amount of time has passed. He can see Dean nearby, blatant shock written across his face. He's not moving either.
"Is it? Listen, Sam, I feel bad for you, truly I do. I know you want to help your father. I understand you idolize him, in spite of his numerous flaws. But I will not help send an evil man to heaven."
"So there's no other way?"
"No."
Sam nods. He should say something else, thank you for taking the time to talk to me, perhaps. His mouth doesn't work, though. He opens his mouth and closes it. Then does it again. He nods, then yanks the door open.
Fine. If Michael won't help him, Sam will be sure that his idea to rescue people from Hell gets through with the demons. He and Dean will do it when their dad dies. And if Dean won't help, Sam will go it alone............................................................................................................................................................................................................Instead of going to find Lucifer or Gabriel, Sam grabs his laptop first. He needs to come up with various propositions, more extensive than the ones he mentioned this morning. He begins to wonder if it would be possible to rescue someone from Hell- if humans would be able to do it. He could possibly get someone to try, maybe Adam? Of course, make it clear Adam won't be kept in Hell and maybe... Or, potentially, they could put the person on trial. Sam had to defend Dean against Osiris once, and the Greek mythology says that their afterlife can only be attained by a trial too. So this might also be a possibility. The difficulty would be in determining unbiased judges. They might be able to use Bobby, Balthazar, and Crowley for that. He types for so long that he quickly loses track of time.
Sam finally snaps back to awareness when his computer is being shoved out of the way by a black nose. "Hello, Juliet," Sam says, petting the huge Hellhound. He moves and feels his whole spine pop in protest. He's really been sitting too long. He stretches longer, shoulders and knees popping too. Then he pops his neck, spine again, wrists, and each individual knuckle on his fingers. He rolls his long body once and sets off to find his fiancees. The day is nearly over and he's hardly seen them.
Sam exits the stairwell to hear angry voices. "I don't know where Sam and Dean are, and I'm not interested in trying them."
"Who are you? I demand to speak to the Winchesters!"
"Lucky for you, we are the Winchesters. And we said no."
Sam steps into the light, making sense of the situation quickly. Samuel Campbell is back, and Adam, Claire, and Ben are holding him back.
'Dean, get here now,' Sam prays silently. 'Bring a gun.'
Dean appears in the next second, brandishing the weapon. As soon as he stops Samuel threatening his children, he speaks. "Step away from the kids."
Samuel turns, nasty smile in place. "Dean. Sam. Exactly who I was looking for." He points a gun, previously unseen, at them.
"Claire, Ben, Adam- go upstairs and find Michael."
"Dean-" Claire begins, but Dean interrupts.
"Go now."
Samuel cocks the gun. "I wouldn't do that if I was you," he says.
"You really going to shoot your great-grandchild, Samuel?" Dean asks brashly.
"I plan to shoot my grandchildren, so what's the difference?"
"Dad?" Mary came down the stairway and stares. "What are you doing with that gun?"
"Mom, please don't get involved," begs Dean.
"What are you doing?"
"I'm just evening the playing field, honey. I owe these two-"
"My children! Dad, these are your grandchildren! My oldest son Dean, named after Mom, and Sam, named after you."
"We've met. I'm not impressed with either."
"Why do you have that gun? Dad! You're not going to shoot your grandchildren?"
Claire, Ben, and Adam wisely take this moment to exit stage right, scurrying out the door to the stairwell.
"Well, Mary, I'm not exactly thrilled with your sons. They killed me!"
"They did what?!" Sam takes the coward's way out. He follows the Winchesters in everything but blood up the stairs, dragging Dean behind him. |
ok a time travel hp fic
heir of the founders merlin lord potter black Peverell emerys Hogwarts. druid elf hybrid dragon lord
multimagus can take the form of any animal or human runic mage
no dumbles bashing slight manipulations but no ill intent from it will help harry
harry defeated dark lord moldyshorts only to have and even greater evil appeared the veil had been forcibly torn asunder opening a rift that called great demon into the world harry fought many years and finally sealed them away but the damage was done. three females appeared before him Gaea fate and magic to offer him a chance to stop this catastrophe from happening again they would send him back to the end of his third year so he could save all the lives lot during voldemorts return and to ensure the veils security harry will use Dumbledore's pensive to show him the hell that he fought through using both muggle and magical means .
he will also use the pensive to prove that Sirius is innocent . but in this universe lily will have survived the attack but in a magical coma with her will and mind trapped in Harry’s scar fighting Voldemort's influence
harem lily Daphne Astoria fleur tonks Susan the female teachers(they all look like they are 30 at the oldest using glamor's to look older)
women who harry takes as love slaves via Severus secus via the right of conquest petunia as revenge
narcissa Bellatrix pansy any others you want to add
fetishes b*** (if willing to add harry in animal forms) master slave i***
The Rise of the One True Potter
Chapter 1
(A Brutal Ending, A New Beginning)
19 years after the fall of Voldemort
A thirty-six-year-old Harry Potter had never felt so tired, not even after the war with Voldemort nineteen years ago, as he walked through the now destroyed Hogwarts. It had been a little over a year since the last war he had been in, a war that people were calling “The Demonic War,” had ended. Once again it was mainly thanks to Harry, who worked along with the remaining Wizarding/Muggle forces that had survived.
To Harry though, he could not call it a victory, not when so many had lost their lives to demonic beasts that had no conscience, no code or rules to live by, and no qualms about doing what they wanted to do. Thanks to those demons, what remained of the Wizarding World was nearly gone, with all the major pureblood families either destroyed or left with one surviving member.
The Muggle world had taken the worst part of it though, as no matter what they had tried, whether a gun, knife, or any weapon they used, it seemed to have no effect on these demons, leaving nothing but slow annihilation for them. The Muggles had even tried to use nuclear weapons to destroy them, but to no effect, as the demons just kept on coming.
That was not to say that they couldn’t be killed, as there were several ways to kill one. For the Wizarding World, Fiendfyre was the preferred method, as it gave a wizard or witch time to react and move in case the beasts could dodge from it. For Muggles, they used pistols and rifles that contained Enchanted Bullets to kill these demons.
The bullets were of course enchanted by wizards or alchemists, so any Muggle could use these weapons very effectively against the demons. However, if the demons got close, the goblin made steal was the weapons of choice, be it swords, knives, maces, or axes. Unfortunately, being able to kill these demons didn’t slow these demonic creatures down in the slightest.
Harry remembered that his cousin Dudley once compared the demons to the xenomorphs from the ‘Alien’ franchise. However, the xenomorphs from those movies were relatively small in stature compared to the demons. These creatures sprayed acid from their mouths and had acid for blood, so anytime a wizard, witch, or Muggle came into contact with their fluids, they would be burned to the point they would either die or have one of their limbs removed to prevent the acid from spreading across the body. However though, should this acid hit a person’s face, then the Killing Curse would be allowed to be used as it would be considered to be the most merciful way to deal with it.
The demons were extraordinary strong and fast as well, being able to eliminate trolls, giants, arachnids, and nearly all the dragons. However, it was their sheer numbers and their hive mind abilities that took the biggest toll on the world, as it did something that no one foresaw them to be able to do; the ability to adapt. Of course, this was all because of their primary power, the ability to take over someone’s body and mind, and for Harry, that was the biggest blow of all.
Walking over the old rubble the was once the Great Hall, Harry remembered how the war against the demons started, as it was the day of Harry’s marriage to Ginny Weasley, and Ron’s marriage to Hermione. It was two years after Voldemort was defeated, and to Harry, it was one of the happiest days of his life, as his two best friends were marrying each other at the same time that Harry was marrying the woman he loved.
It happened right there, where the Great Hall once was, on a perfect July afternoon, with Neville Longbottom taking the place as best man for both Harry and Ron, and Luna being the maid of honor for Hermione and Ginny. All their friends were there, along with the teachers and many of the new Ministry officials, with Minister Kingsley Shackelbolt volunteering to preside over both weddings. However, Professor McGonagall wouldn’t have it, so she ended up being the one to marry the four of them.
Hermione was walking down the aisle, wearing a flowing white gown, and blushing intensely. Ron was standing on top of stone steps where he and many others had been sorted into their Houses all those years ago, and he audibly gasped at seeing Hermione walking down the Great Hall towards him. Harry who was standing to Ron’s left with Neville in between them and could not blame Ron at gawking at Hermione, as she was absolutely stunning. Music was playing from all over the large room, and tears were being shed by both Molly Weasley and Elaine Granger, who with her husband, were allowed to be present for their daughter’s wedding. Everybody was smiling as Hermione walked up the steps and was about to take Ron’s hand when all hell broke loose.
At that very moment, a large rift appeared right where the headmaster would have sat, and a huge monster jumped out of it. Harry, Ron, and Hermione all stared completely shocked at what they saw, while someone screamed in horror at seeing this large being.
The next moments were almost like slow motion for Harry, as the beast hissed a scream and hundreds of smaller beasts poured through the rift and began attacking everyone in sight. Most of the crowd immediately drew their wands and began firing every spell, jinx, and curse they could at them, while the few who didn’t were frozen in either shock or fear. Those who were frozen, did not last long as they were impaled by these beasts’ appendages or sprayed with acid from their mouths. The ones that did fight soon found out that none of their tactics worked, and that included the six witches and wizards at the end of the Great Hall.
Harry, Ron, and Neville fought these monsters, separating from Hermione, Luna, and Professor McGonagall as they moved towards the stained-glass windows in the back. The three witches tried to gather the younger wizards and witches, as well as the Muggles who were there, and head for the nearest and safest exit.
For a while, it looked like their plan was working, with Shackelbolt joining Harry and the others in the fight. However, the demon that emerged first moved with almost lightning speed and grabbed Hermione when she was distracted by another beast. Both Harry and Ron ran towards Hermione, but in that moment, the giant daemon pressed its mouth against hers and forced Hermione to open hers.
By the time Harry and Ron got to her, the large beast released her letting her fall to the ground, with her squirming and shaking violently from what the monster had done. The daemon then hissed out another scream and it retreated through the rift, with the smaller beasts following. The damage had been done though, as several witches and wizards had been viciously slain or wounded, including Percy Weasley, the Patil family, and Professor Flitwick. However, it was Hermione that had Harry’s and Ron’s attention, as it would be her that would eventually end Harry’s and Ron’s friendship.
Months had passed since that opening assault, and Hermione was placed into the care at St. Mungo’s Hospital weeks prior, as no one knew what was happening to her. At the beginning, Hermione was barely lucid and coherent, trembling in pain. Ron had stayed by her side for the entire time, with members of his family taking turns comforting him. Harry visited as well, but whenever he did, Ron began giving him the cold shoulder. At first, Harry had thought it was because Ron was distraught over Hermione’s condition, but later Harry began to suspect that it was something else.
During those months, the rift in the Great Hall expanded, and hundreds of demons of all shapes and sizes emerged from it and attacked the school and the village of Hogsmeade. With no clear way to seal the rift, McGonagall had no choice but to close the school to protect the students and her teachers. Harry, Neville, and Luna looked for any information they could find about these beasts, and how to best deal with them.
Fortunately, with the help of Aberforth Dumbledore, who inherited most of his brother’s belongings, including many of his books, some of which Harry could not believe the former headmaster of Hogwarts owned. However, he was grateful, as several of these books dealt with the very creatures everyone had been dealing with.
Harry found out that these demonic looking creatures were called daemons, and the rift they opened was known commonly as The Veil. Harry also learned that there were only three known methods for killing a daemon; Fiendfyre, enchanted metal objects like modified magical bullets, and goblin made steel. Unfortunately, this information did not contain how to seal The Veil, nor how it might have opened in the first place.
Harry searched book after book with Neville and Luna assisting, wishing intently that Hermione was there with them. However, no other book Dumbledore had told him how to seal The Veil nor how to push the demons back into the void they came from. Getting frustrated, Harry decided to go to St. Mungo’s to visit Hermione, hoping that by being close to her would help him get some insight on how to truly defeat the demons. However, when he got there, daemons were tearing the hospital apart.
Harry fought his way into the hospital, and when he got to where Hermione was being held, what he saw literally sickened him. Hermione, what looked like a pale imitation of Hermione, was standing over the healers who were trying to pull the others away from her using protection spells to do whatever it took to get them out safely. Harry almost froze in disbelief, as Hermione stood at least eight feet tall, with half of her body the shape of the daemons, with claws for feet, a large thick black tail, and sharp metal like eyes staring at a fearful Ron on the floor looking up at her with sheer terror on his face. Harry froze in place at seeing this grotesque version of his best friend towering over him, his wand pointed directly at her, but unwilling to attack her. Hermione looked at Harry and smiled menacingly at him before hissing a loud screech and disappeared with a loud pop. A stunned and shocked Harry went to check on Ron after staring at the spot where Hermione had stood, and as he looked at a stunned Ron, Harry noticed that his red-haired friend looked like he had his life sucked out of him. After he helped Ron to his feet after a long few moments, Ron grabbed his friend by his collar and tearfully cried to him. He then admitted a long dark secret; Hermione had fallen in love with Harry long before she choose Ron, and had written a letter to Harry back when they were in their third year at Hogwarts. Ron had somehow gotten to this letter and hid it from Harry, and had convinced Hermione that Harry just wanted to be friends with her, thus paving Ron’s way for him and Hermione to be together. What made this worse was that Ron knew how Harry really felt about Hermione, and during the second year when she had been petrified by the basilisk, Harry had told Ron that he had strong feelings for her. After a crying Ron handed Harry the old letter from her, Harry had become so overwhelmed with rage that he punched Ron over and over, pummeling his friend back to the floor below. When Harry had finally stopped hitting him, he asked angrily why he admitted this now, and Ron had told him that Hermione was gone now, and it was all Harry’s fault.
This shocked Harry to the point where he let go of Ron, and Ron threw a vicious right uppercut to Harry’s jaw, which took Harry off of Ron and causing him to fall next to the redhead. Ron, with his face red with anger, got on top of Harry and started wailing on him, blooding his friend and constantly telling Harry that he was to blame for everyone that died at the hands of Voldemort, his Death Eaters, and now these daemons. Ron called out every name that died over the years, from Sirius Black all the way to Hermione, and each name Ron called out took the life out of Harry. When Ron was finished calling out names, he stopped punching Harry and stood up nearly on top of him. Ron then told Harry that he never wanted to see him again, and that whatever friendship they had was over. Ron took off after that leaving Harry laying there a bloody mess.
Months later, after losing more friends to the daemons, Harry had made a decision to leave for a while until he had a way to seal the Veil and defeat the daemons, including their queen, Hermione. Many of the wizards and witches had begged Harry not to leave, including Neville, Luna, and Ginny, who after learning about what her brother Ron had done, broke off nearly all contact with her brother. However, Harry wasn’t leaving because of losing two of his best friends, even though he was heartbroken and filled with despair over it. While searching through Dumbledore’s books, he discovered a druid race of elves living far north in a Nordic valley completely hidden from the entire world, including the wizarding world. According to these books, these druid elves were very ancient coming from a time before wizards and witches even existed. A warrior race by far, they are known to depend on magic as much as they depended on breathing, and their fighting abilities were said to be better than knights and samurai combined. However, Harry had read that the only way they were rejoin the world was to follow a leader who was ‘Chosen’ to defeat the evil from this world and the next. There were also cryptic messages by Dumbledore in the books revealing a possible location for the druid elves, which left clues for where Harry to look and why Harry had to go alone. What surprised Harry most of all was a letter Dumbledore had left for him in the very last book he had read about them:
To Harry James Potter,
If you are reading this, then I am long dead, and the need is dire enough for you to seek out the druid elves. First Harry, allow me to say that I never wanted you to be put into such a position with Voldemort, nor did I ever want you to risk your life fighting him. Like many children that have come into my care as Headmaster of Hogwarts, all I ever wanted for you was to have a normal childhood within the walls of this school. However, I’m afraid fate played a hand all those years ago when Sybill Trelawney made that prophecy that set all of our fates in motion. Now, I’m afraid that fate is forcing your hand once again.
As you are reading this, there is a lot for me to tell you, even if there is a possibility that you might have figured this out. The first is that you are the direct heir of not one family, but many of the most ancient families in the wizarding world. I’m sure you already know that you are a descendant of the Blacks because of what Sirius revealed in his will to you, and the Peverells as if my plan did truly work, then you have figured that your cloak of invisibility has been passed from father to son since the time of your direct ancestor, Ignotus Perevell. However, with thanks to the goblins of Gringotts and their king, Rognock, I have discovered that you are a direct descendent of all four founders of Hogwarts. I know that must be quite a surprise for you, especially after your ordeal in the second year, but considering the timeframe of all four of them, I can see it as it being possible. Now, I do have one last reveal to you about your linage, and that you are linked to Merlin, Morgan Le Fey, and Arthur Pendragon, which after you discovering your ancestry to the Peverells, is not that far of a stretch as the Peverell family were direct descendants of the three.
I’m sure that you are wondering why I am telling you this now, and why I had kept this from you for so long. As for the later, I could offer no other explanation other than that I cared too much for you to give you such overwhelming information at such a young age. Even Voldemort would have tried to use you based on this, and you did not deserve that to happen. As for why I am telling you this now, well, I can say that it’s for several reasons. One is simply that I’m afraid that after this letter, I won’t be able to help you anymore, and you deserve to know everything at this point, especially if you are thinking of seeking out the druid elves. The second of these reasons is that druid elves are very interested in one’s ancestry, and considering your linage, they will be very interested in yours.
Now, as you have read, the druid elves currently live in a hidden village far north in a Nordic valley. Where, I do not know, as even I have not managed to discover their location during my lifetime. I do know that if you manage to find them, you will be tested in the most brutal way possible. They will be able to see into your mind and use whatever you have against you. However, if you passed this test, they will accept you and begin training you in their ways and unlock barriers in your magical core, thus giving you access to greater reserve of magic, which you will need for what they will give you. What they will give you, I cannot say, but I do believe it will be knowledge that any normal wizard has, including me, and powers not seen in our world in a very long time.
Before I say goodbye, Harry, I must make this very clear: you must seek the druid elves out alone. They are very protective of who they are and will only reveal themselves to those chosen by destiny. Bringing your friends with you will result in futility, and you will never find them with Mr. Weasley and Miss Granger as travel companions. I know that this journey for you will be long, and once you find them, the training you will undergo will take years, so you must have faith in your friends and allies to fight whatever it is that requires you to undertake this journey. I can only hope that you understand my actions over the years, and I want to say that which I had said to you after Sirius’ death; that I never wanted this burden to be put on you as I care too much about you. I know this might sound corny coming from an old man, but if I ever had a son, I would want him to be like you.
Your Dear Friend,
Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore
June 1. 1997
The decision to leave for Harry was a hard and difficult one, but after losing Hogwarts and Hogsmeade to the daemons, he knew that without help, there was no way to defeat these beasts. So, after saying goodbye to his friends and colleagues, he gathered enough food, equipment, and provisions he believed he needed to survive the long journey ahead of him. When he left, Harry hoped that Neville, Luna, and Ginny would be successful in hold the daemons back to get the training he needed to seal the Veil and stop the daemons once and for all. However, over the years that Harry was away many of his friends were killed by the daemons, most notably Neville, Luna, and Ginny. Ginny had died first, after discovering a daemon camp not far from the Burrows and the entire Weasley family fought them off. During that battle, Ron was surprised by the daemon queen Hermione and had acid sprayed all over his face and chest, slowly and painfully dying from what she had done. Ginny saw this and in uncontrollable anger, cast Fiendfyre around herself as she was surrounded by daemons, and told the rest of her family to get away. After losing both Ron and Ginny on that day, Molly Weasley became so full of despair over it that she ended up taking her own life a few weeks later.
Neville and Luna had died together, but not before doing several things beforehand. The first of which was getting the Muggle and the Wizarding Worlds to fight together. This included, which surprised Harry most of all, Draco Malfoy and Harry’s cousin, Dudley Dursley joining forces in several battles and have having success in keeping the daemons at bay. They were both equally successful in setting up weapons distribution centers, so Muggles could quickly get hold of the necessary weapons to fight the daemons. Along with that, Luna and Professor McGonagall had petitioned the Muggle Prime Minister to open wards in hospitals to deal with the influx of wizards and witches being injured by the daemons. In the end, unfortunately, Neville and Luna lost their lives after buying McGonagall time to help young children escape after Hermione had found the secret location where they were being taught. Neville and Luna safely made sure the young wizards and witches were all safe before charging into the fray and eliminating as many daemons as they could before being impaled by their claws. That was almost two years before Harry had returned to turn the tide in the war.
When Harry finally returned, anyone who was still alive and knew Harry were completely shocked at the transformation he had taken since the last time they saw him. For starters, Harry stood nearly seven feet tall, towering over many wizards and witches who considered themselves to be tall. He was no longer wearing glasses, as his eyes looked like they were fogged in some kind of haze. His hair was now white, with black strands barely visible to the naked eye, and it was long enough to be tied in a ponytail. Harry wore a large red-brown robe with emblems of every family he was connected to, including one many didn’t recognize, as it was the symbol of the ancient dragon lords. What drew the most attention was the weapons that Harry now wielded; a sword and a staff. The sword had a gold blade with runes and other symbols carved onto it, and the hilt was made of bronze with leather sewed tightly around the grip, with two jewels on either end of it and a third right at the end of the base with a silver ‘P’ surrounding it. The staff looked like a larger version of Harry’s holly wand, at least six feet long, polished and smooth to the touch, with anyone close to it feeling the raw magic that came from it. When used in combat, the sword could easily cut through the daemons’ hard shell, eliminating them faster than goblin-made steel and magically modified ammunition, while the staff helped Harry summon the most powerful magic to destroy the daemons as well as create stronger protection shields to protect his allies. However, that was not Harry’s only gifts, as he had several new abilities along with stronger magic. The most notable of this was that Harry could change into multiple animal forms at will, from a red-eyed black wolf to a phoenix, then a regal unicorn to an actual merman, and a peaceful snowy owl to a giant-sized Hungarian Horntail dragon. Harry had other forms he could change into, but for those he fought aside with, they only saw those forms. Harry also could seemingly command the elements at will, summoning tornados, earthquakes, typhoons, and controlled blazes and used them against the daemons, eradicating them in droves. What made Harry’s return more special was that he came with the full force of the druid elves, who fought like one even those their numbers were in the hundreds. Hooded and cloaked, they had the ability to turn their clothing to fire, creating a type of shield against the daemons when they attacked, and the druid elves had special weapons and armor hand crafted over centuries that proved to be more effective than goblin made weapons against the monsters.
Unfortunately, even after Harry’s return, the war still went on for over another year until the Wizarding and Muggle forces reclaimed nearly all of places that the daemons took in their initial push. Only Hogwarts remained, though the castle had been completely destroyed by the beasts; the Veil had expanded a hundred times, guarded by the original daemon that came out of it and the daemon queen herself, Hermione. When the final battle happened, Draco and Dudley took the lead of their respective armies and planned an all-out assault on the fallen school, hitting the daemons from two sides. However, the daemons at Hogwarts outnumbered both Draco’s and Dudley’s forces four-to-one, and while both Draco’s and Dudley’s forces gained a foothold onto the grounds, the daemons slowly surrounded them as soon as they did. What the beasts didn’t know, though, was that they were a massive diversion for Harry and the druid elves as they were led by McGonagall through a newly formed passageway that she had created for emergencies that led straight to the Great Hall. She had the tunnel made shortly after the Battle of Hogwarts and only revealed the information to other professors to ensure secrecy of it. Unfortunately, the exit to it was directly under a trap door where the Headmaster sat during meal times, which was now underneath where the Veil now was. Fortunately though, the main daemon force was dealing with Draco’s and Dudley’s forces, so when Harry, McGonagall, and the druid elves came out of the secret passage, the original daemon and Hermione were taken by surprise and tried calling their main force back.
Harry didn’t hesitate in going after the giant daemon, and while the druid elves separated it from Hermione, Harry made quick work of it, beheading it with his sword. Once it was dead, Harry turned his attention to Hermione, and even though he knew he had to kill her, he was very conflictive about it. The druid elves kept Hermione at bay however, giving Harry time to come around to her blind side and attack her. Hermione noticed it though, and spun around quickly, tossing several of Harry’s allies to the side with ease. When Harry locked eyes on his former friend, he froze in half-swing with his sword, unwilling to take the life of his former friend. This gave Hermione an opening as she used her giant-sized metallic tail and swung it fully against Harry’s chest. Harry fortunately noticed this and quickly rolled away from it, and when Hermione turned to face him again, this time he didn’t hesitate. He impaled her in the chest with his sword, jumping half the distance between them as he did so. Hermione locked eyes with Harry and for a moment, she looked at him with deep love in her eyes before falling down to the ground below with Harry on top of her holding his sword deep into her daemon chest. With one final whisper to Harry, Hermione accepted her fate and closed her eyes, letting death finally take her. Harry pulled the sword out of his one true love of his life with tears in his eyes and stood up over her as the words she said to him echoed in his heart, “I have always loved you, Harry.”
The druid elves gave Harry very little time to mourn for Hermione as they circled the Veil in several rows and began chanting their language while placing their palms up towards the rift before them. Harry nodded his understanding and after shrinking his sword to the size of a large knife and sheathing it, he removed his battle robe and pulled off his shirt revealing two distinct magical tattoos on his body. The first one was the symbol of the Deathly Hallows, which was located at the base of his neck at the top of his chest. The tattoo was etched in silver and was made to look like a necklace, with a golden string drawn across Harry’s neck and it even swung across Harry’s chest as he moved. The second tattoo was much more prominent as it covered all of Harry’s back. The tattoo was a large vibrant tree with a phoenix circling the top of it. The tree was not just any tree, though, it was Yggdrasil, and the phoenix was a perfect representation of Fawkes as the druid elves believed that Fawkes was the last of his kind. There were other tattoos over Harry’s body, but as he levitated himself into the air above the druid elves, those two tattoos were the only ones glowing.
Harry summoned his staff after that and as it flew into his hand, he began chanting in the same dialect as the druid elves, only louder and with a deeper voice. Professor McGonagall watched this with much curiosity as well as trepidation as strong winds began blowing all around and thunder roared loudly out of nowhere, causing her to try to seek some sort of shelter during that time. The Veil screamed and screeched loudly as if it was alive itself, and actually fought what Harry and the elves were trying to do by flashing lights and screeching sounds to try to distract them. Not only that though, as strings of light whipped out from the Veil and took out several of the elves surrounding it. However, it was all for naught as Harry using all the magic he could muster closed the Veil after several minutes of doing battle with it. As Harry slowly descended down where the Veil once was, Professor McGonagall, Draco, and Dudley who had his share of scars and bruises from the battle himself, joined Harry as the druid elves looked after the wounded. While he knew the war was finally over, all Harry could think of at that moment was Hermione and how much he had loved her.
Now, after a year of peace between Muggles and the Wizarding World, Harry had to marvel at how much things had changed. For Draco Malfoy, he was named the new Minister of Magic and had opened an official line of dialog between the Ministry and Parliament. He had also married Astoria Greengrass a few months ago and Harry had been the best man for Draco, which was a complete change in their relationship they had in Hogwarts. Dudley Dursley, who had at one time shared no interest in the Wizarding World, became an advocate for them to any Muggle who thought like his parents that wizards and witches were freaks. He ended up embracing the Wizarding World so much, that Harry noticed that Dudley and, of all people, Pansy Parkinson were spending a lot of time together these past few months. Professor McGonagall did her best to convince the Ministry to rebuild Hogwarts, with Harry backing her with every petition she made to them. It was only last month when Draco himself publicly signed the legislation approving the funds for the rebuilding. Professor McGonagall had insisted after that for Harry to take the position of Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher once Hogwarts reopened, but Harry had long ago decided that it was time for him to leave.
Harry had made the decision to leave some time after the final battle had ended, and while he never revealed this to anyone, the only reason he had stayed was because he felt responsible for everything that occurred while he was gone. The druid elves had already returned to their home shortly after the war had ended and had welcomed Harry to return any time he saw fit. However, while Harry was honored to get the invitation, he knew that his place was no longer with them. For Harry, he knew that he was not part of their world, nor was he planning on staying within the Muggle World or the Wizarding World as well. There were several reasons Harry had for leaving, but the main one was that he simply felt like he didn’t belong, especially after everything that happened. Harry had so much darkness and despair inside of him, seeing his friends and allies die over the years, first with Voldemort and his Death Eaters, then with the daemons. Harry had no plan as to where he was going to go yet, though, as he figured he would travel around the world for the next few years before settling down in some out-of-the-way place where no one knew who he was. He just came here to say goodbye to the one place he truly considered as home. Closing his eyes and shedding a few tears, Harry quietly said a prayer to all the people he lost, especially Hermione. As he mouthed Hermione’s name, however, a pair of wet lips touched Harry’s in a deep embrace.
A good part of Harry’s brain accepted what was happening, even though he didn’t know who was kissing him. After a moment though, his eyes opened and saw blonde-haired woman wearing a satin red dress kissing him bathed in a golden glow all around her body. Harry wasn’t shocked at all that this strange woman was kissing him, as all he could think about as this woman was kissing him was that he was kissing Hermione. A few moments later, this blonde-haired woman broke off the kiss and floated away from him. She then smiled sweetly at Harry and said, “You truly did love her, Harry James Potter.”
In that moment, Harry regained his senses and looked at this beautiful stunning woman who was floating several feet in the air in front of him. The woman looked to one side of Harry and then the other, and as Harry turned his head, he saw a brunette woman on his right, and a red-haired woman on his left. The brunette woman was wearing a green tunic with thigh high boots and a light brown hood. The red-haired woman had a gold helmet on her head and wore a pink dress covered by a silver chest plate and gold boots. Both women were bathed in the same glow as the woman in front of Harry, and they were smiling just as much as the blonde woman.
“We have been waiting for you to be ready, Harry James Potter,” The red-haired woman said as she floated over to him. “I am Athena, goddess of war and wisdom. These are my sisters; Artemis, goddess of nature and birth, and of course Aphrodite, goddess of love and beauty.”
“The daemons you and your kind help defeat left a mark with us,” The brunette, Artemis, stated, also floating over to him. “However, like us, the daemons can transcend both time and space. Because of this, we foresee an event where the daemons will return in greater numbers and overwhelm the entire world.”
“I’m sorry, are you saying that all we’ve done is delay them?” Harry looked at all of them with shock clearly on his face. “So many have died already because of these monsters, and to tell the truth, I don’t have it in me to have more friends die.”
“No one is ever truly gone, Harry,” Aphrodite said to him. “Your friends, the love of your life, even your mother can return to you if you truly desire it.”
“What do you mean?” Harry asked, confused by what Aphrodite had said.
“The daemons will return shortly after Voldemort’s return during the Tri-Wizard Tournament,” Artemis explained, confusing Harry more. “For us, and the daemons, time and space are just an illusion. We can exist in multiple timelines and different places just as easy as exiting one door and entering another.”
“However, the daemons are not as intelligent as we are, and they are only ruled by their primal instincts,” Athena continued. “So, we need to send you back to your younger self, so you can warn and prepare everyone for what is going to come.”
“Why can’t you stop them?” Harry asked, looking at all three of them. “And why choose me? Why does it always have to be me?”
The last question had a base of anger in it, but the three goddesses kept smiling at Harry. It was Athena who answered, however as she said, “We are fighting them, Harry, but your world is directly between our world and theirs. Your world and the people in it have a much greater chance to stop them, especially with you as their leader. As for why you, it is not because of fate, nor any sort of destiny. No, it is when the world you love is threatened and the people around you are beginning to lose hope, that is when people like you, Harry, chooses to take a stand and fight the darkness and evil of the world. It is people like you, Harry, that are the true definition of what a hero really is.”
“If you accept this task, then we will send you back to your thirteen-year-old body,” Artemis told him, frowning a bit. “Your powers will diminish somewhat as your younger body cannot contain the powers you now have. However, the knowledge inside of you will remain completely intact and be able to contact the people you need to fight the daemons.”
“The moment after you go back, time itself will begin to change,” Aphrodite said, still smiling. “You will see the people around you differently, and they will begin to see you differently as well. Finally, you will have to deal with Voldemort’s horcrux that is inside of you as soon as possible, doing that will save one other from a torturous fate.”
“What do you mean?’ Harry said, looking puzzled at Aphrodite. Then a moment of realization hit him like a lightning bolt, as he remembered his mother’s sacrifice to save him from Voldemort. “Are you talking about my mum?”
Aphrodite nodded, and explained, “When a piece of Voldemort’s soul merged with you all those years ago, your mother’s soul came with it, and until you were finally able to remove the horcrux inside of you, she had been fighting it as much as possible to keep it from overtaking you.”
“To save her, you will need to find a way to capture Peter Pettigrew and save Sirius Black within the same night,” Athena nodded, and glanced over at her sisters. “Now, for mortals like yourself, time travel is very difficult. So, when we send you back, there is no telling specifically when you will be placed.”
“We do have a general idea, though, as we plan to send you back sometime during your third year at Hogwarts,” Artemis told him. “You need to focus on a specific time, so we can send you there. It will still be very difficult for you as you will still be merging with your younger self.”
Harry closed his eyes and took a deep breath, preparing himself for what was about to happen. When he reopened them, Harry looked at Athena, and said, “Alright, I’m ready. What should I do when I get there?”
“Convince Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore of what happened,” Athena answered, as she and her sisters began circling around Harry very fast. “He will trust you implicitly, so he will believe you, especially after he sees your memories.”
The spinning the goddesses were doing began to get faster and Harry began to feel his mind and spirit being pulled in a thousand different directions. His eyesight got blurry and slowly started to darken, and the next few moments, all sense of where and when he was disappeared from him.
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“Harry!” Hermione’s voice rang in Harry’s head. Harry heard it as a tiny mumble at first, with it echoing inside his pounding head as the darkness ebbed away. When the darkness receded, Harry found Hermione standing over him looking worried. Harry eyes were somewhat blurry, so Hermione handed him his glasses, and once he put them on, he saw a thirteen-year-old Hermione looking worried at him. Harry looked around as he noticed that he was in the Hospital Wing of Hogwarts and couldn’t help but to smile.
The goddesses had done it. He was back in his third year. He was back home.
___________________________________________________________________ |
Chapter 1: Welcome Back to Creekwood
Can I be Happy Now?
“Mom, Dad. I’m gay.”
Oh god, I said it. I actually said it out loud, in front of them.
Despite his rapidly panicking thought pattern, he wasn't able to stop the smile that crept across his face as he looked towards his stunned parents and little sister.
No one spoke, no one moved.
The awkward tension of the separation announcement had given way to something more. Breathing slowly, making sure he wasn't spiralling into a panic attack or something, Victors flicks his gaze across his parents stunned faces,
Looking at his mother’s mouth open, as though she was waiting for the words to come out, but nothing did. For once his mother didn't seem to know what to say.
His father was simply staring, intensely, unflinching, his hard gaze boring into his eldest son’s eyes, as though he was waiting for the punchline to the unfunny joke.
Of course, there was no punchline, just reality.
Pilar though, that’s who he needed to see right now, he needed his sister to be okay with this, even more than their parents, he couldn’t lose his baby sister. And as he watches, he can practically see the wheels turning in her head, he sees her mouth form an ‘O’ as something clicks and suddenly all the dots line up.
“B… oh my god, B is for Benji, isn’t it?” Pilar spoke softly, as though raising her voice would shatter the calm, neither sibling moved, not even at the sharp intake of breath from their mother who obviously recognised the name. Nodding slightly Victor sees emotions swirling behind his sister’s eyes, hurt, anger, love, pride and understanding.
And acceptance, pure unfiltered acceptance.
“Yeah... B is for Benji. Listen, we don’t have to talk about this right now, it’s been… a long day. I’m going to go take a shower and head to bed.” Turning to leave the room, he pauses once more, “We can talk about this all in the morning, okay Mami? Papi?”
The pair only nod slightly, acknowledging they heard his statement.
“Goodnight mi amor, we can talk in the morning.” His mother called after a brief pause.
Okay, this could be going so much worse. He thinks, as he walks down the hall to the bathroom, which seems much longer than before.
Knowing that his parents at least hadn’t thrown him out, meant this was one of the more positive outcomes Victor has always pictured when he told them the truth. Honestly, most of them were just waiting till college and cutting contact, so this was a win, right?
Except it wasn’t that simple, how many people had he hurt by keeping it a secret so long, playing off of people’s feelings just to make sure everyone was happy, and he was normal.
Normal? What even was that he hadn’t felt normal with Mia, or even before in Texas, but in New York with Simon and hi-, no their friends, he had felt normal. He didn’t stick out.
And then with Benji, with Benji he was happy. He was who he had been pushing back for years, to make way for his family, to make sure they were okay.
But now, now he got to be selfish for a while, to take his life, his feelings to the front. And to admit to the world who he was, who he loved.
Gay, he was gay, and it was normal. It is normal, screw it if other people disagree.
Nodding at his own reflection, as though to acknowledge he’d won some grand argument, he left the bathroom, and headed to his room, glancing across the hall to see the living room now empty, but hearing soft voices from his parent’s bedroom.
At least they weren’t shouting at him, right?
Wrapping himself up in the duvet, he checks his phone, he’s sent messages to Mia apologising, explaining that there’s more to it, and begging her to let him explain what happened. But they hadn't even been opened, not that he expected it, not that he deserved it.
Swiping the messages from Felix away, he would deal with his excitable best friend in the morning, for now, he just wanted to sleep.
Somehow coming out was way more tiring that he’d expected. Steeling himself, he sent a message to Benji, just to let him know, to let him know that he had done it. He had told them the truth, his truth… and it was okay? Right? It wasn’t bad right? He really needed Simon right now.
His phone vibrating in his hand pulled him out of another potential spiral of thoughts. Benji had messaged him back!
Victor: Hey Benji, sorry if you are asleep... I know I said I’d call you tomorrow, but I just wanted to let you know... I did it, I told them I’m gay.
Victor: Said the words out loud and everything, to my parents. And now I’ve typed them to lol, I’m rambling...
Victor: I’ll still call you tomorrow though if that’s okay? I’d really, really like to see you.
Victor: Also I Pilar figured out you are B.. whoops.
Benji: Hey Vic, wow.. that’s a lot.
Benji: But I am so proud of you. Please know that, no matter what, I am proud of you.
Benji: So… did it go okay?
Victor: Yeah, it went okay in that I have no idea how it went. They didn’t say anything, or shout.
Victor: Pilar doesn’t seem to totally hate me, even if she’s mad about the whole Mia thing
Victor: so that’s a plus I guess?
Victor: Anyway, happy thoughts. Are you free tomorrow?
Benji: I might be.. why, what do you have planned?
Victor: Well, I was thinking of asking this really cute guy I know out on a date.
Benji: Hmm, and what exactly do you need me for :P
Victor: Oh! That’s how you want to play?
Victor: Benji Cambell, will you go on a date with me. Tomorrow.
Victor: please?
Benji: Yes.
Benji: I’ve only wanted to do this since the first day we meet soo..
Victor: WAIT!
Victor: What! Why am I always the last to know these things :P
Benji: Dw Vic, we can talk about it tomorrow, I am sure I can make it up to you 😉
Benji: Sweet dreams x
Victor: Tease..
Victor: Sweet dreams B x
Setting his phone to the side smiling slightly to himself, despite the rest of the drama in his world right now, at least he had Benji.
Victor lay back staring at the ceiling lost in his memories of what had happened in since he moved to Atlanta. Despite the outcome, it hadn’t exactly been smooth sailing, he’d rammed himself back into the closet on his first day, he’d messed up things with Mia, he’d led her on even if it wasn’t completely intentional, he’d blown off dates with her multiple times to pine after Benji, who he had kissed adding friction to his relationship with Derek (okay that wasn’t entirely on him, Derek helped by being an ass 90% of the time). He’d lied to everyone and run away to New York, after cheating on his girlfriend and kissing another guy.. who was in a relationship at the time. Whoops.
Okay so the only person he hadn’t hurt was Felix, right? Although, he had sort of neglected him and ignored his advice about coming clean to Mia earlier. He didn’t deserve Felix as a best friend, he needed to do better by his neighbour turned best friend. He had stuck by Victor through all the crap with Mia and coming out.
He needed to go for a walk, he needed air. Getting out of bed Victor stumbled as he was hit with a wave of dizziness, the room spinning and fading in and out of view. Stumbling to the bathroom, he grabbed onto the sink, trying to focus on his reflection, but the room was still spinning. As he struggled to stay upright, and conscious apparently, all he could think of in that moment, was that he had to do better.
If he had a second chance, he’d do better right?
He would be better.
Then it all went black.
Stirring, Victor rolled over, pulling the quilt over his head to block the glare of the early morning sun. His head was still spinning from everything last night, how had he made it back to bed? He didn’t remember coming back from the bathroom.
Reasoning that he must have been to tired and out of it to remember, Victor sat upright in his bed, rubbing sleep out of his eyes, and glancing around his room.
His room! It was bare!
Jumping out of bed he raced to his desk, looking for the half-completed homework assignments that he had definitely meant to finish before the dance. Nothing, Benji’s drawing was missing too, nothing was where it had been last night. Looking around the room he saw his boxes from the day they moved, packed and full to the brim.
Hesitating, he stepped towards the boxes, what was happening? Surely his parents hadn’t packed his stuff up, especially not without him at least noticing.
He could hear sounds in the apartment, Adrian was shouting about the internet, and his unboxing videos. Rushing to the door, Victor grabbed his phone before going to investigate. Moving through the hallway he edged around the corner into the kitchen and was greeted by the sight of more boxes, and his mother trying to calm Adrian down, saying that their dad was working on getting the Wi-Fi set up first, but he needed to be patient. Exactly like they had on the day they moved.
Standing watching his family move around, taking belongings out of boxes and unwrapping bubble wrap, Victor was rooted to the spot overcome with déjà vu. What was happening? Was this a bad dream? Checking his phone, he saw the date matched their first day in their new apartment, after moving in he had gone for a nap since he hadn’t felt well. Then he’d woken up and gone to help his mom calm Adrian down while Armando worked on the router.
“Hey Papi, have you checked that the router is on? There’s a switch on the back.” He called, moving into the living room, watching his father pause and slump his shoulders as he checked the box in his hands.
“Flaco! Good call, I should have gotten you or your sister to do this. Give me an apartment building to wire any day, at least with that I know what I’m doing.” Armando laughed, ruffling Victor’s hair as he moved past the still confused boy to get Adrian set up on the Wi-Fi and give them all peace.
Turning slowly, Victor followed his father into the kitchen again, doing his best not to freak out and scream and maybe cry.
What. Was. Happening.
“Ah, mi amor, how are you feeling? Do you still feel sick?” His mom stepped up to him, checking his forehead and watching him closely. Her eyes roamed over his face, taking in his stunned look, concern crossing her face.
“Victor? Hey, are you okay sweetie? You don’t look to good right now?”
“Yeah.. I’m.. Sorry yeah, sí Mami, I feel okay now, just tired and a little fuzzy, can I get some water and go back to bed? I promise I will help to unpack tonight.” He spoke softly, still not trusting himself to stay calm.
“Of course, sweetheart, here, take this and go rest, I’ll call you when dinner is ready, si?”
“Thanks Mami” shuffling back to his room, Victor shut and locked the door, resting his head against the cool wooden surface.
It was a dream, it had to absolutely be a dream. He pinched himself to check, all that achieved was he now had a sore hand and a red mark across the back to prove it. Okay, not a dream.
Sitting down Victor pulls his laptop onto his bed, opening up his browser flicking through his Facebook and news sights to try get a grasp of things.
His Facebook told him all he needed to know, it was as basic and bare as it had been in Texas, there were no Creekwood High photos, no friendships with Mia, Felix, Benji, Lake, hell even Andrew.
Either he had a much more vivid imagination than he noticed or something very strange was happening, and he was inclined to believe the latter.
Okay, so hypothetically, I’ve gone back in time, sure why not. I am back to the day before I started school, there’s the walkie talkie Felix gave me, sitting unused, there’s my CHS forms that I need to hand into the front office tomorrow confirming the details of my transfer.
Victor looks around the room, its not that things have been packed away, he simply hasn’t put anything up yet. He was back in time.
A second chance! That’s what he had wished for before he passed out the night before, a do over to right the wrongs caused by his silly mistakes.
Okay, if this really is happening, then I need to be careful, I need to make sure I don’t mess things up and leave them worse than before. I need to be careful and do it right this time. I need a plan.
Pulling his laptop back to him victor set about creating his plan, detailing out everyone he had hurt and each mistake he had made, being as brutally honest as he could allow himself to be, and given his recent coming out, he figured why not go all out. After what felt like forever he was done, and sat back to admire his handy work.
It wasn’t the best plan, but it was better than what he had tried last time, which was to make everyone happy and sacrifice himself to make it happen. The confidence in his identity he’d gained in New York, and from Benji would help him carry himself differently. And worst-case scenario, this was all a weird-ass dream and he’d wake up tomorrow with a splitting headache and a funny story to tell Felix.
Feeling satisfied Victor moved to the boxes in his room, unpacking taking less effort this time since he technically knew where everything was going. It still wasn’t like his room would be, there was some Creekwood stuff missing, photos with his new friends and mementos. But he’d get them back, maybe not all of them, but he was sure he could get most of them back in time.
He would make new memories if he had too.
After a quiet dinner where everyone was really to tired to even speak let alone feel any emotions about the move, Victor watched, a little sad, at the distance between everyone, Pilar stared at her plate the entire time, not looking up once. His parents made the most basic small talk, never really engaging with anyone. Adrian, well Adrian was already asleep in his plate, he definitely would need a bath after this.
As his parents cleared the table Victor followed Pilar to her room, pausing at the door.
“Hey, do you mind if I come in?” He spoke softly, leaning against the door frame. “I just wanna see how you are doing.”
“How do you think Victor? Mom and Dad dragged us across the country to be here and away from everything I loved. I don’t want to be here, and I won’t try!” Her voice rose until she was almost shouting the last part.
Moving forward he sat beside her and let her turn in on his shoulder, he could feel her tears already flowing.
“It’s not fair, I had to leave all my friends, I had to leave Eric, just to come to this shitty place.”
“I know P, I know, it’s really shitty that we had to move. I’m sorry you’re feeling this way. Is there anything I can do to help?” This was something he had left to late last time, asking his sister if she was okay, and actually listening, usually he just jumped down her throat telling her to try harder.
“Unless you can convince Mom and Dad to move us back, I don’t think so hermano.” Sniffling, Pilar sat back up, looking around her new room with contempt. “At least my room is bigger here I guess? I guess I’d better unpack though. Doomed to the eternal purgatory that is Shady Creek.”
“Hey, do you wanna walk to school together tomorrow with that Felix kid?”
“Nah, it’s cool. I want to try it on my own tomorrow.” Pilar stated, to cool to admit that she appreciated the offer. “How come you don’t seem to bothered by the move?”
“I don’t know P, I guess I wasn’t as in love with our life in Texas as I thought.” Victor answered honestly, trying to remember if he ever really missed anything from before Atlanta, aside from his grandparents being close. “I miss the guys a bit, and the team, but really, I was just going through the motions back home.”
Shrugging he watched they younger girl nod slightly as she mulled over what he had said, still looking slightly down.
“But, that doesn’t mean that just because I’m okay, you have to be okay as well sí? You’re allowed to not be okay Pilar, and if you aren’t, please tell me, I care about you hermana.”
Smiling slightly, he nudged her, which caused her to shove him back, which caused him to shove her back. 5 minutes later their mom found the pair engaged in an all out pillow fight, laughing manically as they swung without care.
“Hey! HEY! Wowowow, what do you two think you’re doing eh?” Isabel stood in the doorway, her hands on her hips. “Victor, give me that pillow now.”
Slightly cowed Victor handed her the pillow, scowling as she took the pillow from him, which morphed to outright shock as she shouted, “Now Pilar! Get him!” before leaping into the room and joining Pilar in chasing Victor with the pillows, cornering him and decidedly winning the pillow fight.
“Me doy por vencido! I give up, truce!” Victor cried, shielding himself from the onslaught of cotton down fury. Heaving himself off the floor, he stared at his mother and sister, who were both grinning unashamedly.
“Ha, the Salazar ladies are still number one.” Isabel announced, arm around Pilar’s shoulders. The surprising part was when Pilar laughed and pulled their mom forward in a bow to thank their imaginary audience.
“Okay, okay, I know when I’m beat, I shall retreat to my room, and leave you two to you victory party.” Smiling, Victor backed out of the room, not trusting them to let him go without a sneak attack.
Bolting at the last minute, he got the door shut and heard the soft thud of two pillows hitting the other side and the magical sound of his mother and sister laughing.
Okay, baby steps, but things were already better. At the very least in the small term. Now, hopefully the same thing could be applied to school, and the rest of his list.
Next stop, Felix, then it was Creekwood High vs Victor 2.0.
It couldn’t be too bad right?
“If I were Jesus, where would I wanna be to watch over this family?” Isabel asking, steaming coffee in her hands as she watched Armando navigate around the kitchen with a crucifix wielding Adrian on his shoulders.
“Probably not nailed to a cross, Mami.” Pilar replied, smirking as Isabel titled her head, lips quirked in a smile despite herself, she heard no malice in the young girls voice.
Hoping to keep the good mood, Victor stepped forward into the room, smiling at the 4 occupants, “good morning everyone.” Exactly like last time the round of good mornings was interrupted by the doorbell.
Felix!
Swinging the door wide open Victor was greeted by the sight of his best friend, well, hopefully soon to be best friend, again? Time travel was confusing. And real apparently, that was still worth getting used to.
“Hey! I couldn’t remember if we said 7 or 7:15.” The boy said, focusing on the floor.
“So you showed up at 6:45?” Victor replied, not able to keep the smile off of his face, this seemed to encourage Felix, who bounced on the balls of his feet, who informed him he’d been outside the door for a while, in an attempt to not seem to eager.
“Okay. Bendicíon.” Victor called over his shoulder, smiling at the reply from his family.
“Hey Felix, do you know anywhere I can grab a cup off coffee? I didn’t sleep to well last night.”
“Aw, man first day jitters? Don’t worry, we can stop at Brasstown on the way to school, it’s not to far out of the way.” Felix said, directing them along the (unknown to him) familiar path from the apartment to the café.
“Man, you’re lucky. I would kill to be the new kid at school.”
Chuckling Victor acknowledges that there are advantages to it, but at the same time points out he is starting from square one again. Entering Brasstown, Felix tells him the story of Andrew and the origins of Lonestone.
“I’m sorry Felix, that’s a real dick move. That guy sounds like a jerk, the type I intend on avoiding if I can.”
Smiling at Felix, he steps up and orders two coffees from a frazzled Sarah, god he missed her, as well as a job application. Figuring he may as well kill two birds with one stone, the money would be handy and it was an excuse to spend time with Benji.
“Thank you, I’ll get this back to you tomorrow if that’s okay?” Victor said, waving the application slightly after paying for the coffees.
“Yeah sure kid, no problem. Just do it on your own time, move it.” It sounded rude, but having worked with Sarah, Victor understood it was just her way of speaking, she never meant harm by it, she just didn't beat around the bush.
Smiling he handed Felix his coffee and waved him forward since he technically didn’t know where the school was.
“Hey, I meant to say, thanks for the walkie-talkie dude, sorry if I was a bit rude yesterday. You were just being nice and I was kind of an ass.” Victor said softly as they approached the school, he still felt guilty about his initial reaction to Felix’s gift and how he treated him at the stoplight party.
“I’ll make sure to use it when I can.”
Victor could see that Felix hadn’t been expecting that, his coffee paused just at his lips. Blinking in that over the top, rapid fire way he did, Felix slowly smiled, nodding as they walked up to the front door of the school.
“Welcome, to Creekwood my friend, who do you have first period?” Felix asked, spinning in an exaggerated way.
He had gym first period, y. “I am not sure, I have to get my schedule from the Vice Principal, Ms. Albright. Is she cool?” He asked, having to play the role of new kid.
“She, is very cool. Hi, I am Ms. Albright, Vice Principal.” Shaking hands with Victor she quickly turned to Felix, and in a ruder tone directed him to class, using the crappy nickname Andrew had saddled him with.
Nodding at Felix, Victor hid his frown, Ms. Albright was meant to be the good guy in the school, but she was casually throwing around a nickname that Victor knew Felix hated. Internally warring over how to deal with that, Victor allowed himself to be guided to his locker, and when asked if he had made any friends yet, he found his moment.
“Yeah, actually, Felix lives in my building He’s been pretty awesome to me, showed me around this morning.” Victor replied, standing up a bit straighter, prepared to defend his friend.
“He actually told me the story of that stupid Lonestone nickname, sounds like a real crappy thing to call someone.”
This caused Albright to take a step back, staring at Victor in surprise, blinking as she processed what he had said and obviously remembering her casual use of the name. Nodding slightly to him, she proceeded to recount the magic of the Winter Carnival, and that maybe Victor would find some more friends there.
“Thanks, I actually saw something about it, a kid named Simon, what was that about?” He prompted, knowing that Ms. Albright was famous for her love of the two former students.
“Oh he’s a Creekwood legend, everyone knows about Simon and Bram.” She launched into her tale, seeming to forget the awkwardness of the previous conversation. Victor nodded in all the right places, smiling as she explained how Simon rode the Ferris wheel in front of everyone, waiting for ‘Blue’ to show up.
“And then in front of the whole school, they had their first kiss.”
Smiling Victor listened to her tell him how okay Creekwood was with the whole Simon thing, knowing full well that it wasn’t that simple, Simon and Bram had explained the blackmail and the exclusion Simon had been faced with when another student found his emails to Blue.
Nodding, Victor waited until Albright was on her way before pulling up his phone and bringing up the Instagram DM to Simon he had drafted that morning.
“Dear Simon,
You don’t know me, but I just transferred to Creekwood High School. I’ve been here less than a day and I’ve already heard the legend of Simon Spier and the Winter Carnival. I just wanted to say thank you, because your story gives me the confidence to be who I am, because you see Simon, I am just like you.
Except, for the fact no one knows yet, but hopefully that’s going to change, new school, new start, right? I think people will be find, my neighbour Felix is already super nice, and I think my sister would be okay with it as well, but my super religious parents, and ultra conservative grandparents? Nah.
Anyway, I was wondering if you had any advice for me on how to navigate the halls of Creekwood, and honestly, how to handle it when other people find you.
Hopefully, you don’t find it to odd replying to a total stranger, looking forward to hearing from you.
Love, Victor.”
And send.
Okay, now, what had happened next on his first day.
As fate would have it, he was blinded by a camera flash and a “Hiya new kid.” Blinking the spots of light from his eyes, he realised Lake was there in front of him, not his Lake, but the one he met on his first day, obsessed with the mysterious new kid in their school and pushing him towards Mia.
And speak of the devil there she was.
Okay, here we go again.
First day at Creekwood High, take two.
Chapter 2: Welcome Back to Creekwood
My Turn
“Easy Lake! Hey, maybe let the new kid open his locker before shoving a camera in his face?”
Mia says interrupting Lakes stream of questions about his love life. Seriously, who says cuffed?
“Hi, I’m Mia.”
“Hi, I’m Victor, ‘the new kid’.” He answered with a smile, shaking the girls offered hand. Okay, stay calm, this is the Mia that DOESN’T hate you, who's heart you didn't stomp into a billion and one pieces. Also, this is the Mia who doesn’t know you yet. Cause apparently you can time travel. Yep that is still a thing, still waiting to wake up by the way universe, he added, almost hoping he would. Almost
Zoning back into Mia's exasperated apology for Lake being Lake, he rambles through his piano model story, getting a laugh from Mia helped ease the awkwardness he was feeling.
“Kay well hi? Still waiting for my answer.” Lake interrupts, bringing focus back to the matter at hand.
“Is there a girl back home or?”
Okay, he didn’t need Lake blasting this over Creek Secrets. How do you keep this type of thing vague and mysterious and not misleading?
“Nope, definitely no girlfriend, but yeah, no one back in Texas missing me. Which is a lot more depressing sounding than I meant..”
Victor fumbled through the sentence, frowning internally as he thought about what he had just said, was that just a long-winded way of saying what he said the last time?
“Hmm, so do mess with Texas? Got it.” Lake states, side eyeing Mia before pulling her along to wherever it was they needed to go.
“I’ll uh, I’ll see ya around.” Mia waved, smiling as she was dragged along after Lake, and passing a shocked Felix.
Oh god, that didn’t fix anything did it? It was as vague and unclear as the last time. And Mia definitely reacted the same as last time. Damn it. I’ll need to fix that as soon as possible.
Before he could spiral a bit longer he was interrupted by Felix’s likening the fact that he made Mia blush to some on high miracle.
“Felix, buddy, please don’t read into that more than you already have okay, Mia seems really nice, but I’m not into her, she’s not really my type.” There, that was better, right?
“Dude she is like the prettiest, most popular girl in our class, how can you not be into her?” the other boy asked, his brows raising in confusion.
“Just, I'm not okay. She seems like a really sweet girl, but I don’t want to lead her on, and I definitely don’t want anyone pressuring her. So please drop it?” Victor begged, finally getting through to his not-quite-yet best friend.
“Twist. Okay, whatever you say. But can I just say, I am calling it now, being your best friend is gonna be wild!” Felix announced, throwing an arm around Victors shoulder.
Barking out a laugh, Victor felt the familiar comfort that came with Felix settle back into his chest, and he happily followed Felix down the hall, listening to him talk about the who’s who of Creekwood and where everyone fit in it.
“Okay, here we are, the locker rooms. I doubt you will hate having gym first period as much as I would but give it a few weeks.” Letting his eyes drift to the door at the end of the hall as Felix rambled, Victor waited for it to open, surely it would happen right? He hadn’t changed anything that would affect that right?
“Why do we have PE? It’s not like…”
Victor didn’t hear anymore, because there was Benji, just like last time, with his floppy hair and Pink Floyd tee. Did he know what he looked like drinking from that fountain? Surely he did. Why was he nervous, this was Benji, arguably the person who knew him best? Or would, gahh time travel is a headache on its own.
Not being able to help the smile that crossed his face he watched Benji approach from the fountain, interrupting Felix’s eye contact avoidance advice.
“Hey Felix,” Benji spoke up, before nodding to Victors shoes, “Wow, nice shoes, vintage Nike Cortez’s?”
“Yeah, my mom actually picked them up at a garage sale, she didn’t even realise, just saw they were my size. Win-win for me right?” Victor answered, okay that was definitely better than last time.
Extending his hand to the shorter boy he continued, “I’m Victor by the way, it’s my first day.”
“Hi, I’m Benji, good to meet you.” Benji said, seeming a little surprised by the gesture but shaking the offered hand none the less. “Well, sounds like those shoes were your destiny Victor, if you believe in that kind of thing I mean.”
“Yeah, I do, definitely a big believer in destiny,” Especially recently.
Smiling at the boy’s sudden bashfulness over his destiny comment. “But at the very least I got some cool kicks.”
Before they could continue the bell interrupted them, causing the trio to split apart as Benji left to head to his own classes with another handshake and a smile on his face.
“Benji’s chill, also he’s gay. Just so you know.” Felix spoke up, drawing Victors attention from where he definitely wasn’t watching Benji walk off. “I don’t care, but you don’t want people to get the wrong idea.”
Okay, that was odd, what did he mean by that?
“What do you mean the wrong idea Felix?” Victor asked, keeping his voice steady.
“Oh, well I just mean you know how people can be, if you hang around, they’ll probably just assume you’re gay too.” Felix stated, chewing his lip as he realised what he was actually saying and looking as though he was regretting it.
“Oh god, I sound horrible, I didn’t mean it like that, I swear I’m not homophobic.”
“Felix! It’s okay, I get it, thank you for looking out for me yeah? But don’t worry, but I don’t really care if people know I’m gay, I’m not gonna avoid Benji just ‘cause other people are judgmental dicks.”
Victor spoke without thinking, without listening to himself, heading off to the locker room. “I’ll see you next period okay. I think we have class together so could you save me a seat?”
And most importantly, missing Felix's face as he processed what Victor said.
It wasn’t until he was sitting listening to the guys in the locker room chatting about whatever girl they hooked up with that he realised what he’d actually said to Felix. Maybe he was more comfortable with those words than he realised. Or maybe it was Felix, just being Felix.
God he was easy to talk too.
Knowing Felix wouldn’t care, he shrugged and moved to step away from the bench, but not before he noticed Andrew approaching.
“Hey, you’re the new kid right? I’m Andrew, point guard on our basketball team.”
Ignoring his previous experiences with the guy he decided to offer him the benefit of the doubt, and as with both Mia and Benji, offered his hand.
“Hi, I’m Victor, I was actually point guard on my old team, but I usually switched it up a bit.” He responded, hoping to make it clear he wasn’t gunning for Andrew’s spot.
“Well, welcome to Creekwood Victor, I’ll see you on the court.” There was a hint of challenge in Andrew’s eye, and the cocky smirk that Victor recognised so well. Huffing a breath through his nose, he moved out onto the court.
While he wanted to get on better with Andrew, to give him a second chance, he didn’t intend on hiding his skills just to appease the other boy’s ego.
Focusing on the drills the coach had them run, Victor smiled to himself as the coach despaired over the lack of skill some of the other students were showing. After nabbing the ball from Andrew, again, Victor scored and at shrill blast of the coaches’ whistle ran over to stand beside the man, who proceeded to inform him of his dual role as PE teacher and basketball coach, and then invite Victor to the team.
“Yeah, definitely if you’ll have me, thanks coach.” Victor answered easily, happy that this had gone right. He needed basketball, like Pilar needed her music.
The mans smile grew and he called Andrew over to inform him since he was team captain.
“Victor's on the team!”
“Hey, yeah, like I said I used to play point guard back home, but I can adapt if I need to.” This still didn’t seem to sit well with Andrew, who looked down his nose at the shorter boy.
“Yeah, well like I said, I’m point guard here. I’ll see where we can squeeze you in new kid.”
“Don’t worry about him Victor, he’s a little bit protective of the squad, lets not get bogged down too much in who plays what position right now, it's why we run trial practices.” Frowning at Andrews back the coach paused, before handing Victor the info sheet and informing him of the $500 fee.
“Does, um does this need to be paid upfront? I don’t exactly have that amount on me right now.” He was still a little embarrassed by the lack of money they had compared to the other Creekwood kids. And he knew the answer, but he still needed to play the role of new kid for a bit.
“No, of course not, you have until the week before our first game to pay it.” The coach said, as though that was still more than enough time for someone to find a measly $500, before nodding the boy back onto the court, and Victor went, but not without missing Andrews condescending smirk.
So that's how Andrew found out about the money.
Okay, he was definitely going to need to get his Brasstown job back.
Walking through the courtyard, looking for Felix, Victor was still mulling over the money situation in his head, at least he knew what he wanted this time, so he’d be less likely to spend money on stuff that he didn’t want, he wasn't a materialistic person, but it was still nice to be able to buy yourself something you wanted.
Still, $500 was always going to be a lot to him, and his family. It's why Victor still had an old PS2, instead of the newest console. That and it had the best games so why upgrade?
Getting to the courtyard, and looking around he finally spotted Pilar at the vending machine, and quickly moved to stand beside her, watching silently as she struggled with a crinkly dollar bill.
With a mirthful sigh, he handed her a smooth bill from his wallet and took her crinkly one for himself, sticking his tongue out as he did.
Smiling slightly Pilar put the bill in the machine and lifted whatever treat it was she had bought from the bottom slot.
Thanking Victor, the pair turned to look across the courtyard, looking for somewhere to sit. As they did Mia approached, all smiles and positive energy.
“Hey, did I just see you defeat the courtyard vending machine on your first day?” She asked, raising her eyebrow at Pilar, who raised her own in confusion. “The machines here are the worst, it took me my entire freshman year to get the hang of it, so props to you guys. I’m Mia by the way.”
Smiling she offered Pilar her hand and in a surprising turn Victor watched his sister shake it and inform her that it was Victor who solved it, she was too caught up in what some “skinny white girls” had said to her at lunch, not bothering to introduce herself.
“Mia, this is my sister Pilar.” To this Pilar only grunted her acknowledgment, glaring at two girls across the courtyard. Okay, Victor needed to keep an eye on that, no way was he letting anyone bully his sister.
“Oh, is somebody trolling you?” Mia asked, sounding genuinely sympathetic, followed the younger girls gaze to look at a table across from them. “Ah, Alison King and Katie Ellis, don’t worry about them, they’re gonna get pregnant and drop out anyway.” Mia said, her voice filled with an authority that suggested she knew this would happen.
This had Pilar laugh, even if she didn’t want to admit it, it was clear she appreciated Mia’s candour.
“Hey, why don’t you sit with us hermana? I was just looking for Felix from our building.” Victor spoke, not wanting his sister to go off alone again.
“You should walk with us tomorrow, we got coffee from this little café in town, and it was so good.”
“Yeah sure, lead the way V.” Pilar fell into line between Victor and Mia as they crossed the campus.
“Sorry, I just miss Texas and my crew back there. I haven’t really met anyone in Creekwood that I don’t want to punch. Present company excluded.” She finished with an uncharacteristically shy smile towards Mia.
Convinced that this was a good step in getting the two to be friends again, Victor was interrupted by some kid he didn't recognise beyond seeing him on his last, first day, informing him he had donated to the GoFundMe page set up by Andrew.
After telling the guy it was a joke, and to get his money back Victor turned to the two girls.
“Excuse me ladies, I need to go have a word with our esteemed basketball captain, save me a seat yeah?”
Nodding in understanding, the two couldn’t help but look at him with concern, and in Pilar’s case, shared embarrassment.
“Yeah, sure Victor, we will, but don’t lose your temper okay? He probably did it just to get a rise out of you.” Mia spoke, chewing on her lip.
Realising that she obviously knew the kind of guy Andrew was and how he acted to get attention, Victor understood her hesitance and anger at the situation.
“I won’t, but I want this nipped in the bud now.” Turning to the table he could see Andrew sitting at, walking past a concerned Felix he marched right up to the table.
“Hey, Andrew can I have a word?” He spoke up, getting close to the table and letting his anger bleed in to his tone, he spoke louder than he meant to, “You started up a GoFundMe page?”
“Hey man, don’t worry about it, it seemed those basketball fees were gonna be a little much, but don’t worry, I sent a link around. And you know what? People actually donated.” The taller boy spoke, his voice ringing out clearly, enjoying the attention he was getting.
“Really, anything I can do to help the needy.”
“Dude, just take it down, I’m gonna pay my own way, I don’t rely on the bank of Mom and Dad like most people hear seem to do.” Victor spoke, his voice carrying over the snickers caused by Andrews’s last comment. “I don’t like hand-outs, so shut it down, and give everyone back their money. I guess I got it wrong in gym today, didn’t realise that you were such a jerk”
He watched Andrew eyes as his last statement sunk in, but the moment of shock was quickly overcome by the boys glare refocusing on Victor, who swiftly moved to pass the boy towards his friends.
Just like last time though, it seemed Victor had touched a nerve, and Andrew lashed out as he passed him, knocking his shoulder and sending Victor’s lunch clattering to the ground.
Rolling his eyes at the childishness of it, Victor moved forward to grab the food from the ground before it could roll anymore and was once again greeted by Benji offering him a hand and asking if he was okay.
“Yeah, I’m fine, just dealing with a jerk.” Taking the offered hand, he let the shorter boy pull him from where he was on the ground. “Thanks, Benji I..”
Before he could get any further someone walking bye wolf whistled and interrupted them.
“Ow ow, get it new kid.”
Rolling his eyes at the weak laughter that followed, Victor just smiled at Benji, letting his hand go easily, in a way that he hoped made it clear her wasn’t bothered.
And hopefully not letting him know that all he wanted to do was hold Benji's hand!
“Yeah, well I guess I’m doing pretty well for my first day then.” He shot at the kid, who clearly wasn’t expecting a retort, let alone an unfazed one.
“Whatever new kid, go eat lunch with your boyfriend.” He spoke, walking off in frustration.
Winking at Benji, he turned in time to great his friends, as Felix, Mia and Pilar moved towards them.
“Sorry about that, hey do you wanna sit with us? We were looking for Felix and a table before all.. that happened. You’re welcome to join us” He’d never really had lunch with Benji in school, by the time they’d gotten closer, he had his own circle of friends.
“Umm, yeah I don’t mind, are you sure you’re okay? Andrew can be a dick from what I’ve heard.” Benji spoke, caught off guard by Victors casual attitude, looking to Mia and Felix to back him up. Both nodded, with Felix doing so while flicking his eyes between Victor and Benji, smirking slightly as he caught Victor’s eye.
“Yeah, sorry Victor, Andrew just lets his ego get the better of him, not that it’s an excuse for his behaviour.” Mia said, glaring at Andrew, who upon seeing her, actually ducked his head, suddenly focused on his lunch tray.
“Honestly, Mia, don’t worry about it. Let’s grab a table.” Leading them to an out of the way table, Victor plopped himself down and smiled as Benji slid onto the bench beside him, with Pilar sitting on his other side.
“Hey man, I’m really sorry, I tried to let you know, but I kinda got stuck in the traffic coming out of class.” Felix said leaning right across a surprised Pilar, his voice uneven with frustration. You think people would be quicker to move to lunch after such a dull class.”
“Felix, I swear, I’m fine. It was a stupid prank, the worst that happened was that my drink has been fizzed up.” Victor turned to open his bottle, making sure to avoid the spray of carbonated liquid that erupted from the open end.
“See, no real harm done, and Benji stopped anyone from standing on my food, so it’s all fine.”
Smiling at Benji in thanks he noticed the boy’s cheeks turned red slightly, as everyone switched their gaze to him. Felix was smirking again and opened his mouth to reply before he caught Victors slight headshake and plead for him not to.
Realisation dawned in his friend’s eyes as he closed his mouth and nodded in acknowledgement.
“It was nothing really, I just don’t like seeing people get picked on.” Benji said, pushing his food around his tray. “And I’m sorry about that jackass who whistled when I helped you up. People are mostly over the whole gay thing by now, but I guess not all of them, sorry I dragged you into it.”
“Dude don’t worry, I’m really not bothered if people think I’m gay, it’s not like it’s a bad thing.” Victor replied casually, watching for Pilars reaction. This wasn’t really something they ever discussed, especially not with how their family could be, but he was pleased to see the girl nodding in agreement as she picked at her vending machine snack.
The 5 ate in comfortable silence until an alert on Mia’s phone brought the tension level right back up. Nervously she showed them the screen with Lakes CreekSecrets post. This time though, it wasn’t about his short fuse. It still wasn’t the nicest feeling having posts made about his, but at least now he wasn’t known as the new kid with a short fuse, but still, he had to hand it to Lake for her speedy reporting.
“I’m so mad at her, I’m sorry Victor, I will speak to her later, she really shouldn’t post this stuff.” Mia said, typing furiously on her phone in what Victor assumed was a message to Lake.
“It’s fine Mia, really, it could have been worse.” Victor reasoned, and really he was too worried last time about what people thought.
The only people who's opinions he cared about, were sitting round this table, and in New York, ideally in the middle of crafting a reply to his DM.
“Hey, umm I was wondering what this whole Winter Carnival thing is about? Everyone in my morning class was talking about it.” Pilar offered, hoping to change the topic. “They kept going on and on about the Ferris wheel too.”
Leaping forward in response, Felix launched into a detailed description of the carnivals history and Simon Spiers story. Shaking his head at the boy Victor withdrew his Brasstown application from his bag and started filling it out while finishing his sandwich, since he technically already knew about the carnival from Ms. Albright and Felix the first time round.
“Hey, you’re applying to Brasstown?” Benji spoke, softly, nodding toward the paper application Victor has been slowly working on filling out.
“Yeah, well I need a job, Andrew wasn’t completely wrong about the basketball fees being a lot. We aren’t exactly Creekwood rich, so a job it is.” Victor admitted, keeping his voice low so only Benji and probably Pilar could hear him.
“Yeah, fair enough, I know they have been struggling to get staff, since none of the rich-ass kids in town need jobs.” Benji admitted, causing Victor to flashback to their phone call in his original timeline, after the stoplight party. With a smirk Benji continued, “But don’t worry, I know the assistant manager there, I’m sure he’ll be happy to at least offer you an interview.”
“Oh really? What’s he like?” Victor probed, knowing full well Benji’s role and enjoying that he could tease the other boy like this. “I met the manager today and she seemed a little… much.”
Laughing and sweeping his hair back, Benji just shrugged without answering him shifting in his seat to focus more on his food.
Victor was really, really trying not to focus on the feeling of Benji’s leg pressed against his.
Smiling softly he let his thoughts wander, he knew Benji. He knew how he felt about him, how he hoped Benji would come to feel about Victor as well, he knew they worked well together, that their friendship had been pretty solid until he messed it all up. And he knew at this point Benji had a boyfriend..
Sighing in frustration he moved to complete the application, filling in what information for he could, leaving the rest for his parents.
“Hey, earth to Victor and Benji, do you guys wanna come or not?” Mias voice cut through his clouded thoughts. Feeling Benji jump beside him they both looked across the bench to see Mia smiling softly at them.
“Do you guys want to come to the winter carnival tonight?”
“Yeah, I’m up for it, who all is going?” Victor asked, looking to Pilar first, and smiling when she nodded and acknowledged she would be attending at Mia’s request.
“Well, Mia was just talking about Billie Eilish’s new album, so she clearly has good taste, and since the girls in my class are apparently all stuck up bitches, I figured I could tag along with you guys.” Pilar spoke slowly again, in that tone that Victor still wasn’t used to, she was being abrasive, but there was also an underlying want for acceptance.
“Oh god Pilar, of course you’re coming, Lake will be coming with, and you can’t leave us outnumbered with the guys, us girls have to stick together.” Mia stated, head held high, until she couldn’t hold her giggling anymore and ducked her head into her hands.
Smiling Victor watched as his sister joined the laughter, before he turned to Benji with an eyebrow raised.
“So, Benji, you want in on this? Felix mentioned that it’s a must see for Creekwood kids.”
“Um, yeah sure, if you guys don’t mind, I actually really love the Winter Carnival, although some people like to tell me it’s just for kids” Benji spoke, rolling his eyes at the latter statement, and then almost reluctantly added, “Would, um would you mind if I invited someone?”
Clearly he was talking about Derek, and as selfish as he wanted to be, in that he wanted Derek gone and Benji to be with him instead, Victor acknowledged that he had no right to dislike Derek, well not one he could admit.
“Yeah, of course the more the merrier. And besides, if something makes you happy, you gotta do it right? No matter what other people think.” Victor replied, hoping to ease Benji’s anxiety, clearly this was another of Derek's opinions about what was too cheesy and ‘hetero’ to do. Nudging Benji's leg to get him to pay attention.
“Just so long as someone comes on the Ferris wheel with me, because I do not like heights, and usually Pilar has to sit with me. And honestly, it's not worth the abuse.”
“Yeah, don’t worry hermano, someone will be there to hold your hand.” Pilar spoke up, teasing Victor and enjoying watching him blush in front of everyone.
“Yeah, don’t worry bestie, I got you on this, though maybe don’t load up on food before, or let me wear something that can be easily wiped down.” Felix chimed in, his silly grin removing any malice that the statement might have had.
The group dissolved into smaller conversations, making plans to meet up that night to head to the carnival, until the next bell signalled for them to head to class.
On the walk home after school, Victor trailed behind Pilar and Felix flicking through his phone, an annoying influx of friend requests and follows from people who had stood by and watched Andrew be a dick, but now wanted to be friends with the new kid, or more likely wanted to get in on the gossip, after all, he’d spent the day with Mia Brookes and Benji Campbell, the two didn’t really run in the same circles.
Swiping the notifications away, he almost misses a DM on Instagram from Simon. Biting his lip nervously he opened the message and scanned through it;
“Dear Victor,
Thank you for reaching out to me, I have to say I am touched.
I am happy to hear that you will be joining Creekwood High, and only slightly embarrassed that Ms. Albright is still telling that story.
I have to admit, I am not sure how much I can offer, you are much more confident than I was about this, and I’m proud to hear that you are already accepting yourself.
High school can be tricky and there is always a pressure to fit in.
I will say this, you do not have to come out all at once, you can do it in steps, you mentioned your family was religious, so maybe start small, let a few friends know. And make sure to call out any homophobic stuff that you hear them parrot. Even if you aren’t out, you can still be an ally.
Anyway, if you need anything at all, just message me, I can’t promise I can offer help, but I can promise to try, even for a total stranger 😉.
Love, Simon.”
Grinning from ear to ear Victor pocketed his phone after swiping away more incoming notifications, jogging slightly to catch up with Felix, Pilar having gone ahead to their home, saying she needed to clear her homework up before tonight.
“Sorry buddy, my phone has been blowing up, seems Lakes post really did a number on the gossip chain.”
“Hey, that’ll happen, though the opposite happened to me after the Lonestone incident, it was like a mass exodus from my friends list, a race to not be the last one standing.” Felix admitted, it clearly still hurt to think about it.
“Actually, Mia was one of the few who didn’t, not that we were ever close, but it was nice that she doesn’t seem to have bought into it.
“Yeah man, I noticed even Ms. Albright used the name, and I’m sorry but that’s a really shitty thing for a teacher to do, and um.. I kinda called her on it.” Victor admitted, eyes going wide, as Felixs' head shot up so fast he was worried his friend had whiplash.
“Umm, after you left, I kinda told her that it was a shitty thing to use a nickname that clearly bothered someone. And after that she was kinda quiet for a bit, like she realised what she had done. Sorry.. if I overstepped.”
“Twist! Did you really do that though?” Felix asked, head tilted as he waited on a reply.
“Umm yeah I guess, you’re my friend, and you’ve been so nice to me since we showed up and it doesn’t seem fair.” Victor replied, starting to get uncomfortable as Felix simply stared at him, for once not blinking. After a minute Victor was getting worried.
Umm, Felix? Buddy, you still in there?”
This snapped Felix out of it, and without waiting he pulled Victor into a hug. Smiling into his friends shoulder, he hugged the skinny boy back, waiting patiently for him to let go. At least that was one thing off his list, he had his best friend back.
“Dude, you have no idea how much that means to me. And what you said earlier about you being, you know, gay. I have no problem with it, at all, like I don’t know what the perfect thing to say is, but this won’t change anything.” Felix rambled, he eyes darting side to side as if waiting for someone to come running up to them.
“And I swear I won’t out you, I’ll even run interference with Mia.”
Laughing Victor dragged the other boy up the steps of their complex, smiling as he opened the door to their building.
“Felix, honestly I never doubted you, and thank you. I’m not really out to anyone other than you, but I have no intention of hiding it. But yeah, please don’t tell anyone just yet, my family are kind of.. traditional, you know?”
“Of course buddy of course. My lips are sealed.” Felix announced, miming zipping his mouth closed, until he reversed it slightly.
“So, what do you think of Benji?”
“Oh god Felix, don’t, nope, not talking about this, go home, I need to go get dinner.” Victor announced, frogmarching Felix towards his door, and heading up to his, praying the boy hadn’t seen his blush.
Judging by the gleeful laugh that followed him up the stairs, he’d seen it plain and clear.
"I'll radio you later bestie!"
Chapter 3: Welcome Back to Creekwood
The Ferris Wheel
Walking into the apartment, instead of an argument about Pilar fighting with the girls, Victor was greeted to the sight of his parents happily chatting to Pilar about school, apparently she had asked their mom for some money to get a ticket, which prompted a retelling of the discussion the group had earlier, and that they were all planning on meeting here before heading out together.
“Oh, so you guys made friends?” Armando asked, smiling as he looked between his older kids, “Pilar mentioned that Felix kid, and a Mia?”
“And Benji.” Pilar added, eyes flicking to Victor for a split second.
“Good, good, so you’re going to the carnival with these kids?” Their father asked, leaning against the counter.
“Yeah, um I think we are meeting here before we get an Uber there or something.” Victor answered, not quite sure what to say, this hadn’t been the topic last time.
This time though, they didn’t have to lie about liking it here, Victor knew Creekwood was already home for him, but this time it seemed like Pilar was following along too, though knowing her it wouldn’t be quietly.
Leaning on the doorframe Victor watched his parents smiling and chatting with Pilar, who had pulled articles up on her phone from previous years events, and before Victor could interupt, Pilar was reading the article about the year Simon had kissed Bram.
Pilar was reading what was essentially a gay love story, to their mother, In their kitchen. Just like that?
“Oh, that’s so romantic, Armando come here, look at this, look at what the boy did.” Isabel called her husband over, babbling to him about how cute it was, and how romantic it was to wait for him on the Ferris Wheel.
“Sí amor, that’s pretty brave.” Armando nodded, he didn’t seem uncomfortable, he didn’t seem to be overly concerned about it being too boys,
“Especially considering how some people are about.. you know, that, even here. Imagine trying that back home? Imagine that old fart Johnson would do.”
Wait, his dad didn’t like Mr. Johnson? He was their neighbour back in Texas, and quite proudly the ‘right sort of American’. He always had the time to spew his homophobic drivel when anyone gave him the chance. They’d always been on polite terms with the man?
Victor was shocked to say the least. His dad was worried about Adrian playing with a Frozen wand, admittedly only in front of their abuelo. And now he was impressed by Simons big grand, gay gesture.
Okay, maybe it wasn’t time travel, hadn’t Felix told him in the future about alternate dimensions or something?
Stepping forward, Victor into the room, nodding towards Pilar’s phone, which she had finally gotten back from their mother.
“Yeah I heard a few people in school talking about that Simon kid, seems everyone is a lot more accepting in this town than back home.” He said, trying to figure out a way to broach the subject without outing himself.
“One of the guys we are going to the carnival with tonight is gay and everyone in school seems cool with it.”
“That’s good Flaco, it’s no one’s business what anyone gets up to.” Armando shrugged, turning back to the boxes he was working on unloading.
Okay, so it wasn’t marching at Pride. But it was the most progressive he had ever heard his parents when anything gay came up. Baby steps right?
Maybe if they got to know Benji a bit better this time, and there wasn’t as much drama at his birthday.. okay maybe he was getting ahead of himself.
“Hey Pilar, everyone’s meeting here at 8pm so we can head to the carnival, I think Mia said that Lake is coming too. Knowing Felix, he will be here at 7:45 instead.” Victor said, smiling as he knew the boy would likely be even earlier if he could try it.
“So, I’m gonna go grab a shower before dinner, I think Mia set up a group chat for it, let me know if I miss anything.”
Mia: Hey guys, so just doing a head count. Me, Lake, Victor, Felix, Pilar, Benji+1, right?
Lake: Totes
Felix: Yes, count me in. I am dying to get my hands on the apple cider!
Felix: It’s like drinking Christmas!
Pilar: I’ll be coming along; I think our parents are coming later but Victor and I are gonna Uber with you guys. You do not want Adrian roping you into his unboxing video binges.
Mia: Awesome, just message us the address and we can all be there at 8.
Mia: @Benji are you still coming?
Victor: Sorry, just out of the shower, yes, we are good to Uber from here
Victor: @Felix, please remind me to get an apple cider, that sounds awesome.
Felix: You got it bestie!
Benji: Hey, sorry, we should be there around 8:30, I will let you know
Mia: No problem, c you there.
Lake: @Victor 😉
Pilar: Eww. Just ew.
Mia: LAKE! Down girl
Almost on the dot, Felix was knocking at the Salazar’s door at 6:45pm. The guy was like clockwork, Victor thought, smiling as he opened the door and greeted the enthusiastic teen.
“Hey bestie, am I the first one here?” Felix asked, looking around as he stepped through the door.
“Felix, we said 7pm, so yeah it’s just you so far, c’mon we can wait in my room.” Victor said, walking down the corridor to his room, passing Pilar who just smiled at Felix as they passed.
Once they were in the room Victor could see Felix was waiting to ask him something, but clearly he was working his way up to it.
Having a pretty good idea of what the awkward boy wanted to ask him he tilted his head and waited patiently.
“So.. Victor, I was wondering if you wanted to talk about earlier today? I don’t want to get you in trouble by saying the wrong thing, or in front of the wrong person.” Felix finally said, after a solid couple minutes of silence.
“Yeah, thanks for that, umm so really you’re the only one who knows I am gay, umm my family definitely do not.” Victor admitted, not able to really meet his friend’s gaze.
“I figured that Creekwood would be a fresh start, and if I can take baby steps at school, I can work up to telling my parents. Like earlier today, when Lake asked if I had a girl back home, instead of admitting who I am, I waffled about not having anyone.”
“I get you, I think, well I don’t really know, but I guess it can’t be easy right?” Felix spoke softly, making sure no one could overhear them.
“And judging by the Jesus on the walls in your kitchen, I’d say your folks are pretty religious.”
“Yeah, although I don’t think they’re actually as bad as I thought, but for now, it’s just not a good time. Although Pilar was telling them about Simon Spier, and they just commented that it was brave and romantic, that’s it, no ‘he needs Jesus’ speech.”
“No problem Victor, I won’t say a word. And who knows, maybe once they meet Benji….” Felix said trailing off as he dodged the pillow Victor launched at him, and they lapsed into a comfortable silence until a buzz from their phones alerted them to a new message from Mia.
Mia: Hey guys, Lake and I are just walking up now. ETA 2 mins.
Victor: Cool, we will meet you at the door for you now, is everyone good to go?
Mia: Yup, I can get the car booked now.
Lake: OMG, please make sure it’s something stylish.
Victor: Okay, see you guys soon.
Victor: @Benji eta?
Sliding his phone into his pocket Victor headed out into the hall, Felix just behind him. By the time they had gotten to the door, Pilar had already let Mia and Lake in, and was in the process of doing introductions to their parents.
“Mami, Papi, these are our friends, Mia and Lake. They’re in Victors class.” Pilar said, pointing to each girl in turn. “Guys, this is our mom and dad, and that’s our little brother Adrian.”
“Hola hola, it’s so nice to meet you. Are you excited for the carnival?” Isabel greeted them, waving at Felix who was in the corner with Victor, smiling as ever.
“Felix, it’s so nice to meet you again, thank you for being so nice to Victor and Pilar yesterday.”
At this, all 3 blushed and ducked their head at that, Felix though couldn’t help his smile, especially when Victor nudged him to nod his agreement. Thankfully, they were saved from more blushes by Armando.
“So, is this everyone? I thought you said there were a few more going?”
“Yeah, we are just waiting on Benji and his mystery guest, though I think it’s probably Derek.” Mia answered, not hiding her grimace, checking her phone. It seems Mia wasn’t a fan of Derek, did they know each other?
“Our ride is on its way though, should we call him?”
“Yeah, we can’t go without Benji, we need the hotness boost.” Lake said, not looking up from her phone, typing rapidly.
“Yeah, um lemme see if I can get through to him,” Victor said, stepping out into the hall and dialling Benji’s number, although it just dialled out and get got his voicemail.
“Hey Benji, just checking in, um I think we are gonna head to the carnival. Let us know when you’re on your way yeah? Oh, this is Victor by the way.”
Stepping back into the kitchen he let them know that he hadn’t been able to get through and it was probably best to head on. He wasn’t sure what he was feeling, but he was definitely upset that Benji wouldn’t be coming with them.
What happened this time? Benji had been there before Victor had even arrived.
Gathering himself up, and pushing down his disappointment, he let Isabel shepherd them out to the car, silently pocketing the money Armando had slipped to him, with instructions to treat himself and his sister, as well as any cute girls he might meet. Rolling his eyes, he thanked his dad and joined his friends as they got into the car.
As the car drove off the teens chatted amongst themselves, talking about the upcoming carnival, Felix listing his detailed plan for covering as many rides and booths as possible.
Smiling as he checked his phone he saw a message from Benji, that came through directly to him instead of the group chat, tapping on the notification he opened it.
Benji: Hey, sorry I missed your call, I was dealing with something. I will be at the carnival later, just running behind.
Victor: No worries, we are pulling up rn, everything ok?
Benji: Yeah man, dw about it. I’ll see you at the carnival.
“Hey, Benji just messaged, he’s gonna be a little late.” Victor let the group know as they pulled up to the carnival and piled out of the car.
“Hmm, fashionably late, I like it. I always knew Benji had style.” Lake commented, finally looking up from her phone as they got their tickets.
“Ugh, yeah I doubt it’s that. He said he was on his way right?” Mia asked, turning to Victor, and continued at his nod. “I’m going to go out on a limb and say that he had a fight with Derek, the guy is a bit of an acquired taste.”
“Oh, um yeah I don’t know. I don’t think it’s our business though.” Felix spoke up, keeping his eyes on Victor as he spoke. “Let’s just enjoy the carnival yeah? I’m sure Benji is okay.”
Smiling Victor asked for the first step of Felix’s ‘master plan’, which just like last time, involved churros and apple cider. Cheering in agreement, the group split, Mia and Lake heading with Victor to get the churros and Felix guided Pilar to the drinks stand.
“So, Victor, how has Creekwood been treating you so far. Anyone catch your eye?” Lake asked, joining the queue for Churros.
“Ha, you really won’t stop will you?” Victor chuckled, shaking his head at the girl. He had to admit, she knew how to persevere.
“Well, if you must know, yes there is someone who has caught my eye, yes you know them, no I won’t tell you who they are.”
“Hmmm, good use of avoiding gender pronouns Texas, almost like you’re trying to throw me off the trail.” Lake replied, stepping up to the counter and placing their order.
God he forgot how perceptive Lake could be.
“Come on Lake, leave him alone already, just enjoy the carnival. Let’s find Felix and Pilar, I want to win one of those giant stuffed bears, and I really want that apple cider Felix mentioned.” Mia stepped in, her eyes rolling so hard you could almost hear them.
“He just kept mentioning them and now I can’t stop thinking about them.”
Huffing Lake handed the churros to Victor and lead them to the bench Pilar and Felix had commandeered, and already had filled with snacks and hot apple ciders!
“Oh god, I’ve been dying for one of these all-day men, you really hyped them up you know that buddy.” Victor said, grabbing the offered cup from Pilar, and handing a box of churros to her in return, before taking a slug of the drink.
Ugh, Felix was so right about this; he definitely should have gotten some last time, what else had he missed out on last time by obsessing over everything else. His train of thought was interrupted before he could wallow anymore by his phone buzzing.
Benji: Hey, sorry I’m here where r you guys?
Benji: I am over by the ticket booth
Victor: Hey, we are over by the churro booth, hang on I’ll get you.
“Hey guys, Benji is here, I’m going to go get him, Pilar save me some churros?” Victor said, untangling himself from the table. Shrugging Pilar grabbed some of the churros, smirking at her brother as she took a bite out of them.
“No promises hermano.”
Laughter followed that announcement with Mia and Lake wrapping an arm around the girl and posing for a photo.
“So rude..” Victor chuckled as he headed to the entrance, checking his phone to see if there was anything from Benji.
Making his way through the crowd, on the lookout for the shorter boy, Victor rationalised it would probably be easier for Benji to find him instead. As he went for his phone he spotted the boy leaning against the ticket booth staring at his phone.
Taking a moment, Victor snapped a quick photo, sending it to Benji.
Benji: Nope, still not seeing you.
Victor shared an image
Victor: Found you. Now come on before Pilar eats all my churros!
Watching from his position Victor waited for Benji to look up. After a second he saw the boys head jerk up, looking around until he found Victor waving back at him, before jogging over to meet him.
“Hey, sorry man, I was out of it.” Benji said softly, as he got level with Victor he couldn’t help but notice the red rim around Benji’s eyes.
“I kind of got into it with my boyfriend Derek, he was meant to come too.”
“Ah, I’m guessing Derek is the same one who described the carnival as ‘kids’ stuff’ yeah?” Victor said, walking through the crowd with Benji, knowing from his past experience that Benji usually needed a moment to get out of his Derek-moods. At Benji’s nod, he pushed forward a bit.
“You wanna talk about it?”
“Not really, I don’t want to bring the mood down, let’s just enjoy the carnival, I believe you mentioned something about churros?” Benji said, finally spotting their friends who were still working through the snacks they’d bought.
“Yeah, well, maybe not if Pilar has eaten all of mine.” He responded, grabbing a seat at the table, and grabbing the two remain churros from the tray. “Where did they all go! I bought like a dozen!”
“Don’t look at me, it was all Felix. And Mia, and me… Okay we kinda ate them all. But we saved you one each…” Pilar said, nodding to the two remaining snacks in Victor’s hand.
Rolling his eyes, he handed the spare to Benji, who accepted the snack without comment, and happily took the cup of apple cider from Felix.
“So, what’s the plan guys, we have a couple hours to cover as many things as possible, who wants to hit what?” Felix said, as they all cleared up their snacks and drinks. “I was thinking we leave the Ferris till the end, cause it’s the beeest place to be when the fireworks go off.”
“Totally, okay, I wanna try the ring toss, I need to break my record from last year, and I want that giant teddy bear!” Mia declared, pointing out the booth with a ridiculously oversized bear.
“Excellent, okay, Mia and Lake, you guys head to the ring toss, Pilar, you and I are hitting the water cannons and Benji and Victor, I think the basketball booth is probably your best bet.” Felix announced, arms raised as though he had announced a grand plan to conquer the world.
“Whoever has the most tickets at the end of the night, is the King of the Carnival.”
“Or Queen.” Mia interjected, bouncing up to challenge Felix.
“Well, in theory, but you underestimate my power!” Felix announced, “I am a water cannon god.”
“Wow, really, Star Wars quotes?” Pilar groaned, “C’mon Nerd2D2.”
Laughing hard, Victor shoved Felix lightly, standing up from the table again, and offering Benji a hand up.
“Fair warning Victor, I may be the most unathletic guy in the world. Sports just don’t like me.” Benji said as Victor pulled him up off the bench.
Felix declared the 3 pairs head out and ‘conquer the fair’ before smirking at Victor and winking as he dragged Pilar off. Waving, Mia and Lake walked towards the ring toss, both girls glancing over their shoulders and giggling as Victor waved back before turning back to Benji.
“So, now that you’ve had a whole 2 minutes to enjoy your churro and drink, want to help me win something for my little brother?” Nodding his head towards the basketball booth.
Rolling his eyes Benji motioned for Victor to take the lead, sipping at his drink, and following along smiling.
“Okay, but I hope your little brother likes empty churro boxes, because I can’t throw a basketball to save my life.” Benji laughed, draining his cup, and lining up beside Victor, awkwardly handling the basketball the attendee handed him.
“Okay here.. we.. go!”
Victor has never seen Benji play basketball, it was obvious they guy worked out, but clearly sports did not factor into that.
Because the ball went way off target. As in it was closer to Victor’s basket, than Benji’s own.
“Okay… so maybe not a massive prize, lets aim for the lower tier hmm?” Victor said, biting his lip to stop his laughter escaping because the look on Benji’s face was downright adorable.
“Hey, come on, just cause you’re a basketball star.” Benji said, puffing up his chest as he handed the basketball to Victor to take the next shot.
“Let’s see you do better.”
Smirking Victor took the offered ball and with a careful eye sunk the shot, smirking as he saw Benji’s jaw drop.
“So, you wanna try again or are we just accepting that I’m the better shot here?” Victor challenged, shouldering Benji towards the booth again, while the smiling attendant handed him the next ball.
“Alright, Salazar, show me how its done.” Benji challenged again, rolling the ball in his hands, his smile lighting up the booth.
God he’s cute.
Victor decided to be a little bold, and stepped up behind the shorter boy, he guided his hands to position them on the ball and guided him through the motions to make the shot. Fighting his own blush, he smiled as the ball sailed through the air and dropped through the basket.
“Okay, that’s not funny, how did you do that. I have never, and I mean ever made a shot before.” Benji turned to stare at Victor, how own cheeks slightly tinged with red.
“You’re a good teacher Vic.”
“Ha, well it’s not the hardest shot in the world to make, you should try it when you’re being chased by a group of overly tall, overly built, sweaty guys. There’s a little bit more pressure.” Victor laughed, accepting the small stuffed animal and the spool of tickets from the attendant.
“Well, I don’t’ know, that sounds like of pretty fun night to me,” Benji spoke, winking at Victors blush tinged face.
“Aw, you guys make a sweet couple, enjoy the rest of the fair!” the attendant spoke up.
“Umm, thanks, you are too! I mean, you too, enjoy your night.” Victor spoke, stumbling over his words.
Giggling at Victors blush, Benji just dragged the boy from the booth.
Victor, deciding to be mature about the whole scenario, stuck his tongue out at the boy, walking onwards, head held high.
“Oh, come on Vic, I wasn’t laughing at you, it was funny, your face when he said that!” Benji finally managed, his voice shaking with barely contained amusement.
“Alright, alright it was funny. It just caught me off guard. You would never hear that said in Texas.” Victor responded, he did see the amusement in what had happened, but given his experience and how he wished it were true, he had been embarrassed by how happy the statement made him.
“At my old school, if anyone had even so much as eaten a salad they’d have been laughed at.”
“Huh, I guess I didn’t know, Creekwood isn’t perfect but it’s a lot better than a lot of other schools from what I’ve heard.” Benji admitted, jamming his hands in his pockets as they walked about the fair.
“Although I will admit, its rare that someone is as meh about the whole thing as you. I was waiting for you to turn tail and run when that asshole earlier called you out.”
“Pft, nah, what’s the point, it’s not like I’m worried if people think I’m gay.” Victor responded, weaving them through the crowd towards Pilar and Felix. “Plus, I suppose I could do worse than you.”
Shooting a wink at the other boy, who paused and had the most incredulous (and adorable) look on his face, Victor took off into the crowd to catch up with his friends, before his bravado left him.
If nothing else, he planned on having fun tonight with his friends, and a little harmless flirting never hurt either.
It would keep Benji on his toes.
After they met up with their friend to compare their prizes, the teens spend more time going around as a group, joking between themselves, and embarrassing Victor and Pilar when they bumped into their parents. Felix took particular delight in watching Victor’s face, both when they introduced Benji to their parents and then when Lake announced a poll on who would get Victor’s heart and suggested Mia as the number one candidate.
This had prompted Armando to not so subtly nudge Victor as they passed them, wiggling his eyebrows at the boy.
Rolling his eyes, Victor followed as Felix and Pilar led the group over to the Ferris wheel, as the night was starting to wind down and they wanted to see the fireworks from up high.
“Okay, how are we doing this? It’s two to a seat right? So how about, Mia and Lake, Me, and Felix, and then Benji you can hold Victor’s hand while he panics over being up oh so high.” Pilar finished, enjoying teasing her big brother.
“Hey! I’m not.. okay it’s not my proudest moment, but yeah, heights aren’t my thing.” Victor admitted, certainly not against Pillar’s plan, “But I really do want to see the fireworks, so I am game for whatever works.”
Frowning, Lake made a move to nudge Mia towards Victor, clearly planning on setting Mia up with Victor. But it would seem fate was on Victors side again, because Benji stepped forward smiling at the taller boy.
“I don’t mind, you helped me with my basketball shot, I can repay the favour.” Benji said, missing the grin that was splitting Felix’s face, and the matching surprised looks on the girls faces.
In hindsight, it probably looked odd that he would rather sit with Benji, than the pretty girl everyone was assuming he had a crush on, well except Felix who looked far too happy at the situation.
“Perfect, alrighty then, after you Pilar, then Lake and Mia, and finally, I’m sure Benji can help Victor into his seat.” Felix announced. Bounding up the steps Felix happily handed his tickets to the attendant. With an exaggerated bow he pointed Pilar to their seat, and let the attendant close the gate on them.
Mia and Lake followed into the next seat, with Lake shooting Victor suspicious looks, her eyes darting between Victor and Benji as their own seat worked it’s way around the wheel.
“Alright, come on you, let’s get this over with.” Victor laughed, patting the seat beside him. “Just tell me when we are at the top okay?”
Sliding in beside him, Benji pulled the bar closed and waited for the guy to lock it and send them on their way around.
“Wow, we’re pretty high up huh?” Victor said, anxiously rubbing his hands together, he still didn’t like heights okay?
“It didn’t look that high when we were on the ground, but now…”
“You are actually afraid of heights?” Benji asked, concern tinting his voice.
“Oh! No, no this is amazing! I love this.” Victor said, flapping his hands slightly as if that would remove the waver of fear from his voice.
“Okay, the trick is to not look down,” Benji said, drawing Victors eyes from the ground, “Just look at me okay?”
Well, he wasn’t going to pass up that offer, not in this timeline or any other. Watching Benji, with the blue glow of the lights hitting him just right, god he looked perfect.
“Okay. Yeah I can do that.” Victor nodded, trying not to drool.
“See, there we go. At the top already.” Benji said, smiling and sitting back in his chair and running his hands through his hair.
Definitely don’t droll Victor thought to himself.
“So, Victor I gotta ask, and this might sound a little bit rude, but why did you not want to sit with Mia? It seems like Lake has been trying to set you up all day, I don’t want to be a cockblock.” Benji said, looking at Victor with genuine curiosity.
“Ah, yeah, would you believe me if I said you were actually doing me a favour?” Victor said earnestly, glancing behind them a few rows to the girl’s bench.
“You’re right, Lake seems set on Mia and me being a thing, which is odd considering it’s my first day. But honestly, I do like Mia, she seems super nice, just not something I see as becoming more that friends. If I’m totally honest, she’s not really my type.”
“Oh, I see, well then consider me at your service.” Benji said, with a smirk, “But if you don’t mind me asking, what exactly is your type then?
“Brunettes I guess”, Victor admitted before he could stop himself, he couldn’t help but glance at Benji’s hair.
“Ah, I see, who knew you were a man of such specific tastes.” Benji teased, his smile catching Victor off guard..
“Ha, ha. My tastes are plenty specific thank you very much.” Maybe too specific. Victor worried.
“If you’re nice I might even tell you.”
Laughing again, Benji sat back in his chair and looked out over the town, taking in the sights, Victor though, couldn’t help looking at Benji, watching how his smile stretched softly across his face, his eyes taking in every detail, his cheeks flushed slightly in the cooler air.
“You know I really love this place, I come every year, I tried bringing Derek along, but… well you know.” Benji finished with a sigh, eyes glazing over, likely lost in the memory of their fight.
“Sometimes, it feels like he just doesn’t want to do anything if it’s something I suggest. Like tonight, I’d have loved to have spent the night with him here, doing cheesy couple stuff, but apparently he would rather sit in and watch reality tv.”
Watching in silence Victor let Benji vent, he hadn’t realised that things were so off already with Benji and Derek and wondered how Benji had been coping in the previous timeline.
Remembering his own plan, to be his friend first, he just let Benji talk, talk until he ran out of things to get off his chest.
“I am really sorry, I don’t know why I said all that, you’re just really easy to talk to I guess.” Benji spoke softly, watching Victor from the corner of his eye.
“I feel like I’ve known you a lot longer than a single school day.”
Laughing Victor acknowledged that he felt the same, not admitting how literal it was on his part, and sat back to enjoy the fireworks, enjoying Benji’s warmth beside him, he wrapped his arm around the shorter boy’s shoulder in what he hoped was a friendly gesture.
“Hey, Benji. I don’t know Derek, but he sounds like an idiot if he’s willing to miss hanging out with you for some fake people. You seem pretty awesome, and you deserve someone who makes you feel that way. I hope he realises that you are pretty great, even if you can’t throw a ball to save your life.”
Victor spoke, not being able to filter his own words, and honestly, why not. Benji deserved better than Derek, even if it wasn’t with Victor.
Laughing softly Benji thanked him, and the pair sat in comfortable silence, watching the fireworks overhead as the wheel started again, lowering them to the ground.
Victor didn’t pass any comment on how much Benji leaned into him as they swayed in the breeze.
He was just being friendly right?
When they reached the bottom, they boys disembarked, both sharing shy glances walking to the side to meet up with their friends, before they all split for the night, Victor and Pilar heading out to meet their parents and Adrian, with promises to see them all the next day in school.
Victor: God, I am soo tired, why am I so tired from sitting and eating all night?
Benji: Haha, I know what you mean, I feel like I could sleep forever rn
Benji: Hey, thanks for listening today, I really needed that.
Victor: No problem at all, thank you for helping me sit in a Ferris wheel without panicking :P
Benji: Lol, I mean, it was only fair. You helped me score a basket too
Benji: I’m really glad we went though, it was nice to get away and just have fun. We even make a cute couple according to Basketball Booth Attendant Monthly 😊
Victor: Oh god, I think my face is still red.
Benji: Excuse me mr ‘I could do worse’. You didn’t seem to upset when it was suggested.
Victor: I don’t know whaaat you’re talking about.
Victor: Oh noo… looks like its time for me to go to sleep.
Victor: Bye Benji :P
Benji: :O
Benji: Smooth, real subtle Vic, I’ll see you at school tomorrow, sweet dreams.
That night, Victor most definitely might have had a dream about kissing Benji on the Ferris wheel and having all his friends and family cheering and looking happy.
So, being just friends was probably out the window.
Chapter 4: Stop, Start, Go
RED
He could hear the teasing and whispers following him as he walked into school the next day, Creekwood was abuzz about the fact the new kid rode the Ferris wheel with the gay kid. Apparently it was a slow news day, since Lake didn’t have any juicy articles to post about him and Mia.
Seriously, they knew he could hear them right?
Rolling his eyes in amusement, he walked up to Mia and Lake already waiting at his locker, looking at him with sympathetic eyes, which only got worse when someone called across the hallway asking if Victor has ‘got any last night’.
Honestly, they really weren’t working with high quality minds here if that was the best they could come up with.
“Good morning girls, lemme just stick this stuff in my locker and I’m ready for class.” Victor said, throwing his books into his locker, and grabbing the one he needed.
“Hey yourself, are you okay? I heard some kids talking and gossiping about you and Benji going on the Ferris wheel together.” Mia said softly, as if waiting for him to freak out, oddly though she also seemed on the verge of being upset.
“Yeah, see if you’d just gone with, oh I don’t know, Mia here, we could have avoided all this awkwardness.” Lake interrupted her usual bluntness cutting to the point.
Was she really that naïve? Victor knew full well that there would be rumours regardless, she was just mad they weren’t her rumours, at least this time they were somewhat more accurate.
“Or there would be the same rumours going around about Mia and me instead.” Victor said, throwing his backpack onto his shoulder. “High school will gossip Lake; you should know that.”
“Well yeah, but at least with Mia people wouldn’t be wondering if you’re, you know.. gay.” Lake said, suddenly aware of Victors gaze focusing on her.
“And what exactly is the problem with people thinking I’m gay Lake? That’s kinda homophobic you know. Besides, I really don’t care what people have to say about me.” Victor said, slamming his locker shut. “If the worst that they can imagine is that there’s something between me and Benji, then I think I’ll survive just fine.”
“I’ll see you both in class.” Victor said, surprised at how his temper leapt up. He knew Lake wasn’t a homophobe, so what has that? Was she just annoyed he wasn’t paying attention to Mia the way Lake seemed to expect?
Moving past the two stunned girls Victor walked down the hall not really focusing on where he was going. He still had 5 minutes until class started, may as well kill some time, maybe he’d just go hide in the bathroom.
Or at least he would have if a familiar voice didn’t call out from behind him.
“Victor! Hey, Victor wait up.” Turning Victor was greeted the sight of Benji doing a half-jog to catch up with him.
“Hey Benji, what’s up?” Victor asked curiously, he hadn’t actually spoken to Benji last time around until their Brasstown interview, which was also later that day if he did it right again. “You look a bit frazzled, is everything okay?”
“Yeah, sorry, I had a late night. Derek wasn’t happy I’d gone on to the carnival without him, so that was a whole thing.” Benji said, rolling his eyes as he said it, clearly trying to make light of the situation.
“Listen, I am really sorry about, you know.. everything people are saying today. I didn’t mean to cause you any problems on your second day.” Benji said, sounding unsure of himself and doing his best to avoid meeting the taller boys’ eye.
Clearly he had heard the same comments Victor did, but he seemed more worried that Victor was going to take them to heart and distance himself from the whole scenario.
Well, we can’t have him thinking that now can we?
“Benji, the only way people wouldn’t gossip was if I’d gone on the wheel with Pilar, or maybe Felix. Even then it would be ‘why did he do that, is he too good for us’ gossip instead.” Victor reassured the other boy, happy when Benji let out a soft chuckle at his words. “Besides the only people who are going to pay any mind to it are idiots like that guy from yesterday.”
As if to prove his point said guy from yesterday walked by them, clearly unable to resist commenting. Was the universe just having fun at his expense now?
“Damn new kid, you work fast. Are you two… you know.” He said, a smirk on his face, and making a crude gesture with his hands, waiting for either of the two boys to bite back.
Benji opened his mouth to respond, brows drawn tight together in anger, but Victor beat him too it, turning to look the guy in the eye as he spoke, slowly but confidently.
“No actually, Benji here is in a relationship, something I doubt you’d have any experience with. And even if we were, ‘you know’, why would it be your business?” Victor said, taking a small amount of glee in watching the guy deflate.
Just to rub it in Victor called after, “You seem to really want me and Benji to get together, I appreciate the ego boost that you think I’m in his league, cheers, but sadly he’s taken.”
“Whatever Salazar, just don’t do any of that gay shit where I can see it.” He muttered, walking away from them. Obviously not getting the rise he wanted from them, his face took on an angry red hue and Victor couldn’t make out what he was mumbling under his breath but he doubted it was PG.
Rolling his eyes at the childishness, Victor turned back to Benji who was nervously chewing his lip, cheeks flushed and unable to look Victor in the eye. Again.
What was going on with this timeline, Benji didn’t seem to want to meet his eye. Was he doing something wrong?
“Benji, seriously don’t worry about it. Like I said to Mia and Lake, if the worst people can come up with is that we’re ‘doing it’, I think I’m doing pretty well for myself.” Victor said smiling, and bumping the other boy’s shoulder, “Now come on, I have class to get too, shouldn’t you be on your way too?”
Not speaking Benji just nodded, before flashing a quick grin to the taller boy as he headed off to class, glancing back over his shoulder as he did, hopefully missing Victors lingering gaze that definitely didn’t drop a little.
Oh no, oh no no no no no..
Victor was so screwed, how was he meant to stay friends when the universe was throwing these rumours at him, and it didn’t help that apparently self-assured Victor was an outright flirt, or that Benji looked really, really good this morning.
Swearing to himself, he darted to class as the bell rang, sliding into place beside Felix who just looked at him oddly, he’d noticed the fact that neither Mia nor Lake wanted to make eye contact with Victor, which was awkward since they had been grouped up together for the semesters project.
After class Felix and Victor were heading through the hall when Lake and Mia caught up with them, both looking thoroughly upset.
Victor was trying not to panic, had he messed up by snapping at them? Was that too far considering they technically didn’t know each other that well?
Before he could ruminate on his moral compass and how it was affected by this whole situation, he was interrupted by Lake clearing her throat.
“So, Victor, I wanted to apologise for earlier. You were right, I was being shitty, and that’s not what I meant by what I said.” Lake spoke, low enough that no one overheard but loud enough to convey her honesty. “I never meant to come off as homophobic, I’ve just seen how rumours can mess with people’s heads, and I know first-hand how some comments can really dig in.”
“Yeah Victor,” Mia spoke leaning into her friend, “we really are sorry, it wasn’t fair of us to assume you’d be upset by what people were saying. You’re the better person for not reacting.”
“Guys, don’t worry about it, we all slip up sometimes and say the wrong thing, believe me.” Victor said, smiling at the relieved looks on the girls faces, and Felix’s nod of agreement. “Now come on, I have to get to class, and I don’t want to be nearly late, again.”
Wrapping an arm around Mia’s shoulder he hugged her quickly, repeating the gesture with Lake the group split at the end of the hall before heading to their next classes, with Victor heading off on his own.
It wasn’t until he got to the door and saw Benji that he remembered this was one of the few classes they shared.
Why was that? Benji was a year older than him.
Okay, AP Bio was dull. Dullllllllll.
The only redeeming quality of the class was that he had been partnered up with Benji for their project. Fortunately, he had already done this project last time, admittedly he had been paired with a girl he didn’t know last time around, Benji was really the only one he really knew in this class and he had avoided sitting with him last time round in order to distance himself from the source of his internal crisis.
What was it with this school and group projects anyway?
“Okay, so evolution, what do you know about it Vic?” Benji asked, flicking through the overview the teacher had passed around, with a long list of what they were expected to cover. “Aside from the most basic stuff, I know very little.”
“Well, I know that if you ask my grandparents they’ll tell you it’s all a big lie.” Victor said, already marking out a plan for their project in his notebook, glancing at the sections of the overview Benji had highlighted.
“Oh, lovely, so we won’t be asking them for references will we?” Benji replied, huffing a soft laugh through his nose.
“Yeah, no way. You missed the joy of one Salazar Sunday dinner after church when Pilar had to rewrite her test answers under my abuelos ‘correct’ opinion.” Victor said, sighing as he worked on writing down his plan, adding notes on bits he knew he hadn’t done well on last time. At least time travel would improve his Bio scores...
Honestly, he loved his grandparents, but even without hindsight he could see how close minded they were and how overbearing they could be.
And the way they treated him mom, definitely not happening this time.
“Ahh, Catholics, what can you do.” Benji replied, pulling Victor’s book across so he could copy the notes he’s written out into his own, much messier and doodled over book.
Chuckling Victor pulled the book back from him, wanting to avoid it being drawn over once Benji got bored copying notes. He wasn’t a neat freak, but he liked having his school stuff in good condition, it helped him focus, and he also typed notes up after school so he had them somewhere he couldn’t loose them.
Basketball alone wasn’t going to get him into a good college as his mother liked to remind him.
“Okay doodlebug, how about I send you a copy once I have this typed up tonight, or we can do a Google Doc, and that way we can add to it and save our notes from being buried under your many, many drawings?” Victor suggested, smiling as he watched Benji’s face go red as he realised he’d been about to start drawing on the neat page.
“Yeah sure, although, just so you know, I don’t plan on piggybacking off your notes, I intend to pull my own weight in this project.” Benji said, nodding to his own, messy but thorough notes.
“Yeah, I know, but this way we can work on them together if we can’t meet up in person we can just Facetime or something. If you want too that is.” Victor adds the last bit quickly, his mind adding nerves to what should have been something so simple.
“Sure, that sounds like a plan. I don’t mind working on it wherever, Brasstown has pretty decent WiFi, so we could always work there if we need.” Benji said, focusing on his next doodle, zoning out on the teacher who was advising the class on the best way to work as a team.
“Yeah, well that sounds good, I actually need to drop my application in today, do you know if the manager is in?” Victor said, knowing full well that Sarah wasn’t in and Benji had his shift after school.
“Ehh, they are usually gone by 3:30pm, so its usually the Assistant manager until close.” Benji said, clearly intent on keeping up his ruse.
Rolling his eyes, Victor turned back to the front of the room, focusing on the teachers dull explanation of their project goals. Okay so the work was easier since he’d done it before, but it was now doubly boring.
Giving up on his attempt to focus, Victor watched Benji cover his page in sketches and drawings. Watching when he bit his lip as he focused on certain parts, noticing how his eyes bounced around the page while his hand danced across, adding detail here and there.
When the bell finally rang, Benji made to bin the paper with the drawings on it, only to be stopped by Victor who grabbed the page that was more pencil lead than white paper, and tucked it into his own notebook, which he then dropped into his open bag.
Raising an eyebrow at the odd event, Benji simply rolled his eyes when Victor informed him that binning them would be a waste, and if Benji couldn’t appreciate the drawings, then Victor would.
In reality he just wanted something of Benji’s that he could keep close, he didn’t have the drawing he done for his birthday, would he even get it this time?
He might have changed too much, or maybe Benji would draw something else.
“So, Mia and I are throwing a little get together tonight, if you’re interested.” Lake announced at lunch, looking at each of them intently, as though making a royal decree and ensuring the message sunk in, it wasn’t an option not to be interested.
“What’s the occasion?” Victor asked, genuinely forgetting the original reason Lake had used to justify a party.
“The occasion is a free mansion with no adult supvervish.” The blonde replied, slyly glancing at Mia before flicking her eyes back to Victor.
“Also, it’s a Stoplight Party, so dress accordingly okay?”
Victor could have laughed at Mia’s expression, he had missed it last time around, clearly she hadn’t expected that little addition.
“What’s a stoplight party?” Pilar asked, her curiosity piqued. Before anyone could explain, Felix launched into his explanation about the colours and their meaning, and then started rambling about something completely unrelated.. as he usually did.
At Felix’s description, to Victor’s surprise Pilar passed, and when questioned pointed out that for one, she would never be allowed, and if she went, Victor would likely have to babysit Adrian, and that wasn’t fair.
“Ugh, Victor you have the nicest sister, I think that deserves a thank you gift does it not?” Mia said, winking at Pilar and laughing as Victor stuck his tongue out in response.
“Yeah yeah, I’m sure P already had the favour banked and will use it when she needs.” Victor shot back, nudging his sisters’ shoulder to show he was teasing.
After they chatted more about the party, Mia and Lake excused themselves, while Pilar headed to meet some people from her own year, which made Victor very happy to see.
Benji finally joined Felix and Victor at the table, sliding his phone into his pocket and slamming his tray down a little more forcefully than intended, grunting a hello to the two startled boys.
Throwing a look that was part confusion, part concern at Victor and jerking his head to Benji, Felix excused himself to give the two privacy, apparently he thought Benji would talk if it was just him and Victor?
Watching Felix’s retreating back, thankfully missing the sly wink he’d sent Victor as he got up, Benji sighed and pushed his untouched food to the side, resting his elbows on the table.
“So… do you wanna talk about it?” Victor broached, managing to wait a whole 20 seconds before concern overwhelmed him.
Benji didn’t look okay, he looked angry and, hoping he wasn’t right, Victor was fairly sure he had been crying again.
“Yeah, I’m fine, sorry I had a free period, so was just talking to some people.” Benji spoke up, forcing a smile that didn’t reach his eyes. “What were you guys talking about?”
“No no, nope. Come on B, something is bothering you,” Victor said, turning on his seat to face Benji head on, before swiftly poking the boy in the side with his finger. “Now tell me, or I will keep doing this.”
Poke
“Victor, I’m fine.” Benji said, chuckling, squirming out of reach, or trying too anyway.
Poke.
Poke.
“Come on Benji. Talk to me.”
Poke.
“Victor..”
Poke.
Po—
“Oh my god Victor! Fine, I’m not okay.” Benji said, looking torn between laughing and crying.
With a sad smile Victor pulled his hands back into his lap, watching his friend who was clearly overthinking something.
“Yeah, see I got that bit. Do you wanna tell me what’s up, or do I need to poke you again?” Victor challenged, reaching out to the other boy.
“Oh, you’d just love an excuse to poke me wouldn’t you.” Benji shot back, eyes going wide once he heard what he said, and the double entendre it implied.
Jaw dropping at Benji’s words, Victor did the only thing he could and fell forward onto the table, howling with laughter, failing miserably to contain it, and ignoring a red faced Benji’s attempts to shush him.
“Ohh come on, you know I didn’t mean that! Victor, come one people are staring. Shuddup!” Benji pleaded, though Victor could tell from his eyes he wasn’t really upset, just embarrassed.
“Okay, okay, who wants to poke who notwithstanding, what’s wrong Benji?” Victor asked, the sombre, angry mood resurfacing in Benji’s face almost immediately.
“Is it Derek?” Victor asked, chewing on his lip.
“Yeah.” Benji replied, eyes focused on tearing apart the napkin on his tray.
“What happened?”
“Nothing, it’s stupid. Just, he can be really.. I want to say protective, but honestly controlling is a better word for it.” Benji admitted, eyes glazed over, his mind clearly a million miles away.
“He wasn’t happy when he heard I went on to the carnival without him, or that I didn’t come back when he messaged me. And he reaaally wasn’t happy when he saw the photos of us on the Ferris wheel.” Benji admitted, throwing the shredded napkin onto the tray again.
“B, I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to cause you any problems, I didn’t even think about you having a boyfriend and what that might look like.”
Liar, Victors’ conscience spits, as his mouth speaks the words he knows Benji needs to hear.
“It doesn’t even matter Vic, I should be allowed to spend time with who I want without him getting jealous.” Benji said, turning his gaze to Victor’s face. “I’ve known you a whole what? 48 hours? And suddenly he’s accusing me of cheating or wanting too at least.”
“Wait, what?” Victor was shocked at that. All they’d done was sit in a Ferris Wheel together. “Benji what the hell, why would he say that? I’m sorry but he sounds like an ass.”
“Yeah, things got pretty bad last night, then he called me again just after lunch started. I really don’t want to talk to him right now, so I kinda hung up on him.” Benji admitted, chewing on his lip, his leg bouncing with nervous energy.
“B, I really don’t know what to tell you, except I’m sorry you’re in this shitty situation because of me.” Victor said, guilt flooding him.
This was his fault, he’d changed things, he’d flirted and engaged with Benji. And now he was hurting him. Well, Derek was, but it was because of Victor.
“What? No Victor don’t do that, it’s not you, well it is sort of. Derek has done this before, it’s the reason I don’t really have any friends in school. He doesn’t like to share apparently.” Benji let out a dark chuckle at that.
“B, I’m not going to tell you what to do, but remember what I said yesterday, you deserve someone who makes you happy. Promise me you’ll think on that.” Victor said, resting his hand on Benji’s arm, waiting for the boy to respond.
“Yeah, yeah I will, thanks Victor. I guess I have some soul searching to do huh?” Benji said, a small, smile, that was honestly more of a grimace, crossing his face.
“Maybe, but come on, lets talk about something else.” Victor said, as though nothing had been discussed. “Lake and Mia are throwing a party tonight, at Mia’s, her dads out of town. Well technically Mia is hosting but it seems like it is all Lakes idea.”
“Really? I didn’t know that was your scene.” Benji admitted.
“Well, I don’t know if I’d say it was, but if my friends went…” Victor said, pointedly staring at Benji.
“You know, as the new kid it is real hard making new friends, and trying to fit in and trying to find myself, and Felix has been great but he’s my neighbour, so it feels like he has to be my friend, and… and… are you buying any of this yet?”
Laughing Benji shook his head at the boy, eyes flicking across Victors face, trying not to look at the ridiculous pout on the Texans face.
“Yeah, you’re super subtle Salazar. But fine, I’ll think about it.” Benji agreed, jumping slightly at Victors over the top cheer, and glancing round the courtyard. People were watching them, again.
“Awesome, thanks B.” Victor said, satisfied with his victory. “Oh yeah, it’s a stoplight party so, you know. Dress accordingly. Also do NOT tell Felix I just said that about being friends, he’s legitimately my best friend.
“Oh god, what are you dragging me into Vic, and don’t worry I won’t tell, scouts honour.” Benji said, moving to finally eat his now cold lunch, almost hesitantly, as though he was regretting it already, Benji finished with, “Maybe I can get Derek to come.”
Victor wasn’t sure if it was a question or not, but he was pretty sure he didn’t want to know the answer to that one. Nor did he know which person it would hurt more either way.
So, instead he just smiled, and nodded politely.
The rest of school passed in a blur, Victor nodded his head while Felix talked his ear off about a new show he’d found, he ignored the jabs about either Mia or Benji in practice, avoiding the dark looks from Andrew, who seemed to be doing a great job of getting in his way every time.
At long last the final bell rang, and they were free to head home. Well, sort of, Victor had to go to Brasstown and drop his application in, and Benji was heading that way too since he was working.
Saying goodbye to Felix and Pilar, Victor promised he would talk to Felix before the party, promising he’d have his colour ready by then.
The two boys walked in silence, both lost in their own thoughts, but comfortable with each other that it wasn’t awkward.
Victor couldn’t help but feel he was moving things too fast, it was only his second day of school, and somehow, he was close friends with Benji, and watching the boys’ relationship implode. He should feel bad for the boy, guilty that he was potentially a cause of the pain the boy felt.
But he didn’t.
He felt, well, not happy but pleased, to know that Derek saw him as a threat. And he also hated it, he didn’t want to be that guy. He’d said he would be a friend first right?
But was it possible to just be friends with Benji? He remembered after Willacoochee, Benji hadn’t thought so.
As they got into the café Victor nodded to Benji who was heading into the back to get changed for his shift and sat down at what would eventually become his favourite table, pulling the application out and double checking it.
As he is waiting, he watched the staff area, waiting for Benji to appear, biting his lip when he did, because god, he was sure the Brasstown t-shirts weren’t meant to look that good on anyone!
Not wanting to get distracted, he got up and approached the counter, vision wobbling under the feeling of déjà vu again.
“Excuse me.” Victor said, getting Benji’s attention.
“Oh, hey man what’s up?” Benji said, failing at concealing his obvious glee when Victor glanced at the ‘Assistant Manager’ label on his name tag.
“Oh, I just wanted to interview for the Barista job, my friend from school said I should ask for the assistant manager.” Victor said, smiling once Benji caught on that he was continuing the ruse.
“Ha, well lucky for you, I am the assistant manager.” Benji said, grabbing the application from Victor’s hand, and heaving the counter divider open to let the other boy in. “Come on back, we can talk.”
Smiling at the silliness of the situation, Victor followed him around the counter, taking a look around the place that he was oh so familiar with.
“So, Victor was it?” Benji said, clearly still thinking this joke was the epitome of humour. “Do you have any experience making coffee?”
“Well, I have experience drinking coffee,” And I’ve worked here for like 3 months as well. “I can make the basics though, once you can pull an espresso shot, you’re pretty much gold right?”
“Umm, yeah actually. You’re right.” Benji was flustered and caught off guard, Victor smiled as he watched the boys mind whirling, trying to find what to say next. Grinning, Benji invited him over to the machine and walked him through the process of pulling a shot properly.
Since he knew what he was doing, Victor may have taken the time to watch Benji instead. He was trying to be good, but he was still a 16-year-old boy. Well, technically 15. Stupid time travel.
This time though, when Benji handed him the jug to steam the milk, he made a point of turning it away from himself, so he didn’t splash it everywhere if something went wrong. Benji stood, closely, observing him do everything, maybe a little too closely.
Okay, maybe he should tone down the barista skills a bit.. Still, he was having fun, and Benji was standing right beside him. So close.
What he hadn’t expected Benji to poke him in the side, just like he’d done to him earlier in school. Unfortunately, Benji’s timing was not ideal, he poked Victor just as the milk was steaming over, making him jump. This, combined with his precaution of turning the jug away from himself.
Which meant the milk only had one place to go, and before Victor could blink, Benji was soaked with the warm milk, way worse than Victor had been the first time around.
Trying not to stare at the wet patches of clothing clinging to his friend’s torso, Victor shut off the machine and grabbed a towel, dabbing Benji with it, apologising over and over.
After the shock wore off, Benji just chuckled and went behind the wall to his locker, swapping his top out for a new one.
When he came back to the counter, he was surprised to see Victor had everything wiped down and was standing awkwardly by the counter flap.
“Benji I am really sorry. I didn’t mean for that to happen.” Victor stammered out, had he ruined his chances at the job? This was way worse than last time.
“Victor don’t worry it’s my fault anyway. I shouldn’t have distracted you.” Benji said, “Look at me though, I’m all sticky now. Karma right?”
Smiling Victor spoke before he could stop himself, eyes going wide as the words tumbled out of his mouth.
“Well, that’s what happens when you go round looking like that, poking people Benji.”
Blinking Benji took a moment to process Victors words, remembering his own slip at the lunch table, but Victor noticed his eyes widened slightly at the ‘looking like that’ comment.
Shaking his head ruefully, Benji kicked him out from behind the counter, ‘before he made anymore mess’ and went over some basic questions and scenarios for the next 15-20 minutes.
“Okay, so that pretty much covers it. I just need to speak to Sarah, but since you’re pretty much the only applicant, I am pretty confident.” Benji said, writing up notes on the application form.
“Well, Mr assistant manager, thank you, if nothing else for the barista lesson.”
“Yeah, I wouldn’t say you needed it, are you sure you’ve never worked a coffee job before?” Benji said, watching Victor closely.
“Nope, never was allowed a job back home. School was the priority.” Victor admitted, “But I want to play basketball, and we aren’t Creekwood rich so… here I am.”
Nodding Benji finished filing the application and left it under the counter for Sarah to go through that afternoon.
“Fair enough, I think you’ll be fine here though, so long as you don’t make it a habit of soaking my shirts.” Benji said, chuckling as he watched Victor’s cheeks darken with a blush. “One might think you have an ulterior motive.”
Wait, was Benji flirting with him? What was he meant to do? He’d always been the flirty one this time round, Benji never initiated it.
Thankfully though Victor was saved by a customer ordering a drink, and Benji was distracted for like 3 whole minutes.
“Umm… so are you going to the party tonight?”
Smooth as sandpaper. Good job Victor. Clearly Benji hadn’t been expecting the topic change.
“Eh, I don’t know yet, I’m meeting Derek on my break to talk, and I don’t know if Sarah will let me leave early, so it depends on that I guess.”
“Fair enough.” Victor said, suddenly interested in the toggles of his hoodie. “Just promise me you’ll let me know how it goes, even if you don’t come to the party, I just want to know you’re okay, yeah?”
Smiling, Benji reached across the counter to awkwardly squeeze Victors shoulder.
“Thanks man, I’m glad you made me talk today.”
“Yeah? You know you can tell me anything right Benji? I know it’s literally been 2 days, but you can.” Victor said, hoping that Benji could see how genuinely he meant that.
“I know, it’s weird but you’re really easy to talk too. “ Benji admits, smiling softly as he says it. “It’s nice having someone I don’t have to worry about judging me.”
“Ohhh I am judging you, don’t worry about that Campbell, I’m judging hard.” Victor teases. “I’ll have you know I have very high standards when it comes to people I like.”
“Oh really, how am I doing hmm?” Benji fires back, eyes dancing with laughter.
“Oh, you know, not flying colours, 5.5 out of 10.” Victor says, casually, laughing at the indignant noise Benji makes.
“5.5! How am I only a 5.5, surely I’m an 8.5 at least?” Benji replied, clutching his heart in exaggerated pain.
“Ha, come on, I’m kidding Benji, obviously you’re a solid 10.” Victor said quickly.
What was wrong with his filter. Why was he just saying all this? Had Benji noticed, he wondered glancing up at the blonde boy.
Yup, he’d noticed.. Crap.
“Hey, umm B, I gotta go, I need to get some homework done okay?” Victor said, gathering his stuff up.
“Let me know how it goes with you-know-who okay? Either way I want to hear from you tonight. And please try making it to the party, I’d really like to see you tonight, and I need someone sensible to talk too tonight.”
Not waiting for a reply Victor ran from the coffee shop, not noticing that he almost toppled Derek on his way out, nor the double take the older boy did when he recognised him.
Or the angry look that followed.
Okay, so apparently fate decided that Victor always had to flee his Brasstown interview.
Felix -> Victor: 6:45pm
Victor: Hey bud, are we still meeting at mine tonight?
Felix: Ugh, texting. Where’s the whimsy.
Felix: Yeah that sounds like a plan though.
Felix shared an image
Felix: Too much yellow?
Victor: My EYES!
Victor: Subtle though :P
Felix: Shuddup you.
Felix: see ya soon bestie.
CreekSquad: 7:33pm
Mia: Hey, what time are you guys coming round?
Victor: @Felix and I will be around just after 8 I think
Lake: Well, I am already here, to make sure that everything is perfect. Remember your colours everyone.
Mia: Oh god, no one needs to wear colours guys..
Victor: Someone really should have given Felix the memo then..
Felix: Spoilers!
Pilar: Yeah, you know when you feel like you’ve dodged a bullet?
Felix: Yep
Pilar shared and image
Mia: Oh, Felix, sweetie…
Lake: Wow. That’s a lot of sunshine rn
Felix: Wait, what. OMG @Pilar. How could you!
Victor: Felix you’re in the sitting room beside us, why are you texting her?
Felix: The betrayal..
Victor -> Benji: 7:20pm
Victor: Hey Benji, just checking in, Felix and I are getting ready to head over
Unread
Victor: hope everything is okay.
Unread
Victor: Let me know either way yeah?
Unread
Victor: B?
Seen: 7:50pm
Victor frowned at his phone, but he figured Benji was with Derek, he didn’t owe Victor anything, so he shouldn’t be expecting a response. Forcing a smile onto his face, he listened to Felix explain the stoplight party concept to Armando, who listened patiently to the overly excited teen, being careful to only roll his eyes when the boy looked towards Victor for affirmation.
Rolling his own eyes, Victor made moves to guide Felix out the door, past his chuckling father, but fate wouldn’t let him away that easily.
Picking at the strings of Victors yellow hoodie he smiled.
“So Flaco, if I understand Felix’s party rules, yellow means there’s someone you like and they are going to be at this party, sí?”
“Umm, yeah, but I don’t know if they’ll be there though, so I have something neutral on underneath.” Victor said, focusing on avoiding gender pronouns.
“Mmhm, but there is a someone?” Armando said, leaning against the wall, smiling as he saw a blush cross his sons face.
“Eh, yeah, maybe. I don’t know yet.” Victor admitted. Baby steps, he didn’t need to tell them that this person was his hopefully-future-alternate-timeline boyfriend/crush.
“Oh please, don’t worry Mr. S,” Felix piped up, smiling as ever, “you’re lucky you won’t have to see the major heart eyes being thrown around. Honestly, it’s a little nauseating.”
This caused Victor’s jaw to drop, his blush to increase tenfold, and Armando to let out a hearty chuckle, slapping Felix on the shoulder.
“Ohhh, okay macho, you go on ahead to your party, and if the girl shows up, you make sure and show them a good time.” Armando said, smiling and grabbing Victor’s hand before nodding to the door.
Ah, there it is. Heteronormativity. Yay.
“Okay, see you Papi, c’mon Felix, lets go.”
Grabbing the boy by the hoodie he pulled him through the door, away from his father, and his family.
At least, this time, he could go to the party and have fun. Without the pressure of impressing Mia.
Except now he was worried about Benji.
Great.
Chapter 5: Stop, Start, Go
YELLOW
Dear Simon,
Thank you for messaging back, and I appreciate you offering to help. Like I said, I’m not ready to tell my parents just yet, but I have actually told a friend of mine I’m gay, and I’m not explicitly trying to hide. If someone works it out that’s fine by me.
But I do want to let my parents know soon, I really don’t know how it will go, I know my dad’s parents are super homophobic, so I can’t imagine that will go well. Imagine ‘cursed by the devil’ type people and you have a very basic and controlled idea of them.
If you or anyone you know has religious parents, pleeease let me know and if they have any advice they can pass on would be super helpful.
At the same time, I want to be me. I want to be out and gay to the world. I know it will be difficult, even if it’s 2020, not everyone is good with that. But still, I want to live my own truth.
Anyway...
So, we are going to a party tonight, and I need to gently let down a girl who I think likes me. Instead of making up some excuse, I’m just going to be honest. I will tell her I’m gay, outright, no half truths.
Also, I’m wearing yellow, and really hope the guy I like shows up.. it’s the guy I rode the Ferris wheel with, I think someone (try 30 someones) tagged me in the photo if you want to take a look.
Wish me luck.
Love,
Victor
Victor never stopped marvelling at how big Mia’s house was. Even though he’d been there so many times before, the sheer scale of it was just beyond anything the Salazar family had ever lived in.
He knew it wasn’t fair, but he envied Mia in that, she had all this space, and all this stuff. He knew that it wasn’t that simple though, he knew Mia didn’t have an easy life.
“Okay dude, you ready?” Felix asked, nervously looking at the house in front of them.
“Felix, come on, it’s just a party, try to relax yeah?” Victor said, his mind drifting back to what happened last time Felix was nervous at the party. “I’m gonna be here the whole time okay?”
“Thanks buddy, sorry, I just get nervous sometimes. I know I’m exactly the coolest person to be seen with.” Felix admitted, walking up the path to the house.
“Hey, no no, that’s their loss okay? You’re a pretty awesome person Felix, I’d have been lost this week without you.” Victor said, honestly, I owe you so much more than you’ll know Felix. I’m not going to let you down this time.
“Now come on banana man, lets go party.” Victor said, pushing the door open and guiding Felix in, flicking his headband teasingly.
Walking through the hall Victor smiled as he passed people he recognised, spotting some of his new teammates as he walked by them, intent on finding Mia.
“Hey! Yo what’s up man!”
Smiling politely Victor shook the guys hand and moved on, flicking his eyes back to he noticed the face they pulled as Felix walked by.
Frowning he pulled Felix forward into the next room, just in time to see Lake and Andrews awkward interaction. Watching Felix’s expression as Lake lied about Bruno to impress Andrew made Victor want to scream, it was so obvious that what was happening, was hurting Felix.
“Hey Salazar!” Andrew called, looking right past Lake, who’s face dropped when she realised Andrew wasn’t even going to humour her. “Why don’t you come on back, rest of the crews out here.”
Mulling it over, he figured it couldn’t hurt to spend time with the team again, he made to follow Andrew but stopped when the other players blocked Felix from coming with.
“Sorry, it’s a team thing.” The boy said pushing Felix back slightly as the team moved out to the back yard. Seeing Felixs' face broke Victors heart, he’d really been a jerk last time abandoning the boy in an attempt to fit in.
Turning on the spot Victor called out to Andrew and the team who were watching him.
“Hey, no I’m good, I’d rather hang out with Felix thanks, let me know if you guys wanna team up later, I hear they have beer pong going.” Victor said, walking defiantly back to Felix.
Okay, maybe he was taking a little too much joy in the surprised expressions on Felix and Andrews faces, as well as Lakes, the blonde still hovering the background watching.
“Whatever Salazar, you and Lonestone try to have fun.” Andrew said, clearly not happy to lose to Felix.
“I’m sure Felix and I will be just fine man, enjoy the party.” Victor called as the team left, “Hey Lake, c’mere, have you seen Mia?”
“Hi, umm yeah she was upstairs getting changed, that girl is fashionably late to her own party.” Lake said, bubbly personality coming back the surface now Andrew was gone. “So, yellow, is that for anyone I might know Victor?”
“Ehh, maybe, I’m not sure if they’re gonna be here though if I’m honest.” Victor said, watching confusion cross Lakes face, clearly she’d been expecting him to be here for Mia. That was going to need sorted asap, he wasn’t hurting either of them this time. “Do you wanna grab Mia and meeting us in the kitchen? We could do doubles for pong?”
Blinking in confusion, Lake nodded and headed back into the hall in search of Mia, clearly at a loss at situation.
With a genuine smile on his face, Victor guided Felix into the kitchen spotting a free table stacked with red cups and ping pong balls ready to go.
“C’mon buddy, lets go grab that table and get set up, what do you say to Mia and me versus you and Lake?” Smiling at the boys confused expression.
Was everyone this confused last time? Or am I confusing everyone?
“Yeah, umm, wouldn’t you rather be with the team right now? They looked pretty pissed you didn’t go with?” Felix said, grabbing a stack of cups and setting up his side of the table while Victor looked across the alcohol they had to choose from. He didn't want to get wasted, but the game still needed to be fun.
“Nope.” Victor replied simply, mirroring Felix’s set up, “I told you, I wasn’t leaving your side dude, besides, I’d be a crappy friend if I hung out with someone who used that stupid nickname.”
Blinking Felix didn’t say anything, but Victor would have to be blind not to see how happy the boy looked to hear that. Felix deserved the world, and Victor was going to make sure that he got everything he wanted.
Before they could talk anymore, they were joined by Lake and Mia, both smiling shyly at the boys. What surprised Victor wasn’t Mia’s shyness, it was the green sweater Lake was now wearing. Clearly that hadn’t happened last time, what had he missed in 10 minutes she had been upstairs?
Glancing over he saw Felix was just as shocked, but they decided not to pass comment, and just grabbed some drinks for the side.
“So, we were thinking, splitting teams, Mia, you and me versus Lake and Felix?” Victor said, handing the girl a couple of bottles, and starting to fill the cups up.
“Yeah, umm that sounds good to me, though I will warn you, I’m not too good at this.” Mia said, “Usually I rely on Lake.”
Victor laughed confirming that the teams would be pretty even then, since Felix had shown he wasn’t the best shot at the carnival.
Both of them laughed at the indignant squawk Felix made on hearing Victors declaration, while Lake groaned realising how this game was liable to go.
“Fair warning guys, I’m not a big drinker so I’ll probably swap out for soda later, anyone else not drinking?” Victor asked, knowing that he wanted to avoid getting Felix dangerously drunk again.
“Ohhh, so chivalrous Salazar. But we’re okay, we know our limits, how about you Weston?” Lake asked, noticing how the boy was filling their cups higher than needed. “You’re not much of a drinker are you?”
Glancing between the two sets of cups, and finally noticing the difference Felix blushed and mumbled an apology to the girl.
“Don’t worry, just make sure not to let us lose, or you’re drinking them all, kay?” Lake said, grabbing the first ping pong ball, and swiftly taking a shot, which just missed the first cup on Victors side.
“Okay, game face Victor, you can’t let Lake beat us. You’ll never be allowed to show your face at practice again.” Mia said, stepping to the side to allow Victor to take their shot, which he sank without effort.
“Boom! Point to us, sorry Felix, bottoms up.”
The game continued for a while, Victor and Mia taking the lead, but not by much since Lake was able to hold her own enough that both teens were feeling the effects.
This meant Mia was getting a little bolder, leaning against Victor more, whispering in his ear and lingering just a little longer than needed as she explained her plans to win. Lake wasn’t helping by egging them on, taking cute photos of them and posting them on her Instagram story.
Victor took it all in stride, knowing that he wasn’t returning the girls affections, but knew how out of hand it could get fast. Calling a time out, and steeling himself he decided that he did need to set things straight with Mia, so to speak, and asked the girl to follow him over to the counter under the pretence of getting fresh drinks for their next game.
“Hey, so Mia, umm I need to tell you something.” Victor said, suddenly nervous, okay, so he still had nerves about this subject, at least he was getting to do it properly this time around. “I umm, I don’t really know how to go about this, so I’m just gonna say it yeah?”
Victor watched Mia’s expression morph in confusion, before a small smile crossed her face.
“Of course, go ahead Victor, you can tell me whatever.” She said, reaching across to take his hand, running her thumb over his knuckles soothingly.
“I’m gay.” Victor blurted, so not smooth man.
Mia’s expression would have been priceless if it had been a less stressful situation. He never actually knew how Mia felt about this, her original time finding out his secret hadn’t been as smooth as planned after all.
“Ohhh… oh!” Mia said, dropping Victors hand, and blushing furiously, “Oh my god, I’m so sorry Victor, I didn’t meant to make you uncomfortable, I’m such an idiot.!
Wait, what?
“Umm, what? Why are you saying sorry? You haven’t done anything wrong?” Victor said, genuinely confused. “I just, I felt like Lake was pushing you to flirt with me and I didn’t want you to get hurt. I’m sorry if I led you on at all.”
Okay, admitting that was cathartic, even if it was for something that wouldn’t come to pass again.
“Oh, Victor no, don’t worry about it. You didn’t do that at all, I just let Lake get in my head.” Mia admitted, chuckling at herself.
“So.. we’re okay? I mean, no one knows, except Felix, I’m not exactly out yet.” Victor admitted, nervously.
“Of course, secret is safe with me.” Mia said, miming zipping up her lips and locking it, before throwing away the key.
“Friends?” She asked, still looking slightly embarrassed.
Victor couldn’t help it, he pulled the girl into a tight hug, he had fixed it, he had his friendship with Mia, and this time he wasn't going to lose her.
“Of course, of course. You’re the best Mia.” Victor said, finally letting the girl go. “Now, shall we get back to the table before Lake drowns Felix?”
“Okay, smart plan.” Mia nodded, handing Victor more beers and grabbing the soda herself. “I’m gonna keep going if you don’t mind, I can drink our cups from now on.”
“Yeah no worries, I’ll still make the shots though if you don’t mind, I still want to win.” Victor shot back, sticking his tongue out as the girl played up her shock at the statement.
“Okay you, cheeky. Tell me one thing though and I’ll let you go sober.” Mia said, smiling coyly and glancing at his yellow hoodie. “If not for me, who did you wear yellow for?”
“Ahh, umm that. Yeah, it doesn’t matter, I haven’t seen him and I don’t think he’s coming.” Victor admitted, he’d still not gotten a reply from Benji, and honestly, it hurt a little.
“Benij?” Mia half stated, half asked, clearly putting two and two together.
Victor just nodded and smiled at her.
“Hmm, I like it, you are definitely better than Derek that's for sure.” Mia stated, crinkling her nose at the thought.
“Wow, I don't think that's the highest bar... Wait do you know him?” Victor asked, interest overtaking his desire to play party games.
“I know of him, Benji and I used to be friends in school, even before he came out we drifted apart, then after he got with Derek, he just disappeared. I tried to keep in touch, but Derek made it pretty clear Benji didn’t have room for anyone but him.”
Mia finished her explanation, smiling sadly down at her cup.
Victor hadn’t known that the two used to be close. God, was Derek just the worst human ever? Who acts like that.
“Sorry, I know it can’t be easy for you either, liking someone who has a boyfriend.” Mia spoke softly again, sympathy in her eyes.
Oh you have no idea.
“Hey, c’mon, less commiserating, more partying yes?” Victor said, pulling Mia back to their table eager to disappear into the next round and forget about things for a bit.
Unfortunately for their game and Victors peace of mind, it seemed Andrew had decided to make his way back into the party and was clearly drunk.
“Yo, Lake, I didn’t think you’d ever go for someone like Lonestone here, surely you can do better.” Andrew slurred, smirking at the hurt visible on Felix’s face, and Lakes embarrassed expression.
“Oh, no, pshh, I barely know him. He’s a friend of Victors. You know, definitely nothing happening their.” Lake answered, a high, almost panicked giggle escaping her lips.
Oh come on Lake, seriously, you could have done that so much better. Victor thought, moving quickly to get to Felix, not liking where this was heading.
“Andrew, come on that's enough, that was uncalled for.” Mia said, stepping forward and putting herself between Lake and the basketball player. “You’re drunk, go sober up and stop being an ass.”
“Come on Mia, anyone can see Lonestone is in love with her, I’m just making sure she knows to avoid that huge mistake.” Andrew said, a cruel smirk on his face. “Besides, she was practically throwing herself at me earlier, so she at least has taste.”
“Hey, don’t you talk about Felix that way, he’s a damn better person than you are, especially right now. I think you need to go Andrew.” Mia said, stepping forward and pushing Andrew away from the group.
Before anyone could move however, Lake pushed past them all, tears in her eyes and ran upstairs.
“Dammit Andrew, Lake! Wait for me!” Mia called, glaring as she pushed past Andrew and chased the other girl up the stairs.
Andrew just watched them go, his eyes glazed over with the effects of whatever it was he’d been drinking.
“Girls, am I right?” He said, turning to look at Felix and Victor, “Don’t worry Lonestone, I doubt you’ll ever actually need to deal with them much. Even someone as desperate as Lake.”
Victor was furious, how dare he. How dare Andrew say those things, he moved to step forward, but was stopped by Felix.
“Just let it go Vic, I don’t want to cause trouble okay? Mia will get Lake and get her cheered right up.” Felix spoke softly, focusing on the floor. “I’m umm. I’m just gonna go to the bathroom yeah? I’ll be back in a few minutes buddy”
“Felix, wait up.” Victor called, but the other boy was already gone up the same stairs Mia and Lake had used.
“What the hell Andrew,” Victor raged, turning on the drunk boy. “Why did you have to say those things, why do you have to be such an asshole all the time? Felix literally never did a thing to you.”
“Don’t talk all high and mighty to me Salazar, you think you’re so much better and can just come in here and take what’s not yours.” Andrew shouted back, his voice carrying over the music, not caring who was watching.
“What’s not mine?” Victor said, genuinely confused, “I haven’t taken anything… wait, you mean Mia! Dude she’s not something you can take! And we are just friends, though I can’t say the same for you and her right now, I think you need to go.”
Victor was sounding a lot more confident than he felt, even though he saw the crowd nodding in agreement with him as he spoke.
As if he could sense that the crowd turning on him, Andrew stormed off, slamming the front door as he left.
Letting out a breath that he didn’t know he was holding, Victor turns back to the table, and starts resetting the cups. He needs a distraction, he needs to do something, so he doesn’t explode.
HOW DARE HE! He raged silently, meticulously setting up the triangle of cups, filling them with bear. He could feel the anger bleeding out of him, but don't before he'd accidentally crushed a few cups, but he couldn’t let it all go. How could someone be such a dick?
What was the need?
This wasn’t the Andrew he remembered, the one who Mia was pining for, who Mia defended and was actually friends with, who bought Felix and the girls food after their detention. Was this the Andrew Felix knew? Who bullied him, gave him cruel nicknames?
His musing was interrupted by the return of Mia and Lake, both of whom had puffy eyes but looked noticeably better than before.
“Hey, umm Andrew left, I.. Lake I am so sorry he said those things to you.” Victor spoke softly.
“Thanks Victor that means a lot, I’m sorry I let him affect me that way.” Lake said, shaking her hair out, looking more tired than Victor had ever seen her, “Now come on, are we playing again? Where did Felix go?”
“Umm, he said he was going to the bathroom, he hasn’t come back though, I’m going to give him a few minutes and then go looking.” Victor admitted, noticing the frown on both girls faces at his statement, with Lake looking slightly guilty as well.
“Actually, I saw him upstairs, he said he wasn’t feeling well, so I showed him to a guest room with a bathroom and told him to lay down for a bit. He’ll be fine Victor, lets just play.” Mia spoke with conviction.
Victor didn’t want to leave Felix on his own, he’d promised after all, but he trusted Mia, and even Lake, to tell him the truth, knowing that they wouldn’t be lying to him.
“Okay, fair enough, but I’m checking on him later yeah?” Victor said, turning back to the reset table, “Alright, there’s only three of us, how about winner stays on?”
“Actually Victor, we might be okay, look who just showed up.” Mia said, nodding to the door with a smirk on her face. “I think we should switch to boys versus girls yeah?”
Turning to follow her gaze, Victors confusion cleared when he saw the boy he had been waiting for all night standing awkwardly in the doorway. He watched as Benji looked around nervously, clearly not seeing them, before pulling his phone out and typing furiously.
Victor felt his phone vibrate in his pocket, and smiled knowing who it was, taking it out he excused himself to go find the boy.
“Don’t worry Victor, I think Lake and I need a round to ourselves, go get Benji, then we will whoop both your butts.” Mia said, failing miserably, if she was even trying, at hiding her smirk.
“Yeah, your poor, cute butts!” Lake called out from the table, not caring at Victors blush. Victor just laughed and set off after Benji, heading where he’d last seen him.
Spotting him heading out to the back yard, Victor unlocked his phone, checking his messages from the boy.
Benji: Hey, umm sorry about that.
Benji: I’m actually here rn tho
Benji: Where are you?
Victor: Hey, I see you.
Victor: Wait, stop moving!
Victor: Benji! Seriously stop moving! Turn around you dummy
Pocketing his phone Victor, pushed his way through the crowded room, making his way out to the yard and smiling when he caught Benji’s eye.
He looked good, well, he always did in Victor’s opinion, but still, it was worth noting. He’d clearly forgone the stoplight part of the party, dressed in his usual dark clothes, Victor tried not to read to much into that. He was just glad not to see any red. He didn’t want to think about Benji and Derek making up. OR not making up..
“Hey, Benji, you finally made it.” Victor said, unable to keep a smile from his face as he pulled the shorter boy in for a hug. “I’m so glad you’re here!”
Benji only laughed at him, tilting his head as he watched Victor, his eyes lingering on the bright yellow hoodie Victor was wearing.
“Well, I did promise a friend I’d be here, couldn’t make a liar of myself could I?” Benji said, nudging Victors shoulder. He seemed happy, again Victor was trying to not read into things. “So, what have you been up to hmm?”
“Oh, you know, the usual, watching people get way too wasted, played some beer pong, fought off flirting girls, shouted out some drunken basketball player. The usual.” Victor said, offering Benji a half smile as he tried to convey that it had been an interesting night, but couldn’t help feel better when Benji frowned at the girls comment.
“Oh, that sounds… fun? Did something happen.” Benji asked, and Victor felt his face lift into a smile, he wasn't sure if Benji was more interested in the basketball player or the girl bit if he was honest. But he knew Benji would literally put anything aside for others, so he assumed it was the basketball bit. Victor was willing to bed good money that if he asked, Benji would sit and listen to him complain all night about Andrew.
“Eh, yes and no. Andrew got super wasted and was being a dick to Felix and Lake, she was pretty upset and Felix is upstairs right now, resting. I think he’s trying to hide away, so I want to give him some time, but I’m getting worried now.” Victor admitted, glancing up to the upper floor, as if he’d see Felix through one of the windows. “Andrew said some pretty mean things. Me and Mia kinda kicked him out after that though.”
“Wow, I knew he was an ass, but I didn’t realise he was that bad.” Benji admitted.
“Yeah, well, I think he had that false confidence, you know from drinking?” Victor said, watching their classmates mill around the edge of the pool, “I know people can make mistakes when they drink but Andrew doesn’t have an excuse.”
Victor explained everything that had happened, letting himself vomit out the whole unfiltered story, because this was Benji. If there was one person in the world Victor could talk to, it was him.
The two sat in silence for a few minutes, Benji letting Victor think things over. After a few moments of internal conflict, Victor sighed and stood up stiffly from where he'd sat, offering Benji his hand and pulling him off of the bench they’d been sharing.
“C’mon, Mia and Lake are waiting on us, I kinda promised them that we would play them in beer pong, I hope that’s okay?” Victor spoke, leading Benji back towards the house.
“Umm, yeah I don’t mind, just I’m don’t really drink so I don’t know if I will be any help.” Benji admitted, not meeting Victors eyes.
“Oh thank god, I just switched to soda and I cannot do another round of beer, I am a lightweight as it is and honestly I don’t really care about drinking you know?” Victor said, happy that he wasn’t actually lying either. He’d rather play sober (or without getting any drunker at least) than get wasted in front of Benji.
“Cool, in that case I’m game, lets kick some ass.” Benji declared as they finally got to the kitchen, apparently they had perfect timing as Lake and Mia were waiting on them, the table already set up again, soda filled cups on one end.
“Boys finally! We thought you’d never show.” Mia said, bouncing over and hugging Victor, while explaining that she had, unfortunately lost her game, and was now ever so slightly, very drunk.
Laughing Victor let her stand on his feet and walked the girl back to the table, handing her off to a noticeably more lucid Lake, not seeing the downturn of Benji’s lips when he saw how close the two were acting. The blonde just shook her head and handed Mia a cup of water.
“C’mon Brookes, sober up, I want to make this count, it's best 2 out of 3 here, and we need to beat Team Hottie over there.” Lake said, gesturing to the two boys.
“Ha, thanks Lake, but I don’t think you’ll have to worry, you didn’t see Benji at the carnival..” Victor said, ducking the swipe from Benji. “It’s gonna be pretty much be between us again.”
Smiling at that, Lake took her position, watching Benji grumble good-naturedly as he and Victor stood at their side waiting for her to take the shot. Lake was crazy competitive when it came to beer pong it seemed.
“Okay boys, here’s the deal, you two are doing this sober, so instead you will take turns answering questions we came up with. Sound fair?” Lake spoke, and despite it posing as a question, it was clearly a statement, an order.
Victor looked to Benji who just shrugged in agreement, what’s the worst that Lake could do?
As it turned out, Lake was merciless in her questions, and Benji sucked at beer pong, so they weren’t winning as easily as he’d hoped. At least Mia had made her share of shots!
Thankfully though, Victor was able to hold his own, so Benji ended up answering most of the questions. Nothing major, but Victor was entertained to learn about Benji’s short lived acting career, which ended abruptly at age 8 when he fled the school play, declaring that he couldn’t handle to pressure of stardom.
“Benji please, please, please, make this shot.” Victor begged, only to groan when Benji’s shot went so wide it was almost funny. “You really are painfully unathletic aren’t you?”
Gasping in mock outrage Benji bumped Victor with his hip, before smirking.
“I guess I’m not a solid 10 after all am I?”
Oh god. Yup, Victor was going to die from embarrassment. The floor wasn't gonna open up and help him vanish was it?
“Shush you, c’mon, focus up, we have to win here.” Victor replied, trying to hide the blush on his face. “Win the game and you can get your perfect score.”
Benji was flirting again, that was good right?
“Aww come on Vic, you said it yourself, I’m painfully unathletic. Sports and me are like oil and water, they just don’t mix.” Benji admitted, “It’s why I work out instead, I don’t have sports to keep me fit, you know.”
“Yeah, I know, I can see that.” Victor said, blushing again. Seriously, did he lose his filter when he came back in time?
“Oh, you can see? What exactly are you looking at?” Benji said, his smirking not completely masking the look in his eyes, was that hope?
“Noneya, as in none ya business.” God that was lame, Victor had never been so grateful to Lake, as he was when she sunk her next shot.
He had to explain that he didn’t have any exes for Lake to learn about so her question fell flat, but it was enough to change the topic.
What he hadn’t counted on was a still tipsy Mia making a lucky shot and smirking as she asked the next question.
“So Victor, you and I both know that hoodie you’re wearing isn’t for the person everyone thinks it’s for,” Mia said, eyes lighting up as Victor blushed and both Lake and Benji’s heads turned so quick Victor was worried they would have whiplash. “Is the person you are interested in here?”
“Yes. They are, thank you Mia.” Victor answered, sticking his tongue out again and sinking his next shot, causing Lake to groan as she grabbed the cup. Glancing towards Benji, Victor continued. “They got here late.”
“Ohh, and are they wearing yellow too?” Lake asked, eyes watching Victor closely, clearly looking to find out who Victor was interested in if it wasn’t Mia.
“Umm… no actually, they aren’t wearing any colours.” Victor mumbled, thankful that there was more than a few people around other than Benji who had avoided the stoplight rule. And Benji arrived super late, so he wouldn’t know that pretty much no one else was late to the party.
“Ohhh, tell me, who is she?” Lake asked, forgetting about her cup, and pulling Mia around to the boy’s side. “C’mon, I need to know, you know, for journalism or something.”
Lakes justification sadly didn’t work, and Victor simply laughed it off. Before he could change the subject they were interrupted by a flash of yellow.
Felix had come back down, and Victors heart dropped when he saw him.
The boy was clearly way too drunk, his clothes were a mess and his hoodie was on inside out, but the main concern was the black sharpie covering the boys clothes and face.
“Heyyyy bestie, how are you.” Felix spoke, slurring as he wrapped his arms around Victors shoulder. Victor managed to catch his weight, but not before he bumped the table sending the cups everywhere and spilling the beer and soda over Benji.
Twice in one day was just plain unlucky.
“Hey buddy, what happened, Mia said you were resting?” Victor asked, his concern over taking him.
“I was, Mia is so nice, she showed me to a room, and I lay down for a bit,” Felix spoke, nodding as he did, trying to grab one of the cups that Mia moved out of his reach. “But then I got bored, so I came back downstairs. I met some of your teammates. They made me a drink, and it was really good.”
Drawing out the R in really Felix finally gave up on getting another drink and just looked on happily, not seeing the concern and anger on his friends face.
“Felix, you need to tell me right now, what did they give you to drink?” Victor asked, looking around for the green jackets the team wore.
“Oh calm down buddy, they just said it was an apology from Andrew, you know after he told everyone I love Lake and said those mean things.” Felix said the last bit with a frown.
Victor heard Lakes growl, and saw her march out of the room, with Mia following closely. Victor turned slightly to see Benji, who was still trying to get the shirt he was wearing dried, but looked up when Victor called his name.
Nodding his head to the stairs, Victor signalled for Benji to get the boys other arm and help him upstairs. Felix definitely needed to lay down, and they needed to get that marker off of his face.
Smiling grimly, Benji grabbed his arm, and the pair half walked, half carried the boy towards the staircase, were they met Mia and Lake, both looking furious but calm. Mia led them upstairs, and Lake followed with bottles of water and some towels.
“I can’t believe they did that to you, Felix sweetie I am so sorry about this.” Mia said, opening the door to her room and showing them to the bathroom attached to it. Taking a bottle of water and a cloth from Lake she set them on the floor by the toilet, as the boys set Felix down, back against the wall.
“Thanks Mia, you’re so nice, I can see why everyone likes you.” Felix mumbled, to drunk to see Mia’s blush.
“Thanks buddy, you drink this water okay?” Mia said, handing him the bottle, helping him take a sip.
“Hey thanks girls, we have it from here, yeah? I think he’s gonna be pretty embarrassed when he sobers up.” Victor said, starting to wet the facecloth Lake handed him and began slightly rubbing at the lewd drawings and phrases on his face and arms.
“Okay, you stay here and make sure he’s okay, Benji, make sure no one bothers them.” Lake said with a conviction Victor hadn’t heard before, grabbing Mia she headed out of the room, with Benji moving out into the bedroom too to give them privacy.
“Come on Mia, lets go find those assholes and tear them a new one.”
Victor smiled to himself and went back to working in silence, after a few minutes he’d managed to get the worst off, the word lonestone across his forehead in particular, but reasoned that Felix would need to shower to get the rest of the writing and drawings off his hands face, and wherever else the group had managed to draw on him.
And Victor wasn’t helping him with that right now, not while the boy was now passed out against the toilet bowl. Victor moved him so that he was in a comfortable position, leaving the water beside him he made sure the boy was as secure as he could be.
Victor carefully removed Felixs' hoodie and tucked it under his head as a pillow so the boy wasn't laying on the tile, and so that he’s less likely to be sick over it. He frowns again when he can see the rest of the marks all over Felix’s arms, and judging by the skin he can see, its likely all over his torso too.
How could he have let this happen again, he’d promised Felix he wouldn’t leave him alone, and he’d done exactly that.
Sighing to himself, he reasoned he’d ask forgiveness tomorrow when they boy was awake, so he moved out of the bathroom and joined Benji in Mia’s room.
Benji, who was still dabbing at his shirt with a frown on his face.
“You know, I’m beginning to think people don’t like my tops. They keep getting soaked.” He said, smiling as Victor snorted once he got the implication.
“Or maybe it’s a sign from the universe.” Victor said, moving to sit beside the boy, “Maybe this is how the universe is telling you not to let clumsy boys near liquids.”
“Oh, so it’s the universes’ fault, not yours I got soaked earlier too?” Benji asked, wiggling his eyebrows at Victor.
“Ohhh I guess that could be on me. But it’s also your fault. You poked me, I told you what would happen.” Victor shot back, flopping back onto the bed, trying not to notice how close he was to Benji.
“Oh, yes, what was it you said, what did I expect ‘looking like that’ wasn’t it?” Benji said smirking victoriously when Victor groaned into his hands, avoiding meeting his gaze.
“Oh shush, take the compliment okay?” Victor mumbled, staring at the ceiling, not feeling up to flirting/teasing or whatever it was they were doing right now.
“Hey, are you okay? You don’t seem all there right now Victor.” Benji said, turning to face Victor.
“Sorry, I’m just mad about what happened Felix, I feel like it’s my fault.” Victor admitted, eyes focused on the ceiling still, he couldn’t bring himself to look at Benji, or through the bathroom door at Felix.
“Victor, it’s not on you, it’s those idiots from school, you can’t blame yourself.” Benji argued, gently nudging Victors’ knee.
“It is though, I annoyed Andrew by not going with the team when I got here, I called him out in front of everyone on his shitty behaviour, and then kicked him out when he was being a drunk mess. If I hadn’t done that, then the team… well, they’d never have messed with Felix.” Victor argued, though he knew that really wasn’t true, they’d have done it.
But this time was way worse, they’d gone way to far, with the things they’d written on the boy.
“Victor, you know full well they’d have done something to someone.” Benji said, Victor could almost hear the plea in his tone, begging him to see reason, “You’re a good guy Vic, but you can’t blame yourself for everyone else problems.”
Sighing Victor just nodded, finally looking at Benji, smiling slightly to let him know he was okay.
Benji just nodded and squeezed his leg to let him know he understood, he went back to dabbing at his soiled shirt with the cloth.
“You know, I don’t think you’re getting those stains out buddy,” Victor finally said, sitting up on his elbows, “Do you need to borrow a top?”
“Nah, it’s okay, I left my jacket downstairs and I’ve a tee on underneath, I’ll just take this off and hope it dries properly.” Benji said, getting off the bed and removing his stained shirt, wrinkling his nose when he saw the extend of the stains. “Damn Felix, you got me good. Do you think Mia will mind if I leave this here?”
“Hmm?” Victor distracted, he couldn’t help glance at the exposed flesh between Benji’s jeans and his stupid tight, bright, yellow t-shirt.
“Hey, Earth to Victor, you in there?” Benji asked, and Victor could hear the smirk in his voice, he knew he’d been caught staring.
Wait!
Yellow?
Benji was wearing a yellow t-shirt, to a stoplight party, without his boyfriend, and the first thing he did was ask for Victor.
Nobody panic!
Chapter 6: Stop, Start, Go
GREEN
“Victor? You’re kinda freaking me out right now. Are you sure you’re okay?”
“Umm.. yeah, I’m good.” Victor said, eyes darting up to meet Benjis’, “Sorry, just having a pity party for one in my head.”
“Hmm, well we can’t have that now can we?” Benji said, moving to sit on the bed and facing Victor and drawing his legs up under himself.
“So… Would you like to talk about whatever it is that is bothering you?” Benji asked, nudging Victor.
“Orrr, would you like me to distract you?”
God yes. Please.
“Umm, what did you have in mind?” Victor asking, his heart skipping a beat.
Don’t blush. Do not blush!
“20 Questions.” Benji said simply, pulling out his phone and opening an app.
Okay, not what I had in mind. Victor thought to himself, then again this was classic Benji. Always going out of his way to help people.
“Sure, go for it, do your worst Benjamin.” Victor said, laughing and pulling himself up into a sitting position, to face Benji on the bed.
“Okay, so, why don’t we both just take it turn about to answer the questions, and since I’m oh so nice, I will let you ask me the first question.” Benji said, smirking and handing his phone to Victor.
“Alright then, lets see what’s up first.” Victor announced dramatically, trying to emulate a cliché 90s game show host.
“Benji, have you ever ‘dine and dashed’ a restaurant? Ohhhh steamy.” Victor said, giggling as he offered the phone to Benji.
“Wow, really digging in deep huh Victor? I have not in fact dined and dash, I am a respectable gentleman, how ‘bout you?” Benji asked, smiling as Victor rolled his eyes.
“Nope, nothing exciting, okay, next question B.” Victor said, taking a drink from one of the water bottles Mia had left for them.
“If you had to be stuck on a desert island, which friend would you take with you?” Benji asked, tilting his head waiting for the answer.
“Uhh, I guess Felix? I don’t really have anyone from Texas I would want to be stuck on an island with, and honestly? I think he’s crazy enough to be able to get us home.” Victor said, finishing with a chuckle, glancing over to make sure Felix was still okay. “And you?”
Benji suddenly found the bedsheet below him very interesting, “Ummm, I don’t know.”
“Oh come on, surely you can narrow the list down?” Victor said, nudging Benji with the bottle in his hand.
“Do I have to poke the answer out of you, there’s gotta be one name.” Victor said, smiling when he saw the corners of Benji’s mouth quirk up.
“Ehh, not really, probably you if I'm honest. I don’t exactly have anyone else that close ever since.. umm I kind of focused on my relationship, and at the cost of my friends.” Benji said, refusing to meet Victors eyes.
“Hey, I just told you the person I would bring to a desert island is a guy I met 3 days ago and is currently passed out in the corner?” Victor said, not admitting that he’d actually choose the boy sitting across from him. That would just raise questions.
“Thanks Vic, umm next question?”
And so, the game went on, until they came to the second last question. The game had passed along, mostly happy, a little sappy, but fun.
Victor was glad to have the time with Benji, as much fun as they had before in Brasstown, or in Willacoochee, this was different. Victor wasn’t stressed, Benji seemed lighter, more willing to let go, like coming to the party.
Victor wasn’t sure if Benji had been asked last time, but given Lakes obvious approval of Benji’s attractiveness, he couldn’t imagine he’d not be invited. At some point during the game, they’d moved to sitting side my side against the headboard.
“Umm, okay Victor. What is your most awkward breakup?” Benji asked, titling the phone to face Victor.
Mia, that was and will always be the most awkward. Especially considering it’s also my only one.
“Ha, easy one for me. No exes in Texas.” Victor admitted.
“Seriously?” Benji didn’t seem to believe him. “There is no one back in Texas you left heartbroken? I thought you had exaggerated that when you told Lake earlier?” Benji asked, poking Victor in the side (that was becoming a thing apparently).
“Nope, no ones missing me in Texas, definitely no ex-bo… ex.” Victor finished, catching himself before he finished that. He wasn’t ready to tell Benji just yet. Not straight out, he didn’t want to risk it.
Benji was staring at him, had he caught Victors slip up? Did Victor really care if he did? It’s not like Benji would ever judge him anyway, he knew that.
“Hmmm, I’m gonna admit, I’m a little surprised Salazar.”
“Oh, why’s that?” Victor asked, genuinely curious. “I’m nothing special.”
“Uh huh, I guess they don’t have many mirrors in Texas do they?” Benji said, the last part closer to a whisper than anything else.
Was Benji blushing?
“What about you? Any boys who’s hearts you’ve broken?” Victor asked, really not wanting to hear the answer.
“Hmph, nope, only guy I ever actually dated was Derek.” Benji answered, lapsing into silence.
Wait, what? Was?
“Anyway! Final question, let me see that phone.” Benji said, grabbing the phone from Victors hands and looking at the screen.
And then he promptly dropped the phone on the bed.
“Umm, ‘scuse me, I need to go to the bathroom, preferably one without a sleeping Felix. I’ll be back.”
Benji moved of the bed and was out the door before Victor could even process what had happened, he called after him.
“B? Are you oka-“
Victor was interrupted by his phone ringing, the caller ID covering the screen, crap, why was his Dad calling.
“Hola, Papi, what’s up?”
“Do you realise what time it is Victor?” Amrandos’ voice sounded strained, as though he was trying to keep calm.
“Ugh, I don’t sorry, I’m still at Mia’s.”
“It’s 10 minutes passed curfew Victor. And you aren’t he-.”
“Oh, no, I am so sorry. I can explain.” Victor jumped off the bed, glancing at the clock on the bedside, he was so late.
“This better be good Flaco.”
“Some guys from the basketball team messed with Felixs’ drink and it left him really really messed up, and I couldn’t leave him here, so I brought him upstairs, and me and Benji have been sitting with him, making sure he’s okay.”
“Benji?” Armando asked.
Victor wondered if he had said he’d lost track of time with Mia instead, would the tone of his fathers voice be different right now.
“Yeah, a guy from school. Neither of us are really party goers so we didn’t mind.”
There was silence on the other end, broken by a soft sigh that Victor really didn’t wanted to read as disappointed. But it was, his dad wanted him to be the life and soul, outgoing party guy, hooking up with the pretty girls.
“Ok. Listen, get home soon, and you will be giving your mother and I a full explanation tomorrow morning. You have your keys sí?”
“Sí Papi, thank you for understanding, I will text you when I’m on my way yeah? I am just going to wake Felix up and make sure he is good to go.”
And find Benji.
“Okay, goodnight mijo.” Armando finished the call, leaving Victor alone in the room in silence.
Checking on Felix, Victor saw he was still asleep, he’d give him 10 more minutes. Pulling phone out to message Benji, he paused remembering Benji had dropped his phone on the bed.
Curiosity got the better of him and Victor checked the screen to see what the last question was, but as he did he saw a stream of notes coming through, as though someone had been swiping them away all day.
He didn’t mean to look, but when the latest one read; SCREW THIS! I can’t deal with your high school bullshit anymore. You’re going to regret this. It wasn’t hard to put two and two together.
Had something happened? Benji seemed fine, well, he was up until the last question anyway. Remembering the game, Victor swiped back to open the app again.
And his heart jumped into his throat.
Q20: Have you ever been in a car accident, and was it your fault?
Oh shit.
“Benji? Are you okay?”
Victor knocked on the door again. Third door is the charm right?
"Benji are you in there? C’mon man, I’ve checked the other bathroom. I just want to check you are okay.” Victor called through the door, resting his head against the cool wood.
“B, please?”
Silence, then..
“Just a second Vic.”
After a solid minute Victor finally heard movement on the other side of the door, someone getting up off of the floor by the sound of it, and the tap running.
Victor took a step back as the door opened a moment later and Benji appeared in the doorway, his face and hair dripping with water. His eyes were red again as well.
“Hey, sorry, umm I just needed a minute, or ten I guess.” Benji said, stepping out into the hall and moving back towards Mia’s bedroom.
“No problem, do you want to talk about it?” Victor asked, shutting the door behind them, and nodding to the bed, indicating for Benji to sit again.
“Not really, I just had a bad day is all.” Benji said, fiddling absently with the throw.
“Okay, you don't want to, that's fair, but do you need to talk about it? You know I’m here if you do B.” Victor said, well, may as well go all in. “Does it have something to do with why you are wearing yellow tonight. Did Derek bail last minute again or something?”
At this Benji looked at Victor, blinking in confusion, looking down at his shirt.
“Um, you know that’s not what yellow means right? Red means relationship. Derek and I are done, as of this afternoon, but yeah.” Benji said, the words falling from his lips while Victors’ heart soared despite itself.
“Benji, I don’t know what to say. I feel like I should say sorry, but I don’t know if that’s appropriate.” Victor admitted, “From what I’ve heard, and what you’ve told me, he wasn’t exactly the most attentive boyfriend, well he seems an ass really.”
“Wow, tell me how you really feel Vic.” Benji said after a moments silence, a small smirk on his face.
“Sorry, that was out of line.” Victor said quickly, hoping he hadn’t overstepped.
“No. It wasn’t, trust me, I think I need the tough love right now. I keep feeling sorry for myself, and the spam texts don’t help. Derek didn’t exactly take it well.” Benji finished with a sigh, laying back to stare at the ceiling, mirroring Victors’ form from earlier.
“He keeps trying to convince me I am exaggerating or imagining things. But I’m not. We aren’t good together; I don’t think we ever were. I’m honestly sure that I mixed up my feelings about him supporting me coming out, with actual love. I just wanted someone to want me as is, without wanting to change some part of me.”
“I mean I doubt breakups are meant to be easy on anyone, even if one person is an ass, and I guess I’d be pretty mad if someone like you broke up with me.” Victor said, watching Benji closely.
He had to be careful not to give anything away, to let on that he knew more than he did. Although, in his defence he didn’t actually know everything this time. This was months earlier than last time, and with a lot less drama happening in between.
And okay, he didn’t wait last time, but even he didn’t know how that would turn out. He had no idea how Benji and Victor worked in the real world, they had never gotten to see. To go beyond flirty texts after the disaster/miracle night that was the Spring Fling.
“Wait, how do you know I dumped him? I never told you that.” Benji said, looking up at Victor in confusion.
The only response Victor could give was a shrug, he knew that Derek wouldn’t let Benji go, he knew that Derek wouldn’t admit to the flaws in what he and Benji had. But the message he saw? That surprised him, who knew the guy cared so much.
Pity he never showed it when Benji needed it.
“Anyone that broke up with someone like you Benji? That would make them a fool and Derek might be an ass, but he’s apparently not a fool, ergo, you broke up with him.” Victor said simply, smiling softly as he finished.
“Alright you. I disagree with the reasoning, but yeah, I broke up with him.” Benji sat up, leaning against Victor’s shoulder slightly as they both stared ahead, not seeing Felix stirring in the bathroom.
“I guess, I don’t know, something has been off with us for a long time now. I just didn’t want to admit it, then the night at the carnival, it was the 4th time in like two weeks he’d blown be off for other plans.” Benji said, resting more against Victor as he continued. “Any time I wanted to do couple things, it was usually turned into a group thing, or he bailed for others. I brushed it off, saying he was just supporting his friends, and gave him a pass. I guess it became a habit.”
“Every time I wanted to do something romantic, I got this whole rant about how because we are gay we don’t need to conform and could do what we wanted without societies expectations. Pity that when it was something I wanted to do, he always had an excuse. Like this one time, I wanted to go away for the weekend, just the two of us. And you know what? He was up for it, totally happy to go, a weekend away from everything. From Creekwood and interrupting parents.”
Benji paused, taking a drink from the offered bottle of now lukewarm water. Pulling his phone up, Benji scrolled through a long list of messages until he found what he was looking for and handed the phone to Victor; “And then, 30 minutes before we leave, he texts me this.”
Derek: Hey, sry can’t do this weekend. Brian got us tickets to a show out of town.
Derek: Rain check?
Benji -> Derek <3 - Call failed
Benji -> Derek <3 - Call failed
Benji: What the hell Derek?
Benji -> Derek <3 - Call failed
Benji -> Derek <3 - Call failed
Benji: I’m literally ready to go!
Derek: Chill. These tickets don’t come up everyday you know! This is important to me
Benji: Srsly..
“Wow.. I take it back, I was being too nice, he is way worse that just an ass.” Victor said, anger lacing his words as he handed the phone back.
“Yeah, so that was kind of the big one, but honestly even without that it all builds up. But I didn’t really have anyone else to go to, and I didn’t want to be alone. So, I stayed, convinced myself it was just my imagination, and that Derek was good for me.”
Sitting up slightly, Benji smiled as Victor wrapped an arm around him, it was a simple enough gesture that it could be taken as platonic.
“Then, when I spent the night with you guys at the carnival, well, I realised how long it had been since I’d had just a fun night with friends. That it wasn’t healthy to close myself off from people for him, then we talked on the Ferris Wheel and you said what you said, very wise words by the way, and I started thinking selfishly for once. About what I want, to be happy, and who I want.”
At this Victors heart started to race, he prayed Benji couldn’t hear it, they were so close it wouldn’t shock him if he could.
“And for the life of me, I can’t remember when I last spent time with Mia. We used to be friends, you know, art kids united and all that.” Benji spoke softly, eyes lost in the past.
“I get you, I guess everyone gets swept up in their relationships.” Victor said, trying not to enjoy the feeling of having Benji so close too much.
“It, umm it wasn’t because of Derek, well not at the beginning. I don’t want to get into it tonight, but I was in a bad place before I came out, and one of the casualties were my friends, including Mia. Then I did something really stupid.” Benji said, sighing as he leant into Victor more.
“Hey, you don’t need to tell me the ins and outs okay? But umm, does this have anything to do with the last question?” Victor asked shifting slightly to look at Benji.
“Ah, yeah I guess it does. But can we not tonight? I feel like I’ve hit my limit on sore topics tonight. But thanks Vic, you’re really easy to talk to. Like, I haven’t told anyone this stuff before level easy to talk too.”
Smiling Victor pulled Benji into a hug, holding the boy close and trying not to read to much into it when he felt Benji tuck himself in closer. And definitely not when he felt Benji’s arm wrap around his waist.
“No problem at all, just, please know I’m here if or when you decide you want to talk about it yeah?” Victor said, tipping Benji’s chin up so he could look him in the eye.
“Thanks Vic, I appreciate it.” Benji said, meeting Victors’ gaze fully. Victor couldn’t help but take in his face, the intenseness of his eyes, the flush in his cheeks, his lips!
“I’m here whenever you need me Benji, I promise.”
Benji blinked at the tone Victor spoke in, truth of it, the sincerity, and the genuine care.
And so, he started to lean in. Victor leaning forward to meet him, just inches apart.
Oh god, okay yes. This was happening, they were going to ki-
“VICTOOOOOR! I think I need you to take me home. I think I threw up, like a lot.”
Oh.. Felix was awake and leaning against the door frame.
“HEY! Benji is here too! Hi Benji.”
Felix. I love you to bits, but right now, I hate you.
Victor and Benji had finally gotten Felix cleaned up and downstairs in an awkward silence. The party was over, apparently Lake and Mia ripping into the basketball team and kicking them all out was a real mood killer for most of the students. Not that either girl seemed to care, they were just more concerned about Felix.
An improvement to be sure, but right now Victor couldn’t help feeling bitter about the missed moment upstairs. Still, maybe it was for the best, it was literally the day of Benjis’ breakup and Victor didn’t want to cause any more confusion for the boy or himself.
Pausing to message his Dad and let him know that they were heading home, Victor guided Felix out the door and into the night, thankful that the boy could walk under his own power again, even if he was wobbling all over the sidewalk.
“So.. did you enjoy your first Creekwood party Vic?” Benji asked, eyes forward as they followed Felixs’ wobbly path.
“Well.. I mean the start was good, the middle not so much, and the end was nice.” Victor replied honestly, he wasn’t sure what to make of the party.
“Thankfully I got to make it clear to Mia that I just wanted to be friends, so that awkwardness is done. Ideally it will get Lake off my back too.”
“Ha, I can’t say I know many guys who would say the same.” Benji replied, but Victor couldn’t help but notice he perked up upon hearing that there was nothing going to happen with Mia.
Rolling his eyes Victor only chuckled at Benji, hoping that when the other boy found out who he really liked, he’d be happy too. And after the moment in Mia’s room Victor was feeling pretty optimistic.
“Hey Felix buddy? You might wanna go right, you’re heading the wrong way.” Victor called when he noticed Felix had turned left at the crossroad up ahead.
Apparently he was eager for school to start.
“Gotcha bestie!” Felix called back, turning on the stop and marching in the correct direction, sounding much better than earlier, but still visibly drunk.
“Hey, so I wanted to say thank you again for today Victor, I know it’s been a lot, and we’ve only known each othe-“ Benji started, only to stop when Victor shushed him.
“B, seriously, you don’t need to say thank you, I wanted to be there for you, and want to listen when you need to talk. End of.”
“Yeah but seri-“ This time Benji was cut short as Victor placed his hand over the other boys mouth.
“Benji. Stop. You don’t need to apologise or say thank you, okay? That’s what friends do. I’m not going to leave someone I care about to go through all that on their own.” Victor said, not hiding the smirk on his face as he watched Benjis’ eyes narrow as he waited for the taller boy to remove his hand.
When it was clear Victor wasn’t going to remove his hand unless Benji agreed, the shorter boy nodded, with Victor finally removing his hand.
“You know, next time you do that, I’m just going to lick your hand until you stop. Don’t think you can do that anytime and get me to agree.” Benji said, nudging Victor as the boys moved to follow Felix up the path to the apartment building.
“So the two options are, you agree with me, or you lick me? Interesting.” Victor shot back, winking exaggeratedly at Benji, before darting forward to help Felix with his keys. It seemed exhaustion was now catching up with him and combined with the alcohol he was struggling.
“Ohhh you so know that’s not what I mean Salazar.” Benji said as he wrapped Felixs’ arm around his shoulder to keep the boy upright.
“Uh huh. Let’s just get Felix inside, we can discuss it after.”
When they finally got Felix to his door, and Victor had handed him the correct key, the two boys found themselves in a bear hug from Felix, who was thanking them for walking him home.
“You guys are the best, Victor you’re my best bestie, so you’re obviously the best, and I'm so glad you moved here. But Benji is the best too, I can see why Victor likes you so much, he always says so. You’re awesome, and super nice and the best.” Felix clearly had no filter when he was drunk, nor did he have the ability to perceive the mortified look on Victors’ face as he heard what the drunk boy had to say.
“Night guys, I’m gonna go curl up on the floor again.” Felix said, slipping through the barely open door, leaving Victor and Benji on their own.
Sighing Victor moved up a few steps to sit on the stairs between both floors and rested his head on the cool wall. He didn’t want the night to end, since that meant Benji would be going home, but Felix had just made things super awkward for him and he now wanted to skip the whole conversation.
“So, Felix is an interesting drunk.” Benji said, sitting down beside Victor and stretching out his legs.
“Yeah, I mean he’s interesting enough sober, but alcohol just seems to had a whole new layer. Though I do hope next time those assholes don’t mess with him.” Victor finished, frowning at the memory again. He knew it wasn’t his fault, but he’d broken a promise not to let that happen, what else would he fail at?
“Hey, I doubt they will. I think they pissed a lot of people off since they got the party cancelled, and it was also just a dick thing to do.” Benji said softly, wrapping his arm around Victors’ shoulder.
“Thanks B, you’re probably right.” Victor admitted, allowing himself a moment of weakness and resting his head on Benjis’ shoulder.
“Probably? You’re doubting me?” Benji said in mock outrage, “After everything Felix just told me? Wow Vic, just wow.”
“Ugh… I was hoping you missed that. Don’t get an ego alright?” Victor said, blushing when he realised Benji wasn’t particularly upset about the topic.
“How could I not, after all I’m a 10 if some people are to be believed.” Benjis’ stupid smile was lighting up the hallway, and Victor couldn’t help smile back despite himself.
“I knew that would come back to bite me…” Victor shook his head, trying convey his mock sadness.
“Hey! Don’t take this away from me, your imaginary, and obviously flawed point system is what is keeping me going right now.” Benji admitted, slightly more serious than before.
“Oh really? Are you sure you aren’t just fishing for more complements?” Victor challenged, poking at Benjis’ side again. “I think Felix has fulfilled that quota for today, so you’ll just have to wait till tomorrow.
“Maybe, I can’t help enjoying having my ego stroked.” Benji admitted, sticking his tongue out when Victor laughed at him.
“Okay, I’m not even gonna make a joke on that one,” Victor said, standing up and offering his hand to Benji, “But it's almost 1am and my dad is pretty mad about the whole being late thing already. So I gotta go.”
“Oh shit, I never realised, will you be in trouble?”
“Nah, he knows I was helping Felix, though knowing him he will be more disappointed that I didn’t stay to chase some pretty girl.” Victor responded, not able to contain his sigh at the situation.
“Really? I mean, it wouldn’t be the worst thing for him I’m sure. Pretty sure all a dad wants is their son to date the hottest girl. Surely someone at the party caught your eye, after all you wore yellow.” Benji said, reaching forward to tug on the string of Victors’ hoodie.
“Hmm true, but then again, how do you know I didn’t get to spend the night with who I wanted anyway?” Victor said, letting himself be a bit more open with Benji, almost daring him to ask.
“But you spent the majority of the night in Mias’ room with me and Felix?” Benji said, blinking owlishly at the other boy.
Oh god, is he really this oblivious?
Victor just shrugged, not trusting himself to not accidentally out himself there and then.
“Don’t worry about it, tonight was pretty great, for the most part. Now I gotta go B, goodnight.” Victor said, and before he could stop himself he pulled Benji into a hug.
“Now get out of here before we get distracted again. And text me when you get home!”
With a light push Benji walked towards the door, waving as he left, cheeks tinged red.
Okay, making Benji blush was too much fun.
“See ya tomorrow Vic.”
Victor waited until Benji was out of sight before he went inside his apartment, and quietly moved through the hall, first to the bathroom to wash up, and then to his room, stripping down to his boxers and gratefully climbing into bed, checking his phone for any missed messages in the 15 minutes he’d been in the bathroom.
Pilar: You know I can hear into the stairway from my room right? Are you only getting home now?
Pilar: Is Felix okay? And also was that Benji?
Victor: In response, No, Yes, Yes.
Victor: I’m heading to bed, I’ll explain in the morning
Victor: Walk with me tomorrow?
Pilar: Sí, night hermano.
Victor: Night P
Benji: Hey, just letting you know I’m safe and sound and cocooned in bed.
Benji: I assumed you got home safe too :P
Victor: Ha Ha.
Victor: Yes, I made it up those 6 stairs in one piece.
Victor: I have never been more glad to get into bed. I didn’t even bother putting my clothes away for a change, just threw them on the floor.
Benji: Ha! You should see my room, that’s pretty much the norm.
Benji: My house is soo warm though, I pretty much just sleep in my boxers and the window is already open! AND it's still too warm!!
Victor: Thanks for the info
😉
👀
Victor: That does sound kina hot
Victor: *warm..
Benji: OMG, you’re impossible.
Benji: I’m going to bed before you twist anything else I say Victor Salazar.
Benji: Goodnight Vic.
Victor: Lmao, there there, poor easily teased Benji :P
Benji: :P shush, you said it first boxer boy!
Benji: Sweet dreams Vic.
Okay, Victor was properly smiling now as he closed the thread before he got any more adventurous, Benji in his boxers was enough temptation as it was. Thank god they had texted; he didn’t think he could handle Snapchats from barely clothed Benji right now.
Before he could put his phone away, Victor pulled up Simons’ response to his earlier message, and smiled as he read through it.
It was good to have the older man’s advice, and even better to have the hopes of friendship beginning to burn.
Dear Victor,
Again, I am glad to hear you are so comfortable you are starting to tell people, and believe me, honesty is better than accidentally leading on a friend. Been there, done that, not worth it.
If I can play devils advocate for a moment though, just be careful you aren’t shoehorning yourself into a box. The world isn’t just gay or straight, you could be Bi or Pan or any number of different sexualities.
However, that being said, when you know, you know. So if you are confident in this, I say go for it with Ferris Wheel guy. Just don’t let yourself get hurt.
And let me know how that goes! I want regular updates
Love,
Simon.
P.S. My roommate Justin has pretty conservative religious parents would you mind if I ask him for advice?
Chapter 7: Battling and Bonding
BUTTING HEADS
Dear Simon,
Sorry for taking so long, school has been crazy these past few days. Why does Creekwood high love giving out sooo many assignments?
My mom was also really not happy I broke curfew for Mias party, but she seems to be taking it out on my dad instead of me.. which isn’t really better is it?
Anyway, I get what you mean, I know that its not just one or the other anymore, but trust me on this when I say, I am 100% gay, I’ve done the research…
Also I am like 200% gay for ‘Ferris Wheel guy’ although we call him Benji :P
I’ll admit I thought I might be bi, but I think it was honestly just a way to be ‘normal’ and not admit to myself what I already knew.
I did tell my friend Mia last night and she was so awesome about it, it’s amazing that the first two (three if I count you) people I’ve told have been absolutely fine with it. I know that doesn’t mean everyone will be, but it’s a real nice booster. Definitely better than it would have been in Texas..
P.S Yes please, if Justin can offer me any advice I’d be eternally grateful. I, I trust my parents, I think, my mom may be iffy, but my grandparents? Not in my best fantasy do they EVER take it well. At most I can imagine they pretend I never come out. Which is sad..
P.P.S Opps, didn’t meant to ruin the vibe.
Victor pocketed his phone and walked into the kitchen to grab a cup of coffee and wait on Pilar, pointedly ignoring his arguing parents. He added a note to the shopping list that they needed coffee for the next time someone was doing groceries.
What exactly it was that set off this mornings spat, was he couldn’t bring himself to care, it was never anything important.
Firing off messages to his friends letting them know they were leaving for school soon, and messaging Pilar for good measure, Victor scrolled through his phone absently until he heard Pilar emerge from her room.
“Finally, what took you so long?” Victor whined, handing a travel mug to his sister and grabbing his own school stuff.
“We can’t all just roll out of bed and into whatever is closest Vic, some of us put effort in.” Pilar snapped back, muttering a goodbye to their parents as she headed out the door, Victor following close behind, not even saying goodbye.
“Yeah, okay first of all ouch. Second of all I don’t mind waiting, just Mami and Papi are driving me insane, ever since I explained about Felix, Mom has been at Dad's throat for letting me stay out late. It’s getting worse.” Victor mumbled to his sister, waving to Felix as they walked down the path to meet him.
It had taken a few days for Felix to bounce back from the party, but he seemed to be genuinely doing better. Although he had admitted to Victor that he wouldn’t be drinking next time they went out, Andrews’ prank had really freaked him out.
Agreeing it was probably for the best, Victor filled Felix in on what had happened with Mia, and confessing his secret to her, which lead to Felix almost smothering him in a hug and declaring how proud he was of him. Victor also told him about his conversation with Benji, and how he’d thought for a moment Benji had been about to kiss him.
This had led to a genuine apology from Felix who felt guilty about interrupting, which had lead to 20 minutes of Victor trying to convince Felix that he hadn’t done anything wrong and they were both glad he was okay. After that, he had come to theirs for dinner the night after the party and they had filled Pilar in on everything that had gone down since she’d been polite in waiting on them getting round to actually telling her.
Well not everything, she didn’t need to know about the kiss that never was, or what Mia had been told.
Unsurprisingly Pilar was furious about what Andrew had done but was visibly proud when they told her how Victor had thrown Andrew out, and that Mia and Lake had done the same with the rest of the team.
“Good, nobody gets to treat someone that way, it’s bullshit and you shouldn’t take it to heart Felix.” She had told the other boy, surprising them all when she drew him into a quick, and very awkward hug.
Since then, Felix and Pilar had become super close, and Victor was glad to see a strong friendship growing between the two. Their polar opposite attitudes really balanced them out, supreme optimist versus queen of pessimism.
“Hello Salastars, how are we this morning?” Felix greeted the two, drawing Victor back to the present, Felixs' wide and contagious smile pulling both of them from their sour mood.
It was impossible to be around Felix and not be happy, which made the walk to school each morning more bearable than it should be.
“You mean aside from constantly fighting parents? All good, so long as you never call us that again.” Pilar said, shoving Felix slightly to make her point.
“Aw come on, why do you two hate on my whimsy!” Felix said, he pointedly ignored the first part, something Victor was grateful for, he really didn’t want to get into that right now.
“We don’t hate it, we’re just pretty sure no one is on your level of whimsy Felix.” Victor said, smiling as he watched the two stare each other down.
“Now come on you two, we’re gonna be late, and I have biology first. I need to get my notes from my locker.” Victor said, actually pushing the two to walk faster down the sidewalk towards the school.
God knows what they looked like to anyone passing by.
“Oh yeah, you and Benji are in Biology together, working on a project... How’s that going by the way?” Felix asked, wiggling his eyebrows suggestively while Pilar was focused on her phone.
“Umm, it’s okay I guess?” Victor said, sticking his tongue out at Felix, “We have to work on our paper in class today and sketch out some diagrams, but Benji very quickly kicked me off of diagram duty. According to him my basketball skills replaced, and I quote, ‘whatever infinitesimally minute drawing talent I might have once had’.”
“Ha! Yeah, V that’s probably better. You remember your 4th grade art project? I think it’s the only thing that never ended up on the fridge door.” Pilar said, smirking at the look of betrayal on Victors’ face.
“Pilar!”
Pilar only laughed as they headed up the steps to the school, spotting Mia and Lake waiting for them by the doors.
“Hey guys, ready for another wonderful day at Creekwood?” Mia said, smiling when they others only groaned in response.
“Not when I have Mr. Hoover for English class. First class of the morning and they give me the teacher who will put me in a coma!” Pilar grumbled, before saying goodbye to the group and heading to said class.
“Oof, yeah I don’t envy her, I had him last year and it was… painful.” Lake said, looking up from her phone to shoot a sympathetic look towards the direction Pilar had left in, before
“What about you guys? Victor you have Bio now right?” Mia said, smiling up at Victor.
The two of them had been talking everyday since the party, and once Mia had fulfilled her quota of teasing him about Benji, and he’d explained the almost-kiss, they had actually started talking more in general.
Victor forgot how much they had in common.
“Yup, I should actually go though. I left my notes in my locker and I’m not allowed to use my phone in class, so I’ll see you guys at lunch yeah?” Victor said as he walked with the group through the halls.
“Plus, Benji will kill you if you’re late.” Mia teased, “Can’t leave the poor guy to take notes all by himself right?”
Mias’ comment got a full-on belly laugh out of Felix, while Lake just looked between the two confused. Victor felt guilty for not confiding in her just yet, but for now Felix and Mia were enough.
Except they teased him non-stop whenever Benji was mentioned. He loved it, and he hated it.
“Well, I doubt we will have much time left to monopolise, now that he’s back on the market who knows how long it’ll be before someone snaps him up.” Lake said simply.
Oh.. Victor hadn’t considered that, what if someone else..
No, don’t go down that path. Benji is your friend (and crush). And IF someone asks him out, that’s not your place to step in.
“Oh don’t Lake, let the guy mourn the relationship. Besides, Victor seems to be doing a pretty good job of keeping his spirits up in the meantime.” Mia said, smiling as she watched Victor blush and bury his head deeper inside his locker.
“Now, Felix, I believe we have math, yes? Care to escort us while we abandon Victor to Benjis’ wrath?”
“Of course, after you ladies.” Felix said, laughing as Mia hooked her arms through his and allowed him to sweep her dramatically around the corner, with Lake rolling her eyes and following quickly.
Okay, love that they are becoming friends, but this is gonna be sooo bad since they both know. The teasing may actually kill me before I ever actually get to go anywhere with Benji!
Biology was still dull, as a subject.
The actual class wasn’t, getting to spent time with Benji was more fun than Victor could remember. Not that it hadn’t been great before, but something was different this time around, Benji was freer, he laughed more and engaged more eagerly in conversations with their friends. He was more open talking about what he wanted to do, what he liked.
He’d spent 2 hours last night trying to convince them all that Dolly Parton was the worlds greatest musician. Victor was almost certain that if it had been in person instead of a group-chat, Pilar and Benji would have come to blows over it.
Was this what Benji was like without Derek weighing him down though? Was this him happy, the Benji that he had said being with Victor allowed him to be?
Right now, Victor didn’t have time to ponder the situation, since he was engaged in a silent battle with Benji, desperately trying to protect his pristine notes from being doodled over.
A battle he was awfully close to losing.
In his defence, Benji has a really, really distracting smile.
“You know, you have a whole note pad there to draw on, I’ll even buy you paper if you need it, just please have mercy on my notes.” Victor said as they packed up their things.
“Yeah, but where’s the fun in that? You get so flustered when I almost mark the page. I still can’t believe you rewrote that last page though. I barely got that one!” Benji said, as he held the door for Victor to walk through.
“Yeah, well it was bright green! Now just shush okay? I like my notes tidy. I promise I’ll bring some paper for you next time so you can draw till your arty little heart is content.” Victor said, smiling at the sound of Benjis’ laugh.
The pair hung out at Victors locker while he swapped his books out, he had a free period now and was spending it in the art room with Mia while she worked on her sculpture.
“Alright, deal. You supply the paper and I will leave your notes nice and neat.”
“And I get to keep any drawings.” Victor said, smirking as he closed his locker and turned to face Benji.
“Um, yeah sure, I don’t know why you keep those though. They’re nothing worth keeping.” Benji mumbled, though Victor thought he could see a pleased look threatening to cross Benjis’ face.
“Yeah, but you don’t get to decide that. Now I gotta go, I promised Mia I would bring snacks, and you have class, so shoo.” Victor motioned for Benji to head down the hall as the next bell rang.
“Ohh you did not just shoo me. I’ll get you for that Salazar.” Benji called as he walked quickly down the hall.
Chuckling to himself, Victor walked through the quiet halls until he found the art studio Mia was using. Just like last time when he walked in, Mia was working intently on her sculpture, focusing on working the heated metal.
“Hey Mia.” Victor called, softly knocking on the door to get the girls attention.
Turning around the girl lifted the welders mask away from her face and smiled when she saw the snacks in Victors arms.
“Ah, Victor, good you brought offerings.” She said, setting the torch and helmet down as she grabbed some of the food from Victors arms before walking over and settling herself on top of a nearby desk.
“Well, I didn’t think it would be fair if I showed up empty handed. Now I know its not sushi, we should totally do a sushi night by the way, but I have chips and drinks and so much sugar we will be hyper for weeks.” Victor said, pulling some stuff towards himself as he got comfortable on the desk beside Mia.
“Ha, smart boy. I knew I liked you for a reason.” Mia said, happily munching on her own chips. “You’re gonna make Benji soo happy someday. Ideally soon.”
“Oh come on, you couldn’t wait 5 minutes for that?” Victor asked, tossing an M&M at the giggling girl.
“Nope. Y’all are just too cute, and we stan. Well Felix and I do.”
Mia shook her head as Victor only groaned in response, she had been trying to get Victor to admit that Benji liked him too, but he didn’t want to jinx it.
No matter how hopeful or sure he was.
“Hey, Victor, come on back to me. It’s way to early for you to be off daydreaming about boys.” Mia said, ducking another M&M. “Have you thought about telling your sister yet?”
“I want to. I really do, I think she will be okay with it, but honestly? I don’t want her having to keep a secret from our parents. I’d rather tell them all at once, you know?”
“I get that I guess, I don’t have any siblings so I don’t really know, but you know she will be fine with it right?” Mia said softly, her eyes reflecting the confidence with which she spoke.
“Honestly? Yeah I do, that’s why I feel so guilty keeping it from her, but I’m just not..” Victor trailed off, suddenly more interested in the remaining contents of the M&M packet.
“You’re just not ready?” Mia asked, waiting for Victors’ nod, “Vic, sweetie that’s absolutely fine. You don’t have to come out for anyone else, you do it for you. I love that you told me, and I know Felix tears up any time we talk about it, how much you trusted us. But screw anyone else if they think you owe them this.”
“I… I really don’t know what to say Mia, what did I do to deserve you as a friend?” Victor said, blinking to stop the tears in his eyes spilling over.
“Hmm I don’t know, but must have been something pretty big in a past life am I right?” Mia said as she moved across the desk, resting her head on Victors’ shoulder.
“You’re a pretty awesome guy Vic, I’m glad to have you as my friend. And if anyone tries to make you feel bad, you just remember you don’t owe people a damn thing. You have people who love you for you, and that won’t change.”
“Thanks Mia, you’re pretty awesome as well you know.” Victor said, smiling widely even when the girl bounced off the desk and moved back to her sculpture.
How had he messed this up last time, how had he let his fear get the better of him? Mia was the most amazing person, and she’d been absolutely amazing since he’d told her the truth. Admittedly it had been a whole 3 days since then but, nevertheless.
Victor was glad he had her in his life again.
“Yeah, I know. Oh, plus you also have Benji, and you know he’d be more than happy to find ways to cheer you up!”
This time Mia couldn’t dodge the M&M missiles since Victor threw the entire packet at her.
Later at their lunch table, not that either Victor or Mia ate much considering they had filled up on snacks earlier, and definitely eaten way too much, Pilar brought up the Brasstown Facebook post advertising the Battle of the Bands.
“Guys we should totally go to this! There might be decent music. In Creekwood!” The girl said, sounding genuinely excited.
“Yeah, I’m down to do it.” Mia said, moving to read the post over Pilars shoulder. “Looks like tickets are only a couple bucks so that’s good, we can go early too and get coffee?”
“Ehh, yeah that sounds good.” Victor admitted, remembering that last time going there had been a spur of the moment choice and really, it would be nice to actually see the bands perform.
“Yeah, same with me. I’m working late, so I don’t know if I’ll be able to meet up early with you guys though.” Benji said, not meeting anyone else’s eye.
What? But Benji was playing right? Why wouldn’t he tell them he was?
Victor has seen the Sticky Beaks on the sign-up sheet at Brasstown, written in Benjis’ messy scrawl, and the boy had confirmed it as well when Victor asked him about it.
“Yeah, I’m totally up for it guys. I hear there’s a really awesome DJ set happening as well.” Felix said, eyes sparkling with mirth.
Ah, DJ F-Bomb.
“Yeah, Sarah mentioned they actually got a couple of new sign ups, normally it’s just local bands trying out new stuff.” Victor said, hoping that this time Felixs’ show would go better, he had already asked Victor on the side about performing and if he could store his ‘costume’ in Brasstowns back room until then.
“Okay, well do either of you think you could put some tickets aside for us or pick them up for us?” Lake asked, speaking up while rapidly typing on her phone.
“Of course, Benji and I can technically go for free, so we only need four tickets anyway. Though I’ll get Benji to ask since he’s Sarah’s favourite. “ Victor said, laughing when Benji shoved him.
“Yeah yeah, I’ve just been there longer, Sarah likes you plenty.” He said, looking round the table to their friends, “But yeah, of course I’ll get some tickets set aside in Mias’ name, that way you can just pick them up tomorrow night yeah?”
“Awesome, sounds like a plan. I guess we can all meet there tomorrow?” Mia said, smiling at the table.
But before anyone could actually respond they were interrupted by the unwanted and uninvited arrival of Andrew.
“Oh, where are we going? Another party?” Andrew said, throwing himself into the empty seat beside Mia.
Everyone just stared at the sheer ignorance of the boy. Did he actually think he could just waltz up them as though nothing happened?
“We are going out tomorrow, you are very much not invited Andrew. Not unless you’ve apologised to Felix and Lake, and as far as I know that hasn’t happened, has it guys?” Mia said, her voice carrying an angry tone, but her expression softened as she looked at Felix and Lake.
“No. I haven’t heard anything of the sort.” Lake admitted, eyes narrowed as she took in Andrews stupid grin. “How about you Felix?”
“No, I ha-.”
“Oh come off it Lonestone, you know I was just joshing you around.” Andrew said.
Was he totally dense?
“Andrew, I think it’s a really good idea for you to get up and go now. And I think you should rethink using that stupid ass nickname.” Victor said, staring the other boy in the eye, his tone leaving no room for doubt that he was serious.
“Oh lighten up Salazar, they know I don’t mean it.”
“Bullshit!” Felix shouted, making everyone jump, before getting up and storming off. After a second, Lake stood and, shooting one more glare at Andrew, she followed after Felix.
“Andrew, I really think you should go now. And I think you should leave us all alone.” Victor stated flatly, drawing courage from Mia who was nodding along with him, a look of disgust on her face.
“Jeez, don’t be so sensitive Salazar. Besides, we are on the team together, you know you’ll have to practice with me, so that threat means jack-shit.” Andrew said, arms folded smugly.
“Then I’ll quit the team. If that’s what it takes for you to stop bullying my best friend, then I’ll happily do it. But if I do, I’ll make sure that Coach knows exactly why I’m leaving.” Victor said, his voice was strong, making it clear it wasn’t an empty threat.
“Andrew, just go. Now.” Mia said coldly, her voice so frosty, that combined with Victors’ words, Andrew finally seemed to understand just how unwelcome he was at their table.
Without another word the taller boy got up and left the table, walking away without even looking back.
Victor was actually shaking with anger, he could see Pilar looking across the table at him with concern, while she spoke to Mia, likely trying to get her to calm down.
“Hey, Victor. It’s okay, he’s gone. C’mon, let’s find Felix and Lake.” Benji said softly, standing up and offering his hand to Victor.
“Let’s go find our friends.”
By the time the final bell rang, Victor had never been as glad to get out of the school as he had been. Between dealing with Andrew at lunch, and then the teams’ shitty behaviour during gym, Victor had had enough of them for the day.
He didn’t know if it was because of what had happened at the party, if Andrew had told them about lunch, or a mix of both. But it seems that Victor had developed invisibility, since no one on the team was passing to him, no one followed through on his set ups, on the rare occasion Victor got a chance to take a shot, the defence players got a little overzealous.
Coach had called practice early, and had ripped into them all, wanting to know what was going on and why they weren’t acting like a team.
No one said anything.
After classes Victor messaged Benji to let him know he would see him at Brasstown for their shift later and walked home with Felix. Pilar was hanging out with some of her classmates for a while, which made Victor happy.
It was nice to see his sister with friends, it was something he’d neglected to check last time.
“Hey Vic, are you okay?” Felix asked once they had cleared the school crowd and were on their way home.
“Yeah, umm shouldn’t I be asking you that?” Victor said, pausing at the lights, waiting for the traffic to stop. “Nothing actually happened to me.”
“Yeah no, sorry buddy but I know for a fact that’s not true. Mia told me exactly what happened, you threatened to quit the team?”
“Sort of. I just… I don’t know Felix, I can’t stand seeing the people I care about being hurt, and everything is so crap at home right now, you guys are the only solid thing I have going on right now.” Victor rambled, walking quickly across the road as Felix kept pace.
“Victor, look I appreciate you looking out for me, I really really do. But you need to worry about yourself some okay?” Felix said, grabbing Victors arm and pulling him to a stop once they were safely across.
“You are my best friend, it’s only been like a week, but you are. I don’t sit on my own in school anymore, I don’t just walk there and back on my own. You don’t call me weird or tease me for what I like. So, please trust me when I say, you do enough already as my friend. You have no idea.”
Victor didn’t say anything, what could he say. Felix seemed to take his silence as a good thing and pulled the boy into a quick hug.
“Besides, I’m pretty sure if your parents find out that you quit the basketball team over me, then that’s me out of the running for becoming the unofficial third Salazar kid.” Felix said with a pout.
“Umm, you know that Adrian is the third Salazar kid right? You’d be the fourth.” Victor said, fighting to keep his voice level, and distracting himself with getting his keys to open the door to their building.
“Oh, yeah. I don’t know how I forgot that.. I guess I don’t really see him about that often, it’s not exactly like we walk to school together.” Felix admitted, though he still seemed confused at forgetting Adrians’ existence.
“Poor Adrian. Listen, I’ll see you later, I have my shift at 5 and I want to get homework out of the way.” Victor said, waving goodbye and heading up to his own apartment.
He could hear the argument before he’d even fully gotten inside. His parents were going at it again in the kitchen, sounds like it was the same argument as it had been that morning.
Leaving his backpack in his room Victor peaked into Adrians room, seeing the boy with headphones on and his tablet out. It didn’t take a genius to figure out that he was trying to block out their parents shouting.
Frustration surged through Victors veins as he stormed into the kitchen, his appearance startling his parents.
“What the hell! Do you even care that Adrian can hear you right now? All you ever do these days is fight, and it makes this place a really shitty place to come home to. At least I get to escape with basketball and work, but Pilar and Adrian? They are stuck here, listening to you two bicker every day since we moved here.”
“Mijo, we are sorry, we know it hasn’t been easy on you and your sister, but Adrian is to young he-.” Isabell said softly, though her face was red at being called out by her eldest.
“Adrian is little, but he’s not stupid. He can hear you; he knows what you are saying.” Victor interrupted; he wasn’t letting them belittle Adrian in an attempt to excuse away their behaviour.
“You two both need to be grown ups about this, either get your shit together or ask for help. Don’t keep making us put up with this crap.” Victor said finally.
“Hey, you don’t talk to us like that!” Armando snapped, while Isabell looked like she had been slapped. “We are your parents, and you will show us respect.”
“Respect is earned Papi, and you have always had mine, both of you have. But right now, and these past few months?” Victor said, tears leaking out of the corner of his eyes.
“Neither of you deserve it from any of us, not after making us feel uncomfortable in our own house. You can’t expect me or Pilar to distract Adrian every time you are at each other’s throats. We are still kids, we.. I have my own problems and I’m not here to fix yours. You’re the parents, not us. So, think about that.”
Turning on his heel Victor marched down the hall to grab his work stuff and some homework before he shoved it into a bag. He’d work on it away from here.
Storming out Victor took his phone out and messaged Benji, asking if he wanted to meet up before work and work on their project some more.
Smiling despite himself when the almost immediate response came through, Victor turned and headed to the agreed point to wait for Benji.
At the very least it would cheer him up.
Brasstown was quiet, blissfully so, and Victor was working silently on typing up their notes for the report, while Benji was getting them more drinks.
Benji Campbell and caffeine, if nothing else in the world could cheer him up, that always would.
He looked up when Benji set their fresh drinks on the table, smiling when the boy handed him a napkin wrapped cookie.
“Thanks B, you didn’t have too. I’m pretty sure Mia and I ate enough sugar today to keep me going for a year.” Victor said, accepting the cookie anyway.
“Well, from what you told me, you’ve had a crappy afternoon, on top of a shitty school day. You deserve a treat.” Benji said, sliding into the seat beside Victor and pulling his books across so he could add his own notes to Victors.
“Yeah, sorry again for ranting. I promise that wasn’t my intention when I messaged you.” Victor said as he tried not to fidget or meet Benji’s soft gaze.
“Vic, really I don’t mind. After what I told you at the party I’d be a shitty person if I didn’t let you vent.” Benji said, laying his hand lightly on Victors’ forearm. “Besides, I’m not going to leave my best friend on his own to deal with family stuff, I know what it’s like. My dad isn’t exactly bad, but it’s not been the same since I came out to them. I can sympathise at the very least.”
Victor took a moment to process what Benji had said, blinking as he did.
“I’m your best friend?”
“Seriously? That’s what you took away from all that?” Benji said, laughing when Victor blushed.
“Hey, I took note on the best bit of news I’ve had all day okay?” Victor mumbled, focusing on the next section of their notes.
“Okay, I’ll let it slide this time. But yes, I’m pretty confident that you’re my best friend, now let’s get this next section done and we can take 15 minutes before we have to start.” Benji said pulling a blank sheet forward and starting the next diagram.
After a few moments of silence, Victor managing to work even though he could feel Benjis’ leg pressed up against his, he could feel him tapping his foot to some rhythm only Benji was aware of.
This was fine, Victor was content with this. Happy to escape the drama of home and school and jerks who teased him still about going on the Ferris wheel with Benji.
At least he had Benji.
“Wait, go back, what do you mean pretty confident! How am I not top of that list Campbell?” Victor asked once he had saved the document and shutting down his iPad, punctuating his question with a sharp poke to Benjis’ ribs.
Benji only laughed in response and dodged out of the way when Victor made to knock him on the shoulder.
“Oh don’t worry Vic. I’m sure you’ll at least get a 3rd place ribbon.”
“Wow. Someone is definitely getting an ego, how do you fit it on that stage?” Victor teased, tidying his work up into his bag.
“Hey! On the contrary, I need some cheerleaders following me. I’m very insecure.” He said with a smirk. “That’s why I’m glad you’ll be there tomorrow night. Cheering loudly, for me- I mean my band.”
“Don’t worry, I’ll be there, cheering you on. Loudly, I'd be a shitty best friend otherwise.” Victor said, smiling when he Benji stumbled slightly getting his things from the table.
Ha. That’s what you get for teasing.
Chapter 8: Battling and Bonding
Confessions and Secrets
“So, do you want to tell me why you wouldn’t tell the others that you are playing tomorrow night? I saw your bands name on the sign-up sheet.” Victor asked as he and Benji changed into their Brasstown tees and aprons.
“Hmm?” Benji said, acting as though he couldn’t hear, but from the twist in his expression Victor could tell that he had, and what’s more he could tell there was something up.
“Benji…” Victor said warningly, “Come on, tell me. Please?”
“I’m sorry, I couldn’t quite hear that.”
“Benji, please, come on. You can tell me anything. Come on, pleaseeeee.” Victor said, drawing out the last word, doing his best to look innocent.
Benji took one look at Victor, saw the pout on his face, and walked right out the door to the front of the café. Victor followed, frowning while wondering if he’d actually upset Benji, when he saw something that left him stunned.
Benji was currently hiding behind Sarah, physically hiding behind her, and ducking down lower when he saw Victor enter walk out of the staff room, all the while Sarah was twisting and turning trying to get the boy to leave her alone.
Thankfully, there were no customers, so they weren’t making a scene
“For gods sake Benji, what are you doing! You’re my assistant manager not a little kid.” The stressed-out woman said, finally grabbing Benji by the shoulder and dragging him in front of her.
“You are meant to be training Victor tonight, can you be trusted to do that? I have to leave in 30 minutes, ”
Looking slightly mollified Benji nodded, though he was still smirking at Victor when Sarah wasn’t looking.
Had he lost his mind?
Victor knew Sarah had a soft spot for Benji, but he didn’t think she’d put up with antics like that. Waiting for the woman to snap he wasn’t expecting to see what happened next.
Sarah just cuffed Benji gently on the back of head, rolling her eyes as she turned to Victor.
“Okay, since apparently Benji is back to being 6 years old, Victor do you mind going through some of what you’ve learned with me before I finish.” It wasn’t a question, so Victor just nodded and stepped up to the espresso machine, making the drinks Sarah called out.
All the while Benji just watched from the side, nodding as Victor got each order right, smiling when Sarah made suggestions that would help him complete orders faster, while he served the customers who drifted in and out.
Eventually Sarah looked at the clock and decided she was pleased with Victors’ progress and knowledge of the menu.
“Okay kid, you’re doing great. Hopefully, you can keep this one out of trouble tonight but honestly good luck with that.” Sarah said, nodding to Benji as she spoke.
“Yeah, thanks Sarah, but I don’t think anyone is that lucky.” Victor said, grinning when Benji growled from where he was across the café, wiping up after a particularly messy customer.
“I heard that Salazar!” He called out.
“Good! Maybe Victor can teach you some manners!” Sarah shouted at him, grabbing her keys and coat, “Seriously though Victor good job with everything, and extra points for getting the last one right, its my own drink so I usually use it as a tester.”
“Wow, um thanks Sarah. Have a good evening.” Victor said, blushing under the woman’s praise. To anyone else it probably didn’t sound like much, but from Sarah that was a lot.
Victor couldn’t help the smile on his face as he tidied up the counter, waving happily as Sarah left.
“You know, I am pretty sure that we forgot to ask her for tickets for tomorrows gig.” Benji said as he carried a tray around the counter.
“Ah. Yes we did.” Victor said, leaning back against the counter, “Any chance being Assistant Manager means you can do it?”
“Oh, now he wants to use me for my perks. Is that all I am to you, free tickets?” Benji said with a smile on his face, even as he pulled out the ticket book and pencilled in a note reserving tickets and a table for their friends.
“You know that’s not true.” Victor said, speaking softly and stepping up to Benji, closer than they’d been since the night of Mia’s party. He placed his hands on either side of the boys’ face and looked him straight in the eye, he could feel Benjis’ breath quickening.
“You’re also really useful for Biology diagrams.”
Victor laughed at the shocked look on Benijs’ face and dodged out of the way when the boy flicked the dish towel at him.
On his break Victor was scrolling through his phone, messaging back and forth with his friends, when he decided to drop Simon a message. Just a friendly one, nothing asking for his advice, just checking in.
Like you would with a friend, and Victor desperately wanted to have his friends back. He didn’t know if he’d be able to make a New York trip this time.
“Dear Simon,
How are you?
I just realised that when someone asks me who I consider friends, your name is on that list.
I know that we don’t actually know each other, but I wanted you to know I appreciate your help with everything so far.
Especially your advice about Benji.
Anyway if you want, my number is at the end of the message, or just add me on Facebook
🤷
Love, Victor”
Swiping the app away, Victor opened up his messages and saw a few missed ones from Pilar, asking him to talk to her when he got home. Frowning at that, Victor typed out a quick reply promising to check in once he was home, before heading back out onto the floor.
Afterwards, Benji and Victor worked through the rest of their shift, perfectly in sync, anticipating what the other needed before they asked.
It was a slow night, so they didn’t really need to work themselves too hard. Between customers they had originally planned on doing more work on their project, but instead they just talked.
They talked about school, how Victor got on at Creekwood High versus his old school in Texas, Benji asked Victor some more about his family back home in Texas.
“I really don’t miss anyone from Texas, honestly if you ate a salad for lunch they’d judge you harshly, and I already explained about my abuelas, so I very much just went with the flow. If they actually knew… well if they knew I wasn’t their perfect little Victor it would not end well.” Victor didn’t stop to consider what he would say next, “When they find out about me, it won’t be pretty.”
“When they find out what?” Benji asked, up from the empty milk jugs he was cleaning.
“Umm, not tonight yeah? Can we talk about something else please, I really don’t want to talk about it right now?”
“Oh, yeah. Sure.” Benji said, suddenly very intent on his cleaning, turning his back on Victor.
Had he said something wrong?
“Benji.. I’m sorry, I’m just not ready to talk about it right now.” Victor said softly, he didn’t want to hurt Benji with secrets, but he honestly wasn’t ready, reaching out to put his hand on the other boy’s shoulder.
As much as he wanted to tell the boy, to tell him that he was gay, that he liked- that he loved him, he needed to tell his family first. Because once he told Benji, if he reciprocated Victor’s feelings, there wouldn’t be anyway he could hide it, nor would be want to.
And Victor would never ask Benji hide either.
“I tell you everything Victor, I just thought.. I thought you would treat me the same.” Benji mumbled, shrugging Victors’ hand off and setting the now clean mug down, picking up another jug.
Wow. Okay, so that’s how it is.
“Oh really, and is that why you literally hid behind Sarah to avoid telling me why you don’t want our friends knowing you are playing in tomorrows show?” Victor shot back.
“That’s different.” Benji said, slamming the clean jug back onto the bench.
“Sure. It’s different when it suits you.” Victor snapped, grateful when the door opened and a few customers walked in, for once Victor was grateful for late sit in orders.
Tense, awkward silence filled the air between them and neither boy spoke, unless it was to pass orders back and forth, serving customers politely and cleaning as they went.
As the last customer left, Victor flipped the sign and went about closing up, washing down tables and counters, Benji going through the till rolls
Victor watched him from the corner of his eye, Benji didn’t look at him once, just worked away with a stony expression on his face, the stupid easy listening music playing in the background. Victor honestly didn’t know what to do about that, and if he was being truthful, all he wanted to do was cry.
What had happened? One minute they were fine, and the next they were snapping at each other. Maybe he’d been wrong, changing things, maybe this was his punishment for what he had done last time, to get so close only to watch it all crumble again.
No. No he wasn’t going to believe that. Whatever gave him the chance at this, he wasn’t going let it a stupid fight take away his chance at being with Benji.
Squaring his shoulders Victor marched up to the counter, drawing Benjis’ attention from the till.
“Benji I-.”
“Victor, I’m so-.”
The two boys stopped, staring at each other for a moment before smiling bashfully at each other.
“Go ahead B, you first.” Victor said, leaning against the counter patiently.
“Um.. okay so about earlier. I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have snapped at you, it wasn’t right of me. I don’t expect you to tell me everything.” Benji said, staring at the countertop.
“I didn’t tell the guys at school about tomorrow, because I didn’t want anyone’s pity.” Benji admitted softly, finally lifting his eyes to meet Victors’.
“What? Okay, no I am actually confused.” Victor admitted, walking around the counter to stand by Benji.
“I didn’t want you guys to pity me, knowing that I am doing a gig with Derek. Band practice has been shitty enough lately, then we broke up, and the last practice was a disaster.” Benji said, sniffling slightly as he spoke.
“I keep thinking that I should just quit and be done with it, but I don’t know. It’s my band as much as his and I put so much effort into our song for tomorrow. I can’t just walk away.”
“Hey, I get it Benji, that’s not an easy place for anyone to be in. I’m sorry you’re going through that.” Victor said, pulling Benji into a hug.
“But B, you should have been honest, we’d have come to support you no matter what, that’s what you do for the people you care about remember?”
“I guess.. I’m sorry Victor, I really am. That was out of line how I acted earlier.” Benji mumbled against Victors’ shoulder.
“Benji, stop. I believe you okay?” Victor said, pulling back from the hug slightly, tilting Benjis’ head back so he could look him in the eye, “You are way too important to me okay? I don’t want you not telling me this kind of thing.”
“Okay.” Benji said, nodding and stepping out of Victors grip.
“Now come on, we need to get this place cleaned up.” Victor said, smiling softly as he handed the nearby mop to Benji.
“Oh, yeah crap. We’re a little behind aren’t we.” Benji said checking his phone. And noticing the time
“Yeah, well between that earlier and this easy listening music, which may just be the thing that kills me, we are a little slow tonight.”
“Ugh, I know. If I hear one more gentle song about a girl forgiving her dad I will lose my mind.” Benji said, throwing his hands in the air.
“I know. It’s like, people drink coffee to wake up, not be put into a nice gentle coma.” Victor said, smiling to himself when he realised Benji was repeating himself. Albeit from a different timeline.
“Well, Sarah isn't here, so if you have your phone I can connect it to the speakers and play something.” Benji said with a shrug.
“Oh, yeah sure.” Victor said, unlocking and handing over his phone, “Although, pretty sure you have a phone too B.”
Benji only blushed and grabbed the phone from Victors’ hand.
“If you wanted to see what I listen too you could have asked you know. But I will warn you, there’s a serious lack of Dolly on that, so don’t be too disappointed.”
“Oh I won’t, Victor your most listened to song is Baby Shark? C’mon man, I was rooting for you.” Benji said, laughing as Victor searched for an excuse.
“I.. I play it for Adrian?”
Oh god that came out more like a question.
And Benji, judging by the tilt of his head saw right through Victor.
“You know, I vaguely remember Pilar mentioning Adrian hates that song so…”
“Okay, okay. I may find its predictability soothing.” Victor said, chuckling with Benji as the boy scrolled through his phone until…
And this is crazy! But here’s my number
“So call me maybe!” Benji sang, bopping to the beat and pointing at Victor as he sang.
“Okay, you’re making fun of me right now, but Call Me Maybe was my jam when I was little. I made up this whole dance just to crack my mom up.” Victor said, really really hoping that he’d said the right thing again.
“Okay, well lets see it.” Benji challenged as Victor rolled his eyes.
“See, what?” Victor said, pretending to be confused.
“Victor! Your dance, come on. Please, for me?” Benji said, bushing his bottom lip out slightly.
Oh god, any wonder I can’t say no to him.
“All I remember is involved a lot of spinning and rump shaking.” Victor said, smiling when Benji chuckled at his description.
“Mhm, oh, oh, like this?” Benij said as he started to dance on the spot.
“Nononono, you gotta put more rump into it B.” Victor said, “ You gotta go like this.”
“Oh, I gotta put more rump in it?” Benji asked, laughing when Victor grabbed him and put his hands on the shorter boys hips.
“C’mon, like this.” Victor said, hands guiding Benji through whatever motion of dance moves, which honestly he was making up on the spot.
It wasn’t until Victors’ phone pinged out an alert that he realised how close Benji had gotten to him.
Or where his hands currently were.
“Oh, you have a friend request V,” Benji said, pausing the music and glancing at the screen as he handed Victor the phone, “From Simon Spier? How the hell do you know Simon?”
“Ah.. umm, long story.” Victor said, opening the app and quickly accepting the request.
“I actually messaged him on my first day, I was super nervous about Creekwood and Ms. Albright told me his story, so it was sort of spur of the moment.”
Okay, not technically a lie.
“Umm, fair enough I guess. What exactly made you want to reach out to Simon?” Benji asked, curiosity in his voice.
“Ehh, we have some things in common I guess.” Victor admitted, watching as Benjis’ eyes widened comically at that.
“Oh. OH. Does this have anything to do with what you were going to say earlier?” Benji asked quietly.
“Yeah, I guess. I’m still not ready to talk about it, like I said it’s something I need to talk to my family about first. But I promise once I do, you will be the next one to know.” Victor said, hoping that while Benji likely had all the pieces of the puzzle together, he would hold off on asking Victor outright.
“Of course, Vic, you.. you tell me whenever you’re ready yeah?” Benji said softly, smiling slightly at the taller boy.
“Thanks Benji, I appreciate tha-.” Victor started, stopping in surprise when Benji pulled him into a hug.
“Don’t worry about it, I promise. I’ll be here when you need.” Benji said with a bright smile on his face.
“Thanks B.” Victor said, heart hammering against his chest.
He knew that Benji knew, and obviously he was fine with it. Sweet, patient Benji. Victor didn't want to let go, but if he didn't, well who knows what would happen.
Once he told his parents, he was so asking that boy out on a date.
“One more thing though Vic, I’ve actually been wondering all week about this.” Benji said, eyes on the table as he wiped it down. “You never told me who you wore yellow for at the party?”
“Huh, I guess I didn’t. Mind you, I could say the same to you.” Victor said, smiling as Benjis’ face went red again and he didn’t pursue that line of questioning.
“Now come on Campbell, lets lock up before Sarah finds out and murders us.”
“So, I’ll see you at lunch tomorrow yeah?” Benji said, as he locked the front doors to Brasstown.
“Yup probably, though we could always just meet before school if I’m awake, provided I make it home safe and sound.” Victor replied.
“Ah, well allow me to escort you home.” Benji said, bowing grandly and gesturing for Victor to lead on. “Well, actually let me escort you like halfway there because I’m exhausted, and I have a mountain of homework to do.”
“Wow, so kind, so chivalrous.” Victor teased, walking down the sidewalk with Benji.
“I know right, is this what makes me a solid 10?” Benji asked, mirth lighting up his eyes as Victor groaned.
“You’re not letting that go are you?”
“Nope. Between that, our talk at the party, and how you apparently keep telling Felix how great I am, I need you for my ego.” Benji said.
“Ughhh. Fine, if that’s what I have to do to hang around you, I’m sure I can manage that.” Victor said, throwing an arm over Benjis’ shoulder.
“Aww, Victor Salazar, you sap.” Benji said, a smile on his face. Victor couldn’t help notice that the boy was leaning into his side as they walked again in silence until they got to the point where their paths diverged.
“Welp, this is us, so I’ll see you tomorrow. Message me to let me know you get home safe yeah?” Victor asked, dropping his arm from Benjis’ shoulder and stepping back.
“I will, don’t worry. And you better come see me play tomorrow, especially after all that tonight. You guys can even come hang with us backstage.. and by that I meant the parking lot behind Brasstown.” Benji said with a frown.
“Oh god you really are insecure aren’t you? Don’t worry, we will be there, and we will be cheering very loudly for you, and I guess the rest of your band too.”
“Good, well, night Vic, see you tomorrow.” Benji said, pulling Victor into another hug and then walking away quickly.
They were doing a lot of that recent Victor noted, not that he was ever going to complain.
If Benji was still hugging him like that, especially after the almost-confession earlier, Victor was happy.
Popping his headphones in as he walked the rest of the way home, he couldn’t resist listening to Call Me Maybe again.
Getting back to the flat, Victor waved to his parents who were watching TV, waving as they did and telling him that they were going for dinner the next night, but had arranged a sitter so Victor and Pilar could head to the show.
Thanking his parents, Victor headed down the hallway to his room, throwing his backpack on his bed before he knocked on Pilars door.
“P? You in there?” Victor called gently, not sure what to expect.
“Come in Vic.”
Opening the door slightly and slipping through it Victor shut the door quietly. Once his eyes adjusted to the dim light of her room, he saw Pilar.
And the tears running down her face.
“Pilar, what's wrong?” Victor asked, rushing over to sit by her on the bed.
Instead of answering Pilar only buried her head on his shoulder, sobbing gently.
“P, please you’re worrying me. Did something happen at school?”
His sister only shook her head at that, sitting back up and wiping the tears from her face
“It’s Eric.” She said after a moment. “He dumped me.”
“Oh, hermana I’m so sorry, he’s a dick.” Victor said, opening his arms and pulling the girl into another hug. “What happened?”
Pilar explained about how he had been ghosting her and the photos she’d seen of him with other girls on Instagram, that she had finally called him out on it.
“I don’t even know why I’m surprised, Georgia to Texas was never going to work. It’s stupid to get upset. Also, since when do you swear” The girl said quietly.
“No. Pilar, it’s never stupid to cry, especially over something like this. You said yourself you loved Eric, you’re allowed to mourn a relationship.” Victor said earnestly. “I know things haven’t been the best for you since moving here, but.. P you’re allowed to miss Texas, you’re allowed to be sad.”
“And I swear when idiots hurt my baby sister.”
“You aren’t sad though, you don’t seem to miss home at all, you fit in here so well, so easily. I’m jealous.” Pilar admitted, after smiling at Victors comment.
“Ah, well that’s different, you had your crew back in Texas, I didn’t really have anyone, I don’t really miss my friends because they were just friends of convenience you know?”
“I guess. I suppose it’s different, you never really had a girlfriend back home. Is that why?” Pilar said, sitting up straighter on the bed, seemingly happy to distract from Eric.
He couldn’t lie to Pilar. Not when she had opened up to him, and honestly he didn’t want to.
“P, that’s not the only reason I didn’t have a girlfriend. There’s something else, I’m gay.” Victor said, rushing through it, praying his nerves didn’t flee him.
“Oh. Okay.” Pilar said simply.
Wait, that was it?
Victor looked up and though Pilar was sitting with a calm expression on her face, he could see in her eyes that she was happy, proud even.
“You’re okay with that?” Victor asked after a moment.
“Duh, I’m a little insulted you thought I wouldn’t be.” Pilar said, grinning and shoving Victor slightly. “Though I have like a million questions for you.”
“Oh, umm, go ahead I guess. I can’t promise I’ll answer them all though. I have to have some secrets.” He teased, laying back on her bed, signalling the girl to start.
“Do you have a boyfriend?”
“Wow, that right off the bat. No I don’t.” Victor said, chuckling slightly.
“Do you have a crush on anyone I know?”
“Yes.”
“OHHHHH, oh god, it’s not Felix is it?” The girl asked, actually giggling at the idea.
“No! God no, Felix is my best friend up know.”
“Hmm… did this boy go to the spotlight party? Is he the reason you wore yellow? I thought that was for Mia.”
“Yes he did, yes he was, nope. Mia knows though by the way, so does Felix actually.”
“Wait, you told them before me! That’s harsh Vic.” Pilar said, sounding upset.
“No, it wasn’t that. I figured I didn’t know Felix that well, so if he didn’t accept it would hurt less than if it was you. And I told Mia because Lake kept trying to force us together and I didn’t want to string her along.”
“Ah, well in that case I can’t be mad.” Pilar admitted, laying down beside Victor, “Do you mind if I talk to them about it? Obviously not in front of anyone but…”
“Oh, yeah no problem go right ahead. Outside of family I really don’t care who knows. Though I’d like to tell Mami and Papi soon before I actually ‘come out’, you know?”
“I get that, I think. I don’t know how they’d react Vic, but I will be here for you. If I’m honest, I think Mom will be okay, but Papi.. I don’t know, especially with the abeulas.” Pilar spoke softly.
“Yeah, trust me I’ve thought about that. But honestly? I can’t find it in myself to care, I’m still not going to blurt it out over dinner someday, but I won’t be hiding it for much longer.” Victor said honestly, “I just want to give us more time to settle in here before I drop that bombshell.”
“I get it, does anyone else know? Just so I know who to talk in front of.”
“Well, just us, Mia and Felix. Technically I think Benji figured it out but I haven’t told him outright.”
“Really? Why no- OH! OHHHHH!” Pilar said, jumping up onto the bed and shaking Victor.
“Pilar! Stop shaking me, get off me woman.” Victor begged.
“You like him don’t you!” Pilar said triumphantly.
“P, shhh. Mami and Papi will hear you.” Victor said, glancing at the door in worry.
“Sorry sorry, but you do don’t you?” She said, grinning widely.
“If is say yes will you sit down again?”
Pilar only nodded, waiting for a response.
“Okay, yes, fine I’ve liked him since literally day one.” Victor admitted, grateful when his sister sat back down on the bed.
“I mean, I can’t blame you. Objectively he’s pretty hot Vic.”
“Nope, I am not doing this, I am not talking boys with my little sister. Especially not this boy.” Victor said, rolling off of the bed and standing up.
“Okay Vic, I’ll behave. But I’m totally teasing you tomorrow about it when we get to Brasstown.” Pilar said, gathering her legs under her, and reaching for her phone, “But for now, I’m totally texting Mia.”
Victor just sighed and smiled as he watched the girl typing furiously.
“Hey P? Thanks for talking to me tonight. Not just about, you know, but the rest.” Victor said, pulling the door open, “You know I’m just across the hall any time you need me.”
“Of course, thank you. Now go, I need to call Mia. Buh-bye.”
Laughing Victor headed to the bathroom to shower and get ready for bed, he couldn’t stop smiling.
Laying in bed, Victor pulled up his messenger app and selecting Simons name.
Victor: Hey, Simon, how’s it going?
Simon: Hey Victor! Thanks for accepting :P
Simon: I’m good, Bram and I are having a lazy day since classes are killing us right now.
Simon: How was your day? Creekwood treating you right?
Victor: Ehh, it was certainly interesting.
Victor: I sorta came out to my sister. And Benji might know too..
Simon: O
Simon: OOOOOOO
Simon: Hang on, I need to process that.
Victor: LMAO
Victor: Yeap
Simon: Okay, explain. Sister first.
Simon: then we can talk about Benji..
Victor: So, i kinda need to tell you the Benji bit first.
Victor: So I’d been talking to Mia about being coming out and saying I wasn’t ready. And then Benji and I sort of had a falling out I guess? And I explained that there was a thing I needed to tell my family before I told him
Victor: Then he saw your friend request so I had to explain I messaged you and said he had some things in common :P
Victor: which he worked out pretty quickly.
Simon: Okay, that’s fair, how does that lead to your sister?
Victor: When I got home, my sister Pilar was upset because her asshat bf dumped her
Victor: and we were talking about things and I just realised that I had no reason not to tell her.
Victor: and in the nicest way, she didn’t care. Well, she quizzed me and almost exploded when she worked out I like Benji.
Simon: Ok. That’s awesome, Pilar sounds a lot like my sister Nora.
Victor: Oh, I didn’t know you had a sister.
Simon: Yep, she was actually first in my family to find out.
Victor: Aww, maybe it’s a universal sister thing.
Simon: Must be
😊
Simon: Listen, I’m glad things are going well. And I’m glad you’re getting more comfortable telling people.
Simon: You deserve a great love story, and if that’s what Benji is going to offer you, I say go full steam ahead.
Simon: As does Bram by the way. I hope you don’t mind, I kinda mentioned you to my roommates when you asked about Justin.
Victor: Simon, I don’t mind at all, it’s nice to know I have them supporting me.
Simon: I’m glad to hear that, and we 100% are.
Simon: So…. Benji knows? How’s things with him ;P
Victor: Oh good god, you are worse than Mia and Felix.
Victor: things are great though, likely crazy great
😊
Victor smiled as he set his phone down and lay back in his bed, smiling at the ceiling. Okay, comparing timelines, he was definitely doing better than last time.
Felix, Mia and Pilar all knew, and they didn’t care. And Benji.
Well, he wasn’t stupid so Benji definitely knew he wasn’t straight at the very least.
Hopefully, he knows that Victor liked him too. Because honestly, in hindsight Victor was as subtle as a nuke.
Victor was drawn out of his thoughts by his phone lighting up with a Facetime call.
Why was Benji calling him at 11pm.
Answering the call Victor was greeted to the sight of Benji wrapped in his bed.
“Hey Benji, what’s up?”
“Hi, uumm sorry about this. I just wanted to make sure you were okay, you never messaged me.” Benji admitted with red cheeks.
“Oh, shit, sorry Benji, I kinda had to go through some stuff with my sister, her boyfriend dumped her like an ass.” Victor said, rolling over and holding the phone so Benji could still see him.
“Oh damn. That’s shitty.”
“Yup.” Victor said simply, “And then we umm, had a talk. About what we didn’t talk about earlier.”
“Oh, umm how did that go?”
“It went well, don’t worry B.” Victor said, doing his best not to peek at Benjis’ exposed chest that was showing at the bottom of his screen.
Apparently he hadn’t been doing a great job, and when he looked back at Benjis’ face on the screen the boy was smirking at him.
“So… see anything you like recently Victor?” Benji asked, clearly overjoyed at being able to cause Victor blush even across the phone.
“Oh come on. Stop that, leave me be. I’ve had a long and difficult day, this barista in work was teasing me all night about my music taste.”
“Wow, okay Salazar. Noted, don’t tease Victor about his taste in music.” Benji said, rolling onto his side, yawning as he did.
“So, I’m okay, what did you wanna talk about?” Victor asked, hoping that he had a reason not to hang up the call.
“Hey, actually I just thought of something, how did you manage to pull that off with Sarah earlier? If anyone else had tried it we’d have been slapped silly and fired.” Victor asked, eager to get an answer.
Benji just laughed, shifting in his bed again to get comfortable.
“Sarah is an old friend of my moms, that’s how I know her, and how I got the job at Brasstown originally, though I worked my way up to assistant manager myself. So we are pretty close, though she doesn’t advertise it for obvious reasons, so if you can keep that hush hush please.”
“Ohhhhhh, so that’s why you’re her favourite, friendly obligation.” Victor teased, trying not to marvel at the new information, it explained why Sarah had been so upset when Benji left, and so trusting with letting them take her car when the machine broke down.
Benji only shrugged, but changed the topic again, and somehow they ended up talking until after well after 2am, Victor finally ending the call when Benji fell asleep mid conversation for the second time.
“I’ll talk to you tomorrow B, see you at school.”
“Good night V, see you tomorrow. In like 6 hours ughhh.”
Victor laughed and hung up, making sure that his phone was charging before he rolled over and fell asleep, dreaming about a musical boy with a guitar and cheesy pop songs.
Chapter 9: Battling and Bonding
Call Me. Maybe?
Victors’ alarm woke him up at the same time as it always did, but it was way too early in Victors’ opinion.
He was definitely going to blame Benji for this.
Stupid, attractive, easy to talk to Benji.
Pulling himself out of bed Victor dragged himself to the bathroom to get ready, feeling like a zombie as he went through the motions of getting ready for school.
Eventually he managed to drag himself out of his room to the kitchen, and then to the table before, he fell, more than sat, in his seat.
"Well, someone was up late last night." Pilar teased, immediately pulling out her phone.
CreekSquad
Pilar: So, has, anyone ever seen a real zombie before? Cause there’s one in our apartment
Pilar sent a photo
Mia: Omg @Victor what happened to you?
Pilar: Don’t bother Mia, he is dead to the world. He actually fell asleep in his breakfast.
Victor: Pilar! WTH
Felix: Why are you so tired? Didn’t you get home at like 10 last night?
Pilar: Oh he was home on time, but he was on his phone until like 3am, I heard him talking when I got up to get a drink
👀
Victor: PILAR! Stahp
Lake: Vic, sweetie, you’re gonna have to sleep better if you want to look as good when you’re older. I can recommend some creams
😊
Victor: Thanks Lake.. I think?
Victor: I’m fine, just stayed up to late
Benji: Lmfao 😂 😂 😂
Benji: I’m guessing he isn’t a morning person?
Pilar: Not this time, that’s for sure. @Felix come help me plz
Felix: Omw
Victor: I will be fine, I just need coffee.
Pilar: Hermano… we don’t have any, mom was meant to get some from the store but forgot.
Victor: …that’s not funny.
Victor sent a photo
Victor: What the fuck is this!!! Why
Mia:
😂😂😂😂😂
Mia: Someone get that boy some caffeine stat.
Benji: Some people just can handle mornings without it
Victor: Et tu Benji?
Benji:
😊
Victor: The betrayal.
They finally made it to school, Victor having to be dragged along by Felix, while Pilar just videoed the entire thing, laughing all the way, and made sure their group were aware of what was happening. He just about made it up the steps and threw himself onto the bench beside Mia who had been waiting on them, resting his head heavily against the girl’s shoulder.
“Wow, Pilar you weren’t exaggerating, he looks like a zombie.”
“Thanks Mia, thanks for that. I’m tired, not deaf.” Victor muttered, not moving his head from the girls’ shoulder, but smiling when she cooed at him and wrapped an arm around him in sympathy.
“Well, next time maybe don’t stay up till 3am on FaceTime hmm?”
“Hey, I don’t think he has that excuse, here comes Benji and he looks fine.” Pilar said, pointing her thumb over her shoulder to where the others could see a tired, but awake looking Benji approaching, taking the steps two at a time.
“Wait, you were talking till Benji until 3am.. Victor you dog.” Mia whispered to him, causing the boy to groan and again and lift his head to watch glare at the girl.
Well, he tried to, but he was too tired to muster the needed emotion.
Pilar and Felix were munching on some fruit Mia offered them while they waited for Benji and Lake to catch up to them, they were actually early today, somehow.
“Hey guys.” Benji said, finally making it to the top of the steps.
Pilar was right, Benji looked good as usual, maybe a little tired but no worse for wear. Victor definitely wasn’t jealous.
“Has the walking dead not risen yet?” The boy asked Pilar chuckling at the look on Victor’s face.
“This is your fault you know Campbell; you did this to me. Who calls someone at 11pm and talks for 4 hours!” Victor said accusingly, squinting up at Benji.
To Victors frustration the boy only chuckled as he sat down on the bench beside Victor, before handing him a steaming hot takeaway cup.
“Here, I brought a peace offering, just how you like it. My treat.” Benji said, smiling when Victor accepted the cup without question and took a long drink from it.
“Ahh, caffeine. Benji I could kiss you right now.” Victor murmured sleepily, leaning against Mia again and letting his eyes rest, not really noticing what he was saying.
He didn’t notice Benji’s’ mouth drop in shock, nor Mias’ but he did open his eyes when he heard Felix coughing and spluttering. It looked like the boy had choked on a piece of fruit or something, Pilar was thumping him on the back as the boy continued to cough and splutter.
“Sorry.. that went down the wrong way… something caught me off guard.” The boy wheezed, turning to stare at Victor.
“You really should be more careful Felix; we can’t have you suffering a death by orange slice.” Victor said, looking up at his friend in concern.
He was completely oblivious to his friends staring at him and what he had just said.
The moment was interrupted by the arrival of Lake and the warning bell, signalling them to head to their first class of the day.
As they were walking to their classes, Felix pulled Victor aside asking him if he realised what he’d said.
Though he was mortified he’d said what he did, Victor assured Felix that Mia and Pilar both knew, and he was pretty confident Benji had worked it out.
Which only lead to Felix teasing him about wanting to kiss Benji.
God he hoped school would pass quickly today.
It didn’t.
School dragged on and on. Even lunch was slow, between teasing from Mia and Pilar, suggestive looks from Felix and blushing exchanges between him and Benji, Victor was ready to go home and get ready to head to the show that night.
Felix joined them for dinner and afterwards in his room, Victor filled the boy in on what had happened, his talk with Pilar and everything with Benji.
Felix was equally furious and elated, respectively. Victor had to stop him bursting into Pilars’ room just to give the girl a hug, promising that he’d spoken to Mia and Lake at school and the girls were going to keep an eye on Pilar at the show later on.
Somewhat satisfied, Felix turned on Victor, grilling him about Benji again.
In response to a particularly crude question, Victor through a pillow at the boys’ head, chasing him into the hallway wielding another.
Eventually though Felix called for mercy, and Pilar reminded them they needed to head into Brasstown since Adrian’s sitter was arriving, their parents having left earlier, trusting Victor to greet them and ensure Adrian was safe.
Once everything was settled, the trio walked the short distance to Brasstown, helping Felix carry some of the equipment he’d not been able to store in the cafe.
When they arrived, they spotted Mia and Lake already sitting at the table Benji had reserved for them. Victor was pretty sure he’d done some creative rearranging as it was the best table on offer, letting them see the stage clearly and close enough that they could leave their stuff their and not have to worry about it.
As soon as they got to the table, Mia and Lake dragged Pilar off, citing they needed some girl time, with Pilar squinting suspiciously at Victor when they said that.
Smiling cheekily Victor just waved them off, helping Felix set his stuff to the side of the stage where Sarah directed them.
Chatting briefly to the stressed woman, she confirmed that Benji was about somewhere, but she’d lost track of him in the chaos after they had completed their sound checks.
Sending the boy, a quick text to let him know they’d arrived, Victor sat down at their table, chatting with Felix while they waited for the girls to come back before ordering their drinks.
“So, does Benji actually know? Or are you just assuming he knows because you’re as subtle as a bomb?” Felix asked once they had sat down.
“Umm honestly, I don’t know. I think he knows I’m not straight, where one the scale he thinks I’m at, I don’t know. I do think he has a fair idea though.” Victor admitted.
In hindsight Felix was right, Victor had been flirting since day one, and Benji wasn’t stupid, so he’d probably put two and two together.
“So why haven’t you told him outright? I mean, I know we are besties, but you and him Victor, you’re stupid close.” Felix said, eyeing the door to make sure the girls didn’t catch them off guard.
“Felix, I really, really want to tell him. Like, I’ve bitten my tongue so many times because I’ve almost blurted out how in love with him I am. But until I tell my parents I can’t, I couldn’t ask him to hide that.” Victor said, watching as Felix’s’ head snapped around to face him.
“Hold up, did.. did you just use the L word? Victor Salazar you dog!” Felix shouted, leaping across the chairs to wrap Victor in a bear hug.
“ARgghhh Felix, get off of me! Why does this keep happening.” Victor squirmed trying to get out the boy’s grip. Spotting the girls walking in through the door, Victor called out to them for help.
Help it seemed came in the form of Mia and Pilar posing, while Lake took endless photos of Victor, bright red, trying to get out of the headlock Felix now had him in.
“Say I’m your best friend and I’ll let you go.” Felix said dramatically.
“Seriou- Felix you know you’re my best friend now let me go!” Victor said, heaving the boy off of him when he finally loosened his grip. “You… you’re so lucky I like you.”
Felix just grinned while their friends laughed at the indignant look on Victor’s face, so in response he did the mature thing and stuck his tongue out.
Which only caused his friends to laugh harder.
At least Benji hadn’t seen.
Benji didn’t show up until they saw him standing with his band by the stage, and he looked… Victor wanted to say annoyed, but angry would probably be more accurate, in fact the whole band seemed on edge.
It was then Victor noticed Derek was missing, counting the band members Victor knew they were still one person down, so it wasn’t that he had been replaced, had he bailed on them?
Victor waved when Benji caught his eye, he mouthed Are you okay? to the boy.
His disappointment when Benji shook his head was crazy, why couldn’t the guy just get a break.
“Guys, I think something is up, Benji seems pissed, and Derek isn’t there. Do you think he bailed on their band?”
Mia looked around the café, frowning when she couldn’t see the guy in question, before looking back to the table.
“Yeah, I don’t know. I know he’s an ass and they broke up, but I figured his ego would be enough that he’d need the attention being on stage offered. He- oh. He’s actually here, that’s cutting it close isn’t it?” Mia said, pointing towards the front door where Derek was standing talking to a group of people.
Before Victor could do anything, or even think of doing anything he saw Benji stalk up to the older boy, and while he couldn’t hear what was being said, anyone with eyes could see the tension between the two.
Benji turned on his heel, stalking past their table, offering them only a slight nod as he did, before he re-joined his band, who put their heads together and talked among themselves. Derek joined them a few moments later, and it looked as though the rest of the band were just as angry as Benji, before the whole group stepped through the door by the stage into the ‘backstage’ area as Victor and Benji had called it.
Victor couldn’t sympathise Derek, frankly he could not care less if the boy never showed up again, but he felt bad for the rest of the band, Benji especially, because it was a dick move to let them down last minute.
“Wow, okay I don’t know what Benji saw in that jerk, but he is totes better of without.” Lake said, “I mean he definitely deserves someone on his level you know?”
“Yeah, definitely.” Pilar said, looking her brother dead in the eye, “Benji deserves someone good.”
Victor smiled at his sister, appreciating the implication that she approved, as Felix and Mia echoed her sentiment with similar statements, but with the addendum that it was probably really hard for him to lose his first relationship, and still have to be so close to him.
“Oh, I guess I get that, though I never really though about it like that. At least he has friends, I mean he and Victor are obviously super close, right?” Lake said in response.
“Oh yeah, Victor is super close with Benji, super close.” Felix said, eyes lighting up at the chance to tease his best friend.
Thankfully he didn’t get the chance as Sarah announced that all acts should make their way to the backstage area and prepare. Felix jumped and ran out, only to run back in a moment later to grab the equipment he’d left at the table, blushing as he did.
“Wait, Felix is in the show?” Mia asked, surprise colouring her voice.
Victor just shrugged in response, Felix had told him and Pilar, since he needed help with his equipment, and Victor made sure he only had the relevant songs in his set, so things didn’t go wrong this time.
Victor turned to watch the first act, and remembered Felix’s description of them, and couldn’t help feeling a little distressed as they screamed out the side effect of various medication. It seemed like Sarah was of the same mind, since once they left the stage she commented on how distressing it had been, but quickly moved on to introduce the next act.
“Okay, welcome on stage, DJ F-Bomb.” She said, stepping away from the mic and clapping as said DJ took to the stage. Victor was glad he’d talked Felix into making the helmet smaller, since he was already struggling to get onto the stage, but he made it eventually.
“Wait, is that DJ actually Fe-.” That was as far as Lake got before Felix started his set.
It was good, it was legitimately good, and the crowd seemed to love it as well, they were all on their feet moving to the beat. Felix was doing awesomely, and Victor couldn’t help getting lost in the music, dancing with the girls as the crowd cheered the DJ on.
Finally, Felix finished his set and the crowd cheers, Victor and the girls cheering the loudest, even Sarah seemed impressed as she thanked the DJ, and helped him down off of the stage. The reaction from the crowd seemed to have boosted Felixs’ confidence since instead of heading backstage, he just took the bomb from his head and sat at the table with his friends, grinning like a loon.
Lake as the first one to break the silence.
“Felix Weston. That was amazing, you are totally going on Creeksecrets after that, ‘DJ F-Bomb is a blast!’ sounds good yes?” Lake asked, waving her phone in front of the boy’s face, showing the video she’d take and the beginning of an article.
When had she started typing that?
“A blast? That’s so cheesy Lake.” Felix said, laughing loudly, “I love it. If you wanna post that go right ahead.”
Gone were the days of Lake posting without thought it seemed, a chance Victor was grateful for.
The group listened to the next couple of acts, though none matched the energy Felix had brought, then Sarah stepped back on stage to introduce the final band of the night.
“Okay, everyone please welcome on stage, The Sticky Beaks, with Brasstowns’ very own Benji on lead vocals.” Sarah cheered, clapping as she welcomed the band on stage, stepping off as Benji picked up his guitar and stepped up to the now open mic.
“Hey everyone, hope you’re all having a good time tonight. We’re the Sticky Beaks and this is a little something we’ve been working on.” Benji said, looking around the crowd, winking when he made eye contact with Victor, laughing when he saw Pilar nudge Victor when she noticed.
Victor hadn’t seen Benji’s original performance, only their encore, so he was pleasantly surprised to hear a song he recognised, realising he’d heard Benji humming or singing different parts all week.
I don't wanna die or fade away
I just wanna be someone
I just wanna be someone
Dive and disappear without a trace
I just wanna be someone
Well, doesn't everyone?
And if you feel the great dividing
I wanna be the one you're guiding
'Cause I believe that you could lead the way
I just wanna be somebody to someone, oh
I wanna be somebody to someone, oh
I never had nobody and no road home
I wanna be somebody to someone
And if the sun starts setting, the sky goes cold
Then if the clouds get heavy and start to fall
I really need somebody to call my own
I wanna be somebody to someone
Someone to you
Someone to you
Someone to you
Someone to you (someone to you)
I don't even need to change the world (change, change the world)
I'll make the moon shine just for your view
I'll make the starlight circle the room (circle the room)
And if you feel like night is falling
I wanna be the one you're calling
'Cause I believe that you could lead the way
I just wanna be somebody to someone, oh (somebody)
I wanna be somebody to someone, oh
I never had nobody and no road home (I don't have)
I wanna be somebody to someone (somebody)
And if the sun starts setting, the sky goes cold
Then if the clouds get heavy and start to fall
I really need somebody to call my own
I wanna be somebody to someone
Someone to you
Someone to you
Someone to you
Someone to you
The kingdom come, the rise, the fall
The setting sun above it all
I just wanna be somebody to you
I just wanna be somebody to someone, oh
I wanna be somebody to someone, oh
I never had nobody and no road home
I wanna be somebody to someone
And if the sun starts setting, the sky goes cold
Then if the clouds get heavy and start to fall
I really need somebody to call my own
I wanna be somebody to someone
Someone to you
Someone to you
Someone to you
Someone to you
Someone to you
By the time Benji finished singing the last note, Victor was on his feet, cheering and whooping as he clapped hard. The band took a moment to give the crowd a bow and stepped off the stage, Benji heading toward their table instead of following the band backstage. Victor couldn’t help but notice the already sour look on Derek’s face morph into anger when he saw who Benji was with.
“Okay everyone, give me 20 minutes to get my decision made and I’ll be back to announce the winner.” Sarah called from the stage, “If anyone wants, we do have some special discounts tonight, just ask at the till.”
As he got to their table the group pulled Benji in for a hug, both as congratulations for the well-played song, and as a show of comfort, knowing that he’d been stuck with Derek for an extended amount of time.
“Thanks guys, what did you think?” Benji asked nervously.
“Benji that was amazing, you guys seriously killed it. If you win, I won’t even be upset.” Felix crowed, mock bowing to Benji, laughing when the older boy blushed.
“Thanks Felix, but I wouldn’t count yourself out early, you didn’t hear Sarah crowing about you, I think her exact words were ‘Huh, not bad for someone without an instrument’ or something to that effect.” Benji said, smiling at the confused look on Felixs’ face.
“Buddy, that’s really high praise coming from Sarah, trust me. She’s really particular about music.” Victor said, nudging the boy to make sure he was listening. The smile on his face told Victor he understood and gave Victor the excuse to turn back to Benji.
Benji who was now staring furiously at his phone, sighing, and pocketing it, he looked up and was surprised to see Victor’s gaze on him. He only shrugged in response, clearly not wanting to talk about it.
“Hey, you were awesome by the way, I love that song, and your version was just… wow, and you looked so at home on stage.” Victor said enthusiastically, drawing Benji into the chair beside him.
“Thanks Vic I like it too, Banners… I don’t know, his music is just so pure I wanted to do it justice.” Benji said easily, but he still blushed under the other boys’ praise.
“Hey, I saw you before the show, are you okay? Was he giving you trouble?” Victor asked, quietly so their friends couldn’t overhear. Thankfully, it looked like they were too busy quizzing Felix on his DJ set.
“Umm there’s a lot that happened, can we talk about it tomorrow?” Benji asked, voice wavering as he did, a begging look in his eyes.
“B, of course, you know you don’t have to tell me right now, just promise you will when you’re ready.” Victor said, echoing their discussion from the previous night.
“Thanks Vic I really appre-.” Benji was cut off by his phone ringing.
Benji sighed and rejected the call, but stood up from his chair, informing Victor that he’d see him after the winner was announced, he was wanted to go be with the band backstage.
Something in his tone made Victor doubt him, not that he thought Benji was purposefully deceiving them, but Victor was pretty sure this was more Derek-drama, but he knows better than to push Benji. So instead, he smiled and waved Benji back to the rear door, with a look that promised they would discuss the other drama tomorrow.
Mia stepped up beside him, wrapping her arm through his, leaning on his shoulder.
“Hey, is he okay? something seems up.” She asked, watching the door Benji had all but slammed shut behind him.
“Honestly, I don’t’ think so, but he doesn’t want to talk about it yet.” Victor admitted in defeat. He felt really helpless not being able to help Benji right now.
He wished he could just make Derek disappear.
“Okay you lot, I have the results here, and I actually have a second-place prize to offer tonight, since this particular act surprised me.” Sarah said into the microphone, once the buzz in the café had quietened down, “So without further ado, let me congratulate DJ F-Bomb on his prize, a 6 month supply of coffee from Brasstown. One a day though buddy, see me after and we can get it set up.”
Victor couldn’t help laughing out loud at that, trust Sarah to add terms and conditions on stage.
“Now on to our winners for the night, since they were the only ones to play anything resembling music, DJ F-Bomb not included in that, the winners are… The Sticky Beaks!”
Sarah stepped back as the crowd cheered again, getting louder as the band took the stage once more. Victor could see the tension in Benji’s smile as he hooked his guitar up again, Derek shooting smug looks at the boys back.
“Hey guys, thanks for having us back, this is a cover we just started working on this week, so bear with us, it’s not finished just yet.” He said, nodding to the band as they struck up the cords to a stripped-down version of Call Me Maybe.
Just like last time, Victor felt the crowd bleed away, until it felt like it was just him and Benji. And this time he was so sure that Benji was singing directly to him, he never dropped his gaze the entire time, staring unflinchingly into Victors’ eyes.
Victor smiled back warmly, trying to convey the genuine feelings and emotions he had for the other boy, hoping that he could understand what was left unsaid.
“So call me maybe.”
Victor cheered again, clapping as Benji set his guitar down stepping back to high five the other band members, nodding tersely to Derek.
Victor and their group moved up to the stage, waiting for the band to step down and so they could congratulate them all.
Instead, they were greeted too the sight of Derek smugly walking up to and kissing Benji right there on stage.
Benji didn’t seem to react, and Victors’ heart plummeted into his stomach, as he watched in horror. Though the feeling only lasted a moment, as Benji seemed to gather himself and shoved Derek off of him.
“What the fuck Derek! You can’t do that, I told you we are done. You’re not my boyfriend anymore, you don’t get to kiss me.” Benji shouted, angrier than Victor had ever seen, and looking close to tears.
“Oh please, you know as well as I do, in a week you’ll come crawling back to me. No one else knows you like I do; knows the things I do.” Derek said boldly, a cruel look in his eye.
“Go fuck yourself Derek, I’m done, done with you and with this band so long as you’re here.” Benji said, jumping down off the stage and shoving past Victor heading for the door.
Victor turned back to Derek, seeing him being yelled at by the other band members, clearly not happy he’d cost them their lead singer. He deserved more than being yelled at, but Victor wasn’t sure Benji would not have appreciated Victor hitting the guy.
Well, he was like 70% sure of that, maybe 60%.
“Victor, go after him. He needs his best friend right now. We will get Pilar home safely. We’ll explain to your mom and dad what happened, or a version of it at least.” Mia said softly, pushing Victor to the door, Pilar, Felix, and Lake nodding in agreement.
“Go hermano, make sure he’s okay.” Pilar said, turning and glaring at Derek when she finished.
“Thanks P, make sure Sarah takes his guitar?” Smiling when they nodded in response.
“Of course, now go!” Mia said, shoving the boy towards the door.
Victor barely managed to say thank you before he grabbed his jacket and headed out the door into the cold night, searching for Benji, hoping he’d not gotten too far.
“Benji, wait up.” Victor called, running after the other boy. How had he gotten so far so fast?
Victor finally caught up with Benji who was sitting on a bench down the street.
“Seriously B, how does someone so short move so fast.” Victor said, panting slightly.
Benji looked up, blinking as he registered the fact Victor was there.
“Victor? What are you doing here?” He asked incredulously. “And did you just call me short?”
“Umm. Let me see, my best friend just performed an awesome cover of the cheesiest pop song known to man, which I loved by the way, proceeded to be assaulted by his dickhead ex-boyfriend, and then fled the scene. So, you guessed it, I’m here selling tickets for a raffle.” Victor said sarcastically, throwing himself down on the bench, shoving Benji lightly before continuing.
“I’m here for you, you dummy. I came to make sure you were okay. And yeah, I called you short.”
“Oh. Hey! I’m like a couple inches shorter, that’s not much!”
“Yeah, you tell yourself that B, I’ll just be here with a crick in my neck from looking down all the time. Now, do you want to talk about what happened tonight? Or do I just need to go and punch Derek anyway?” Victor asked, smiling when Benji chuckled.
“No, please don’t do that , just… don’t. Can we just sit here for a minute first?” Benji ask quietly.
“Of course, take your time B, it’s just us.” Victor said, wrapping his arm around the shorter boys’ shoulders.
“Thanks Vic. I just need a minute.” Benji said, leaning into Victors side slightly as he spoke.
The two boys sat in comfortable silence, Victor enjoying the feeling of Benji against him, while the other boy fidgeted slightly with something in his hands.
“So… I’m really not sure where to start.” Benji said after a solid 10 minutes had passed.
“The beginning is usually best, just take your time. Tell me what you want too, or what you need too.” Victor said, twisting in place to face Benji, shifting to rest his hand on the other boys’ arm.
“Okay, so obviously Derek was almost late to the show, he actually was meant to arrive before you guys did, and he blanked us completely when we tried getting in touch. He didn’t answer anyone else’s calls, I didn’t try calling him obviously.” Benji said, huffing out a short breath, “Then when he did arrive, he got pissed that we were annoyed at him, telling us it was just a ‘silly show’, and we didn’t need to worry. So, suffice to say, the show started with us pretty stressed, thank god for Felixs’ set since it actually cheered us up a bit. ”
Benji shifted again on the bench, but not enough to dislodge Victor’s hand, though he did smile down at it.
“Apparently he figured there was no competition in the rest of the acts so went out with his friends for drinks. He was still tipsy when he got here, and apparently that gives him memory loss, because he spent the entire time acting as though we hadn’t broken up. He kept trying to corner me, and touch me, and was joking as though nothing had happened.” Benji said, taking a breath as he gathered himself, not noticing the fury on Victors’ face.
“Then, when we performed the first song, he got pissy that I sat with you guys, so he started spamming me like the night at Mias’ party, and eventually rang me, so I had to go in and deal with that. Though Shawn didn’t seem to be impressed with him when he realised what was going on. Apparently Derek neglected to tell the band we’d broken up, he told them we were on a break.”
“What? What does he think this is? Ross and Rachel?” Victor said, genuinely surprised at how ignorant Derek was.
“Yeah, heh. I just sort of set everything straight there and then. He didn’t seem to like that.” Benji admitted, smiling at the memory, before his face dropped into a frown.
“Then when we agreed to do Call Me Maybe as our encore, he got so pissed, and I guess he saw you in the crowd when I was singing, so… I mean it’s not like I meant to stare at you while I sang” Benji trailed off, eyes on his shoes, muttering the last part.
“So… he kissed you on stage, to what? Prove a point?” Victor asked, smiling to himself when he caught the end of what Benji said.
He hadn’t been imagining that. Good.
“Yep.” Benji said simply.
“God, what a dick. What exactly did he think he was proving other than that?” Victor said, genuinely astonished at how Dereks mind worked.
“He umm, he wasn’t impressed that you were in the crowd, or that were obviously so close.” Benji admitted, looking across to Victor.
“So.. Derek thinks I’m some kind of threat?” Victor asked. “I think I’m flattered?”
“Eh, yeah. I guess that’s how he sees it. Not that there’s anything to threaten, he and I are so far beyond over, it’s not even funny.” Benji said, smiling lightly.
“But when Sarah announced the winner, he had this smug look like it was all down to him. And I love that band, but I don’t think I can go back while he’s there. I don’t think I really want to either right now, too many painful memories.” Benji admitted.
“He’s turned everything I love sour, he’s so fucking toxic.” The venom in Benjis’ voice shocked Victor, but he understood it.
“B, can I be honest?” Victor asked after a moment, sitting forward, drawing his hands back into his own lap.
“Always V, please.” Benji said, looking at him intently.
“Screw Derek.” Victor said bluntly.
“Ehh, isn’t that how I got in this mess?” Benji said smugly.
“Ha. Ha. Not what I meant, and please don’t give me that mental image.” Victor said, shivering dramatically.
“Hey! Trying not to be insulted over here.” Benji said jokingly, laughing when Victor glared at him.
“Okay, I am not responding to that because it will only get me in more trouble.” Victor said, “Seriously though, screw him man, he is an asshole, and this last week, you’ve been so freaking happy B. I actually haven’t seen you this giddy in forever.”
Okay, he needed to be careful, he technically only knew this Benji for a month at this point.
“What I’m trying to say, this version you, the real you? The real you is so much better than the one that was with here when you were with Derek. And that’s saying something since you were still pretty awesome before too, like the night at the carnival, I had so much fun, and so much was because of you. Please don’t tell Felix I said this but you’re my best friend B, and seeing you so happy right? It makes me happy.” Victor said, flicking his eyes back to look at Benji.
A bright red, teary eyed Benji.
Uh oh.
“Oh shit, Benji I’m so sorr- Oof.” Victor was cut off by Benji launching himself across the bench and pulling the taller boy into the tightest hug Victor had ever experienced.
Seeing nothing else for it, Victor wrapped his arms around the boy, content to hold him for now.
“It’s okay B, I got you, don’t worry.” Victor said softly, running his hand through the boys thick hair, smiling to himself as Benji just buried his head deeper into Victors chest.
The pair sat like that for what felt like an age and a moment at the same time. Victor slowly stroking the boys’ hair, listening to Benji breathe slowly and evenly.
They sat for so long it started to rain, Victor shuffling his jacket over their heads to keep them dry.
“Alright, c’mon you, I’m gonna walk you home.”
Groaning Benji let Victor guide him up off the bench, struggling to keep under the jacket Victor held above their heads. Walking closely, at the risk of getting soaked by the rain, neither boy seemed to be bothered by having to having to walks so close together.
“You know, it’s a good thing you’re so short, any taller and we wouldn’t fit under the jacket.” Victor whispered into Benjis’ ear as they finally arrived at Benji’s house, and Victor couldn’t help but notice Benji shiver as he spoke.
“You know, I feel like I should be offended.” Benji grumbled, not moving from under the jacket but turning so he was facing Victor.
“Ehh, you shouldn’t be, its not a bad thing.” Victor said, definitely not focusing on how close Benji’s face was to his, nor the fact he could feel his warm breath as he exhaled, or how they were pressed right up against each other.
Definitely not.
“Oh, so what, you like being the tall on?” Benji teases.
God, he was getting bold now with this.
“Oh yeah totally, it’s on my list.” Victor said, chuckling slightly.
“Ooohh, you have a list?”
“Yep, I have very high standards I’ll have you know.” Victor said, he could be bold too.
“You’re a massive dork you know that V?” Benji said, leaning his head against Victors’ chest.
“Ehh, maybe, but you don’t seem to mind so I don’t care.” Victor said softly, before continuing in a more serious voice.
“Listen Benji I meant everything I said tonight, you deserve and are so much better than Derek okay? And any guy, well he’s going to be lucky to have you and even luckier if you love him.”
“Oh, and you’d know would you?” Benji said jokingly, but Victor could see from his blush that he appreciated the words.
“Yes.” Victor said simply.
Benji tensed up slightly at that, raising his head to quirk an eyebrow at Victor.
“But listen, I gotta home though, but if you need me, you know what to do right?” Victor said softly, looking into Benjis’ eyes.
“Umm? Do I?”
“Yup, you can call me, maybe?” Victor said smugly, whipping the jacket from over Benjis’ head and running down the wet street, cackling as he heard Benjis laugh follow him.
“You’re impossible Victor!”
When Victor arrived home with his mood sky high, humming the tune of Call Me Maybe under his breath as he walked through the apartment.
Unfortunately, it plummeted when Pilar approached him, laptop in hand, with their Mom’s Facebook profile, and the creepy messages from Roger.
“Okay, P. I know this looks really, really bad. But let’s not do anything hasty.” He found himself saying when Pilar suggested finding the guy.
“No Victor! We are not letting Mom get away with this.” The girl raged, tears bright in her eyes.
“I didn’t say we would, but we aren’t running off half-cocked.” Victor said, mind running a mile a minute trying to figure out how to handle this.
How did he forget this happened tonight!
“Okay, I’m actually going to suggest something. And it might be a mistake but, why don’t we just ask them?” Victor said after a moment.
“What? Oh sure, ‘hola mami, how was your day? By the way are you sleeping with someone behind dads back?’ Yeah I’m sure that will go down well.” Pilar scoffed.
“Hey, listen I don’t think there’s a better way to do this, trust me on this sí?” Victor said, resting a hand on his sister’s shoulder.
God, she looked so vulnerable right now, so afraid.
“Vic, I don’t know…”
“Pilar, do you trust me?” Victor asked, taking the girls hands in his, kneeling down in front of her.
“Of course, hermano.”
“Then let me take the lead. C’mon Adrian is in bed, lets go wait for Mom and Dad yeah?” Victor said, walking his sister out of her room towards the kitchen table.
As Pilar sat down quietly, Victor went about getting some food for her and making sure she was eating and drinking while they waited.
And waited.
And waited.
Neither sibling spoke, even when they heard the key rattle in the apartment door.
“Hola mijos, what’s up?” Armando asked, frowning as he saw his two elder children sitting at their table in silence.
“Babies, you should be in bed, it’s a school night.” Isabel said, moving forward to clear the plates from the table, setting them in the sink.
“Mom, Dad, can you sit down, we need to ask you something.” Victor said, his voice quiet and nervous.
“Oh, so serious, what happened?” Isabel said, smiling, though when she sat beside Armando her smile faltered as the attempt at humour fell flat.
“Who’s Roger?” Victor asked plainly, noting that Pilar gasped slightly at his abruptness, and his parents sat upright.
“Mijo, what are you talking about?” Armando asked quietly, his eyes drilling into Victors own.
But Victor held his ground.
“Pilar was setting up Mom’s Facebook and some guy, Roger, kept saying how he missed her, and what they had.” Victor said simply. “So, who is Roger? Wasn’t he your old boss Papi?”
“Victor sweety, it’s nothing, I swear, he probably messaged the wrong person.” Isabel said nervously, her hand grasping at Armandos’ own, white knuckled.
“Mom, I told you, we aren’t stupid. We aren’t little kids you can just shush and gloss over something. Does this have to do with why you and dad are fighting all the time?”
“Victor, you don’t unders-.”
“You cheated on dad didn’t you.” Pilar said, voice low with anger, tears in her eyes. “You had an affair with his boss behind his back!”
“I- I- oh. Oh my god no no no no.” Isabel said, eyes filling with tears. Stepping unsteadily out of her seat, the two watched their mother stumble into the sitting room, out of sight.
Neither missed the sobs that could be heard plainly.
“Did you know?” Pilar asked, turning her rage on her father.
Armando stared at the wall, as though he could see his wife on the other side. They could hear her sobbing.
“Yes. I did, she told me, everything. And it was very brave of her.” He said, finally looking at his children.
“I can’t believe you! She tore our family apart, and because of her we had to drag our asses across the country.”
“Pilar, no, that’s not it.” Victor spoke up again, his father and sister turning to look at him. “That’s not why we had to move, why we had to come here, is it Dad?”
Victor wasn’t going to let his dad let Isabel take the blame for this. They both were equally to blame here, and he wasn’t going to allow Armando to escape Pilars’ judgement, she deserved to know.
“Vic.. I… What are you talking about?” Armando asked.
“If Mami did sleep with Roger, I can see why you’ve been fighting. I can see why you’d leave the company, but I can’t see why we would move across the country.” He said plainly.
He didn’t trust himself to not tramp his emotions down.
“Tell them Armando, I’m sorry but we need to be honest with them. They know too much, and we owe it to them. I can't be the bad guy alone anymore.” Isabel said softly, standing in the archway between the rooms, tears glistening on her cheeks.
“Isa… I.. you’re right. It’s not fair on you to be the only bad guy here.” Armando said, standing up and walking over to his wife. He pulled the woman into a hug, turning them so he could face his kids.
“When your mom told me, about Roger, about what had happened, I lost my temper, I went to his house and… and…” Armando couldn’t get the words out, so Victor helped.
“You beat him up didn’t you. You hit your boss and got fired.”
“Yes.” Their father spoke in barely a whisper.
The family sat in silence, no one speaking, processing what was happening. Victor didn’t know how to act, this wasn’t anything new to him, but the situation was.
Eventually Pilar stood up and walked to the hall, turning to face them all.
“You both screwed up. So, so badly. And you lied to us, you tried to pretend it was all okay, you gave me so much grief for not wanting to move when it was your fault!” The girl said, choking back a sob, “And then you have the audacity to talk down to us when our behaviour isn’t pretty and perfect. You’re both hypocrites.”
With that Pilar turned and fled to her room, slamming the door behind her. Victor didn’t need to hear it to know she was likely sobbing into her pillow.
“She’s right.” Isabel whispered, “I’ve been so hard on her, pushing her, trying to stop her turning into me, and all I did was hurt her.”
Burying her head in Armandos’ shoulder the woman openly sobbed.
“Mom, mami, you messed up, that’s for sure. You both did and there’s no denying the damage that did. But I know you didn’t mean to hurt anyone.” Victor said, resting his hand on the woman’s shoulder, “It doesn’t excuse you, and I don’t think I can forgive you, either of you for what you did. But I understand people make mistakes, and it looks like you both regret it. But please, please try to be there for Pilar, be better for us all.”
“We, we will Victor, we’re sorry. We hope you both know that. We never ever wanted to hurt you.” Armando said, his voice shaking.
Victor walked out of the room without another word, leaving his parents to the silence of the kitchen, hoping they would take the chance to talk about what had happened.
He had no idea if it would make things better or worse, but it would mean that it was all out there, and Pilar knew both their parents had messed up. She could be as hard on them all she wanted, so long as she knew the full truth Victor reasoned.
Victor climbed into bed, debating calling Benji but deciding to leave it for tonight, wanting to just sleep it off and not wanting to ruin the way they’d finished their conversation today.
There was no denying the spark was there, and now that Derek was gone for sure, Victor had no issue feeding it until it grew.
His parents and everyone else be damned. He’d tell them after his birthday, once his grandparents left, he’d tell his Mom and Dad the truth.
No compromises, just like last time, no chickening out.
Chapter 10: The Truth Will Set You Free
Truth, and its Consequences
Victors’ alarm woke him up for school as usual, and going through his morning routine allowed his mind wander to the events of the past weeks.
Victor honestly couldn’t remember a time when things had been going better in his life than it had been the few days after the Battle of the Bands, it finally felt like for once, his honesty was truly paying off.
He had his friends, Mia and Felix were the most supportive friends someone could ask for, and Pilar was amazing as well. Though the teasing left a lot to be desired, particularly when Mia tried to talk to him about boys.
Though that wasn’t nearly as bad as hearing Felix talk about it! Victor loved the boy but there are some things a guy doesn’t need to hear about his best friends’ curiosities... After getting second prize, Felix had a level of confidence in himself that Victor hadn’t seen before, he was less nervous around people, he didn’t babble randomly as much anymore, not that Victor would ever begrudge is best friend the opportunity to info dump on him, but he was much less likely to go off on a tangent of tangents.
His family were doing okay, everyone was pretty shaken up after that night, but their parents were clearly going out of their way to make things better for their children. Although, they didn’t discuss it any further, there was a silent acknowledgement between the four of them that the issue wasn’t being swept under the rug that easily.
Victor knew they would have suspicions about how he knew about Armando’s own actions, but thankfully it seemed that in their shock over being confronted they had neglected to follow up on that titbit.
Pilar as well seemed to be doing better, she had been spending more time with Felix, Lake and Mia than in her room alone, she’d been spending time at extra curriculars at school as well, she’d joined the debate club! Victor took that as a sign of things looking up, and only teased his sister lightly about joining a club for the sole purpose of being allowed to argue with people.
And then there was Benji.
In the days after the battle of the bands, Benji had been as near constant a presence in the Salazar household, as Felix was. More often if that was possible.
Between coming over under the pretence of doing homework (which they sometimes actually did), working on their project, hanging out before shifts together at Brasstown, or being invited to movie nights, if the day ended in a ‘Y’ there was an 80% chance Benji was there.
And Victor loved that.
As much as his family had welcomed Felix, they’d done the same with Benji, even Pilar went out of her way to spend time with them, particularly more so when Felix was around. She’d teased Victor that the goo-goo eyes and sappy looks between him and Benji were enough to turn her stomach if it were just her on her own.
Apparently though for Pilar, the biggest perk of Benji spending time with them was the near constant blush on Victors face.
Not that they were doing anything they already didn’t do, but after the battle of the bands, there seemed to be a quietly acknowledged step taken. They weren’t doing anything romantic together, but they were definitely beyond friends.
Victor wanted to allow Benji breathing room after his breakup with Derek, because as much as he wanted to walk up and kiss Benji, he didn’t want to move things too fast, or too far.
But he really, really wanted to do something soon, and it was starting to show.
Even Lake started to notice, Victor overheard her telling Pilar what a shame that Victor was straight, because she could totally see them as a couple, not noticing that Pilar almost choked on her drink as she said it.
Though Victor noticed she never voiced that particular theory around Mia, he had a feeling Lake worried that Mia was still sore over Victor not returning her affections.
Oh, if only she knew, that Mia was more than okay with it.
Far too okay with it come to think of it, Victor remembered the teasing that had happened when Pilar decided to share a photo from the last movie night Benji had come over for.
Victor still went red remembering Felix proudly smugly showing the chat thread to Victor.
________________________________________________________
We Stan Venji: Pilar, Mia and Felix
Pilar: Ppl. You have got to see this.
Pilar shared a photo
Mia: Oh. MY. GOD!
Mia: So cute!
Felix: Twist!
Felix: did I miss something?!
Pilar: Nope, just more tooth rotting sweetness from the most oblivious not-a-couple in the world
Pilar: They were legit in Victors room watching some cheesy rom-com and then…
Pilar: This…
Mia: Awwwwwwwww
Felix: In the words of Lake ‘Adorbz’
Felix: Aren’t your parents a little concerned? You know…
Pilar: Trust me, they don’t have any space to talk.
Pilar: And I closed the door before anyone could see.
Mia: Okay, we’re totally talk about that lil nugget tomorrow P,
Mia: But I’m saving this photo for future teasing/blackmail
Felix: I feel like I should defend Victor here.. it looks innocent enough
Pilar: Felix, they fell asleep on Victors bed, and just happened to end up like that?
Pilar: Innocent or not, I’m so gonna use this.
Felix: For what?
Pilar: The next time he tries to make me babysit Adrian
😊
________________________________________________________
In the group chat was a photo of Victor and Benji, half sitting, half laying on Victors’ bed, a laptop playing a movie set to the side. But the main focus was Benji, head laying on Victors’ chest, and Victors’ chin resting atop Benjis head, his arms wrapped around the shorter boy.
Both fast asleep.
Cuddling.
Felix took great delight in reminding Victor of the photo’s existence any time he was losing the ‘it’s not like that’ argument.
Victor remembered the night the photo would have been taken, he and Benji had woken up as the movie was ending, and spent the rest of the night blushing whenever they looked at one another. Time travel it seeems, did not make Victor immune to the butterflies he always felt in his stomach when he was with Benji.
He was glad his parents hadn’t found them like that, they’d been lovely to Benji, laughing at his cheesy jokes, his nervous attempts at dealing with Adrian, his offers to help where he could. They had invited him to dinner, let him stay over late, drove him home if it was raining, it was all going so well.
Until it wasn’t.
One on of the rare days Benji was working and Victor wasn't, Isabel had apparently overheard Felix and Victor talking about Derek, and how Benji was doing after the breakup, brainstorming ideas on how to keep the boys mind off of the problem. Since Derek and Benji weren’t exactly gender-neutral names, so it wasn’t hard for Isabel to figure out that Benji was gay, and apparently she told Armando.
The next night, Benji had come over to work on their bio project, happily working alongside Victor at the kitchen table, messy notes spread around him, and answering Adrians non-stop questions. Adrian, who loved Benji by the way. Likely due to his absolute inability to say no to him. Something that had resulted in a Frozen sing along the night before, much to Victor and Pilars horror.
Victor would not forget the stilted, almost forced greetings given by his parents when they came home, the tenseness that had arisen leading up to dinner didn't dissipate when they sat down for food. And he knew Benji could feel it, but he prayed he didn’t realise what was the cause. The tension in Armandos shoulders, or the way Isabel was frowning while she constantly watched Benji from the corner of her eye, as the boy chattered happily with Pilar about one musician versus another.
Pilar kept Benji talking, making sure he didn’t see the looks directed at him by the Salazar parents, or the fury in Victors eyes. Victor, who watched as his parents acted like there was a stranger sitting at their table, and he was not going to let that slide.
This was Benji, the same Benji who had stayed at theirs late to keep Pilar company while she babysat Adrian and Victor had a late shift, their parents were out on another ‘fix it’ date and were running late. He’d never once asked for thanks, refusing to accept the $20 bill Armando had tried to offer him, pointing out he’d just been spending time with Pilar and Adrian, while he waited for Victor to get back from work.
Armando had been impressed by the boys honesty.
After dinner Benji went home earlier than usual, his eyes darting from Victor to his parents, clearly sensing something was up, though Victor wouldn’t tell him, just smiled, and hugged the boy tight once they were in the stairwell, promising to call him tomorrow.
“Okay, what the hell was that.” Victor said as he stepped back into the apartment, anger clear in his voice, causing his parents to jump as he slammed the door behind him, rattling the pictures hanging on the wall, Felix surely hearing from below.
Pilar looked up at him, wide eyed, before taking Adrian to his room and nodding at Victor while she passed him.
“Hey! You do not raise your voice in this house young man, especially not towards us.” Isabel snapped, pointing her finger the Victor.
“Oh, yeah, wonder where I learned to do that? Well, I’m sorry but I’m not going to sit and let you get away with being homophobic towards my best friend! So Benji is gay, big deal. It doesn’t give you a right to treat him like crap.”
“What! How dare you, we would never do that. We let him come for dinner didn’t we?” Isabel said, genuine shock in her eyes.
“Oh sure, sitting there, not speaking to him, glaring anytime he spoke to Adrian!” Victor said, staring his parents down, feeling vindicated as he saw shame flash across their faces.
“We didn’t know he was… you know… that way, until we overhear you and Felix, we didn’t know because.. well, he seems so.. normal.” Armando said defensively, wincing as the words came out and Victor actually stepped back, feeling as though he’d been physically struck. “We just didn’t expect it from him.”
“What the fuck? Are you, serious right now?" Victor said, not realising how close he was too tears, ignoring his mouths cry of language, "Benji is normal, him being gay is normal. But I guess it was fine when you read about Simon Spier and the Ferris Wheel since you didn’t have to deal with him? But as soon it’s under your roof you turn into Tito? And Mami, I am pretty sure that Abuela Nati would have been proud of you for acting the way you did today.”
This was how they reacted when it was Benji, is this how they’d have reacted if he’d stayed to find out when he told them the night of the Spring Fling?
Victors’ attention was drawn back by the sound of his mother gasping, and realised the comparison to his grandmother, who had always been a bully to his mom, probably dug deep.
Good.
“You don’t understand Victor, we.. we were raised different, the church it says that this type of thing..” Isabel struggled to find the words.
“Ohh come on! Don’t even try that, the church? Mom you had an affair, and Papi? You beat up Roger because of it. So don’t you dare tell me about the church and what is says about good and bad. And you were raised different? That’s a lazy and shitty excuse.” Victor said, slowly and carefully.
“You two, I can’t… Benji is my best friend, he’s one of the people who made life fun here after you dragged us across the country. He was there for me on my first week when people were trying to give me shit for being his friend.”
Seeing Armando cock his eyebrow at that Victor continued, letting his frustration out.
“Oh yeah that’s right, people gave me shit for being his friend. Not his boyfriend, I didn’t kiss him or sleep with him, I shook his hand, and rode the Ferris Wheel with him. And since then, people have been giving me shit for it, calling me things that I never even told Benji, or Felix or Mia. I heard some of the worse ones, when people thought I couldn’t hear them. It was horrible. But you know what I didn’t do? I didn’t abandon my friend because of it, because I’m not a coward, or a homophobe like you two.”
Both Salazar parents sat in silence, shocked at Victors outburst and revelation.
“I have never, ever felt ashamed to have you as my parents. Until tonight.” Victor said, stepping back from the table, feeling tears running down his cheeks. “I’m going to my room, do not follow me, I really don’t want to speak to either of you after what you’ve done.”
Stalking out of the room and down the hall, Victor slammed his bedroom door shut, throwing himself onto his bed, ignoring the buzzing of his phone.
And for the first time since he came back in time (he still wasn’t sure how that happened), Victor allowed himself to let go, to sob and cry.
He hated it, after coming back he swore he’d do better, that he’d not let people get hurt. And now he’d subjected Benji to his parent’s shitty attitudes. It looked like Victor was destined to fuck up people’s lives no matter what timeline he was in.
So, Victor cried, he cried for his old life, for his hope that this time it would be easier. He cried because despite everything, he knew that his life was better now than it was before, and he felt guilty for that. He didn't want to be ungrateful at being offered a second chance, he just wished it was simpler.
He lay there, not moving, not even when the sun went down, or Pilar knocked on his door. For the first time he let this phone ring out when Benji called.
He woke up at 4am, still clothed and laying on his bed, pulling his phone over, he swiped away the notifications there and opened the text thread with Simon
4:07am
Victor: Hey simon, so something really shitty happened today
Victor: My parents found out Benji is gay.. and it was awful
Victor: they acted like he was a total stranger and kept throwing glares any time he spot.
Victor: I called them on it, like properly screamed the house down
Victor: They tried to defend themselves “the church says” bullshit, but..
Victor: this is what they’re like with him, what about when I tell them?
Victor: Anyway, sorry for the 4am spam. Just needed to vent
8:04am
Simon: Hey Victor, sorry.
Simon: that’s a lot. Honestly.
Simon: Do you want to talk to Justin?
Simon: I will say, as shitty as that is, I’m super proud of you Victor, for standing up to them like that.
Victor: Thanks simon, maybe you can give justin my number?
Victor didn’t speak to his parents for 4 days after their fight, he’d called Justin at Simons prompting, and talked to the young man, who talked him through the stress and hypocrisy that usually came about when homophobia, family and religion mixed. And it helped. So much so that Victor almost forgot that Justin didn’t know him yet, not really, so he resolved to get to NYC again, to get those friends back
He found reasons to avoid eating dinner at home, he swapped shifts at Brasstown to make sure he was working lates, it helped that they were usually with Benji. He found excuses to avoid talking to them when he was at home, locking himself in his room, or making sure Felix was with him to act as a buffer, if he couldn’t hide away.
He didn’t ask Benji to come over after school anymore, he couldn’t. He also didn’t want to tell Benji what happened, but he couldn’t lie to him. So, when he finally told him one night after closing at Brasstown, Benji just seemed sad, but shrugged it off.
“It sucks, for obvious reasons, but it’s something I’m used to, after I came out, some people stopped inviting me over, they drifted away, I figured out why pretty quickly. I’m just sorry for you, I know it can’t be hard hearing your parents acting like that, when it’s not even about.. you know.” Benji said softly.
“Hang on, are you really trying to comfort me, and apologise for my parents right now?” Victor said, surprise colouring his tone.
“Umm.. I’m trying too?” Benji said, a confused look on his face.
“Benji. You’re far too nice, you know you can be mad at them right? I am, Pilar is. Even Felix won’t speak to them. And he talks to everyone!”
“Yeah.. well, yeah, okay I’m a little mad. Actually, yeah and it kinda hurt considering its your parents. And if they reacted like this to me, I don’t know how they’ll react to you, or us-.” Benji stopped abruptly, turning to lock the Brasstown doors behind them.
“Oh, what was that you were going to say B?” Victor said teasingly, mood brightening considerably.
“Shuddup you. We were having a mature discussion.” Benji said, obviously fighting his blush.
“Nope. Not anymore, I wanna know what you were going to say. Tell me.” Victor said, poking Benji in the side.
“C’mon Victor just leave it. Please?” Benji said, begging Victor to drop the topic.
“Alright, alright, since you asked so nicely, and you’re like my favourite person, I’ll let it go.” Victor said, smiling at Benji, “For now.”
Laughing at the shorter boys groan, Victor pulled him away from Brasstown and the two walked down the street, Benji offering to walk Victor home despite his protests.
As they got to the door to the building, Benji pulled Victor into a hug, holding the taller boy tight before turning to leave.
“It’s gonna be okay Vic, you know that right? I promise it will be okay.”
Victor just nodded, not trusting himself to speak.
As he walked up the stairs to their apartment with Benjis’ words ringing in his ears, he couldn't help dreading going inside, knowing that his parents were likely not in bed yet.
And he was right, when he stepped into the apartment he was greeted to the sight of his parents sitting in the living room, clearly waiting for him.
“Victor, mi amor, can you sit with us for a bit?” Isabel asked softly, patting the seat beside her.
“No thanks, I really don’t want to hear i-.” Victor started, moving towards his room.
“Victor, please.” Armando called, and something in his voice made Victor pause and reconsider.
He turned and walked back to the room, but refused to sit, standing with his arms folded and looking expectantly at his parents.
“Go on, I’m waiting.” He said tiredly. Whatever it was he really didn’t want to hear it.
“Victor, we owe you an apology.” Isabel said simply, hands twisting in her lap as she glanced at a nodding Armando.
“No, you don’t.” Victor said simply.
They didn’t get it.
“You don’t owe me an apology. You owe Benji one.”
“We… we know we do kiddo, and we want to make things right. But we wanted to talk to you first because we do owe you an apology.” Armando said, looking at Victor closely.
“Oh?”
“Yes, like your mom said, we owe you an apology for the way we spoke about your friend, and how we acted, we also owe you a thank you. You were right to call us out, again, we weren’t acting like good people.” The man said simply, not looking happy about the reality of it.
“When you compared us to your grandparents.. that scared me Victor.” Isabel admitted, smiling grimly, “After the way your abuela has spoken to me all these years, to be compared to her? And over something like this, something I thought I would be better over, I hated myself in that moment.”
“And we want you to ask Benji to come for dinner tomorrow, we want to apologise, properly. Benji is a good kid, and he’s clearly very important to you.” Armando continued after, smiling softly at his son, something in his eyes that Victor couldn’t place.
“I… yeah, he is. You do need to make it right, I’ll ask him tomorrow in school, but I’m not going to force him to come here. He was pretty upset when I explained.” Victor spoke plainly, not caring if he hurt their feelings.
“Victor, we promise, we will do better. If Benji agrees, please bring him round, he can even come with us for dinner after your game if you want?” Isabel said, the plea clear in her voice.
“I’ll ask, but again I’m not making promises.” Victor said, letting out a breath he didn’t realise he was holding.
“Thank you flaco, that’s all we ask.” Armando said, smiling softly, “We ummm, we actually have been doing some reading online, on how to be better about this thing. How to be a better ally, how to work it with church you know?”
Wait, what? Seriously?
“Okay, well that’s a start. But what about when Tito and Nati come for my birthday? You know what they will say if they find out. And I won’t ask Benji to hide.” Victor said, remembering his grandfathers reaction last time, and wanting to nip this in the bud, because it wasn't a question that Benji would be there, “You already know what he’s like with Adrian.”
“Of course, that’s part of it. Victor, I promise you right now, that if they say anything at all, we will put a stop to it. And you’re right about Adrian, you’re right.” Armando finished softly, almost whispering the last part, guilt flashing in his eyes.
Victor stood in silence for a moment, looking at them both, before nodding and heading to his room, spying Pilar at her door, which shut as he walked up the hall.
Sighing, he got changed and climbed right into bed, checking his phone when it buzzed.
Pilar: Wth was that??
Victor: Idek, I don’t know what brought that on
Pilar: Hermano, you dumbass, you scared them the other night. I heard them talking..
Pilar: You've never gotten that angry at them over something, even the crap with Roger
Pilar: It was sort of awesome :P
Pilar: Do you think they know?
Victor: No. I don’t, they can’t right?
Victor: either way, I’m going to bed, night p
Pilar: Night bro
Pilar: I hope they fix it with Benji
Pilar: He’s good for you
Victor: Thanks P, night
Victor actually slept well that night, and by the time he got to school the next day, he was just happy to be out of the house and the weird atmosphere. His parents were.. fine? They were happy and chatty, they actually seemed to be in a good mood, even Pilar had left the apartment almost chipper.
He wouldn’t have a chance to talk to Benji until lunch, on the way Mia filled him in about her dads new girlfriend, who she had just met the night before.
Oh, I forgot about Veronica.
“Yeah, so it’s odd. Like my dad has dated plenty since my mom… but this time it feels different, she's not some bimbo.” Mia had admitted after he questioned her on what it was that was bothering her in particular.
“That and I kind of acted like a brat as well, she was just trying to be nice, and I sort of threw it in her face.” She said, chewing on her lip and fiddling with her bag as she did.
“Hey, Mia, I’m sure she’d understand given the situation. But maybe if you take the time to know her, she might surprise you. Lake said she seemed genuine right?” Victor said, waiting for Mias nod to confirm this, “Well then I think it’s worth a shot, Lake seems to usually be right about these things.”
Okay, that was exaggerating, but Mia needs the support right now.
“Yeah, maybe I’ll ask dad to try another dinner, but I’m still gonna make Lake come with.” She said after a moment smiling when Victor agreed that was probably a smart plan.
Wrapping her arm through Victors the pair walked to their usual lunch table, waving at their friends who had already arrived, not noticing Andrew on the other side of the quad glaring at the pair.
As they ate their lunch, talking amongst themselves, Victor asked Benji to take a walk with him, smiling softly at the confused look on his face, and the look of understand on Pilars.
“P, could you explain it to these guys please?” Victor asked, nodding in thanks when the girl confirmed she would.
The two boys walked in silence for a while, eventually settling on the ground under a tree behind the school.
“So, what did you want to talk about that required dragging me all the way over here Vic.” Benji teased, getting comfortable against the tree, smiling when Victor sat beside him.
“Yeah, um, do you maybe wanna come to my game with us tonight?” Victor asked.
“Uhhh I thought that was the plan, Felix, Lake and Mia already offered to pick me up on their way.” Benji said confused.
“Yeah, I know. I mean do you want a lift with us, as in me, Pilar, Adrian.. and my parents.” Victor said, not looking at Benji when he said it. But he felt the boy tense up slightly beside him.
“Vic, I don’t know if that’s a goo-.” Benji started.
“They want to apologise.” Victor blurted out, interrupting Benji, “They talked to me last night, they actually waited up, but they apologised to me for how they treated you, and I told them that I’d ask when they said they wanted you to come over so they could apologise to you too.”
“You obviously don’t have too B, just… the offer is there.” Victor finished, finally looking over at Benji.
The boy was leaning back against the tree, eyes cast upward, watching the leaves shift softly in the breeze.
“Do you want me too?” Benji said after a moment.
“What?”
“Do you want me to come over so they can apologise.”
“Honestly, not my decision, but I do think they mean it B. After I shouted at them they seem to have done some talking and thinking.” Victor admitted.
“Wait, you shouted at them?”
“Oh, yeah, that night they were assholes to you, I sort of ripped into them. Told them they didn’t get to treat someone like that, especially not you.” Victor said with a blush.
“Hang on, were you defending my honour?” Benji asked, nudging Victor, with that stupid grin on his face.
“Shuddup! Yes. Maybe.” Victor finally admitted, looking across at Benji through his lashes, “You’re too important to me B, I couldn’t let them..”
“Okay, I’ll be there.” Benji said simply.
“Yeah?”
“Of course, you’re important to me too Vic..”
Benji trailed off trailed off, his eyes flickering down to look at Victors lips, both boys lean in towards each other, the distance between them shrinking, eyes flickering closed…
Hey, I just met you and this is crazy!
But here's my number, so call me, maybe
The boys jumped apart as Benjis’ phone rang loudly between the two, leaving them scrambling to collect themselves.
Benji stood up, struggling to get his phone out of his pocket frowning when he saw the number, looking apologetically at Victor he answered the call. Victor just laughed at Benjis' choice in ringtone.
It's hard to look right at you, baby
But here's my number, so -
“Hello? No, I’m at school. No, I won’t ditch, NO, I told you, I’m not playing this game anymore.. Derek, fuck off and leave me alone. Please”
Victor’s gut twisted and the laughter dropped from his face, as he listened to the one-sided conversation, it seemed like the universe was conspiring against him. Eventually Benji hung up the call and flopped down on the ground beside Victor, huffing out a frustrated breath.
“Sorry V, that… well I guess you heard who that was.” Benji said, eyes shut.
“Yeah, um don’t worry, you don’t have to explain.
“Sorry. Hey, what are you doing after your game?” Benji said, eyes flicking open to look up at Victor.
“Uhm, my parents want to go out for a meal after, celebratory if we win, commiseration if we don’t. You’re invited to that too by the way, why do you ask?” Victor said, insides still twisting after their second almost kiss.
“Oh,” Benji almost sounded disappointed, pulling out a clump of grass from a patch by his hand, “I was thinking we could maybe do something after, just the two of us. But if you have plans that’s fine.” Benji said, softly.
“Hey, I’m sorry. It’s a family tradition you know. What about the next night?” Victor asked, he wasn’t going to pass up the chance to spend more time with Benji.
“Yeah, yeah that would be great. We could go get some food, or see a movie in town.” Benji said excitedly.
“Ohhh dinner or a movie, if I didn’t know any better, I’d say you were asking me on a date.” Victor said, laughing when Benji blushed and threw a handful of grass at him.
“Shush you, now who’s the one getting an ego.” Benji said, not even trying to hide the smile on his face.
“Hey, don’t get mad at me just because I figured out your dastardly plans.” Victor said, standing up as the bell rang.
“What? What plans.” Benji said, confusion on his face as he stood up, brushing the grass off his jeans.
“Oh, your plans of seduction? You know, where you wear me down with job offers at coffee shops, invites to battle of the bands, doing my diagrams on biology projects, draw on my notes? That sort of thing.” Victor said, laughing as Benji went bright red, stalking off to class without another word.
“Oh come on Benji, it’s not like I would be complaining if it was.” Victor called after him, barely containing his laugh when he saw Benjis’ head whip back to look at him.
Victor just winked at him as he walked past, hurrying to get to his next class, then basketball practice.
“I’ll see you after practice, out front.” He called over his shoulder.
Victor finally opened the door of the apartment, thankful him Mom wasn’t back from wherever it was she took Adrian. Walking down the hallway to his bedroom and flopping onto his back on the bed, bag thrown on the floor, Victor let out a long sigh, stretching his tired limbs.
Practice had been gruelling, coach hadn’t pushed them too hard, they had a game that night after all. But he had made them go over the plays so many times, by the time they actually trained their minds were basically mush.
Victor felt the bed shift slightly, looking over and seeing an upside down Benji sitting beside him, laughing at him.
“You know, you wouldn’t be laughing if you had to do what I did.” Victor grumbled, not having the strength to sit up.
“Yeah, but I don’t’ so I can.” Benji said, sticking his tongue out and ruffling Victors hair, laughing when the boy tried to slap his hands. “Though, isn’t it a bad idea to tire his team out before a game?”
Victor shrugged and admitted defeat, too tired to fight back against Benjis hands, but couldn’t help notice Benji kept his hand in his hair and was stroking it lightly.
Sighing, Victor unconsciously leaned into his touch, smiling when he heard Benji chuckle.
“Hey, if you need a nap you can take one V, I’ll wake you up when your parents get home.”
“I couldn’t do that to you, I’ll stay awake, I think I’ll just rest my eyes though.” Victor admitted, shuffling on the bed to get comfortable again, eyes drifting closed.
What felt like only a minute later, Victor was jolted out of his sleep by Benji shaking his shoulder to inform him he’d seen Victors parents get home. No sooner had he sat up when he heard a knock on his door saw it swing open slightly.
“Victor? Amor we’re back, did you talk to B-. Oh, hello Benji.” Isabel said, he soft smile turning nervous when she spotted the other boy sitting on her sons bed.
“Hi Mrs. Salazar.” Benji said politely, but Victor could see the lingering hurt in his eyes.
“Dinner will be ready in about 45 minutes.” Isabel said, eyes on the floor for a moment before flickering up to both boys, “Benji would.. would like to join us in the living room? Armando and I have something we want to discuss with you.”
Victor looked between Benji and his mom and moved to stand up, but was surprised by Benji’s hand on his shoulder pushing him back down.
“Sure Mrs. Salazar, can I have a minute?” Benji said softly, eyes flicking over to Victor.
“Of course, of course. Take all the time you need sweetheart.” Isabel said, nodding slightly as she pulled the door shut behind her.
“B, you don’t have to do this alone. I can go with you if you want.” Victor said immediately.
“Vic, it’s okay, I feel like I need to do this on my own.” Benji said, hands twisting in his lap, “If something goes wrong don’t worry, I’ll scream.”
Victor didn’t mirror Benjis’ chuckle. He didn’t think any of it was funny, nor did he like the idea of leaving Benji to his parents mercies.
“You have 20 minutes, then I’m coming after you, whether you like it or not.” Victor said, his tone allowing no room for argument.
“Okay, Mr protective, 20 minutes, then come rescue me yeah?” Benji said, moving towards the door, but jerking back when Victor grabbed his arm and pulled him into a tight hug, which after it became clear Victor didn't want to let him go, Benji patted the taller boy on the back and pushed him backwards gently.
“Hey, c’mon, I need to get this over with. It’ll be fine Victor, I promise.” Benji said softly, stepping out into the hall and heading to the living room.
Victor sank back onto his bed, watching the clock on his phone, waiting.
20 minutes wasn’t that long right?
Chapter 11: The Truth Will Set You Free
Are you free?
Okay, so as it turns out, twenty minutes is in fact a long time when you’re waiting for your parents to apologise to the guy who you want to date, but did kiss in an alternate timeline, but couldn’t date because they don’t know you’re gay, but did know in that same alternate timeline.
Victor snorted to himself, disrupting his progress wearing a hole in the floor, before continuing his pacing back in forth waiting for Benjis’ 20 minutes to run out.
Okay, that makes it sound like he’s being held hostage!
Shaking his head Victor slowed his pacing, glancing at the timer on his phone, 5 minutes left. He could do this.
4 minutes.
3 minutes.
2 minutes.
90 seconds.
Victor grabbed his phone.
30 seconds.
Victor stood by the door.
20 seconds.
His fingers flexed around the handle as he watched the timer count down.
10 seconds.
He twisted the handle, readying to pull the door back.
5.
4.
3.
2.
1!
Victor pulled the door open at the exact same time someone pushed from the other side, the end of the door connecting with directly with Victors’ forehead.
“Dios!”
Crying out, Victor stumbled back from the doorway, clutching at his forehead.
“OH god Vic, I’m so sorry!”
“Dammit Benji. What did I ever do to you?” Victor grumbled, rubbing at the start of a bump that was sure to bruise.
Wait!
“Benji! You’re back.” Victor said, blinking the light out of his eyes and looking at Benjis’ concerned face.
Why was he concerned? Oh, right the door.
“Victor, are you okay? I’m so sorry, I was coming back and-.”
“Benji, shush, head ringing, some idiot's hit me with a door.” Victor said, sticking his tongue out at Benji.
“Sorry V.” Benji mumbled, stepping forward and running his hand across Victors forehead, eyes focused on where the door had connected with Victors head.
“It’s fine, trust me, take a basketball to the face and you’ll know.” Victor said, a lame smile crossing his lips, “How did it go?”
Benji flicked his hazel eyes down to meet Victors brown ones, taking a moment before answering.
“It was… awkward as hell. But it was good. I think, no, well I promise it was good, I just, it was weird and I don’t know what to tell you. I don’t want to lie or keep secre-.” Benji rambled, before being silenced by Victors hand on his mouth.
“Benji, shush. That’s all you need to tell me, that you’re okay.” Victor said simply, “All I cared about was you getting through that okay. You don’t need to tell me the details.
Victor removed his hand, blushing when he remembered Benjis’ threat the last time he had done that to him.
“You know, you got those 20 minutes to the mark?” Victor said after a moment, chuckling at Benji’s raised eyebrow, “I may or may not have been watching the clock.”
“Aw Vic, you shouldn’t have worried.” Benji said, resting his hand on Victors arm.
“Ehh, yes I should have. Did you miss the part where you were dealing one on one with my recently ‘trying harder’, formerly homophobic parents?”
“You… have a real way with words Salazar. Now come on, I’m fine and your mom said to get Felix up here, and get our homework done, since Felix needs to leave early to ride with Lake and Mia.” Benji said teasingly poking Victor in the stomach, “And she was pretty adamant I ride with you guys, so I’m staying for dinner. Now c’mon, I’m hungry, and your Mom is making something light for dinner.”
“Oh, shock, Benji is just hear to eat my food.”
“Hey! I’m a growing boy!” Benji said defensively.
“My ass you are.” Victor mumbled, grabbing his books from his desk and following Benji down the hall into the kitchen, sitting at the table beside the boy, his mom nodding from where she was working on plating up food and setting it in the middle of the table for the boys.
Armando was watching a soccer game on the TV in the sitting room, Pilar curled up beside him, watching Adrian play with his iPad, both waved too the boys when they saw them. Victor could see how tired his dad looked, but at least he looked content, so Victor didn’t comment. Pilar just smiled softly at them, eyes dancing happily.
“Hola mijo, did Benji tell you to ask Felix to come up?”
“Si Mami, I texted him just now so he should be up in..” Victor trailed off at the echo of a knock on the door sounded through the house.
“Dios mia, that boy has a sixth sense about this.” Isabel said, bustling over to open the door and welcoming the boy, before pointing him to the table and telling him to start on his homework.
Felix only chuckled at Isabels mothering of him.
He did however, spend the entire time doing homework, flicking his focus from his workbooks, to Victor, to Benji, to Isabel, then back to Benji.
Victor finally caught the boys gaze, nodding in response to the raised eyebrow.
Seemingly satisfied Felix broke into conversation, apparently making up for his earlier 25 minutes of silence throughout homework and snacks.
“So, Victor are you nervous for your first game?”
“Nah, I think we should be okay.” Victor said, scratching out his latest attempting at solving this algebra problem.
He shouldn’t be nervous. This time there’s nothing to freak him out or make him lose his temper.
“I’m sure you’ll do great Vic, besides, your mom seems to have busted out the paints and glitter for you sign, so you can't let her down.” Benji said, looking behind them to where Isabel had set about making a poster for Victors’ game.
Both boys laughed when Victor threw his head in his hands groaning in exasperation.
“Hey, Mrs. S, do you make a poster for every one of Victors games?” Felix asked, getting up from the table to sit by Isabel, watching her painting the oversized banner paper.
“Uhuh.” She answered as the other two boys followed Felix into the room, homework abandoned.
“Salazar is a Sala-star? I love it.” Felix said, swinging in his chair to smile at Victor, mischief in his eyes, “Wow, you are a pun wizard, and I am under your spell.
Isabel laughed in response, thanking Felix for appreciating her work.
“Oh god, Vic, on this one I’m not jealous.” Pilar called from her spot beside Armando.
“Hey, the sign may say Victor is number one, but I love you all equally.” Isabel admonished, smirking as she added, “Besides, I’ll have to make some for you when you have debates won’t I?”
Pilar groaned and hid her face in Armandos shoulder, laughing when Adrian had their mom reaffirm he was her favourite.
“I’ll teach you all to appreciate my hardcore fandom!”
“Yeah, hardcore is right. One time back in Texas, she got ejected from the game for excessive dancing.” Victor announced, watching his mom blush and his dad laugh at the memory.
“Oh si, si, I remember that one, we all had to leave early when she went off at the referee after that.” Armando added, smirking when Isabel gasped exaggeratedly at his apparent betrayal.
“Since when is dancing not allowed? We don’t live in a footloose world! Besides, that’s in the past, now, Benji come here. Victor says you’re an artist, help me with this part?” Isabel said, pointing to the empty corner of the poster.
Victor could see it for what it was, that it was meant as a peace offering, showing that they harboured no negative feelings towards the boy.
“Sure, Mrs. S. Tell me what you need, anything to cheer on the Sala-star.” Benji said gleefully, dodging the swipe from Victor.
“Oh, the betrayal is real. I’ll remember this the next time we’re in work and you need me to get napkins from the top shelf!” Victor said, smirking at Benjis’ growl, everyone else chuckled at the two boys teasing.
“I’m not short, you’re just lanky!” Benji shot back, looking to Isabel for support, pouting when the woman just laughed and handed him a paintbrush, telling him to get to work.
Victor didn’t notice the smile on Pilar and Felixs’ faces as they watched, more than familiar with the jabs and japes the boys traded. They only really acted like this when they were comfortable with the people around them, it was a big step.
A good one.
And he definitely missed the look that passed between Armando and Isabel as they watched the two boys’ carefully, smiling softly.
Felix had gone ahead with Mia and Lake earlier, not before he teased Victor for swapping him out for Benji, citing it was only fair since ‘Benji needed time to get to know the in-laws’.
Victor had thrown a cushion at him in retaliation when he left, blushing furiously after Benji questioned Felixs’ manic laughter coming from the other side of the door.
Hopping out of the truck, Victor smiled as Benji handed him his gym bag from the back seat, the rest of the Salazars already piling out chattering away excitedly about the game.
Victor waved goodbye to them, smiling when Benji wished him good luck, giving him a quick hug when they thought Victors parents weren’t looking.
Waving again, Victor ran down the hall to get to the locker room on time and get ready for the game.
Coach was in a nervous mood, his energy levels spiking and dropping so often the team were worried the man would pass out before the game even began.
“Alright you lot, bring it in, now I know we haven’t won in a while, and definitely not against this team, but try? Please. For me, I really need this win.” A few players chuckled slightly, none of them really sure that the older man was joking or not.
“Salazar, you think you’re ready for this? Your first game on a new team can be tricky.” Coach asked, singling the boy out.
“Yes sir, I’m ready.” Victor nodded confidently.
And it wasn’t a lie, he was ready.
“Alright, that’s what I like to hear. Now lets go Grizzlies!” The coach shouted, getting a roar of approval from the team as Andrew and Victor lead them out the doors and onto the court.
“You good man?” Victor asked Andrew when the boy slapped the door as the passed through.
“I’m fine.” He spat, not looking Victor in the eye.
What was that about? Last time Victor was the one that was a complete rage bundle.
“Hey, c’mon, get your head in the game, I wanna win tonight.” Victor said, staring the other boy down.
Andrew only sneered and moved to take his spot by the coach as he drew them into a circle for another last, last minute pep talk.
“Alright guys, bring it in again. We haven’t beaten Whitman in four years, but by a stroke of luck, their star player fell off a ladder and broke his femur.” Coach said manically, a grin stretching across his face, “Okay, that sounded overly gleeful, I hope he has a speedy recovery.”
The team laughed at the weak attempt at covering up his excitement, appropriate or not.
“Listen I think we have a real shot this year, especially since picking up Salazar, so I want you to get the ball to him, he can make the shot. No one will suspect the new guy.”
“Wait coach I can make those shots.” Andrew said arrogantly, stepping forward.
“Andrew, right now this isn’t about who can take the shots. The game plan is to get the ball to Victor.” Coach said, meeting the boys glare, “No one is questioning your skill. This is a team effort.”
Andrew just grunted in response, stalking off to the centre of the court waiting for the referee to blow the whistle and start the game.
Victor only shook his head as he mirrored Andrew, taking his own position. As they waited for the ref to finish their usual clean game speech, Victor turned to the sound of his name being called, and seeing his family in the benches, waving and smiling, his friends sitting in the row below. Mia and Benji had their heads together whispering seriously but looked up when Isabel tapped them on the shoulder and pointed to Victor.
Victor couldn’t help but smile and wave back, grinning when he heard Benjis’ whoop as well as Isabel, Felix and Mia cheering loudly. He flicked his eyes over to Pilar, seeing her sitting beside Lake, flicking through her phone.
She never really showed interest in Victors games, not that Victor expected her too, but at least she wasn’t mad this time around Victor reasoned, turning to focus on the game as the ref called them to attention.
Victor watched his teammate leap for the ball, moving into position when he saw him win it, calling out for the ball, passing to Andrew as he ran, moving to the next position.
“Andrew, back to me!” he called, arms out for the ball, only for Andrew to turn and attempt the shot himself.
A shot which was promptly blocked by their opponent’s defence.
“Come on Spencer, where’s your head? Salazar was open!” Coach shouted from the side-line.
That’s how the game went, they managed to score some points, many due to Victors own skill or set ups, but they were faltering and it was clear what the issue was.
Andrew refused to pass to Victor. No matter how open the boy was, Andrew would rather lose the ball than pass it to Victor.
Eventually, getting sick of the drama and after one of Andrews refusals to aid Victor resulted in the boy being knocked over and scattered across the court, Coach called for a time out, glaring at Andrew as the players walked off to the benches.
“Spencer what is going on with you? If you have a problem with Victor, leave it off the court, you don’t leave your teammates open like that. You’re costing us the game. Go cool off, or you’re benched for the rest of the game.” The man said, pointing to the locker rooms.
Andrew stalked off without a word, slamming the door shut behind him.
Victor looked after the boy, not sure if he cared or not. Andrew had apologised to Lake and Felix, as half assed as it had been, he’d seemed genuine. But he still wasn’t what Victor would consider a friend.
Glancing up at the stands, he saw Benji watching him closely, a concerned look on his face, to which Victor only smiled at in return. He flicked his eyes across to Mia who was watching the door where Andrew had left, Victor groaned as he realised what he was about to do.
“Hey, coach, I’m gonna go talk to him.”
“Okay, alright Salazar, see if you can talk some sense into him.” The man said gruffly, scribbling on his clipboard, “We can’t risk his attitude costing us the game.”
“I’ll be right back.” Victor called, already jogging to the locker room. Passing the sets of piled up equipment and rows of old lockers, Victor found Andrew with his head resting against the cool steel.
“Hey, man what is up with you tonight. I know you don’t like me, but we’re on the team together.” Victor said, trying not to smirk when Andrew jumped at the sound of his voice, “If you want to cost us the game though, just keep doing what you’re doing.”
“Don’t come in here all self-righteous Salazar. You’re coaches shiny new toy, that’ll fade.” Andrew growled back, turning from the locker to face him.
“How the hell am I being self-righteous? I’m trying to help, even though you’ve been nothing but a dick to me since day one, when I’ve done nothing to you.” Victor said, temper flaring.
“You’ve done nothing? You come swanning in here, acting like you’re too good to hang out with the team, but can just walk right into a key position on it, then taking what’s not yours.” Andrew spat, slamming his fist against the locker door.
Okay, what the hell?
“I’m sorry, you’re saying I did what exactly?” Victor asked, genuinely confused. “Is this about what I did at Mia’s party, because I stand by that. Look what happened Felix when I left him alone. I don’t trust you Andrew, I don’t like you either.”
“It’s not about the fucking party man. You come in here, all new and shiny, the centre of attention. You fuck about with people’s feeling and lead them on.” Andrew said, stepping towards Victor, “I’ve seen you around Mia, constantly wrapped around her, leading her around like a puppy. You said yourself you weren’t interested, so what is it? Are you just looking to get your rocks of?”
“Are you fucking serious right now? You think I’m screwing Mia about?” Victor shouted back, genuine anger in his voice. It must have shown since whatever retort Andrew had been about to reply with, died on his lips.
“You think that I’d ever do anything to hurt that girl! She is the best person in the world, she knows things about me no one else does, I trust her with things I can’t even tell my family. Are we close? Yes. Am I creeping on her or leading her on like some sick freak? Hell no!”
Victor stepped up this time, getting in Andrews face.
“I get it, you like Mia. I can see why, she’s awesome. But I’ll tell you this, right now, she thinks you’re a jerk and a bully, especially after what you did to Felix.”
“That wasn’t me-.” Andrew offered lamely.
“It was done on your orders Andrew, don’t even try get out of that. Mia is a good person, a genuinely good person. She still, for some reason, cares about you. But you’re just focused on making sure she doesn’t have anyone else, instead of trying to be good enough for her.” Victor said, keeping eye contact with Andrew.
“If you want to be worthy of Mia? Try being a better person. That means no bullshit like what you did with the GoFundMe, or at the party. Or tonight! You’re costing us the game.”
Victor turned as he heard the buzzer signalling that the game was due to restart.
“I… Salazar, I’m sorry, you’re right I’ve been an ass. But I’m sorry, I just don’t believe you about Mia. I don’t believe you’re not trying something.” Andrew said, hands on his hips.
“Dude, seriously? I’m fucking gay. I have no interest in Mia, not that way anyway.” Victor said, too exhausted to care.
“What?”
“Yeah, I’m gay, it means I like guys. So why don’t pull your head out of your ass and let's go win this game.”
Victor turned and walked out of the locker room, breaking into a jog when Coach called him to take point on the court, smiling as his family and friends cheered him on.
As he moved to take position he saw Andrew take his position too, nodding simply to the boy, an understanding settling between them.
It was time to win.
They won.
By two points, and as his cheering and screaming teammates reminded him, it was down to Victors last minute shot. The coach might have been crying, but Victor couldn’t tell.
Victor tried to pass of the praise to Andrew saying it was down to his last minute set up. The boy in question stepped forward, and faking as if moving to hoist Victor over his shoulder (clearly making a show of sportsmanship) he whispered in Victors ear, ensuring no one heard.
“What you told me in there, I won’t tell anyone, I’m an asshole, but I’d never do that.”
Nodding in affirmation, Victor turned to look for his family and friends, only making it halfway round when he was hit by the bullet that was Adrian, followed by Mia and Benji, with Felix wrapping his long arms around the 4 of them.
Lake was snapping photos of the group happily, Victor made a point to get the girl in front of the camera for once, since he didn’t actually have any photos with Lake.
As they made their way off the court, promising to wait for Victor outside while he showered, Mia called after him.
“So.. um I was wondering, how did talking to Andrew go? Not that you have to tell me or anything…”
Smiling Victor leant against the wall, sliding down to the floor, gesturing for Mia to do the same.
“It was… tense I guess. He accused me of some shit I won’t repeat. I set him straight, ironically.”
Seeing Mias quizzical look and darting his eyes around the gym to make sure no one overheard, Victor explained that what Andrew had said, left him feeling like the only way to get him off his back, was to tell him the truth.
“Oh god, Victor that’s awful, I can’t believe he made you feel that way.” Mia said, suddenly furious.
“Wait, Mia no it’s okay, I promise, I wanted to tell him. And I actually trust him not to tell anyone.” Victor admitted, “I think, if given the chance he could actually become a friend. You, Felix and Lakes approval pending of course.”
Mia giggled at that, looking off into the distance before smiling softly.
“Okay mr, you go shower, I’ll go talk to Felix and Lake, see what they think about giving Andrew a shot. Lake will get the half story I guess..”
“Mia, I’m sorry, I promise Lake will find out soon… I think I’m almost ready to tell my parents, after the week we had with Benji.. I don’t care anymore.” Victor admitted, smiling, “But let my birthday pass first, I can wait a week or so, wait until my Abuelos leave.”
Mia nodded in understand, standing and shooing Victor off to shower before making to leave.
"So what were you and Benji talking about?"
"Ahh ah, don't ask me, I'll never tell." Mia teased, a playful gleam in her eye, leaving Victor to head to the showers.
Victor only groaned, wondering what that particular way of saying it implied.
“Ahhh Mi Amor that was fantastic, you really are my Sala-star!” Isabel cried when he finally got to the parking lot, smiling as his mom crushed him in a hug, his dad slapping him proudly on the back.
“Yes, Flaco that was amazing, I haven’t seen you play like that in a while, you must have been showing off for someone.” Armando said, winking and flicking his eyes to where his friends were gathered.
Oh god, did he still think he was into Mia? Or Lake?
“Nah Papi, just doing the best I can.” Victor said humbly.
“Ah, so modest, Armando I think we brought the wrong kid home from the hospital that day, there’s no way this is your son.” Isabel teased, slapping her husbands’ hands as he tickled her in retaliation.
Victor hadn’t seen his parents like this in a long time, so he just walked over to join his friends, hoping to avoid the sight and sounds of his parents flirting.
“Hey guys, sorry. Nothing beat a hot shower after a long game.” Victor said, throwing his bag into the truck and leaning against the door, “So what are we talking about?”
“Well… Andrew invited us to the after party.” Felix said simply, though he looked confused about the statement.
“Oh, are you gonna go?”
“Well, we were hoping for your opinion on that?” Lake admitted, looking at Victor closely, “I’d rather not go if it made anyone else uncomfortable, but I am totes up for a party tonight.”
“Honestly, I think you should give it a go, when I spoke to him, I called him on his shit, and he actually seemed to be feeling guilty. Worst case, you go and don’t have to speak to him.” Victor said, smiling when his friends agreed, “We are actually going with my parents for food though, family tradition, so we can't join you.”
Victor neglected to mention that Benji was going along too. No need to draw more teasing and attention.
Smiling and hugging them all goodbye, Victor, Benji and Pilar watched the three walking towards the front of the school, Lake having called for a Lyft to take them there.
The remaining trio turned when they heard Armando ask if they had preferences for dinner.
“Okay, so who want’s pizza?”
“Armando no, we are supposed to be eating healthy, we can’t have pizza tonight again. It’s not a junk food day.” Isabel admonished, ignoring Adrians groan.
“Oh come on amor, it’s a celebration, besides a bit of cheating never hurt anyone.” Armando said, not catching what he said until he heard Pilar gasp.
Oh god.
“Seriously! You think it’s funny to say shit like that? That you can just play happy families for the night, and pretend it’s all okay?” Pilar said, voice trembling.
Victor rushed forward to grab Pilar and pull her into a hug, holding the girl close.
“Poor choice of words Papi.” Victor scolded.
“Sweetheart I’m sorry I wasn’t thinking.” Armando said, timidly moving toward his daughter, watching carefully.
“You can’t just joke about that shit like it’s not real.” The girl said tears in her eyes, tempering her words when she remembered Adrian was in the car watching.
“Hey, why don’t we talk about this at home?” Isabel said, gathering the girl from Victors arms and guiding her to the car, wiping the tears from her own face as she did.
“Sorry kiddo, I know we said we’d celebrate tonight…” Armando said, glancing back to Victor.
“It’s okay Papi, go. I made my peace with it.” Victor said simply, “I’m gonna spend the night with Benji, give you some time to talk. She needs you both right now.”
“Yeah, okay. You two have fun, here, take this for dinner.” Armando said, handing his son some cash, “since it’s a Friday night and you did so well tonight, no curfew tonight. Just don’t go crazy, and let us know if you’ll be back past 1am.”
“Si Papi, I will, now go. Let me know that she’s okay.” Victor said, watching as Isabel sat in the back of the truck with Pilars head on her shoulder.
“Of course, goodnight boys, have fun.”
There was something else in Armandos eyes, something soft, but nervous. Filing that away for later, Victor walked over to where Benji had moved when Pilars outburst started.
“Hey, sorry about that.” Victor said, sitting on the kerb beside the boy.
“It’s okay, she okay?”
“I don’t think so, but I hope she will be. It’s been a lot lately, and I think that stupid joke was just the last straw you know?” Victor said leaning against Benji, watching his family drive off.
“I think that’s fair, it’s a lot for anyone to take on, and she’s been really good about everything from what you told me. But, cheering up time for you, Mr sports star. Do you wanna head to the party?” Benji asked after a moment.
“Oh god no.” Victor said plainly, “I’ve had enough basketball for one night.”
“Alright, what do you wanna do instead?”
“Didn’t you say you wanted to spend time together? What was your original plan for tonight?” Victor asked, remembering Benjis’ disappointment when he found out they wouldn’t be able to hang out alone that night.
“Oh, umm I was wondering if you wanted to see a movie and maybe grab something to eat?”
“Ahhh yes your dinner and a movie part of your plan, how could I forget.” Victor teased, yelping when Benji jabbed him in the side.
“Quiet you, I’m trying to be nice here. Now does your butt want to go see a movie or not?” Benji said, standing up and stretching.
Victor did his best to not look at the exposed flesh between Benjis’ tee and the waist band of his boxers.
He totally failed.
“Sure, umm lets go. Shouldn’t you tell your mom though, just to let her know you aren’t getting dinner with my parents?” Victor said lamely, trying to avoid the smirk he saw on Benjis’ face.
He’d totally caught him.
“Sure, let me go call her. I’ll be five minutes.” Benji said, taking out his phone and walking over to the side for some privacy.
Victor pulled his own phone out, replying quickly to messages from Mia and sending a snapchat offering Felix a thumbs up for encouragement towards spending a night at a party with Lake.
Opening the thread he started tying out a new message to Simon, peeking occasionally to Benji as he did.
Victor: Dear Simon, so I won my first Creekwood basketball game, I know you don’t like sports, so ask Bram. He’ll tell you why it’s a big deal!
Victor: I also had a run in with Andrew, the guy I told you about, and now he knows I’m gay, and somehow things are okay?
Victor: I don’t really get it
Victor: And Pilar finally snapped, I can’t blame her, she’s had so much to deal with and she just took it on the chin each time.
Victor: so now family dinner is cancelled so it’s just me and Benji going to see a movie, and probably get some cheap street food. Any recommendations for where to eat?
“Hey, you ready?” Benji asked as he walked back towards Victor, offering his hand to lift the boy from the kerb to his feet.
“Yup, just messaging Simon to kill time, it’s been a while.”
“Ahh, I keep forgetting you two are friends. It’s so strange, I looked up to him so much in school you know, he came out when I was a freshman, and it was just mind-blowing to 14 year old me.” Benji admitted, “I always wish I’d had the courage to speak to him before he graduated.”
“I mean, I’m sure you’ll meet him, he wants to hang out next time he’s home, so I can drag you along if you want.” Victor said, smiling when Benji’s face lit up, “Besides, he already knows all about you, and said he wants to meet you.”
Dammit, what the hell is wrong with my filter?
“Wait, you told Simon Spier about me?” Benji asked, bouncing on his toes excitedly, “What did you tell him!”
“Nu uh, my secret, now I believe we were discussing dinner and a movie?” Victor said, steering the topic away from that particular minefield… into a totally different minefield.
Was this a date?
“Aww, fine come on you spoilsport.” Benji grumbled, walking down the path towards the town centre.
“Wow, is that anyway to treat your date Benjamin? I’m hurt.” Victor teased, throwing his arm around Benjis’ shoulder.
“Oh shush you, its just a film and food. I miss doing stuff like this, even if it is just with friends.” Benji said, eyes focused ahead. "Derek and I never.. Anyway, c'mon it's just two friends hanging out."
Okay, ouch. Did Benji think that’s all Victor wanted? He’d have to change that.
“Hey, B, we can do whatever, dinner and a movie, just as friends if that’s what you want… or, you know something else.” Victor said, hoping he’d pick up what he was implying.
It was obvious right?
“What, like bowling or something?” Benji asked, confusion in his eyes.
Nope, god, Benji was cute but apparently really oblivious.
“God B, no dinner and a movie is fine.” Victor mused, realising he’d have to be more direct. He was distracted by a buzz from his phone, seeing it was a reply from Simon he opened it as Benji checked his own phone for movie listings.
Gay Guru: Victor! Is this a date?
Gay Guru: Also, Bram says congrats on the game.
Gay Guru: IS THIS A DATE!!!!! ANSWER ME MAN!
Victor: hahaha
Victor: Tell Bram I said thanks.
Victor: And I don’t think so
☹ but I plan on making it clear I want it to be next time.
Gay Guru: NEXT TIME!!??! YOU’RE KILLING ME VICTOR!!!
Victor laughed as he pocketed his phone and walked towards the theatre with Benji, walking in happy silence, not caring that his hand kept brushing against Benjis every few moments.
God, he could just reach out and grab his hand there and then..
Chapter 12: The Truth Will Set You Free
Just Friends Right? Eh, Fuck It
“Okay, so what exactly is the plan B? Cause as much as I love walking round in circles with you..” Victor said, after they’d walked past the movie theatre for the 3rd time.
Benji just rolled his eyes at Victors whining tone, knowing the boy was just teasing him, and wasn’t actually complaining.
“Well, the movie isn’t for another 45 minutes, and with the game on tonight, it’s going to be dead, so I figured we’d take a walk until closer to it starting.” Benji said, “I figured that you’d rather do that than sit alone in an empty theatre, stuck with me.”
Victor snorted at that; the boy really, really didn’t know that would be something Victor would love to be doing right now.
“Oh yeah, of course. Poor me, stuck in an empty movie theatre, with you. Oh, how would I survive.” Victor said, screw being subtle anymore.
“Exactly, you’d be bored out of your mind.” Benji said, nodding along as Victor
Seriously!
“Okay…. So what movie are we actually seeing?” Victor said, shaking his head at the shorter boy.
“Oh, I’m I was hoping we could see the new Marvel movie? I’ve been dying to see it but between Brasstown closes and school I’ve not had time. I hope you don’t mind?” Benji said, chewing on his lip as he waited for Victors’ response.
“Oh, yeah. I mean I may be a little lost, I’ve seen like… two of them.” Victor winced at Benjis’ shocked gasp, “Oh come on, don’t judge me, my friends back in Texas weren’t really into anything other than sports so….”
“So, you have no idea about the last 11 years of Marvel movies?” Benji asked, looking outright scandalised.
“Ummm, I know they’re really popular, and that they’re like.. good?” Victor said, suddenly feeling nervous that Benji would be disappointed, “Are you into stuff like that? Like, comics and stuff?”
Benji suddenly looked extremely interested in the ground, scuffing at the pavement with his shoe.
“Yeah, sorta. I mean I am. Just wasn’t cool enough to advertise. Derek didn’t exactly think it was worth the time.” Benji said, looking up at Victor.
Fucking Derek.
“Okay, lets go see the movie, but you’re explaining what’s happened so far to me yeah?” Victor said, throwing his arm over Benjis’ shoulder.
“Sure, okay, what do you know about the movies? We have like 30 minutes before we should probably head in.” Benji said as excitement danced in his eyes.
“Umm.. I know about Iron Man? And that Spider-Man is kinda hot.” Victor said honestly.
“Okay. Well, you’re not wrong there, good to know though on the Spider-man thing, it means you have taste.” Benji said with a wink.”
“Oh shush, so I like brunettes with floppy hair. Now come on, get explaining.” Victor said, poking at Benji until the boy stepped out of his reach laughing, smiling when the boy ran his hand through his hair after a moment, pausing as something seemed to register in his mind.
“Alright, alright. So, it all starts with Tony Stark getting captured in the desert…”
Honestly, Victor didn’t understand a lot of what Benji was talking about, but watching the boy talk about something so passionately.
It made Victor happy.
“Okay, I think I have an idea, c’mon, lets go get our tickets.” Victor said, checking his watch and turning them towards the theatre entrance, an arm wrapped around Benjis shoulders casually.
“Yes! Finally, come on Sala-star.” Benji said, not able to contain the enthusiasm in his voice.
“Yessir Mr. Campbell.” Victor said, marching the two towards the ticket booth.
“Ugh, you know I’ve missed this. Movies and dinner were never exactly Dereks’ idea of a good nights fun.” Benji admitted, “So I haven’t had a proper cinema night in a long time, like pre-Derek.”
“Oh! Well in that case, we are going all out tonight B.” Victor declared, stepping up to the ticket booth indicating the movie they wanted to see, “Can you actually make that two VIP tickets please.”
“Vic, what? No, c’mon it’s too much.” Benji said, looking between Victor, who was handing over cash to the attendant, and the passes being handed back to him.
“Dude, c’mon. Just let me treat you, you deserve it. Now come on, popcorn time.” Victor said, grabbing Benji by the hand and dragging him to the concession stand, not commenting on Benjis’ blush, or the fact it got brighter when he ordered the VIP couples snack pack.
If Derek never bothered to give Benji a proper movie date, then Victor would.
“Now, do you want sweet or salted popcorn?” Victor asked, stacking snacks on the counter as the cashier looked at them, smiling sweetly as she rung up their purchases and accepting the cash from Victor.
“Umm, salted I guess.” Benji said, smiling softly.
“Correct answer Benjamin.” Victor said with a smile as they were passed a bucket of said popcorn, grabbing their other snacks, Victor handing Benji his share, nodding to the cashier as they turned to leave.
“Enjoy your movie now, y’all make a cute couple.” She said, smiling pleasantly at the two boys.
“Thanks!” Victor called after, laughing at Benji whipping his head between the smiling cashier and Victor, “What? Like it’s an insult? I’d be pretty lucky.”
“Well, someone is certainly getting more sure of themselves.” Benji said, smiling despite himself.
“I guess I’ve had a pretty influence around lately.” He said, winking at Benji.
He led him into the screen, Benji had been correct, it was empty. Checking their tickets Victor found their seats, pleasantly surprised to see the VIP seats were actually a twin, recliner style chair.
“C’mon, do you want left or right B?”
“Ummm, left please.” Benji said, setting his stuff down, watching Victor carefully as the boy set his own snacks and drink down, throwing himself onto the other side, sighing in satisfaction.
“B, please don’t judge me if I fall asleep. These are so comfortable, c’mon sit down.” Victor said, eyes closing as he patted the cushion beside him.
Benji eased himself into the seat, mirror Victor as he pushed the chair back to recline, sitting in comfortable silence for a few moments until Victor broke the silence.
“Hey.” He said, rolling onto his side to face Benji.
“Hi.” Benji responded, twisting himself to look at the other boy.
“So, how’s it going?” Victor asked, smiling gently.
“Pretty good, you bought way too many snacks by the way.” Benji said, nodding at the food Victor was nibbling at.
Victor just shrugged in response, offering the open packet to Benji, who smiled and grabbed a few treats from the bag.
“So what? I wanted to treat you.” Victor said in response.
“Why? It's meant to be my treat, you won your game. Why did you get the fancy tickets or the big combo?” Benji said, confusion crossing his face, his nose scrunched up.
God he's cute when he's confused.
“Am I not allowed to treat my best friend? You were excited for the movie, and earlier you had to sit and listen to my parents apologise as well as my game, and you’ve been amazing about everything.” Victor said, voice almost a whisper by the end.
“But it’s more than just that, it’s because of what you said outside. About not getting to do this, even though you really love it, and that’s not fair.” Victor said, “I’ve told you before B, you deserve so much more, and then some. And, well… Derek was an idiot and messed that up by neglecting probably the greatest thing he’s ever going to have had and.. well… let’s just say I don’t plan on making the same mistake if I get the same chance.”
Okay, that was bolder than he’d meant, but fuck it. Benji deserved to at least know that Victor cared beyond being just friends.
“Oh.. OH.” Benji said, eyes widening after a moment, before his cheeks flushed red as he understood Victors’ promise, “So, you mean you… you’d want that? With me?”
“Yeah. I do Benji. I know I’m not out to my parents yet, and it wouldn’t be fair to ask you to hide anything. But once I’m out, well once my parents know anyway, I’d umm.. I’d really like too, you know…” Victor trailed off, bravery suddenly leaving him as he looked down at his lap, hands twisting nervously, panicking over what he’d said, was it too much?
“Really?” Benji asked, voice barely a whisper.
“Really.” Victor promised,
“Oh.”
“You say that a lot you know?” Victor said, smiling at the boy.
Benji knew. He knew how Victor felt.
“Would you be okay with that B? With what I said...”
“Yes.” Benji said simply. Victor couldn’t help but marvel at the smile on Benji’s face.
“Oh.”
“I guess that’s contagious huh?” Benji said, rolling onto his back as the lights dimmed, and the projector started.
“I guess it is.” Victor nodded, turning as well to face the screen.
So far, so good. Maybe being a bit bolder couldn’t hurt.
Victor stretched his hand across the seat, towards Benji’s until they were laying side by side. Keeping his eyes focused on the screen, taking a deep breath, Victor wrapped his fingers around Benji’s.
He saw Benji glance at their hands from the corner of his eye and smiled when he felt Benji tighten his own grip around Victors, sighing in contentedness.
Okay, being friends is totally out the window.
Victor glanced over at Benji, who’s eyes were glued to the screen as the movie’s titles played across the screen, a true smile on his face.
The last time Victor has seen Benji smile like this was Willacoochee, and then on the bench after the Spring Fling.
This was Benji at peace, and happy.
Good.
By the time the end credits of the movie ended, Victor found himself basically wrapped around Benji, the shorter boys head resting against Victors’ chest. As Pilar could prove, it’s not the first time they’d ended up like this during a movie.
It was however, the first time they’d ended up like this after they had both confessed to wanting to be more than friends. The fact it happened again, cemented Victor’s assurance that Benji had meant what he’d said earlier, about he and Victor, becoming more.
All I have to do is tell my parents…
Victor shook that thought out of his head, tonight was about him and Benji. Nothing else.
Not really interested in the credits, Victor watched Benji, then looking down at their still linked hands, smiling softly as he rubbed his thumb against the back of Benjis’ hand. The sensation must have distracted Benji enough to break his focus from the screen, because he turned slightly, tilting his head up to smile shyly at Victor, before resting his head back down against the boys chest, eyes back on the screen.
“You know there’s an end credit scene, so we don’t have to move just yet.”
“Really? That’s good. I liked this; I don’t really know what happened, but it was good.” Victor said, smiling as he felt the rumble of Benjis’ laughter.
“Okay, yeah I can see how you’re out of the loop, considering.” Benji admitted.
“Do you maybe wanna help me get up to speed? We could make it a thing, movie marathon nights.” Victor said, joy shooting through him when Benji perked up, “We could totally arrange it, like on weekends when we don’t have early shifts. Get a tonne of snacks in, do like 4 or 5 movies that day, you could probably sleep over too. Mom kept an old camp bed, and we could use that rather than you sleeping on the floor or couch. I don’t think they’d go for us sharing a bed right now…”
Victor trailed off realising that, for one he was rambling, and another, Benji was staring right at him.
“B?”
“Victor, I think that’s a great idea. I’d love to do that, but you know it’s like 22 films yeah?”
“Okay, so we make it like a weekly or monthly thing. I really don’t mind if it’s an excuse to have you stay over more often.” Victor admitted, “Besides, I need your knowledge on it, oh comic-nerd.”
Benji scoffed at that, slapping Victor on the chest lightly.
“Shush you, I never should have told you that.”
“No. I’m glad you did; I like knowing more about you. How did you get into comics?” Victor asked, always eager to learn more about his almost-sorta-boyfriend.
“Umm, my dad and my cousin I guess? Dad and I used to take road trips together together, and we’d stop at this comic store on the way and he’d always let me pick up one or two things.” Benji said, eyes lost in the past, “My cousin got me into stuff once they found out I was reading really random stuff. And, well she’s the only one that really didn’t change her attitude to me when I came out. The rest of my family, even my dad… well it was different, you know?”
Victor just nodded, not wanting to interrupt the boy.
“So, now it’s something to talk to Chloe about on holidays, and it’s a link to how I felt before everyone knew.” Benji finished softly.
“Chloe, is your cousin yeah?”
“Yeah, she’s a little older, on my moms’ side.”
“Cool, I’d like to meet her, especially since you clearly think so highly of her.”
“Yeah Vic, you could totally mee-.”
Benjis’ response was cut off by the after-credit scene playing out, Victor didn’t get it but judging by Benjis’ reaction it meant something good.
“Holy crap, no way they’re doing that!”
“Ummm”
“Oh, right. I’ll explain later.” Benji said, blinking as the screen lights came on overhead, Benji shyly extracted himself from Victors arms, moving back to his own side of the seat, gathering his stuff up.
“Aww, now I’m cold.” Victor whined, pouting when Benji looked over and rolled his eyes, “Next time we should bring a blanket, remind me of that for our movie marathons.”
“Wow, how did I not see how needy you were Salazar.” Benji teased, swatting at Victor as the pair extracted themselves from the recliner.
“Ehh, takes the right person I guess.” Victor said boldly, smiling when Benji dropped his empty cup in surprise.
“Oh.”
“You really do say that a lot B.” Victor mused as he headed down the steps, dropping his rubbish in the bin on the way.
“Ha. Ha.” Benji grumbled, following behind and out of the theatre into the cool night air.
“So, do you have any room left to eat? You did promise me dinner and a movie you know.”
“Oh- shush. Yes, I could eat, nothing massive though.” Benji said, catching himself when he saw Victor open his mouth to tease him about his ‘Oh’ habit.
He wasn’t expecting what he heard next apparently.
“Don’t worry B, something light can do for now. I’m sure you can handle something massive another time.” Victor said, winking exaggeratedly.
“VICTOR!” Benji shouted, actually stumbling with shock at what had come out of the boys’ mouth.
Okay. I can’t even blame time travel, that was totally on me this time.
“Yes B?” Victor asked, faking innocence.
“You… you…. ARghhh! You’re gonna be the death of me.” Benji grumbled, wrapping his arms around his chest.
“Aww, B. I’m sorry, was that too much?” Victor asked, genuinely worried now, “I… I thought after… well I thought it would be funny. I didn’t mean I was expecting..”
Victor reached out a hand, intent on laying it on the boys’ arm, but pausing because he wasn’t sure if he’d gone too far.
“No, that’s not what I mean. I just.. visually strong imagination, plus then you say stuff like that, plus tight jeans..” Benji said, smirking in victory when Victor went bright red and actually tripped and fell.
“OH.” Victor said from his spot on the sidewalk, looking anywhere but Benji.
“Yeah, oh. Now come on, get off of your cute butt, you’re right, I did promise dinner.” Benji said, extending a hand to haul the boy up, “And this time it’s my treat.”
“Wait, what was that about my butt?”
Time-travelling, almost-out Victor might have been an outrageous flirt, but confident, in-the-know Benji was something else. After the comment about his jeans, the boy seemed to be going out of his way to make Victor blush, taunting, and teasing him as they walked to the food joint. At one point their path had them go up a set of steps and Benji followed after Victor, loudly commenting on the view, which caused Victor to trip again.
“So, B, where exactly are we getting food? Because it’s like 11pm now.” Victor said, after they passed a few closed food joints.
“Don’t worry, there’s this little place down that way that does late night take out.” Benji said, pointing down a side street, “It’s all properly cooked food, so I was thinking we get some of it, and grab a bench?”
“Sounds like a plan, c’mon I’m starving.”
“How! After all the snacks you ate in there.” Benji said in disbelief.
“Like you, I’m a growing boy. Besides, I played a long ass basketball game today, I burned a lot of calories.” Victor said, putting his hands on his hips and puffing out his chest, “You don’t just get to look like this on snacks alone.”
Victors macho pose was ruined when Benji jabbed him in the belly, causing the boy to squeak, in a very unmacho way, before grumbling and following a laughing Benji lead him to the food place, handing a paper menu to Victor.
“So, Benjamin, what’s good here?” Victor asked, flicking his eyes over the menu, realising what Benjis’ answer would be once he saw the Italian theme.
“Well, the meatballs are pretty amazing, and the calzones are mouth-watering. I’d definitely say meatballs though.” Benji said, pausing to think, “God, I love meatballs. So ugly, but so delicious.”
“Well, in that case, two meatball meals?”
“Sounds great V.”
Benji turned and placed the order, pointing to the outdoor furniture and paying for the meal.
“C’mon, we can sit over here until it’s ready.”
“Sweet, this is really cool B, where did you find this place?”
“I came here after a gig one night with… umm.” Benji said, eyes suddenly nervous.
“With Derek? You know I’m not gonna freak out if you mention his name B.” Victor said, reaching across to grab Benjis’ hand, “He was a big part of your life, even if it went sour. I’d never ask you to not acknowledge that.”
“Thanks Vic, I just, I don’t really know how to do this. I know nothing is.. well, I don’t want to assume things just yet obviously. But what we mentioned earlier, what might be eventually, I don’t want to talk about my ex constantly.”
“Benji. Derek, as much as he is an idiot for letting you go, is still a big part of your story. So, don’t ever worry about talking to me about him. If you need to vent, if you ever regret, if you ever feel down because of it, you talk to me. Hell, even if you miss him, I’m here.” Victor said, smiling when Benji looked at him in surprise, “B, whatever we are, whatever we become, you know I’m your friend first and foremost yeah?”
“Yeah. I do, thanks Vic.”
“Well, it’s a bit early for ‘I do’s’, but I’ll accept the thanks anyway.” Victor said, winking at Benji.
“Oh god.. what have I gotten myself into.?” Benji mumbled, laughing at Victors pout.
“Wow, okay Mr. Campbell. See how you like sleeping on the couch for our Marvel movie marathon madness.”
“Wait, you really meant that?” Benji asked.
“Which bit?” Victor asked, confused.
“The bit about us actually doing Marvel movie nights..”
“Umm.. yes? Why wouldn’t I?” Victor said.
“I.. I just, I thought maybe it was just what you thought I wanted to hear. Sorry.”
“Hey, no need to say sorry. I 100% meant it. Sleepovers and everything, though, maybe not so sure on the camp bed bit.” Victor finished with another wink that had Benji go red.
Thankfully, they were interrupted by their order being called, Benji bolting up to get the food, Victor followed at a more sedate pace.
Both boys walked along the softly lit street, eating in silence, bumping each other every couple of steps, as though reassuring the other they were still there.
Victor was hungrier than expected, and inhaled his food, causing Benji to complain as the boy tried to pinch one of his meatballs.
“Hey, hands off Salazar. These are mine.”
“Aww, please, for me?” Victor said, pushing his lower lip and making it tremble.
“Ha, you’re cute Vic, but I don’t know if you’re meatball cute.”
“Wait, you think I’m cute?” Victor asked, perking up and forgetting about the food.
“Oh god..” Benji muttered, discarding his now empty container in a nearby bin, “Yes, I think you’re very cute Victor.”
“Ha. You admitted it.” Victor said, cheering loudly, dancing on the stop.
“Oh, come on, you can’t have not known that? I literally told you I was having blood flow issues because of you!” Benji said, staring at the dancing boy.
“Yeah, but there’s a difference. For the record, I think you’re pretty cute too B.” Victor said, stopping his dance long enough, to rest his hand against Benjis’ cheek, smiling when they boy leaned into his touch.
“Come on you. I’ll walk you home before we get even more distracted.” Benji said, startling slightly when Victor offered him his hand.
“Are you sure?”
“Yes.” Victor said simply, wiggling his fingers, waiting on Benji to take his hand, “My parents are home, but as far as anyone else goes, I really don’t care who see’s, so long as you don’t mind.”
Smiling widely, Benji took Victors’ hand, both boys happily walked down the street, passing couples and groups of people who didn’t so much as look twice at them. No one seemed to notice them, except one set of heavily lidded, drunken eyes that followed them from the dark corner they were lurking in, nor did they hear the curse muttered or bottle smashing against a wall. But both boys were too wrapped up with their own happiness to notice the outside world.
Finally, as they got to the end of Victors street, the boys sheepishly dropped hands, acknowledging that they didn’t want to tempt fate, since Victor could see a light on in their apartment.
“Ah, someone is still up, though I suppose it’s only midnight. We did take the long way back after all.”
“True, but it was worth it.” Benji replied, reaching out to squeeze Victor’s hand.
“Very worth it.” Victor admitted, “I should probably head in though, even though I really don’t want tonight to end.”
“Same, my mom will be expecting me soon anyway.” Benji said softly.
“I’m really glad we had tonight B, really really glad.” Victor said, putting as much honesty and emotion as he could into his next words.
“You are so important to me and know that I know you feel the same way, I know I can’t wait much longer to tell my parents. I can’t not be with you. As Simon tells me, I deserve a great love story, and so do you B. I hope I’m it.” Victor said quickly, but clearly.
Benji reached up to rest his hand on Victors cheek, running his thumb back and forth gently.
“Vic, I don’t know what I deserve, but I really hope it’s you.”
“You do. I promise.”
Both boys stayed in silence, looking at one another, smiling like loons.
“Okay, I need to go, good night B, text me when you get home yeah?”
“Of course, goodnight Vic.” Benji said, hugging the boy quickly.
Victor acted before he could think, before Benji could pull away he kissed him quickly on the cheek, though he let his lips linger longer than strictly necessary.
“Night!” Victor said, turning and jogging up the path and into the building, pausing to wave goodbye to a stunned Benji.
“Tease!” he heard called after him, as the door swung shut.
Taking the steps two at a time Victor made his way to their apartment, slipping inside quietly. The light was on in the kitchen, but no one was up, realising his Mom likely left it on for him, he flicked it off, and made his way to the bathroom, planning on taking a quick shower before bed.
Setting his phone by the sink, Victor stripped down and hopped into the shower, scrubbing himself clean quickly, hoping not to waken anyone. As he towelled off his phone buzzed, lighting up to show he had a message from Benji. Opening it he saw a snapchat of Benji, wrapped up in a blanket in what looked like his sitting room, caption reading ‘home safe, sound and burritoed. 10 points to my mom for having this ready.’. Victor smiled, firing off a quick mirror selfie, confirming he too had made it the home safely, despite the treacherous journey up the stairs. Chuckling, he unwrapped his towel and threw it in the hamper, stepping into a clean pair of boxers, pausing mid-way when he realised he’d essentially just sent Benji a naked selfie, towel notwithstanding. Figuring it hadn’t been much, he couldn’t remember the angle, Victor reasoned it wasn’t the worst thing.
Walking quietly to his bedroom, he climbed under the covers, chewing on his lip before opening Instagram and posting a few of the selfies he and Benji had taken throughout the night, as well as one Victor had taken in the theatre of Benji watching the screen wide eyed. Inhaling slightly, he tagged Benji and titled the posted ‘Date night with Benji – Dinner and a movie, classy guy :P’. It was innocent enough that it could be passed off as two friends goofing around, but also enough that his friends who knew, would know.
Almost immediately, he got like notes from Mia, Felix, Pilar and Simon, as well as a comment from Lake.
LakeSoGood commented: 'Ugh, these are just goals. The cheekbones in these photos alone!
Seeing Simon was awake, he opened up their message thread on the app and started typing.
Dear Simon,
This felt like an Insta DM level message, instead of a text.
So Benji and I had our movie and dinner night.. and I’m not entirely sure it was a date, but it was definitely more than friends.
Things were said, and then confirmed.
Basically, he knows I like him, I know he likes me. We both know we want more.
Just need to tell my parents, after by birthday. I’m going to do it.
I’m beyond ready.
If I wait any longer I’m liable to just jump Benji in Brasstown someday.
Oh! And I kissed him. On the cheek but still.
Then ran home, and then messaged you.
Night Simon,
Love, Victor
Benji: Victor Salazar, that snap…
Victor: Huh?
Benji: You. A towel. A bathroom mirror. Jogging any memoires?
Victor: Oh GOD
Victor: I didn’t even realise…
Benji: HAHAHAHAHAA
Benji: Don’t worry, it was appreciated
😉
Benji: I almost didn’t see the towel :O
Victor: Stahp, I’m blushing enough as is.
Victor: Tonight was amazing. Thank you B!
Victor: for everything.
Benji: Trust me the pleasure was all mine.
Benji: I like this confident Victor, though maybe next time he could aim a little more to the middle
😉
Victor: OHHH. Next time hmm?
Victor: I’ll happily remember that B.
Benji: Mom says you have to come round for dinner some night
Benji: apparently she wants to meet the boy who makes me smile…
Victor: 100% happy to do that, on the condition I get to see baby photos.
Benji: Hmmm… I’ll consider it. We might need a reward system
😉
Victor: You and that emoji…
Victor: Okay. Nope, not letting my mind wander, I need to sleep
😉
.
Victor: Goodnight x
Benji: Hahahah, happy to hear
Benji: Sweet dreams V x
Chapter 13: Bittersweet Sixteen
A Feuding Family
Dear Victor,
First of all…
ARE YOU FREAKING KIDDING ME RIGHT NOW!!! Oh My GOD! YES THIS WAS DM WORTHY! ARGHHHH
….
…
😊
Okay, now I have that out of the way. I’m really glad you talked to Benji, and reading between the lines I think I know what was discussed, and I am beyond happy for you.
I hope your birthday goes well, and obviously after that goes well too. Because you do deserve to be happy Victor, and if Benji makes you happy, I say go all in.
But of course, only when you are comfortable doing it. But sometimes, sometimes you have to take a leap of faith.
Love,
Simon
Victor couldn’t help but smile down at his phone, he’d reread Simons’ message, pretty much every day since his not-a-date-but-definitely-a-date with Benji, and it just made him smile.
Because someone knew!
Someone knew he loved Benji and that Benji at the very least liked Victor back, and they were okay with it.. more than okay with it! Excessively happy about it.
It really wouldn’t take Victor long to come up with a list of reasons as to why Simon’s friendship/mentorship meant so much to him if he had to, the older boy was really stepping into his role as Victors gay Sherpa. Even with the hindsight of time travel, Victor really didn’t have anyone else he could get advice from about gay relationships.
Simon had even offered to give Victor the talk, which the blushing boy had actually agreed to, just at a later date, not trusting Simon to not accidentally reveal things about his and Brams’ sex life that Victor didn’t need to know.
Though, Benji could probably teach me a thing or two…
“Victor, mijo, are you listening?”
Victor startled slightly, looking up from his phone to see his mom looking at him expectantly, smirking slightly. Pilar was on the couch beside her, had the same look on her face.
“Sorry Mami, what did you say?”
“Ohh so now he doesn’t listen anymore. My heart, Pilar my heart.” Isabel cried, falling dramatically against the giggling girls, who wrapped her arms around the woman and nodded solmely, “Maybe I just should get Benji to text you my questions and then you’d hear me, eh?”
Wow, where did that come from?
“What? I’m not texting Benji, it’s another friend.” Victor said, defensively.
“Uh huh, well I was asking if you’re sure you don’t want to do anything special on Saturday for your birthday. You only turn 16 once!” She didn’t sound like she believed him.
Oh, right birthday. Yay, grandparents.
His grandparents were flying in that night and they were looking to have a family dinner on Friday before Victors actual birthday, which was really a chance to get all his grandparents sniping and complaining out of the way before inviting anyone else over. Thankfully Victor was working late Friday to make up for getting the weekend off (so was Benji) so it wasn’t possible.
“Well, Tito and Nati get here at 8 right?” Victor asked, pocketing his phone, “I will be able to see them for a bit after I get back from work tonight, and then between school and work on Friday, but as for Saturday, I was thinking just a normal party like we talked about.”
“Ah, I can’t believe you have to work tomorrow night, they’ll be so disappointed.” Isabel murmured, “Though I’m sure they’ll be disappointed no matter what, so it’ll be my fault.”
“Mami, you shouldn’t let them get your down.” Victor said, now feeling guilty for hiding from the meal, but his mom just waved away his concerns, though he caught an odd look in her eye.
“Okay, happier topic , I assume you want to keep it small this weekend si? So how about just inviting over Felix, Lake, Mia and Benji and have a good old-fashioned party?”
Wow, last time his mom wanted a big deal made, this time she was more than happy to keep it small. He reasoned that there was less tension in the house now, so there was less riding on the party to fix.
“Sounds perfect Mami.”
“I can make a Tres Leches cake as well!” Isabel announced smiling.
“Only if you let me help Mami, you know how stressed you get with abuelita Nati hovering.” Pilar spoke up.
Okay, he did not expect that from his sister, but it was definitely a good idea, even though it would likely rob Felix and Lake of their grand heist, he was sure they wouldn’t need it. And if it brought his mom and sister closer together, who was he going to complain?
Oh, I don’t know, just a time travelling teen with future knowledge, that was fast going out of use since things kept changing.
“Ahh, thank you sweetheart, but you don’t have to do that.” Isabel said, but Victor could see the hope in her eyes.
“Duh, I know I don’t. That’s why I offered.” Pilar said, her long locks swinging side to side as she shook her head in exasperation, not quite hiding the smile on her face. God, Victor was so happy to see that smile back on her face, before coming back, he hadn’t seen it since before they’d first moved to Atlanta.
“Ahhh, I love you Pilar! Armando, come on, we gotta go shopping before you lift your parents!” Isabel called out to Armando, arms still wrapped around the squirming girl, smirking at her husband, who groaned good naturedly despite already grabbing his wallet and keys.
“Pilar come on, you’re helping, Victor has work and Adrian is at a play-date.” Their father said, smiling when Pilar didn’t even complain. “If we’re lucky this will only be moderately painful for us.”
“Si Papi, but we’re stopping for ice cream on the way home.” Pilar said, her tone making it clear there was no other choice.
“Of course, what do you take me for? I know how to treat my girls, especially with your grandparents coming in later.” Armando said ruefully.
“Okay, remind Mami to get everything for the cake, last time she messed up and was super upset.” Victor whispered to Pilar as she passed him, the girl didn’t need to know last time meant two different things to them.
“C’mon Salazars, party time, party time! Victor, make sure you invite your friends today! And bring Benji!” Isabel called as the trio marched out the door.d
Okay what was going on there?
“So, do you have any idea why my mom is suddenly your personal cheerleader?” Victor asked Benji when he arrived for his shift at Brasstown.
“Umm.. context?” Benji said, eyebrow lifted in confusion as he passed Victor to head into the back room, “Hang on, let me clock in, then you can explain.”
Thankfully, it was a slow day, so the Victor was just lazily wiping down countertops, the only customers currently being their friends sitting to the side.
Friends who definitely weren’t smirking every time they so much as looked at Victor. Felix and Mia had taken great joy in finding out about Victor and Benjis’ cinema trip, the teasing… Well thankfully Victor hadn’t told them all the details, he was pretty sure Felix would explode if they found that out.
Lake just seemed to perk up when the “extra hotness” that was Benji appeared, and Victor couldn’t fault her on the description.
I am so totally gay for him.
Victor blinked his thoughts out of his eyes when Benji came back out, the straps of his Brasstown apron around his neck.
“Oh, we were talking about this weekend, we’re still having a party on Saturday like normal, mom just wants me to make 110% sure that you specifically are coming.” Victor said, “Oh, that reminds me, I need to check if they guys are okay with the time, am I okay to take my break?”
“Sure, go ahead, leave poor little old me to myself. But yes, I will be there, obviously, I’ll bring me, myself and I.” Benji teased, dodging the rag Victor threw his way.
“Aww, poor Benji. Good thing you’re stuck with me all night tomorrow then to close isn’t it? I’ll be sure not to leave you on your own, and besides, I wouldn’t say no to just being with you.” Victor whispered in Benjis ear as he reached behind the boy to set the rag down before pulling back and smiling as he grabbed Benjis’ hand and squeezed it, not caring who saw.
“Go. Now before I change my mind.” Benji said, blushing furiously, squeezing the hand back before shoving the cackling boy out from behind the counter.
Since their movie night, the two boys had been freer with shared contact, neither shied away from hugging in public or being overly affectionate, and they tended to stand as close as physically possible. Almost as if the constant physical contact would make up for restraining from what they really wanted to do. It was nice, but both knew that it wouldn’t be enough for long.
“Yessir Mr. Assistant Manager Sir.” Victor said, snapping off a mock salute and going to join his friends at their table, sticking his tongue out when he saw the knowing look in Mias’ eyes.
“Hey bestie, you on your break?” Felix asked, drawing a chair out for the boy before he even answered.
“Yup, Benji can manage on his own without me.” Victor said, stealing a chunk from Felixs’ muffin.
“Hey!”
“Hey yourself, I paid for that.” Mia teased.
“Yeah, but.. my muffin.” Felix pouted, frowning when Victor just happily munched on another part of the muffin for good measure.
“Sorry Felix, but I’m starving.” Victor said, wiping his hands on a napkin, “But, important part of why I’m here, not just the free discounted muffin. Are you guys still okay with coming to the party on Saturday? I know it’s not gonna be like what you’re used to but... I’d really like if my friends where there.”
Victor couldn’t finish the sentence without looking at the table, suddenly focused on the tiny scrapes and marks left by 100s of customers gone by.
“Hmmm, well there better be some hotness there, is Benji coming?” Lake asked, eyes travelling to the counter were Benji was serving a customer.
“Of course, you think Benji would miss Victors’ birthday?” Mia said before Victor could even respond.
“True that Mia. Honestly, Victor you two would make the hottest couple, pity you’re too hetero.” Lake said, sighing noticeably, “Sorry, not sorry.”
“I’ll be sure to let Benji know we have your approval Lake.” Victor teased, silently excited for when Lake actually found out.
“Okay, but seriously Texas, what’s the sitch here, are we talking cake and candles, formal dinner? I know you said your grandparents are coming?” Lake asked, phone actually face down on the table as she offered him her full attention.
“Yeah, they fly in tonight, and honestly if I had it my way they wouldn’t be here at all and it would just be us going out or something. But.. well they’re pretty old fashion and Christian about everything and apparently a family should spend occasions like this at church, thanking god for our life.” Victor said, scrunching his nose at the idea, “So my mom did pretty well to talk them down to just a standard birthday party. But I’m also kinda worried if they find out Benji is gay, I don’t want him dealing with that crap.”
“Ohhh, so when you said they were old fashioned..” Lake said, eyes wide.
“Yup, old-fashioned, as in massive-ass homophobes.” Victor said plainly, smiling when Felix patted his leg in reassurance under the table, Victor pushed his knee into the boys hand to let him know he appreciated the gesture.
“Oh. Okay, boo them then. But I’m in.” Lake declares, smiling when Mia and Felix confirm the same. “Now, you two we have a mission and Mia? We need your dads credit card.”
“Wait, what?” Mia asks the confusion on her face fading when Lake leans over to whisper in her ear, “OH. Yup, on it. C’mon Felix we need your expertise too.”
“Umm, you guys wanna tell me where you’re taking me?” Felix asked, not really complaining as Lake dragged him from his chair by the hand.
“Shopping.” Lake says, looking pointedly at Victor.
“Wah- OH! Yes, I am in, I know exactly what to get.” Felix declares following Lake out of the café, both babbling excitedly, glancing back at Victor as they left.
“Why do I feel like that doesn’t bode well for small, family and friend style parties?” Victor asked, smiling when Mia helped clear their table and carry their dishes to the counter.
“Probably because it doesn’t. Now, Benji you take care of the birthday boy-to-be, we can’t have something happening before Lake has a chance to give gifts out.” Mia said, handing the boy her plate, and adding some dollar bills to the tip jar, “My two favourite baristas are here, I can’t not tip.”
Oh! They were going shopping to get him presents..
Victor couldn’t help the warmth that glowed in his chest at the thought, he wasn’t materialistic, but.. well, who didn’t like presents from their friends? And unlike last time, where he was more focused on the drama, he’d have noticed that he didn’t actually get anything.
Did that make him selfish?
“Yes ma’am, I will guard him closely.” Benji said seriously, mirroring Victors mock salute from earlier.
“Oh, I’m sure you will Campbell. You boys have fun, but not too much, this is a family establishment.” Mia said, suggestion lacing her voice as she walked out the door.
“Okay, I feel like Mia might know something..” Benji said after a moment.
“Gee, you think?” Victor said, walking back behind the counter, “It’s not like we’re even subtle anymore.”
“True, but we’re not actually… dating or anything, or even being coupley, you know?” Benji said, stumbling over his words slightly.
“I know, but soon yeah? I promise B.” Victor said softly, hand reaching out for Benjis’.
“Soon.” It wasn’t a statement, it was a promise, a promise from Benji to Victor.
To them.
“HEY! You two, quit the googely eyes and help me with this delivery.” Sarah called from the back, making the two jump apart, looking around for the woman, who after a moment appeared in the doorway that lead to the back storeroom.
“What googely eyes? You couldn’t even see us.” Benji said defensively, blush giving him away.
“Uh huh, maybe not. But I have known you since you were knee-high Benji Campbell, and I can see right through you, both of you.” Sarah said, a smile creeping into her usually stern face, “Just don’t make me lose the wager, I have good odds on you two.”
Turning the woman left the two spluttering teens to follow her into the back room.
“You’re betting on us!” Benji asked in disbelief.
“Benji, dear. We all are, since like battle of the bands.” Sarah said, not looking up from the delivery paperwork, “Lisa started a pool, I just joined in. Now come on, this coffee won’t unload itself.”
“I can’t believe she is betting on us.” Victor grumbled, pulling on his jacket as he clocked out, Benji watching from his seat in the breakroom, still a few hours left on his shift.
“I know, it’s kinda funny though.” Benji admitted.
“True, we should definitely find out what date she picked.”
“To help or hinder?” Benji asked through his laughter.
“Hmmm. Depends on how our shifts are next month.” Victor said, smiling at the sound of Benjis’ increasing laughs.
“I’ll see you later B. I have to go help slash rescue my mom before there’s World War Salazar.” Victor said, glancing around and giving the shorter boy a quick peck on the cheek.
“Goodnight Vic, text me how it goes.” Benji said, doing his best not to blush when Sarah cleared their throat from her office.
He failed for the record, no doubt due to Victor laughing again as he called goodbye to Sarah, nodding to the other barista at the counter, Victor walked right out the door and turned to head down the path towards home.
Only to promptly bump into someone tall and solid.
“Oh shit, Victor, my bad.” Andrew said, scrambling to help the fallen boy up.
“Hey Andrew, thanks.” Victor says gingerly, taking the offered hand and dusting himself off once he’s upright.
“Sorry about that, I uhh, I didn’t see you.” Andrew said, looking sheepishly at Victor, hand rubbing the back of his neck in embarrassment.
“I’d hope not, I thought we were passed you knocking me over.” Victor said, meaning to tease, but it came out with more sting than expected.
“I deserve that.” Andrew said, nodding as he scuffed his shoes on the kerb.
“No, well maybe, but you’ve apologised, to me and to my friends. So, I think we’re good on that.” Victor said hesitantly, “What are you doing in such a hurry? Is everything okay?”
Victor really didn’t know why he was asking, it’s not like he was friends with Andrew, he had apologised to Lake and Felix, and he’d seemed genuine, and he’d not outed Victor.
But was that really enough to constitute becoming a ‘good person’.
“Oh, umm yeah man I’m fine. I was actually hoping to talk to you, I just got held up at home, Mia mentioned your shift was finishing around now.” Andrew said.
“Umm why were you talking to Mia about me?” Victor asked, confused.
“I uhh.. I wanted to apologise to you.” Andrew said, lifting his gaze from his feet to look Victor in the eye.
“Me?” Victor said, not hiding his surprise.
“Yes. I, well it’s been pointed out to me recently how shitty my behaviour has been, especially towards you and Lon- Weston. And I don’t like the guy I turned into, so I’m trying to do better.” Andrew said, shrugging as he finished.
“Why?”
“Didn’t you just hea-.”
“No, I understand that, I mean why now? What happened to make you change your mind?” Victor asked, eyes narrowed in suspicion.
“Oh ummm.. someone I thought liked me, pointed it out, and I’m trying to be better for them.” Andrew said. Victor could hear the vulnerability in his voice, he was being serious right now. -
“Someone.. Mia?” Victor asked softly, waiting patiently while Andrew looked everywhere but his face, until he finally nodded.
“Okay.” Victor said simply.
“Okay?”
“Yup, if Mia thinks you’re willing to change, and told you where to find me… well I guess I am going to give you a shot. One shot.” Victor said seriously, smiling when the other boy nodded gratefully, “Good, now, you want to get back in our good books yeah?”
“I guess, I’m not being anyone’s maid if that’s what you’re asking.” Andrew said, smirking when Victor snorted, failing to hide his laugh.
“Kinky, but no as funny as that would be. It’s my birthday on Saturday, we are having a party, and Lake, Felix, Benji and Mia are coming. You’re welcome too, on the condition you are polite to them.”
“Done. Deal, whatever, I’ll be there and be charming as hell.” Andrew said, a genuine smile on his face.
“Good, now, there are a few things I should warn you about. My grandparents are going to be there, and they are ‘old fashioned’ about certain things,” Andrew nodded in understanding of Victor air-quoting old-fashioned, “So no discussing me being gay, my parents and little brother don’t know either, or Lake actually.”
“No problem, like I said, I would never out someone.”
I know, you didn’t last time either.
“I believe you, don’t worry. Second thing, if you see my grandfather pestering Benji, I need you to run interference, talk to him about basketball or ‘macho’ stuff. I don’t want Benji hiding who he is, but I’d rather not give my grandfather the chance to be cruel to him. If you think it’s going to happen, come get me asap.” Victor said, he couldn’t quite believe he was telling Andrew this.
“You got it; I’ll keep an eye on him. You really care about Campbell don’t you?” Andrew said, eyes searching for something in Victors face.
“Yes. Very much so.” Victor said confidently, looking Andrew in the eye.
“Alright, you got it boss. Can you text me the details, time and address?” Andrew said, accepting Victor’s phone and inputting his number.
“Yeah, I’ll add you to the group chat on my way home. I’m sure Mia and Lake won’t mind carpooling.” Victor said as he handed the phone back.
“Got it.” Andrew turned to leave, but paused, turning back to Victor, “Thank you Sala- Victor. I really appreciate the chance.”
“Just don’t waste it, not everyone is as lucky as us that they get a second chance.” Victor replied, turning and walking in the direction of home, where his grandparents would already be.
He didn’t feel 100% confident on giving Andrew this chance, but if Mia had pushed him to talk to Victor, he had to be at least semi-serious, and Victor couldn’t punish Andrew for things he’d not done yet/wouldn’t do.
Taking his phone out, Victor made his decision…
CreekSquad
Victor Salazar added Andrew Spencer to the group
Andrew: Hi
Victor: Okay, so Andrew is coming on Saturday.
Victor: @Mia can you get him up to speed on the current state of Salazar?
Victor: I gave him a quick run through :/
Mia: Yup, will pm you now @Andrew
Andrew: Thnx
Lake: @Victor good job boosting that hotness factor
Victor: Thanks Lake… I aim to please you
Lake: As all should
Pilar: Victor hurry up, Tito is… well just hurry up before someone blows a gasket.
Victor: OMW
Benji: @Pilar didn’t he just get there?
Pilar: Yup. 5 minutes in the door, and I’m already a satan worshipper because of this
Pilar sent a photo
Benji: …..Okay, but that’s not even the worst album cover those guys did
Pilar: IKR!?!?!
Felix: Even I know them and… satan worship seems a long stretch.
Victor walked through the door to their apartment to the dulcet tones of his grandfather urging Adrian to play with a toy rifle he’d brought him, instead of his Frozen wand.
The universe was a serious fan of Déjà vu. Either that or she was a tricky bitch, Victor thought as he took in the sight before him.
“Why are you playing with a fairy wand again?” The older man was demanding of Adrian.
“It’s my Elsa wand from Frozen. It turns things into ice.”
Adrians response was short and simple, his attention on the more important task of spinning around firing, what Victor presumed to be, bolts of magical ice around the room, judging by the comically posed Pilar standing to the side, mid-step.
“You let him play with girls toys?” The older man asked the room, clearly searching for Armando.
“It’s just a toy Papi, he’s having fun.” Armando called from the kitchen where he was helping Isabel clear the table.
Wait, where was the sword excuse? The macho line?
“It’s a girls toy Mando, you don’t want people thinking he’s like that.” The man said gruffly, “Little boys should play with little boys toys!”
Tito didn’t seem to care that his shouting had reached Adrians’ ears, or that the boy had promptly dropped the toy and went right to his room, tears in his eyes.
Hell no.
“Hey, it’s just a toy, and Adrian likes it. So maybe just let him enjoy being a kid for a bit huh?” Victor said, setting his bag down by the door.
“Victor, mijo I didn’t hear you come in.” Tito said, turning in surprise, “How was work, I can’t believe your parents made you get a job, a kid like you should be out chasing pretty girls.”
“Hola Tito. I applied for the job before they knew, they didn’t make me do anything, don’t change the topic. I think you owe Adrian an apology.” Victor said, arms folded across his chest.
If it had been a less tense moment, he’d have laughed at the gobsmacked expression on his grandfather and sisters faces, you didn’t just speak back to the old man, not ever. What he hadn’t expected was Armando to step up, Adrians’ wand in hand and confront his father.
“Victor is right, you owe Adrian an apology. You don’t speak to my boy like that, not in my house, do you hear me?” Armando said, voice offering no alternative.
Okay, where was this Armando last time? Had that much changed?
“Armando, mijo, you can’t be serious?” Victors grandmother said, stepping into the living room.
“I am Mami, Adrian adores you two and you just broke his heart.” The man said bluntly, before holding up the wand, “Now, I am going to give this back to him, and if he comes back out, you will say sorry or nothing at all, sí?”
“Sí, of course.” The old man said, looking distinctly unhappy about it, but after a nudge from his wife agreeing to the termsf.
“Good.” Armando said, walking down the hall and knocking on Adrians door, “Flaco can I come in?”
The man went in after a moment and the topic in the living room turned to more forced, but polite conversation, the grandparents asking Victor and Pilar if they missed Texas, how school was going, how basketball was going.
Victor couldn’t help noticing the look his abeula was giving Pilars clothes, which for the record were sweats and an old Motorhead tee, that Victor was pretty sure used to belong to Isabel.
“So, Victor, how is school?” His grandmother asked, trying to steer the topic to somewhere appealing.
“It’s good, I’m really enjoying it. More than back in Texas if I’m honest, I’ve made a lot of new friends. You’ll meet them all on Saturday.” Victor said, sitting on the arm of the armchair Pilar now occupied, phone in hand, typing rapidly. Victor could see from the corner of his eye it was their group chat.
“Ahh, your mother said you were having a party, are any girls coming?”
Subtle
“Yes actually, Lake and Mia are friends of ours, and will be over tomorrow, there’s Felix from downstairs and Benji and Andrew from across town.” Victor said, knowing where this was going.
“Only two? Mijo, surely you want more girls at your party? Are you dating either of these girls?” His grandmother said, some form of concern on her wrinkled face.
“Nope.” Victor said with a shrug, leaning back to watch Pilars screen, trying not to laugh at the crude account of the current conversation, the girl was providing.
“Victor, you don’t want people to get the wrong idea do you? You’re turning 16 and have never had a girlfriend.” Tito said gruffly, “People will wonder about you.”
“Wonder what?” Victor asked, trying his best to hold his temper in check.
“That you’re… one of them. A homosexual.” Tito said, face twisting in disgust.
“Right… and who exactly is going to wonder that?” Victor spat back, calming when he felt Pilars hand on his back. Focusing on his sisters’ presence Victor brought himself back down from the edge.
“It doesn’t matter who, you don’t want people thinking you’re like that. It’s not right.” The man said, in what Victor assumed was meant to be a kind tone, if it hadn’t been blatantly homophobic, and the blood rushed to Victors’ face, not in embarrassment but in anger.
True anger.
“What’s not right?”
Isabel’s voice carried across conversation, the woman stepping into the room, standing by her children, hands on her hips. She had the same look on her face as she did when Victor and Pilar had been caught doing something they shouldn’t when they were younger.
“The fact your son is almost sixteen and never had a girlfriend.” Tito states, as though it should be obvious.
“Okay, first of all, do not take that tone with me in my own home. Secondly, so what? Victors’ not had a girlfriend, like it’s the end of the world, he either hasn’t found the right gi-person yet, or.. well, that’s probably it isn’t it?” Isabel finished, stumbling slightly as she said person.
Don’t read into it. Don’t read into it.
“And as for him being ‘like that’ Tito, Natalia, if he was, do you think Armando and I would care?” Isabel said, looking expectantly at her in-laws, eyes flickering to her children when she heard Pilars’ phone fall to the floor, Victor was too shocked to make a sound.
But what he saw in his mothers’ eyes, that look, there was a fire only ever seen when her family was threatened.
Can’t not read into that!
“ISABEL! You can not be serious. You can’t tell me you’d be okay with… with that.” Natlia said, hand clutching at the crucifix on her neck.
“I would. And you can be damn sure Armando would too.” The woman replied plainly.
“Armando would what?” The man in question said, appearing at his wife’s shoulder, “Sorry Adrian bribed me into reading him a chapter of Harry Potter, which turned into two chapters.”
“Armando, you.. you can’t agree with what Isabel is saying.” Tito said, arm around his wife, concern on his face.
Anger in his eyes.
“Umm.. I probably do, but just tell me what exactly it is she said first?” Armando said, his joke falling flat at the tense atmosphere.
“Well, your father was just insinuating that being gay is wrong, and that if Victor was gay, we shouldn’t support that.” Isabel said, Victor couldn’t fail to notice when Armando tensed, and his eyes flickered to Victor and Pilars spots on the armchair.
“I see. Papi, that talk isn’t allowed in this house, please refrain from it.” The man said looking his father in the eye as he did, “You can’t judge a person for loving who they love.”
Okay WHAT! Was! Happening!
Victors’ world, this being a world where he had time-travelled, was being thrown upside down again. His parents would be fine with him being gay! What the hell had that research and Benjis’ talk done to them?
“Mando!” Tito said, getting up from his seat.
“No. I won’t hear it. Now it’s getting late, kids why don’t you go to bed sí?”
It was phrased like a question, but both knew it wasn’t. Nodding the two moved to their rooms, but not before both of the hugged their parents hard, Victor couldn’t help but feel Armando hold him tighter than he normally would, or that Isabel lingered a moment extra.
Standing at the doors to their rooms Victor finally breathed, while Pilar just looked stunned.
“Vic, hermano what the hell just happened.”
“Pilar, I can honestly say I have no idea, but… either they know, or Mami and Papi just became super-allies.”
“Victor. They stood up to our abuelas, I think they might.” Pilar said, eyes down the hallway, the rumble of heated conversation flowing up to meet them.
“Yeah.” Victor said, not sure what else to say in the moment. Pilar seemed to sense this, and stepped forward, hugged the boy quickly and returned to her room, leaving Victor to head into his.
Okay universe, thanks for the curveballs, time out?
Victor didn’t’ see his grandparents much the next day, between school and Brasstown, his Friday was blissfully spent without their side looks and grumbles.
But mostly, it was spent staring at Benji, who seemed both delighted and confused to be the subject of Victors gaze.
He didn’t tell their friends what happened, Pilar had stopped live-texting when it got too real, and neither wanted their friends to know what had really been said.
As Victor and Benji locked up Brasstown, both basking in the peacefulness of the night air, Victor turned to look at the shorter boy, reaching forwards to tuck a stray strand of hair behind his ear.
“Hey, B?” Victor said, smiling when Benji jumped at his touch, before leaning into Victors open hand.
“Yeah Vic?”
“I’m gonna tell them this weekend. After my grandparents go home, I’m going to come out to my parents.” Victor said, confidence radiating in his voice.
“Victor.. that’s a really big step, are you sure?” The cautious hope was plain in Benjis’ voice.
“Never been this sure about anything B.” Victor said, leaning forwards to kiss the boy on the cheek, lingering for a moment, smiling at the glazed-over look in Benjis’ eyes.
“But before that, we have to get through my birthday party.” Victor said after a moment of blissful silence, “I expect you there bright and early. I need my emotional support Benji.”
The last part brought Benji out of his trance, earning Victor a smack and a jab in the side.
“You know, we really shouldn’t go around poking each order like this in public B. People might get the wrong idea.” Victor teased.
“You! What? You just kissed me! No one is going to care if I’m poking you.” Benji said, arms flailing wildly.
“Oh? Who said you’d be doing the poking hmm?”
Ha, that got him. Victor declared himself the winner when all Benji could do in response was blush beet red and grumble as Victor wrapped the boy in a hug before they made their way down the street.
It would be fine, what’s the most drama that could happen at a birthday party?
Victor really should have known not to tempt fate like that at this point.
Chapter 14: Bittersweet Sixteen
Say That Again?
CreekSquad
Victor: You guys are coming over soon right?
Victor: Like as ASAP as ASAP can be!!
Mia: Yeah, we’re gonna carpool in like an hour
Benji: Same, mom is leaving me over when she gets home.
Lake: What’s up?
Victor: Remember I mentioned World War Salazar?
Mia: Uh oh..
Victor: Yup. Send help.
Victor: @Felix get your ass up here faster than ASAP
Victor: please..
Pilar: plz. Plz. Plz. Plz.
Pilar shared a voice note.
Andrew: Wow.. is that your mom?
Lake: Yikes…
Pilar: Grandma, Mom is actually being… good.
Victor: HEEEEELP
Felix: OMW, I was just picking some stuff up from town, gimmie 15
Victor: Thank you!
Victor wasn’t kidding about war breaking out in the house.
His grandparents hadn’t been too happy with his parents’ liberal stance on certain matters, and they were making it pretty clear. His abuela had been sniping at Isabel all morning, criticising everything from the food she’d prepared, to the decorations, to the clothes she’d ‘allowed’ the Pilar to wear, a band tee, and some artfully-torn jeans, which meant that apparently his mom was promoting sin or something…
“Letting her run around dressed like that, it’s shameful, what will people think of her. What will people think of us!” The old woman said, her voice shrill with rage, while her finger pointed accusingly at Pilar.
“This is your fault Isabel. We warned you about being lax as a mother, and now look how your children act.”
“Natalia, I am warning you..”
“You’re unfit to be a mother, to be the mother to my grandchildren.”
“Hey!” Pilar shouted, stepping out from behind their mom, “Don’t you dare talk to her like that, she’s the best mom we could ever have asked for, better than you’d have been.”
For a moment it seemed Pilar had stunned the woman into keeping her peace…. Almost.
“You, do not speak to me like that. So disrespectful, you will be coming to church with me tomorrow, and you will dress like a young lady should. You need to learn som-.”
“For gods sake Natalia! Enough, you don’t get to tell my family when they go to church, now leave the girl alone, it’s a t-shirt, and we don’t care what people think so long as Pilar is comfortable and happy. And you’re taking those away from her right now, so I’m warning you. Stop it.” Isabel said, slamming her hand against the counter, sending a cloud of flour into the air and into the mother and daughters’ hair. A moments silence descended before Isabel chuckled and turned to her daughter.
“Pilar, amor, don’t listen to her, you look lovely as usual. Now pass me the cloth, we both look like we have really bad dandruff.”
It was obvious that this was an attempt by Isabel to dismiss her mother-in-law, and it was clear from the force with which she slammed the master bedroom door that the older woman didn’t appreciate it.
“I’m so sorry kids. It’s not fair how they’re acting, maybe we should have kept quiet last night.” Isabel said, shoulders slumped.
“No. Mami, don’t say that, we were so proud of you and Papi last night, don’t apologise.” Pilar said softly, glancing at Victor as she did, taking Isabels’ hand in hers.
“You’re right. You are. Thank you Pilar, what would I do without you both.” Isbael said, straightening up, throwing her shoulders back, looking ready to face down hell, “Okay, lets have a party. Pilar, help me get this cleaned up, Victor go get changed already, you’re still in your pj’s.”
Nodding, and backing out of the kitchen, Victor walked quietly down the hall, he could hear his grandparents angry voices from his parents’ room but he didn’t have the willpower to stop and listen to them. By the time the boy had changed into nicer clothes and calmed himself, he could hear Felix’s enthusiastic pounding on the apartment door, and the sound of bodies flooding out of rooms, Adrians excitement clear from the rapid sound of his steps.
“Felix, thank god you’re here.” Victor said as he opened the door, genuinely happy to see the widely smiling boy, laughing at the armful of presents, and flowers the boy was carrying.
“Hey Salazars!” Felix said, pushing past Victor, smiling gratefully as Pilar took the boxes from his arms, setting them on the dinning room table. “Thanks P, and these, are you for you Mrs. S.”
With a flourish Felix handed the massive bouquet of flowers he had brought to a blushing Isabel.
“Ahh, Felix, sweetie you shouldn’t have.” Isabel said, a giant smile on her face, “But I am so glad you did, I love them. Let me get some water for them.”
“Felix, welcome, almost like you never leave here these days, between you and Benji.” Armando greeted the boy, slapping him on the shoulder as they laughed, and Armando guiding them into the kitchen, “Felix these are mis padres Tito and Natalia, Mami, Papi, this is our neighbour Felix. He’s in school with Victor, he's been good to the kids, showing them around their new school.”
“Hello, it is a pleasure to meet you both, I gotta say, I am a massive fan of your grandkids.”
How did the goofy boy manage to charm people so easily? Victor watched as his grandparents greeted Felix, the picture of southern politeness. After all it wouldn’t do to be horrible in front of strangers, that was reserved for family.
“Victor, buddy, Mia, Lake and Andrew are gonna be here soon, have you heard from Benji yet? I kinda expected him to be here already.” Felix said once he’d extracted himself from the introductions.
“Umm yeah, he said he’d be here same time as the rest. But he hasn’t messaged in a while.” Victor said, frowning as he glanced at his phone.
“Aw, don’t worry Vic, I can be enough friendly company for you till Benji gets here.” Felix said, puffing up his chest proudly.
“Ah I don’t know Felix, I don’t think Victor likes anyone quite as much as he likes Benji.” Pilar said, handing both boys a bottle of soda, smirking as Victor turned red.
“Oh, true, hey did you hear about their movie date?” Felix said, leaning in as if conferring secrets of the most sensitive nature.
“Umm, yeah, they went to see that superhero movie Benji has been raving about, Spider-Man right?” Pilar said, confused as to why the boy was bringing this up. They all knew about Victor and Benjis cheesy mate-date.
“Oh yessirie they did, but did you know that Victor here, darling that he is, upgraded them to VIP and bought a metric-tonne of snacks for Benji? And did you also know the VIP seats are.. well, they’re like this double recliner.. perfect for couples I hear.”
Victor was doing his best to melt into the floor, but it seemed the universe was hell bent on keeping that particular rule of physics. Time travel was the limit then?
Pilar was cackling happily, sticking her tongue out when Victor shushed her, and Isabel looked up from her conversation with Adrian to check on them.
“Guys, come on. It really wasn’t that big a deal. He said he never got to do stuff like that with Derek, I wasn't gonna not do something nice for him.” Victor said, pleased when they sobered up slightly at the mention of Benjis’ ex.
“Yeah, you did it because you like him and you want to show him you’re better than Derek.” Felix said, arms crossed over his chest, nodding in satisfaction when Pilar agreed with him.
“So?” Victor said, not bothering to deny it, “Anyone could do better than Derek, it doesn’t take much to go above the bare minimum.”
“Yeah, but you go above and beyond what most would, Benji has to know you like him.” Pilar said.
“He… he does. We might have discussed it and discussed us being more than friends.” Victor said, eying the tips of his sneakers with great interest.
Silence wasn’t the reaction he expected, and once he’d braved looking up from his shoes, his mind blanked at the looks on Felix and Pilars faces.
Felix, was a picture of shock and joy, somehow fitting onto the boys face it the form of a slightly crazed smiled.
Pilar though, she was smiling softly, and there were tears in her eyes! Why was she crying!
“Pilar, wait, what’s wrong?” Victor said, forgetting his own concerns.
“Nothing you dummy, I jus- hermano I am so happy for you. After all the hiding, you deserve to be happy, you deserve Benji.” Pilar said, stepping into the offered hug from Victor and squeezing him tight.
“You tell anyone I hugged you and your dead though.” Pilar said as the two stepped apart.
“Ha, good luck with that, look at mom and dad right now, and Titos face.” Victor whispered, nodding to the living room, where said faces all looked shocked.
“Ughhh. Damn it.” Pilar muttered, despite her smile.
“Okay, this is cute, you two are so cute. I’m so glad I get to be the third Salazar kid.” Felix announced, throwing an arm over the two siblings shoulders and turning them to face the rest of the room.
“Hey! I’m the third Salazar kid.” Adrian called, pulling his eyes from whatever unboxing video he was watching with Isabel to glare at Felix, almost a challenge.
“Seriously, how do I keep forgetting that, sorry buddy.” Felix said genuinely looking embarrassed.
“Hmm. I’ll forgive you on one condition.” The young boy said seriously, hands folded on the table in front of him as though brokering a deal with the mafia.
“Name it.”
“You tell me what you got Victor for his birthday.”
“Oh, yes that I can do.” Felix said, stepping forward and whispering in Adrians ear.
“Ohhhh, but he doesn’t have a-.”
“Shhh! Not yet he doesn’t.” Felix said with a wink.
"Ohhhhhhhhh."
What have they done?
Victor was worrying about what his friends had gotten him now, he didn’t want a fuss made and didn’t want them spending silly amounts of money just on him, but his grumbling was cut off by knocking on the door.
“I got it.” Victor called as he quickly moved to open the door, pulling it open to reveal a present laden trio, “Guys! What did you do!”
Mia and Lake were standing on either side of Andrew a mountain of bags and boxes between the trio.
“Well hello to you too Victor.” Mia said, stepping forward to kiss him on the cheek, “Happy Birthday.”
“Ohh, let me get in on that too!” Lake said, stepping up to kiss his other cheek, pulling Mia and the many bags though the door into the kitchen, “We have arrived, and we brought many, many presents.”
Victor groaned when he heard his mom gasp, turning to look at Andrew who was standing awkwardly in the hall with the boxes still in his hands.
“Hey, listen they took a cheek each, and the only place left to go is in between so….” Andrew shuffled for a moment, shifting everything into one hand before reaching out and lightly patting the boy on the head. “Happy Birthday Salazar, you wanna let me in?”
“Oh, shit yeah come on in, thanks by the way.” Victor said between chuckles, grabbing some of the boxes and leading the other guy over to the table which was now buried under his friends gifts.
“Guys, this is lovely, but it’s way too much.” Victor protested as Lake expertly sorted and stacked everything on the table.
“Hush you, we have 16 years of presents to make up for, and you only turn 16 once.” Lake said matter of factly.
False.
“Umm.. how do you have 16 yea-.”
“Just roll with it man, trust me.” Andrew said, handing off his own bundle to Lake.
“Sure…”
“Victor, who are your friends?”
Victor turned to see his grandfather standing watching them all, eyes flicking from Mia and Lake to Victor.
“Tito these are my friends. This is Andrew, we play basketball together.” Victor said, pointing to the taller boy first.
“Pleasure to meet you sir.” Andrew stepped forward, shaking Tito’s hand.
“A polite young man, that is good to see these days.” Tito said, nodding at the boy who managed to look bashful at the praise.
Maybe Andrew should take up acting.
“And these two?” Tito said, looking expectantly at Lake and Mia.
“Oh, I'm Lake lovely to meet you, it’s clear where Victor gets his good looks.” Lake said sweetly, smiling when she heard Armando protest.
“I’m Mia, nice to meet you sir. We’re big fans of your grandson.” Mia said prettily, shaking the offered hand.
“Oh? If you are such big fans of his, tell me, why aren’t either of you dating him?” The man asked bluntly, smiling as though he’d said the most innocent thing in the world.
“Oh umm.. we’re just friends.” Mia said, suddenly awkward.
“Tito, I told you, we’re just friends, they’re my best friends.” Victor said, raising an eyebrow as his grandfather made to protest.
“So, Mr. Salazar, Victor mentioned you followed basketball, what’s your team?” Andrew cut in, halting the brewing argument before it had a chance to even simmer to the top.
“Oh he did? Well, back home I followed-.”
And the old man was off, talking to Andrew animatedly, while the boy nodded in time, Armando joinng them shortly to add his opinion.
Thank god for Andrew Spencer.
God what a weird thought.
“I am so sorry about that.” Victor said, turning to the girls.
“Oh don’t worry about it Victor.” Lake said, waving his concerns away, “Now, you did promise hotness, where’s Benji?”
“I umm.. I don’t actually know, he said he’d be here same time as you.”
“Aww. Pity, wonder would your grandfather give him the same questions.” Mia teased softly, not realising Lake had heard her.
Victor watched as the girl went ramrod straight, head turning to stare at Victor, who could practically see the lines joining up in her head.
“The stoplight party, you wore yellow, and it wasn’t for Mia.”
“Yes.”
“They were a late comer, but they did show up.”
“Yes.”
“Did they play beer pong with us?” Lake asked, voice hushed.
“….yes.”
“Oh. OH. Oh my god, that is totes adorable.” Lake gushed, clapping manically, pulling Victor into a hug.
“You two, ugh, you will totally be the hottest couple in school.” The girl said matter-of-factly once she released Victor and stepped back to look at a nervous Mia.
“Lake..” Mia started, rubbing her arm nervously.
“What?”
“No one knows Lake, well, not my parents and grandparents at least.” Victor said, glancing over to where his grandmother was watching him closely, clearly pleased to see him so close with a girl.
“Oh, oh shit, Victor of course, I won’t say a word.” Lake said, the sincerity of her promise made Victor pull her into another hug.
“Thank you.” Victor said earnestly.
“And this won’t change a thing, just makes like 101 things clearer in hindsight.” the girl said, flicking her eyes over to Mia.
“Okay, that’s fair, okay so you, Mia, Felix, Pilar and Andrew know.” Victor said, “And Benji obviously.”
“Ohhh, does he know you like him?” Lake said in an excited whisper, Mia leaned forward, curious to hear as well.
“Umm. Yes, but if you want the story go ask Felix, he knows. I can’t tell that again today, I can only blush so much.”
“Hey, Felix, c’mere.” Lake said immediately, turning on her heel and dragging the boy down the hall.
“Well… that went well.” Mia said simply, arms behind her back as she rocked on her toes.
“Yeah, I mean it was 100% Lake, but that’s not a bad thing.” Victor said, placing an arm on Mias’ shoulder, pulling her into a half hug, “You have no idea how much it means to me that you’re all so chill about this.”
“Hey, you’re right I don’t know, but we know how important you are too us, so we have an idea. Now come on, gimmie the tour of the party.” Mia teased, smiling when Victor laughed and lead her a 5-step tour around the kitchen, stopping back at the present laden table.
“Ah, Mia so nice to see you. Thank you so much for all this, it’s far too much.” Isabel announced, waving her hands to the pile of gifts.
“Oh don’t, that was totally Lake, and we like to treat our friends.” The girl put simply, shrugging as though it wasn’t an inane number of boxes and bags on their dining room table.
“Well, all the same, I think even Victor will admit that it’s too much.” Isabel said, smiling when Victor nodded in agreement.
“Oh, don’t worry, it’s not all for Victor Mia said, reaching over the pile, digging around until she found what she was looking for.
“Ah ha! Here you go, this is for you.” Mia said kindly, handing Isabel a slim box.
“I… for me?” the woman stammered, clumsily opening the box at Mias’ prompting, “Oh.. oh my Mia, thank you! It’s beautiful. I can’t take this though, it’s too much.”
“No, it’s not. Victor told us about the whole Benji thing..” Mia said, trailing of when Isabels' face dropped in shame, “And he told us how hard you’ve been trying to educate yourself, to be better, so I think that deserves a present.”
Isabel still looked ashamed, lost in her memories of how they’d acted that night to Benji.
“So please Mrs. Salazar, please accept it” Mia said, handing the beautiful silk scarf back to the woman.
“On one condition.”
“Name it.” Mia said eagerly.
“You and Lake, you call me Isabel.” The woman said, wrapping the girl in a soft hug, cradling the bundle of fabric in her arms gently.
“Of course, Isabel.” Mia said, saying the name carefully, as though testing it out.
“Ah, I have to show Armando, thank you again.” The woman said, resting her hand Mia’s cheek for a moment, “I’ll thank Lake when she’s done… doing whatever it is she’s doing to Felix right now. Victor amor, where is Benji?”
“I don’t know Mami, I texted him, but he hasn’t got back to me yet, I was gonna give it a minute before I tried calling.” Victor said, checking his phone again as he spoke.
Still no reply.
“Hmm.. if he needs a lift your father can go get him I’m sure.” The woman said, turning and practically skipping over to where Armando was sitting with Pilar and Natalia, shaking her new scarf out for Pilar to see.
“Mia, you guys didn’t need to get my mom a gift, but thank you.” Victor said, realising that no matter how much he said they didn’t need to, it wouldn’t change his friends kindness.
“Oh hush, your mom deserves it, and it made her happy. Now, where is your boytoy at? I thought he’d be here?” Mia said.
“Ha, you know, that’s not the first time I heard that today.” Victor said, looking over to where Felix and Lake were having a very intense discussion, both glancing at Victor every so often, and occasionally his family. Victor realised Felix was giving Lake the run down on everything she didn’t know, and from the looks the girl was giving his grandparents, Felix wasn’t leaving anything out.
But before Victor could go anywhere, the door knocked again, and before he could blink, Victor was there pulling it open, the sound of Mia’s laughter ringing in his ears.
“Benji!” Victor said, stepping forward so they were hidden by the open door, and pulling the boy into a hug, placing a quick peck on his cheek, “You made it!”
“I did, any you’re squishing your gifts, move back you beast!” Benji protested, shielding the box in his arms.
Wait, gifts? As in plural?
“B, you didn’t have to-.” Victor started.
“Ah ahh! Nope, I didn’t have to, I wanted to.” Benji stated, stepping into the apartment when Victor waved him in, happily waving to Armando and Isabel, reaching down to offer the passing Adrian a high-five.
“Benji! You made it! Can we do the Frozen songs now!” The little boy asked, literally bouncing with excitement.
“Sure buddy, maybe later though yeah? I just got here, and I don’t have my guitar, so we’ll need to do it without.” Benji said kindly, and genuinely, it wouldn’t be their first sing along.
“Awesome!” Adrian declared, rushing back excitedly to inform Pilar, who only smiled at the boy and ruffled his hair, pointedly ignoring their grandfathers indignant harumph.
“So, how has it been so far?”
“Oh you know the usual, my grandfather is annoyed I’m not already engaged to Mia and/or Lake.” Victor said, nose scrunching in distaste, “I mean, I love those girls, but not like that.”
“Well, I’d hope not mr, otherwise I’d feel might lead on.” Benji teased, nudging Victor, handing him the box he was carrying, “Happy Birthday Vic.”
One box, one big box that wasn’t a drawing. Victor thought, doing his best not to feel disappointed, and failing.
Stop that. You have so much more with Benji than a drawing.
“Hey, if they say anything that leaves you feeling uncomfortable, come find me, yeah?” Victor said, stopping Benji, hand resting on his shoulder.
“Yeah, don’t worry V, I’m a big boy.” Benji said softly.
“Oh I’m sure you are, now c’mon, lets go meet the family.” Victor said teasingly, guiding a flustered Benji to where his parents and grandparents sat, Andrew off to the side making polite conversation with Pilar and Mia.
“Abeulos, this is my friend Benji, we go to school together and he works with me in Brasstown, he’s the assistant manager.” Victor said, trying not to gush too much about the boy, he saw his grandfathers’ eyes narrow at how close the two stood, and had to actively steady himself to avoid stepping away. He wasn’t going to let an out of touch old man tell him how to act.
“Good to meet you.” Tito said, offering Benji a short handshake, while Natalia nodded politely.
“It’s lovely to meet you both, Victor has told me so much about you both.” Benji said, the picture of politeness.
“Really? He never mentioned you?” Natalia said coolly.
“Mami.” Armandos voice warned.
Did they know about Benji? They couldn’t.
Victor bristled as he realised that his grandparents were just being rude for the sake of it, clearly not happy with how their visit was going and taking it out on Benji.
“Anyway, Mami, that’s everyone here.” Victor said, “Do you want any help with the food?”
“Victor no, of course not. It’s your birthday, go sit with your friends.” Isabel said, waving the boy back to the kitchen.
“Ohhhhh open your presents!” Adrian shouted excitedly.
“Haha, maybe in a bit Falco.” Armando said, picking the boy up and carrying him under his arm, “First let’s get us some ice cream, we need the energy for today si?”
“YES! ICE CREAM!!!”
“Oh lord no… That’s going to backfire.” Isabel said, shaking her head fondly, before getting out of her chair, hugging Benji as she passed, “Benji, always a please to have you here, did you have an problems getting over?”
“Oh, no, umm just something came up at home. Don’t worry about it.” Benji said, and for a moment, there was something in his eyes that made Victor doubt the boys statement, but it passed in a second, and Victor wasn’t sure he’d seen it.
“Well, you boys go mingle, then presents, then cake okay?” Isabel said, shooing the teens into the dining room.
“Thanks Mami.” Victor said, hugging the woman gently.
“Ah, my little boy, all… Nope. Not crying, not today.” Isabel said, wiping her eyes as she turned and followed Armando to the kitchen, pulling out everything needed for Adrians ice-cream mountain.
“Aww, your mom is so sweet Victor, hey Benji.” Felix said, dropping into the chair beside the two boys, smiling at them.
“Yeah, she seems awesome, and Victor your dad… pheww, bodes well you for future someone special.” Lake said, winking at Benji as she did.
“Lake!” Victor said, glancing at Benji, face darkening as he blushed.
“Oh..” Benji said softly, looking to Victor who just shrugged.
“She worked it out, mostly.”
“Oh, okay.” Benji said happily, sitting back in his chair.
“So… what are we gonna do?”
“We could do spin the bottle or something, Truth or Dare maybe?” Pilar suggested, waving the empty soda bottle in her hand. The teens had all gathered round Victor now, sitting in a loose circle, either on chairs or on the floor.
“I’m game.” Andrew said, seating himself on the floor beside Mia.
“Hmm, sounds like a plan, but we gotta keep it PG though, parents and grandparents…” Victor said, glancing into the sitting room where his grandparents were still sitting, watching them all closely.
“Of course, let’s see who is first?” Mia asked, taking the bottle from Pilar, placing it in on the floor between them all and spinning it.
“Okay, Felix, Truth or Dare.”
And so the game began.
“Oh god, Lake, you can’t ask people that.” Andrew said, face in his hands while the grouped laughed at his helpless look.
“Ugh, fine, ya bore me Spencer.” Lake said, shaking out her long blonde locks.
“Oh, I’m sorry, I am not telling you that. I told you enough to cover my truth.” Andrew said, grabbing the bottle and spinning it, frowning when it landed on Benji who requested a truth, “Hmmm dammit Campbell, you’re pretty much an open book, and I’m fresh out of ideas.”
Andrew paused for a moment, looking round the group, smirking at the silly state of some of them.
“I got it, what was your most awkward break-up?” Andrew said.
“Huh, umm I guess any girl before I came out.” Benji admitted with a shrug, “Though lets be real, Derek is probably the best answer there.”
“Shit man, I’m sorry, I totally spaced on that being so recent, my bad.” Andrew said, looking genuinely guilty.
“Hey, no worries, it’s in the past, look to the future right?” Benji said, smiling. No one in the group missed it when his eyes flicked to Victor.
“Ookay, enough cheesy games, Victor, Adrian is gonna explode if you don’t open your gifts!” Pilar said, standing up and waving the excited boy into the room, their parents smiling and following, Victor wasn’t sure where his grandparents were, they’d been there just a moment ago.
“Alright, alright, lets get this over with.” Victor said, exaggerating a sigh as he let Felix pull him from his chair and march him over too the table they’d stacked the presents on.
“Okay, Lake you seemed to have a system for this, where do I start.” Victor said, turning to the girl in question. Stepping forward, head titled, Lake ran her eye over the presents, finger tapping against her lip thoughtfully.
“Felix, non-Victor stuff first yeah?” She said, whirling around to face the boy.
“Yes. Definitely, sorry buddy, maybe sit for a second.” Felix said, stepping up and splitting a smaller pile of parcels and handing them out to the other Salazars'.
“What? Kids this is too much, we really can’t accept these.” Armando said, moving to hand the box back to Felix, frowning when the boy stepped out of reach.
“Mr. S, it’s rude to refuse a gift, please?” Felix said, pulling out the puppy dog eyes.
“You know those won’t work on me right kid?” Armando said, slowly retracting his outstretched arm, turning to Isabel, who was looking between the scarf around her neck and the second parcel with her name on it.
“We… I don’t know, it’s too much.” She said, tears in her eyes, though Victor wasn’t sure if they were happy tears or not.
“Hey, this is already here. If you don’t take it, it’s just coming home with me.” Lake said, shrugging.
“Mami, Papi, it’s fine, open them.” Victor said, eager to see what had been bought. This was a massive change from last time, so he had zero knowledge on that.
“Okay.” Isabel said, carefully peeling the paper from the meticulously wrapped box, gasping when she saw what was inside, a small angel figurine, carved out of wood lay nestled in tissue paper, “It’s beautiful.”
“We know how important your faith is too you.” Mia said softly, smiling when Isabel wrapped Mia in a hug, doing the same for Felix, before moving too the living room and setting the figure on the mantle, between a photo of Isabel and Armando on their wedding day, and a family portrait.
Armando was shocked when he pulled out tickets for an Atlanta Hawks games, gaping at the group of smiling teens, Lake pointing her thumb to Andrew who just shrugged in response.
Pilar had a similar response to the box she opened, which was filled to the brim with vintage band tee’s. It wasn’t as expensive as Armandos, but it was clear to see it was every bit as valuable to the girl who had longed for a group of friends who accepted her and what she liked. Struggling to keep a straight face, Pilar wrapped Felix in a bear hug, laughing when the boy cried out for breath, before doing the same to Mia and Lake, surprising everyone when she offered Andrew a quick hug.
The nice moment was cut off by Adrians’ delighted scream as he unboxed the giant Elsas’ Palace LEGO set.
“Oh wow, oh wow, oh wow, thankyouthankyouthankyou!” The boy danced around, showing off the box to his parents.
Victor couldn’t believe how generous his friends were, the difference in timelines was becoming night and day.
The fact they, even Andrew, had went to the effort for his family astounded him.
“Okay, now the actual birthday boy!” Felix said, clapping his hands together as Benji and Mia stepped up and started handing out gift after gift. As he opened each of them he was more and more shocked. His friends had pulled together and gotten him a new Playstation 4 console, and a stack of games, and controllers.
“Well, now you can invite us over for games nights.” Felix crowed, clearly the mastermind behind the plan. Besides that, Lake and Mia had gotten the boy a crazy amount of clothes, with Lake commenting that while his hoodie heavy wardrobe worked, it wouldn’t kill him to branch out.
Finally Benji handed Victor a box, smiling softly as he did. Victor opened the box, and was surprised to find a note on the top written in Benji’s messy scrawl;
‘Happy Birthday Victor, this is part one of two. Ask me in private for the second part x Benji’
Victor took the note and carefully placed it in his pocket, not showing anyone else, but smiling widely at Benji, laughing as he unwrapped the present.
“Seriously? You got me all of them?” The boy said, holding up the Marvel movie box set.
“Well, you said we would do a movie marathon, and I figured you’d need your own set.” Benji said, smiling when Victor only shook his head, leaning forward to hug the boy, whispering in his ear.
“Thanks B, I look forward to part two.”
Victor pulled away, not before noticing Benji shiver as he’d whispered in his ear.
“Ah Isa, I think Benji might be moving in at this point, look how many movies are in that thing.” Armando said, dramatically pointing a shaking finger at the boxset.
“Wow, Benji, this has it all, wait, hang on. This box is custom made. Did you make this yourself?” Felix asked, examining the box closely.
“Umm, kinda. The boxset isn’t out yet, and I didn’t want to just hand over a stack of movies.” Benji said blushing when Isabel patted him on the arm and commented on how thoughtful the boy was.
Victor thanked his friends again, who then moved into the living room after Isabel promising cake once she’d cleared the dinning room, and instructing Victor to take his presents to his room. After making sure everything was carefully sorted and stacked on his desk, after all he would properly sort it later, he returned to the kitchen only to be greeted to the sight of an agitated Tito and a frustrated Armando.
“You cannot condone this mijo.” Tito was saying furiously, struggling to keep his voice down. Isabel was watching from the side, he hand covering her mouth, eyes darting from Tito to Natalia, “I won’t allow it.”
“You don’t get to tell me what is allowed in my house Papi.” Armando said, voice rising in anger.
“Wow, what’s going on?” Victor asked as he stepped into the kitchen.
“Victor! I’m sorry, I really am, I know you wanted today to go smoothly.” Armando said, mouth twisting as he worked out what to say next. “Your grandfather overheard something earlier, kiddo, about Benji.”
“Oh.” Victor said, heart jumping to his throat. He could see past his dad, where his friends were all laughing, watching some video on YouTube Felix was showing them.
As he watched, Benji looked up and offered him a small wave.
“It’s not natural Victor, I won’t allow you too expose your brother to that sort of thing, he’s already enough of a marica as it is!” The man said, temper finally overflowing and shouting the last part.
“How dare you Tito!” Isabel snapped, jumping forward to defend her baby.
“Quiet you. This is on you, you’re a terrible mother.” Natalia said, jumping into the fray.
“Oh god, not this again, don’t start Natalia, I won’t hear it.”
“You let them be corrupted, that boy in there is ruining our grandchildren.” Tito said, pointing right at Benji, Victors friends staring from the room, the allure of YouTube ruined by the homophobic ranting of Victors grandparents.
“Hey! That boy is my best friend.” Victor said, stepping up to his grandfather, staring the man in the eye, “You do not talk about him that way.”
“Victor, you’re just confused, you know it’s not right what he does. I heard him talking, playing that game, talking about breaking up with boys.” Tito blustered.
Ahhh, that’s how they found out.
“So? Benji had a boyfriend, big deal, the world didn’t end did it.” Victor said hotly, flicking his eyes to his friends.
Benji was sitting straight up, face pale, while Pilar had an arm around his shoulder, doing her best to comfort him, while Felix did the same on his other side, whispering reassurances to him. All of them were glaring at the elder Salazars.
“It’s wrong! It goes against God.” Tito said, spittle flying from his mouth as he roared, “I want him out, and away from my family. I won’t allow that anywhere near this home, you’d all do well to go to church tomorrow and wash that sin off of you.”
“Say that again.” Victor said, temper flaring.
“I said what I said boy, don’t disrespect me, it’s clear your father hasn’t done the job we thought he had. Letting you consort that that type of person. It’s disgraceful, you should be ashamed. You’ll get that thing away from you, if you know what’s good for you.” Tito said, glaring heavily at Armando and Victor.
“Hey, don't you dare threaten my boy!” Armando shouted, stepping forward, only stopping when Victor signalled him to do so.
Fuck it.
“If you have a problem with Benji being gay Abuelo Tito, Abeula Natalia, then you have the same problem with me.” Victor said, arms crossing over his chest.
The reaction was almost comical, the shocked gasp from his grandmother, his grandfather stumbling back as though he’d been struck, someone in the other room, probably Andrew let out a “Damn son, you tell him!”.
“What… what are you saying.” Tito muttered.
“You know what I’m saying.” Victor challenged, adrenaline keeping him going.
“Victor, mijo, are you saying what I think you are?” Isabel said, stepping forward, a gentle smile on her face, reassurance in her eyes, the same shone in Armandos as he nodded gently when Victor looked to him.
“Si.. Mami, Papi, I need to tell you something.” Victor said, taking his mothers hand in his, before breathing in deep.
“Go on Flaco, whenever you’re ready.” Armando said, striding forward to place a hand on Victors shoulder, reassurance flowing from his touch. Victors friends stood up and hesitantly moved to the edge of the dining room, watching with held breath.
Benji was smiling softly at him, though he still looked pale, Pilar had tears in her eyes, if he’d been paying attention, Victor would notice so did the rest of them, even Andrew, though he’d deny it.
He really shouldn’t have tempted fate last night.
Taking a breath before he felt a half-smile tugging at his lips, Victor finally spoke.
“I’m gay.”
Chapter 15: Bittersweet Sixteen
A Leap of Faith
Victor was smiling, smiling so widely that his cheeks were starting to ache from it, the half-smile that it had begun as, quickly had stretched into a toothy grin, that was a full blown smile the moment his mother nodded and stepped forwards to hug him. The moment he heard the sound of Felix and Pilar high fiving.
When he saw Benjis’ glowing smile, standing out from the faces of his friends or Lake and Mia hugging each other with tears in their eyes.
“Ahh, my boy. I am so proud of you, you know that right?” His mother said, whispering in his ear, she’d pulled him into a hug seconds after those words had left his lips and had yet to let go, “You can take a breath now amor, it’s all going to be okay.”
After a moment Victor stepped back from his mothers’ embrace, looking too his father, who stood beside them, the mans’ hand still resting on his sons’ shoulder.
“Papi?”
“Victor… I… oh flaco, I am so proud of you.” Armando said smiling widely, tears in his eyes, as he gathered his son in his arms and pulled him in close. Victor was revelling in the love of his parents, their acceptance, and their unrestrained joy.
And then it was ruined by the dulcet tones of a moustachioed, old homophobe.
“Armando! You cannot allow this!”
“Papi, not now.” Armando said, turning to shield Victor from the old man.
“You can’t allow this!”
“Allow it? To hell with allowing it, I’m supporting it.” Armando fired back, drawing himself up proudly, “You don’t get to dictate who my son loves. And I will love him, whether he is straight, gay or anything in between.”
“Disgusting. The boy will come back with us, he’ll learn to be normal again, or I will make him normal.” Tito threatened darkly, the implications of what he would do not lost on anyone, Lakes’ shocked gasp was drowned out by the angry growls from Felix and Andrew.
“Tito…. amor, you don’t mean that.” Natalia said, stepping forward, face pale.
“Do not interrupt me. You are letting his sickness mess with your head Natalia. See, this is what they do.” Tito roared, pointing at Victor who had stepped out from behind his father, regarding the old man coolly.
“Oh, and what are you going to do? Pray the gay away? Trust me I tried.” Victor said, voice shaking with emotion, “But guess what, it doesn’t work, because there’s nothing wrong with me being gay, or liking Ben- boys.”
God damn it, even in serious moments like this I can’t not think of Benji.
Victor’s stumble wasn’t missed by anyone though, his grandfather whirling to glare at Benji, who glared back defiantly, flanked by their friends, Andrew stepping forward as a show of force, arms crossed as he regarded the smaller man in distaste.
“Don’t even think about it Mr. Salazar.”
“Bah, you are all sinners and fools. Victor if you do not repent, if you don’t want to try? Then I will beat this out of you, like your father should have! And you would do well to consider your own sins.” Tito said, spinning to point at Benji again.
“Tito!” Isabel shouted, shock colouring her voice, drowning out her mother-in-laws own shocked gasp.
“Get out.” Armando said bluntly shocking everyone, even his father as the old man took a stumbling step back, “Just get out. Please.”
The man sounded so broken right now, all Victor wanted to do was hug his father, apologise for-.
No, this isn’t my fault, it’s theirs.
“Mando? You don’t mean that.” Natalia said, stepping forwards, stopping when her son raised his hand to halt her.
“I mean it, it kills me, but I mean it. You don’t get to threaten my son like that, or anyone here. Go pack, stay in our room until we are done here, and I will drive you both to the airport, today.” Armando said, looking his mother in the eyes as he spoke slowly and clearly. Moving in stunned silence the two elder Salazars moved out of the room, down the hall. No one spoke until they heard the door close, and even then they waited a moment before speaking.
“Papi, I am so sorry.” Victor said, forgetting his earlier logic.
“No Victor, mijo. You don’t have a damn thing to apologise for. So don’t, never ever say sorry for being who you are.” Armando said, reaching up to wipe the tears from his sons eyes, before glancing down at Adrian who had attached himself to Isabels’ arm when the shouting had started up, “Isabel, why don’t we give the kids a few minutes before we cut the cake si?”
“Wait, why are Tito and Nati so mad?” Adrian interrupted them through his own tears.
“Ahh.. Flaco it’s hard to explain.” Armando said awkwardly, looking to Victor for support.
“Well buddy, you know what I said just now? That I like boys?” Victor said softly, kneeling down so he could look his brother in the eye.
“Yeah, you said your gay, I know what that means you know.” Adrian said, folding his arms over his chest in frustration which caused a chuckle from those gathered around, “I want to know why it made them so upset.”
“Oh.. umm well, see they think it’s not right for a boy to like a boy. They agree with some churches who say that it’s wrong.”
“That’s stupid.” Adrian said, frowning again when his Mom scolded his for his language, even though his Dad had snorted in laughter, hiding behind his hand.
“It is buddy, but its what Tito and Nati believe, they don’t think I should be allowed to like boys.”
“Oh. That’s not fair. Just cause you like Benji they’re gonna be mean to you?” Adrian asked, looking around when Victors friends burst out in giggles, despite the choking noise Victor made.
“What… what do you mean about Benji?” Victor asked, keeping his eyes on his little brother, not wanting to see the smirks he knew were on his friends faces.
“Well, Benji is gay, and you are gay. And you like him. So doesn’t that make him your boyfr-.”
“Alright flaco, lets go to your room for a minute, yeah?” Armando interrupted, eyes glinting with restrained laughter.
“Okay Papi, I love you Victor.” Adrian said, after a moment throwing his arms around Victors neck and hugging the older boy tight, giggling when Victor returned the hug just as tightly, before letting him go and turning to their mother.
He maybe be little, but he is not stupid.
Isabel smiled gently, reaching her hand out towards Adrian, leading him down the hall as Armando followed, shaking with laughter.
Victor watched them going, happy tears flowing freely now. He jumped when he felt a hand on his shoulder, turning to see Pilar standing above him, her own tears trailing down her cheeks. With a small sob Victor let her pull him into a hug, both teens mourning the loss of their relationship with their grandparents, because they both knew that there was no way they could ever come back from that. The two broke apart after a long moment, wiping their eyes and smiling sadly at each other, before turning to their friends, who’d turned away to give them privacy, not wanting to intrude on the intimate moment.
“Sorry guys, guess that might have been more drama than I really wanted at my party.” Victor said weakly, smiling when Andrew snorted.
“Heh, I gotta say Sala- Victor, you have balls of steel for doing that.” Andrew said, eyes conveying his respect for the other boy, “But I owe you an apology, I was meant to keep an eye on him and I-.”
“Thanks Andrew, but no, you don’t owe me anything. I won’t let you take the blame for an old mans twisted logic. I’m just sorry you all had to see that.”
“Hey, don’t worry about it Texas, if it helps, I was totally lying about you and him being alike.” Lake said airily, her odd comment diffusing some of the tension.
“Eh, it’s fine, anyone wanna just watch something for a bit?” Victor said meekly, sitting down on the sofa, Mia and Benji taking a seat on either side of him.
“Okay kids, time for cake.” Isabel called, interrupting whatever YouTube playlist they teens had been watching, interrupting their discussion on what to watch next, shooing the teens into the kitchen, “C’mon, Pilar and I worked our butts off on this cake, let’s go eat it.”
Victor stood and stretched, before turning to offer a hand to Benji, helping him up off the couch.
“Ohhh I see, now that we all know, I’m back to being just chopped liver.” Mia teased lightly, standing up under her own power, smiling when Victor rolled his eyes and pushed lightly at the girls shoulder.
“Nah Mia, we all know there’s no one quite like Benji, not in Victors eyes anyway, even Adrian knows that.” Felix said, eyes twinkling when both boys blushed, though his eyes widened slightly when he heard Isabel laugh.
“Ah Felix, you’re probably right. C’mon, Victor you need to blow out your candles.” Isabel said, smiling at them all, turning on her heel and moving back to the kitchen, whispering something in her husbands’ ear as she passed him, smiling when the man nodded quickly after glancing at Victor and Benjis still joined hands.
“Victor, Victor! You gotta make a wish.” Adrian said as Victor took his seat at the table, his friends gathering around as his mom placed the cake in front off him. Smiling through the usual awkwardness that accompanied one having Happy Birthday sung to them, Victor flicked his eyes over the faces in the room. His friends who kept his secret when he needed, who helped him when it was too much, his sister and parents who loved him unconditionally.
What more could I want?
At the thought Victor flicked his eyes to look at Benji, who was singing along happily from beside him, leg pushed against Victors own. Okay, that was definitely something he wanted more of, and he’d done it right? He’d come out to his parents and that had been all that Victor had asked Benji to wait for.
It can wait till tomorrow though, I’ve waited this long, what’s one more night? But god I wish I could have tonight with him. Just us. That’s it, that’s my wish.
Victor smiled at Benji once more and turned to blow out the candles, wish fixed strong in the forefront of his mind, watching as the tiny flames were extinguished under his breath.
Adrian led the cheers from the table, before eagerly stepping forward with a plate in his hand, expectant eyes fixed on their mother.
“Okay okay, kiddo, we’ll get you some cake.” Isabel said warmly, smiling as she started serving generous slices of cake to their assembled guests, handing Victor his slice with a whispered happy birthday.
“So, Victor, what did you wish for?” Benji said curiously.
“Now, you know I can’t tell you B. I really want this to come true.” Victor said, winking at the boy before he took a mouthful of cake.
I really wish it would come true.
As the party wound down, there seemed to come to an unsaid agreement that it was time for everyone to head home, Andrew leaving first, thanking Victor for inviting him and promising that he’d make sure the basketball team treated him properly.
“Thanks man, that means a lot. I’m glad we’re getting along better.” Victor said honestly.
“Same man, same. Thank your mom for the food again, it was great.” Andrew called back as he made his way down the stairwell.
“So, Victor.” Lakes voice alerted Victor they were the next to leave, turning to see Mia and Lake with their things, “Thank you for the invite, this was eventful to say the least.”
“Ha, thanks Lake, I think. Sorry for having to put you both through that, but thank you for being here at the same time.” Victor said, hugging both girls quickly, “As much as that sucked, to have my friends here when I told my parents was more than I could have asked for.”
“Aww Vic, you’re gonna make me cry again.” Mia said, wiping at her eyes, “Besides we’re your friends. We weren’t going to leave you alone to do that.”
“Also, getting to see you stand up to your grandpa like that? It was legit a thrill.” Lake said, leaning forwards to so only Victor could hear her, “And I’m pretty sure you lit a fire under Benjis cute ass, so good luck with that. Venji for the win.”
“Ha, thank you, again Lake. I don’t know about that, but it's definitely cute.” Victor said cheekily.
"Ohhhh Texas has some cheek, I like it." Lake replied, smiling brightly.
“Aww come on, I don’t get to hear?” Mia said pouting.
“Don’t worry, just Lake being Lake.” Victor said, dodging the light cuff from the blonde, despite the fact she was waving goodbye to Felix at the same time.
“Uh huh. Well, we won’t keep you, we’ll see you on Monday. Have a nice weekend Vic, if you need anything before your grandparents leave.. just shout.”
“Thanks Mia.” Victor said, waving as the two girls headed down the stairs, Lakes phone already in hand. It was okay though, Victor trusted her not to put anything on Creeksecrets about him. As Victor closed the door and turned to head back into the sitting room, he was met with Felix who was grabbing his own coat, clearly ready to go.
“Hey Felix, you leaving already?” Victor said, honestly surprised, he’d expected the boy to be the last to go.
“Oh, yeah, my mom wants me home, she’s needs my help with somethings.” Felix said, “Actually, I was wondering if you wanted to come over later this week? There’s something I need to show you, and in light of your honesty I think it’s a good time to do the same.”
What?
Felix never invited me over last time, did I miss something?
“Umm, yeah of course. Whenever you need buddy, you know I’ve got your back.” Victor said.
“I know you do, I-… there is one thing I want to ask though Victor, if that’s okay?” Felix said, suddenly looking nervous.
“Oh? Felix you know pretty much all my secrets, you were the first person I came out too, you can ask me anything.” Victor said earnestly.
“Okay. Umm.. you said Benji was your best friend… I kind of, well.. it sounds silly, but I kind of thought that was me.” Felix said in a rushed whisper.
Ohhhh.
“Felix, you adorable goofball. Of course you are my best friend. There’s never going to be any doubt about that. I just called Benji that… well to piss of my grandpa, and also because.. well I can’t call him what I want to call him.” Victor said quickly.
“Twist.”
“Yeah, so… well. Yeah, twist, plus you're more like a brother anyway.”
“Okay.” Felix said, voice thick with emotion, heading to the door, pausing before he opened it, “Victor? I umm, I really don’t know the perfect thing to say, but I’m really happy you told them. And it obviously hasn’t changed anything between you and your parents.”
“Felix, as far as perfect things to say goes, that was pretty good. Thank you.” Victor said, wrapping the other boy in a hug.
“Okay, I’m gonna go.” Felix said quickly, pulling away and blinking rapidly.
“Before you cry?” Victor teased.
“Yup. Bye Vic. Bye Salazars!” He called before darting out the door, leaving a chuckling Victor to return to the living room where Benji was sitting chatting with Pilar while Adrian was sitting tucked between the two, snoring lightly.
“Hey guys, that’s Felix gone. Looks like it’s just us three.” Victor said, settling against the door frame.
“Oh, I’m gonna put Adrian to bed now, I don’t want him to see Papi taking the Abuelos to the airport.” Pilar said as she stood, pulling Adrian off of the sofa into her arms, thanking Benji when he helped, “I’ll see you later Benji, night hermano.”
“Night P.” Victor said, Benji echoing his sentiments as the girl walked down the hall.
“So… I guess it's just us two.” Benji said, watching Victor, they hadn’t had a chance to be alone yet, just the two of them.
“I guess we need to talk?” Victor asked, suddenly nervous. He’d never gotten round to actually talking to Benji about their relationship last time around and what he wanted or expected from it, other than the rushed discussion on the bench.
“We do, but we don’t need to do that tonight, I have to go soon and well, I’d rather not have to have that talk and then up and go, you know?” Benji said, lifting himself out of his seat.
“I get you.” Victor admitted, slightly disappointed. “So, we could get a movie in before you go? I got this pretty nice box-set for my birthday you know?” Victor finished with a smile.
“Oh really, sounds like a pretty nice gift.” Benji said with his own smile alight his face.
“Mmhmm, though I was promised a part two if I’m honest.” Victor said, reaching out to take Benjis’ hand in his own.
“That’s true, hmmm, I’ll need to get on tha-.” Benji stopped mid-sentence, eyes looking over Victors shoulder. Victor turned to follow the boys gaze, heart skipping a beat when he saw his grandparents coming down the hall, followed by his parents, suitcases in hand.
“Abeulos..” Victor said softly, stepping forward before he could help himself.
“Don’t Victor, we don’t want to hear anything you have to say.” Tito said gruffly, glaring past his grandson at Benji, “Especially not while he is here.”
“Tito!” Victor said, “Please don’t...”
“You’ll never be normal while you let that boy associate with you Victor. You know that.” His grandfather growled.
“Hey, enough of that.” Isabel said, dropping the bag she was carrying in front of the old man, passing him without a second glance, “Benji dear, would you like to sleepover tonight? I know you boys wanted to have a movie night; I think Victor probably wants to start working through that collection you got him.”
What!
“Oh, umm I couldn’t impose.” Benji said, eyes going comically wide, while Titos narrowed in anger.
“Benji, it’s not an imposition if you are invited.” Armando called from where he stood by the door.
“I would like to clear it with your mother though first.” Isabel said, glancing at Victor, “And there would be rules of course.”
Oh god..
“Mami!” Victor said, face reddening.
“Victor, if it was Mia or Lake and you were straight, I’d be saying the same thing.” Isabel said bluntly, “Please amor, we’re trying.”
“Of course, Mrs. Salazar, here’s my moms number.” Benji interrupted, handing his phone over with his mother’s contact on screen.
“Isabel! You cannot suggest that this boy shares Victors bed! Not after what he just told us about his perversions!” Tito said incredulously.
“I’m not suggesting anything lewd old man, I’m suggesting my son has his friend spend the night on his birthday.” Isabel said, voice full of restrained fury, “So don’t you dare imply what I think you are. Now. Get. Out.”
“It’s time, I’ll take you to the airport. If you want to come back here again, you’ll only do so after you apologise to both Victor and Benji.” Armando said, opening the door and waiting for his parents to leave, Tito stalking out the door without another word.
“I.. Victor.. amor, I…” His grandmother spoke softly, as though in pain, before stopping and following her husband out the door.
Armando smiled sadly at the boys, before following them and closing the door behind them.
“Mrs. Salazar, I’m really sorry, I didn’t mean to cause problems.. maybe I should go.” Benji said softly, eyes on the floor.
“Nonsense, let me call your mother and get this sorted. You two go ahead, we will go over rules when Armando is back si?” Isabel said, pulling her own phone out as she copied Benjis’ mothers number, “What’s your moms name?”
“Ah, um Alice.. Thanks Mrs. Salazar.” Benji said, smiling softly when Victor nudged him.
“Oh hush, no need to say thank you, and please cariño, call me Isabel. It’s not like we’re not going to be seeing any less of you now.” Isabel said teasingly.
“Okay.. Isabel.” Benji said doing his best to fight against the blush creeping across his face.
“Thanks Mami, we’re gonna go wait in my room if that’s okay, call us when Papi is back?” Victor said nervously.
“Of course, go ahead, door stays unlocked though Victor.”
“Si Mami, thank you.” Victor said, pulling Benji by the hand down to his room.
Benji was going to spend the night!
Once the two were finally safely ensconced in Victors room, they sat in silence for a while, not noticing the flow of time as Victor sorted through his gifts. Setting his new PlayStation and games in the corner, under his desk where he wouldn’t trip over it, he’d get around to setting it up tomorrow. As for the clothes from Mia and Lake, they went in his wardrobe neatly. But once they were all neatly tidied away he had nothing to distract him from Benji.
Benji who was sitting on Victors’ bed, hands in his lap, as he watched Victor move about his room. His eyes landed on the box of movies he’d given Victor, pulling it into his lap to study them more closely.
“So, I do believe I promised you a part two to your present Vic.” The boy spoke after a while, drawing Victors attention from where he stood by the wardrobe.
“Hmmm. That’s true, but you already got me enough B, you didn’t need to buy me anything else.” Victor said, sitting on the bed beside the other boy, suddenly nervous.
“I.. uh I didn’t buy you something.” Benji admitted, “I made you something.”
Benji stood from the bed, going to where he had left his backpack earlier, bending down to rummage through it, after a moment he pulled a flat box from its depths.
A box Victor recognised from his last 16th birthday party.
“Here you go Vic, happy birthday, again.” Benji said softly, placing the box in Victors hands, sitting beside him on the bed. Victors hands shook as he opened the gold box, his breath catching in his throat.
It was his drawing! Well, it was the drawing of him that Benji had done, exactly the same as last time. Wait, it wasn’t the exact same, Victor noticed that instead of just his name signed in the corner, it now read ‘With Love, Benji Campbell’. Other than that it was exactly as he remembered, even the feelings that he’d tied to it last time were still there, rising to the surface as he ran his fingers along the edge of the page.
“Benji…” Victor breathed, eyes fixed on the page, etching the details on it into his memory once again.
“I’m sorry, is it too much?” Benji said from beside, leaning away slightly only stopping when Victor reached out and took his hand in his.
“Benji, it’s fricking perfect. I love it, and I’m so getting a frame for this as soon as I can.” Victor said, finally looking up at the boy beside him on the bed, “You are perfect.”
Oops.
Benji blushed at the last part, but he didn’t look away, he didn’t flinch or falter, so neither did Victor.
“I did say that after I told my parents… you know, if you still want that is.” Victor said nervously.
“Of course I do, I just.. I don’t want to rush you.” Benji admitted, squeezing Victors hand tightly, “I think I’m actually nervous.”
“Ha, you’re nervous? Try it in my shoes, I’ve literally liked you since the first day I met you, and now here we are. In my room. Alone, after I just came out.” Victor said, “Trust me, I’m nervous right now because I have no idea what to do next.”
“Honestly, same.” Benji said simply, smiling when Victor re-boxed the drawing, setting it gently behind him on the bed.
“Well, if I’m totally honest, I know what I want to do.” Victor said, turning to face the boy fully, leaning towards him slightly.
“Oh? Do tell.” Benji replied, a smile on his lips.
Oh god, his lips.
“I really, really want to kiss you right now.” Victor said softly.
“Same.” Benji replied, both boys leaned in towards each other, eyes flickering closed.
“Victor, Benji? Can you both come to the kitchen please.” Isabel called, knocking sharply on the door, but not opening it.
Jesus Christ, come on universe! Let him kiss the boy already.
“Two seconds Mami, be right out.” Victor called, “Bloody parents.”
Benji just huffed out a small laugh, leaning forwards and resting his forehead against Victors’.
“C’mon you, I don’t want to push my luck, we have all night though, if you want to finally continue this.” Benji said, smiling when Victor groaned.
“Fine, but I’ll hold you to that.”
“Mmm, I’m hoping you will.” Benji said throatily, before realising he’d said that part out loud, blushing heavily.
“Hahaha, c’mon you. Let’s go sit down with my parents and pray this isn’t a sex talk.” Victor said, opening his bedroom door and leading them down the hall. His parents were sitting at the kitchen table, Armando looked tired and worn out, it couldn’t have been an easy car journey Victor reasoned.
“Hi Papi, how was the drive.” Victor asked as he and Benji sat at the table.
“Mercifully quiet.” Armando admitted, “But let’s not talk about that right now, we need to end today on a high note. Victor, we are so proud of how you handled yourself today.”
“Normally, we’d be unhappy with how you spoke to your grandparents, but given how they spoke to you and what they said, honestly? We think you were pretty restrained.” Isabel said, smiling kindly when Victor met her eye.
“Now, as we hope you realise, we don’t care that you are gay, we honestly don’t. After we were so horrible too Benji we did some soul searching, asked ourselves if we really had an issue with it. And really, all we could use to justify not being okay with it was that the church said so. And given our own mistakes… well let’s say we realised how selfish we were being.”
Victors parents stopped talking for a moment, Armando reaching out and taking his wife’s’ hand gently.
“Yeah, and your mother and I both asked ourselves, if you or Pilar or Adrian were gay, what would we do?” Armando said, eyes focused on something out of sight.
“And again , we honestly couldn’t find a reason not to be okay with it.” Isabel said, taking a deep breath before continuing, “So, we want you both to know, everything is okay. We approve, we do, if that’s what you two want, and we say this fully knowing that Benji you will be spending the night in Victors room, oh, your mom said you can stay tonight no problem.”
Oh god, please don’t let this become a sex talk.
“Mami, Papi, let me stop you right there. I can promise you, nothing is happening tonight.” Victor said, pointedly not looking at Benji right then, “I… I am not ready for that.” He finished with a mumble.
“Victor, amor, that’s okay. We just want you to be safe, and know that we love you, and trust you.” Isabel said, reaching across the table to take Victors’ hand, “That being said, the door stays unlocked at all times, especially during sleepovers and all of them need to be confirmed with your parents beforehand Benji, got it?”
“Yes.” Both boys answered, not being able to hide their smiles.
Thank god for birthday wishes.
“Benji, why don’t you go ahead and get ready for bed? We want to talk to Victor for a moment.” Armando said.
Nodding Benji got out of his chair and left the room without saying anything more, Victors eyes following him jealously, why did he get to escape?
“Victor?” His fathers voice drew him back to the present.
“Yeah dad?”
“We love you. We do.” Armando said simply.
“I know Papi, believe me I do. I’m sorry I lied to you for so long.” Victor said, hands twisting in his lap. “Now, you didn’t even seem to be surprised..”
“No, Victor don’t dare apologise, I’m sorry we made you think we wouldn’t accept it, accept you.” Isabel said softly, “The truth about you Victor? It’s a beautiful thing, and you’re so brave. And we will be there for you, every step of the way. And as for our reaction, after our talk with Benji we tried to look at things from a neutral place, he clearly liked you, it didn’t take a genius to see that his feelings are returned. So, yeah we didn’t know, but we suspected since then.”
“Now, I’m assuming you’ll be fully… out? I’m sure that that can be a scary thing so look after yourselves, and if anyone gives you any trouble, you tell us.” Armando said, voice tinged with concern.
“Don’t worry Papi, pretty sure Pilar has that covered, Felix too.” Victor said, chuckling slightly.
“True, now, I think Benji is probably waiting on you no?” The man said, sitting back in his chair, smiling at the grin that crossed his eldest sons face.
“Probably.” Victor admitted.
“Then go, but behave.” Isabel warned, smirking slightly.
“Thanks Mami, goodnight.”
“Oh, and Victor?” They called after him as he made to leave the kitchen, “About Benji, we approve, he's a very nice young man.”
Victor entered his room, still in a daze after that conversation, having changed in the bathroom and making a point of brushing his teeth with extra care tonight, to see Benji sitting on his bed, in a pair of borrowed shorts and a tee. He somehow still was looking amazingly good in Victors' totally unbiased opinion.
Don’t stare at his legs..
“Hey, eyes up you. Now c’mere, I’m cold.” Benji said, arms reaching out to Victor, calling him over. Victor wasn’t going to say no to that, but when he did get to the bed, he pulled the cover back and climbed in, patting the mattress beside him.
“C’mon B, no use us both sitting up here and getting cold.” Victor said with a shrug, playing at being casual.
“Uh huh, I’m sure avoiding me getting cold is the only reason why you’re inviting me under these covers.” The boy teased, despite the fact he was already moving to climb under the quilt, sliding in beside Victor as both boys turned on their sides to face each other.
“Well, it worked didn’t it?” Victor reasoned, reaching his hand out to rest it on Benjis’ arm, “Is this okay? I don’t want to rush things.”
“Vic, trust me, I’ve been waiting a long time for this, and what you said out there, about not being ready? I’m not ready either. Not yet, and definitely not with an unlocked door being the only thing between us and your parents.” Benji said, scooting closer to Victor, “But I’m sure there are a few things we can do quietly.”
“Oh, do tell Benjamin, what are you going to do now your plans of seduction have been successful?” Victor said, scooting closer to Benji, both boys now only millimetres apart.
“Well, I’ve tried to kiss you like five times, and we do keep getting interrupted.” Benji said with a smirk, “I figured we could tr-.”
His next words were cut off when Victor closed the distance and pressed his lips hard against Benjis’.
Simon had said it was about a leap of faith right?
Benji didn’t seem to mind the sudden end to the conversation, since he pressed himself back into the kiss, deepening it as his hands found their way around Victors head, while at the same time Victors fingers were threading through the boys soft hair. With a grunt Victor rolled onto his back, pulling the shorter boy with him so that he was laying under Benji, the fact he managed to do that seamlessly without breaking their kiss was impressive Victor thought, but that quickly went out of his mind as he focused on kissing Benji all the while feeling the shorter boy pressed up against him, tying not to focus on certain parts pressing together.
God he so was worth the wait.
After what felt like forever and a moment at the same time, both boys were laying the bed, Victor on his back with Benji comfortably laying on top of Victor's chest, sighing contentedly as he felt Victor playing with his hair. Their shirts had been discarded a long time ago, and it was only through great self-control they weren’t just down to their boxers, or less.
“Hey B?” Victor said, nudging the boy to get his attention.
“Yeah?” Benji said, looking up at Victor through his lashes. Victor wasn't able to contain himself and leant down to kiss the boy again, which lead to another 20 minutes of distractions.
"Okay, that was fun, but you were gonna ask me something?"
“Would… um would you maybe want to be my boyfriend?” Victor said, nerves appearing despite the fact that they’d just spent who knows how long tangled up together in Victors sheets, and that Victor had come out in defence of the shorter boy, and that his parents approved of them together.
“I… Victor, of course I would.” Benji said, reaching up to kiss Victor again, gently this time, before settling against his now boyfriends chest.
“Oh.. umm, good. Thanks” Victor said, unable to hide his smile, despite Benjis’ snort.
“So eloquent.”
“Shush you, I’m too happy for words.” Victor admitted, wrapping his arms around Benji, both laying in comfortable silence, Victor not realising Benji was drifting off to the stable rhythm of Victors heartbeat.
“Hey Benji?”
“Yeah Vic?” The boy mumbled sleepily against Victors’ bare chest.
“I’m gay.”
“No shit.”
Chapter 16: Creekwood Knights
I really, really like you.
Victor was in his room, partially completed homework scattered around him. Progress halted as he sent messages back and forth to Benji, who he’d been talking to non-stop since his boyfriend had left earlier that day.
His boyfriend!
That still made Victor smile, even though it had been almost a week since he and Benji had gotten together, since Benji stayed the night and said yes to Victors most important question.
And it was an amazing week, school had actually been pretty fine, no one said anything, though Victor hadn’t missed the sideways glances, or frowns on some peoples faces when they saw him and Benji walking down the halls together, or when Benji kissed Victor at his locker, or in the cafeteria, or the parking lot behind Brasstown, or in Brasstown, or outside Brasstown, or in the park….
Benji liked to kiss Victor a lot, come to think of it. Not that Victor complained. Nope. He definitely wanted to ensure he encouraged that.
Simon is gonna flip when I tell him about all this.
Victor swiped across to Instagram and opened up his messages to update Simon, he’d forgotten to keep the older boy in the loop, mostly due to being in the centre of the excitement that was dating Benji Campbell.
And all the kissing.
victorsalastar;
Dear Simon,
So… little, tiny update for you….. I kinda came out to my family on my birthday, really, really loudly. And my grandparents were horrible and told me I basically needed Jesus and my grandpa threatened to beat the gay out of me… and my dad kicked them both out.
.
So.. yup
.
.
Also Benji is my officially boyfriend now and stayed over on Saturday night.. after my mom asked him.
simonspiersays:
AKJSHFLEGSGJHSRLB
One second!!!
Simon Spier would like to facetime you.
Victor jumped off of where he’d been lounging on his bed, supposedly doing homework, realistically messaging his boyfriend! And Simon. Sitting up Victor tapped the accept key, waiting for the call to connect.
“Victor!” Simon said, face appearing brightly across the phone screen, eyes dancing with emotion.
“Simon!” Victor called back, laughing at the older boys excited energy.
“You can’t just spring a message on me like that! I need details, I need to know these things! I’m your gay guru, you need to tell me!” Simon said demandingly.
“Well, if you would take a breath I could just tell you?” Victor said teasingly.
“Ha. Ha.” Simon said, rolling his eyes at the teenagers teasing, “Are you okay? That’s my most important question. You mentioned your grandpa..”
“Yeah.. Honestly, I’m fine. After they left, mom and dad sat me down and we talked, then Benji stayed over and.. well I couldn’t have a bad nights sleep while he was in my bed.” Victor said blushing when Simon made a suggestive whistle.
“Okay, we’ll get the that later. Are you sure you’re fine though Victor?”
“I… think so, and that really worries me. My grandparents walked out on me, I’ve heard them on the phone to my Dad and they’ve basically disowned me and outed me to by cousins and stuff.” Victor said, “But like, I don’t care? Which I don’t understand. My cousins actually messaged me to let me know, and they said they don’t care, but apparently my aunts and uncle are too afraid to tell Tito that.”
“Wow… man that’s a lot.” Simon said, running his hand through his hair, “Okay, so I get what you mean, it’s sort of this post-coming out apathy. You finally did the big one, and now it’s sort of ‘screw what everyone else thinks’, you know?”
Victor nodding, happy to hear someone put into words what he couldn’t.
“And, especially with how your grandfather reacted, it’s natural to want to dampen that down, and that’s okay for a while. Just don’t bottle it up, that doesn’t end well.” Simon advised, waiting for Victors affirmation that he understood, before continuing with a smile on his face, “So… tell me about your parents though.”
“What do you wanna know?” Victor asked, not really sure what to tell Simon.
“How are they taking it? Now that your grandparents are out of the way?”
“Oh. Actually they are pretty great, they are actually nicer to Benji than they were to Pilars ex.” Victor admitted, though not admitting it was Pilar herself who acknowledged the reality.
“Wow, that’s awesome, and your little brother?”
“Honestly, he’s just happy Benji will sing frozen songs with him.”
“Ha, well, that’s good. And I assume your friends are supportive?”
“Completely. Teasing has commenced already.” Victor said, laughing when Simon chuckled at his response.
“Good, good. So most important part.” Victor say Simon sit up properly, a seriously look on his face, “Tell me about Benji.”
“Oh. What do you wanna know about him?” Victor asked, genuinely not sure what to expect.
Would Simon approve?
“Does he make you happy?”
“God yes. So happy, like all the little things…”
When Victor eventually ended the call he’d realised, to his own embarrassment that he’d went on and on about Benji for over an hour, not that Simon ever complained or interrupted him, only stopping when Victors’ mom called him for dinner.
It was nice to have a friend who understood what it was like to be gay.
And who he could talk to about how amazing his boyfriend was, and not have to worry.
Victor really regretted late night Facetiming. It left him too tired the next day.
“Hey you.” Victor said as he got to school, smiling when he saw Benji waiting for him outside, just like he had every morning since Victors’ birthday.
“Hello yourself sleepyhead.” Benji said, smiling when Victor leaned forwards to kiss him lightly, happily taking the chance to wrap his arms around Victors’ neck.
“Oh god, can you two keep in your pants for like five minutes?” Pilar asked, though Victor could see there was no malice in her eyes.
“Sorry P, look at him though, I can’t help it.” Victor said, smiling as he wrapped his arms around Benji, pulling him back in for another kiss, smiling against his boyfriends’ mouth when he heard his sister fake retch.
“Alright you, I think we tortured poor Pilar enough for so early in the morning yeah?” Benji said pulling away from Victor, though not enough that Victor had to drop his arms from the shorter boys waist, turning the pair so Victor was pressed against Benjis back and resting his head on the boys shoulder.
“See, now this is why I like you more Benji.” Pilar smiled, “You have decency.”
“Hey! I have decency.” Victor argued back.
“Oh? Tell that to the massive hickey you had on your neck on Sunday morning.” Pilar said with a smirk.
“And who’s fault do you think that was hmm?” Victor shot back, jabbing his fingers into Benjis’ sides as he did, making the boy squirm.
“Bleagh, this is the worst.” Pilar said, rolling her eyes as the two boys engaging in a sickeningly sweet battle of tickling versus kisses.
“Oh, are they still doing that?” Felix asked as he approached the group, grinning when Victor and Benji broke apart blushing when they realised they had been messing about right in front of the school.
“Don’t even. It’s been non-stop since Sunday.” Pilar said before Victor could even defend himself.
“Hey! Let me enjoy this, Benji is my first boyfriend, I’m making up for lost time.” Victor said as he fought his blush.
“Don’t worry Vic, if it helps I’m really enjoying it. Make up for all the time you need.” Benji finished winking lewdly at his still blushing boyfriend, causing Pilar to groan and Felix to coo at how ‘awesomely cute’ the were as a couple.
“Aw Pilar, you can’t be mad at them. They look so sickeningly happy don’t they?” Felix said, smiling as the group headed into the school.
“Oh I can’t be mad, but I’m just glad I have to go this way, and you now have to follow the love-birds to class solo.” Pilar said, smiling sweetly as she walked down the corridor to her own locker.
“Dang, I didn’t think this throu-.” Felix didn’t get to finish his sentence though, being interrupted by a bubbly blonde will do that.
“Hello my favourite male people, what are we talking about?” Lake asked, casting her eye over the new couple, who were talking softly among themselves.
“Oh, just Pilar commenting on the overwhelming amount of Venji this morning already.” Felix said, falling into step with Lake as they followed the oblivious couple down the hall, finally coming to a stop at Victors’ locker.
“Well, I mean he is dating the hottest guy in school, so can you really blame Victor?” Lake asked, grinning when she saw Benji blush and Victor looking proud as they realised that Lake was watching them and talking about them too.
“Yeah, but beauty is in the eye of the beholder right?” Felix asked. Victor could see the frown on the boys face, he was clearly concerned that Lake didn’t think he was the hottest.
“Yeah, but behold Benji, bitch.” Lake answered hand pointing to the boy who was now hiding his face in Victors shoulder, though from laughter or embarrassment Victor couldn’t quite tell.
“Oh c’mon Felix buddy, don’t worry you’re plenty cute too.” Victor teased, smiling when the boy grinned back at him, “You’re just, you know… not Benji.”
“You know, you coulda stopped that sentence a little sooner bestie.” Felix said, punching Victor on his Benji free shoulder lightly.
“I mean, he’s not wrong, but then he’d have to give up the chance to compliment Benji.” Lake said, smiling as Victor and Benji both blushed, not noticing Felixs’ double take at her almost compliment.
“Alright you two, enough bullying me. Felix, Lake c’mon we have class.” Victor said, grabbing his books from his locker, “I’ll see you in Biology yeah?”
“Yup.” Benji said simply, tilting his head up expectedly towards his boyfriend. Victor rolled his eyes, but more than happily obliged, as he dipped his head down to press his lips against Benjis’ smiling when he felt Benji lean forwards and into the kiss more.
“Okay, stopping you right there B. That’s what ended up making us late for class on Tuesday, and late for lunch, and coming back from break in Brasstown. Twice.” Victor said, ignoring his friends’ chuckles.
“Awww.” Benji groaned
“What if I promise something that’s a lot more enjoyable later?” Victor said, whispering softly in his boyfriends’ ear, smiling when the boy groaned and pulled back from him.
“Victor! You can’t do that to me, and then send me off to class!” Benji whined, though he didn’t look overly upset about the whole thing if you asked Victor.
“I can, I did. Now shoo.” Victor said, giving the shorter boy a light shove down the hallway, definitely not having placed his hands lower than needed to shove Benji, but maybe just to tease a little more.
“Oh, you’re such a tease Texas.” Lake said from behind him, smiling when Victor turned and simply shrugged, “Poor Benji.”
“Wait, what? I’m confused, what did he do?” Felix asked, eyes flicking between the two.
“Oh, Felix, sweetie.” Lake said, smiling up at Victors best friend, “You’re so innocent, your bestie here just sent his boyfriend off to class after whispering something blush-worthy in his ear and no doubt coping a feel of that tight tush.”
“Lake! That’s my boyfriend you’re ogling.” Victor said as he led them into class, waving to Mia as they took their seats.
“And are you denying what I said?” Lake asked primly as she took her seat beside a curious looking Mia.
“Well, no. I’m really, really, not. Because you’re totally right.” Victor admitted.
Okay, so I have nooooo issue admitting how hot Benji is in front of my friends. That’s good right?
“Exactly, the boy has a killer ass.” Lake said matter-of-factly, rolling her eyes when Mia gasped and shoved her playfully before the teacher called for everyone’s’ attention.
Later at lunch, Victor and Benji sat with their friends, chatting comfortably among each other, enduring the teasing that came from friends when in a new relationship.
“Aww come on Mia, you’re meant to be on my side.” Victor said dramatically, miming a wounded heart.
“Sorry Victor, but the boy is practically in your lap right now.” Mia said, casting her eyes over the two boys, both of whom had the decency to blush but didn’t move apart.
“Oh, good point. I should remedy that.” Victor said, smiling cheekily at Mia before turning to face his boyfriend.
“Victor no-.” Benji started, not getting the chance to finish as he was interrupted by Victor reaching around Benjis waist and dragging the boy into his lap, ignoring Benjis shocked squawk and his friend’s laughter.
“Hi.” He said, looking up slightly at Benji, who didn’t seem all that against actually being in his boyfriends’ lap.
“Hey.” Benji replied, leaning down slightly to kiss his boyfriend, “You know, I think I might enjoy being the taller one sometimes.”
“Oh, I’ll make sure to get you a step ladder for tomorrow.” Victor said, laughing when Benji slapped at his chest playfully, before turning to continue chatting with his friends, arms wrapped comfortably around his boyfriend.
God, it was so easy. Being out, being with Benji. His friends made it so eas-
“Oh come on, can’t you two do that shit somewhere else? No one wants to see that crap.” Someone shouted from behind.
Victor and the tables occupants (as well as most of the courtyard) turned to look at the source of the noise.
Oh good. Tyler is here.
Tyler was the guy from Victors first and second day that seemed determined to make things awkward for Victor and Benji. He’d had a few run ins with the guy, but nothing worth more than an eyeroll. He was, as Victor found out from Benji, a cousin of Derek’s, which explained why Derek took such a dislike to Victor so quickly.
The guy clearly liked spinning stories.
“What do you want Tyler?” Victor asked tiredly. So much for one good week.
“I want to eat my lunch without seeing you two going at it, no one wants to see you two doing that shit.” Tyler said, playing to the crowd he was drawing.
“Doing what shit exactly?” Victor challenged, tightening his grip on Benjis’ waist as the boy made to move.
“Doing that. No one needs to see it.” Tyler said, waving his arms in the general direction of the boys, “No one wants to see two que-.”
“Hey!”
Tylers rant was interrupted by Andrew, who’d arrived flanked by two other players from the basketball team, “Apologise right now man. We don’t want to hear that shit in our school.”
“Oh come on Spencer, I’m just saying what everyone else is thinking, no one wants to see their PDA, there’s no harm in it.” Tyler said quickly, looking nervous.
“Nah man. You’re being a homophobe, you didn’t say jack to Katie and Mike, now shut up.” Andrew said, stepping forward after pointing to said blushing couple, and going eye to eye with the boy.
“Make me.” Tyler challenged, probably sounding braver than he should have been.
“Okay.” Andrew said simply, before anyone could tell what happened, Andrew had lifted Tyler over his shoulder, carried him across to an unattended janitor’s cart and dropped the boy in the trash, “Lets’ you and I have a chat with Ms. Albright hmm?”
Andrew nodded at Victor and Benji as he wheeled the cart into the hallway, out of the shocked courtyard. Though the shock wasn’t long lasting, as laughter was starting to bubble through the crowd as they realised what had happened.
“Wow. Go Andrew.” Felix said as the five turned back to face each other.
“Yeah, damn, I think I owe him again now.” Victor said, smiling softly as he leaned his head into Benjis chest.
“Hey, I’m sorry Victor, may I should get-.” Benji said awkwardly, moving to climb out of Victors lap, but the taller boy wasn’t having that.
“Benji Campbell you keep your cute butt right there, I’m too comfy right now.” Victor said jokingly but giving his boyfriend a look that he hoped made clear that he wanted him to stay.
“Vic, that guy was a dick but..” Benji said awkwardly, as though unsure of himself.
“B, that guy is a dick. End of.” Victor said, “I’m not letting him being an ass, ruin my mood.”
“Yeah, Benji. Don’t worry about it, look around. Literally no one else is looking anymore, Tyler is just a jerk.” Mia said kindly.
“Totes, don’t worry. As far as PDA goes, that was like a 4 or 5 out of 10,” Lake said, looking up from her phone where she was no doubt typing a new Creek Secrets post, “Besides, I think Victor is enjoying having you there.”
“Lake!”
“Am I lying?”
“Well… no.” Victor replied, blushing when Benji, Felix and Mia all laughed at him, “Felix, help me out man.”
“Sorry bestie, I’m with Lake on this one.” Felix said, sliding to sit closer to the girl as if to signify and allegiance change.
“Traitor!” Victor said, sticking his tongue out at the boy, who only stuck his out in return.
“Boys, so mature.” Mia grumbled in exasperation at the group, despite her own laughter at their antics, especially when Benji joined in teaming up with Victor. Though her point was lost when Lake joined Felix and the four sat sticking their tongues out at each other.
“Maybe I just need more mature friends.” Mia wondered out loud.
“HEY!” was the shocked and multiplied response she received.
“So. I do believe I was promised more later?” Benji said as the pair sat on Victors’ bed, homework freshly finished.
“Oh really, is that why you came over so eagerly?” Victor questioned teasingly, turning to face Benji.
“Well, not my primary motivation, that was definitely the algebra and pre-calc.” Benji said, pointing to those books, “But I wouldn’t say no to some biology tutoring.”
“Oh wow, smooth.” Victor mumbled as he pulled the boy down to lay on the bed, arms resting on Benjis hips as he settled on top of Victor.
“Hey, it worked didn’t it?” Benji said, smiling as Victor shushed him and leant in to kiss him.
“Uh huh. So what more were you expecting Mr. Campbell?” Victor asked teasingly, though Benji offered a pretty clear answer nonetheless.
Victor could literally spend days kissing Benji, and he’d happily try to do so whenever fate offered him a chance, especially if they were in Victors room, with a closed door and t-shirts that were easily removed. He was enjoying roaming his hands over Benji, fingertips gliding down his torso to run along the rim of his boyfriends’ boxers, teasing but going no further, before making their way around and up the boys back. He couldn’t help smile when Benji groaned and pressed hard into Victor, whispering his name softly between kisses, making sure to avoid leaving any marks as he kissed down the boys chest.
“Holy fuck Benji.” Victor groaned out, as Benji teased at his nipples.
“Ha, you like that V?” Benji said, smiling and coming back up to kiss his boyfriend, who just nodded in response.
Okay Victor could definitely spend all day doing this!
But today wasn’t that day.
“Victor, Benji, dinner is ready.” Adrian called through the door, having been warned by their mother not to barge into Victors room when the door was closed and Benji was over. A crazy act of trust on Victors parents’ part that still shocked their elder children.
“Ughh. Thanks buddy, two minutes.” Victor called, groaning when Benji rolled off of him onto the bed, huffing out a small laugh.
“Stop kissing Benji and c’mon! Mami made Pollo Guisado!” Adrian shouted back.
“Oh. Okay, definitely on the way.” Benji called back, bouncing up off the bed to locate his missing tee.
“Hey!” Victor said in surprise.
“Vic, c’mon its like the best food ever.” Benji said excitedly.
“You had it once, like a week ago.” Victor put plainly, standing up and grabbing Benji’s shirt from where it lay on top of his wardrobe, picking his own up off of the floor, “Besides, can’t you give it a second until, you know…. Things ease?” Victor said quietly, gesturing to their tented jeans.
“Yeah okay maybe a minute, but I want that stew again, c’mon man no one will see.” Benji said, swinging the door open no more than 60 seconds later and pushing a laughing Victor down the hallway into the kitchen.
“Finally, hola Benji dear.” Isabel said as she filled dishes with the chickenstew.
“Hi, Mrs. Sala- Isabel.” He changed quickly when the woman in question raised an eyebrow at him.
“Better. Now you like this, sí?” Isabel said, indicating the bowl in her hand ready to be passed to Benji.
“Mami, when Adrian said what was for dinner Benji basically teleported down the hall.” Victor said teasingly, pulling a chair out for Benji, not seeing his mom smiling or Pilar rolling her eyes at the gesture.
“Thanks Vic.” Benji said, taking the seat, smiling when Victor sat beside him, “He’s not wrong though, last time you made this I thought I’d died and gone to food heaven.”
“Okay, that’s it, Victor you’re out, Benji your in.” Isabel said with a laugh, “This boy is much nicer.”
“Hey!” Victor said, taking his and Benjis’ bowls from his mom.
“What? It’s true isn’t it? Or are you saying Benijs’ not the best?” Isabel asked, a teasing challenge in her voice.
“Oh that is so very much a trap.” Victor said, looking to his sister for support and, shockingly, finding none. Thankfully he was saved by the arrival of Armando, who greeted the assembled table happily, kissing Pilar and Isabel on the cheek as he passed, ruffling Adrians hair, and doing the same to Benji.
The causal ease with which his father interacted with Benji, still shocked Victor. When Armando realised just how protective over his hair Benji was, he made a point of messing it up whenever he could, just to tease the boy. But Benji knew it was all in good fun, it was a sign that the older man was making a point to treat Benji like he would anyone else dating someone in the family, acknowledging his relationship with his son and his acceptance of it.
“Ahhh, Mando, leave the poor boy alone.” Isabel scolded as she took her own seat at the table, smiling when Armando and Victor both rolled their eyes at her, “Now, Adrian amor would you like to say grace?”
Adrian smiled happily, and led the table through a sweet, if awkward prayer.
“Amen.” Benji mumbled once they finished, smiling when Victor reached over and tucked a stray strand of brown hair behind the boys ear. Grace before meals wasn’t something he was used to, and Victor knew he still felt slightly out of place when they said it.
“Ah ahh! No PDA at the dinner table.” Pilar scolded.
“What? That wasn-“
“I’ve seen you to in school today, don’t think I don’t know you two will take any chance.” Pilar said, waving her fork warningly.
“Fair.” Benji said, shrugging when Victor turned to look at him, before happily attacking his own bowl of stew.
“So, what happened with Tyler today?” Pilar asked after a while, “I heard Andrew dropped his ass in the trash where it belonged.”
“Pilar! Language.” Isabel scolded.
“The guy is a homophobe mom, Andrew put him in his place.” Pilar said with distain, stabbing at her stew with more force that needed, “And he’s been a real dick to Victor and Benji since day one.”
“Wait, what happened?” Armando said, voice suddenly serious.
“Papi, it was nothing.” Victor started to say, only to be cut off by a look from his father.
“Victor, tell me. Please.” Armando said, eyes softening as he plead with his son, though they darkened when he heard what happened at the school and had from the first day of attendance. Turning to his wife he said, “Isa, maybe we should check in with the school?”
Victor knew there was no point in arguing, simply happy to have the conversation over with.
“Oh, and we are definitely taking Andrew out for dinner as a thank you.” He said, chuckling as Victor spluttered and choked at the announcement, “When a boy throws a homophobe in the trash for you, it’s only polite mijo.”
Victor couldn’t reply since his choking had dissolved into howling laughter, eventually the whole table succumbing to its infectiousness.
“So, that was fun.” Benji said as Victor walked him home later that night.
“Yeah, sorry about dinner, and not getting much privacy.” Victor grumbled, rubbing his thumb softly along the back of Benjis’ hand.
“Hey, Vic, don’t do that. They’re just being protective.” Benji said softly, pulling the boy to sit on a nearby bench.
Victors parents hadn’t given them a moment alone after they found out what had happened in school.
“I know, but couldn’t they have given us like 20 minutes alone? I wasn’t finished what we started before dinner.” Victor said with a cheeky smile.
“Oh, I see, poor, horny Victor.” Benji teased, smiling as he reached over to kiss Victor quickly.
“Mmhm, with a boyfriend like you, can you blame me?” Victor said cheekily, pulling Benji tight against him.
“Wow. Okay Salazar, you’re in the mood tonight aren’t you.” Benji said, between kisses.
“Umm. Yes.” Victor said, pulling Benji back into his lap, his hands resting on the boys’ backside, “You know, Lake was right earlier.”
“Uh, what?” Benji said, clearly not expecting the blonde girls name to come up.
“I really do enjoy having you in my lap,” Victor responded huskily, “And you do have an amazing ass.” He finished, squeezing the aforementioned ass, laughing when Benji moaned in response.
“Aww. Victor you can’t do that too me!” Benji said, sliding onto the bench beside the boy, “I’m so gonna need a cold shower after this.”
“Or, and hear me out, you just deal with it later.” Victor said, feeling as bold as he always did when it was just him and Benji.
“Ha. Ha. Naughty, I just might. But come on, you need to get home by curfew.” Benji said, standing to drag Victor up off of the bench.
“Aww you’re no fun.” Victor grumbled as he followed.
“Oh please, I could feel how much you were having fun during all that.” Benji shot back, smiling when Victor blushed.
“Shuddup, not my fault you’re so hot.” Victor said, pulling the boy close and continuing down the path to Benjis’ house, making his way up the path and only stopping once they reached the front door.
“Well, this is me.” Benji said smartly.
“Yes, shocking, the same house every time.” Victor teased in return, “Hey, there is something I wanted to ask B.”
“Oh?”
“Yeah, ummm.. So I really, really like you.” Victor started, suddenly nervous.
“I gathered that, you being my boyfriend and all.” Benji said, reaching out to take Victors’ hand, “What’s up Victor?”
“Well, I was wondering if maybe you wanted to go on a date. With me.” Victor said hurriedly, “Like a proper date date. Not a ‘we are only friends’ date like last time. I want to take you out, and treat you, and show you just how much I lo- how much I care about you.”
Victor finally looked up from their linked hands, to see Benji looking back at his, an unreadable expression on his face.
“You want to go out, and do what? A fancy meal or something.” Benji asked, voice unsure but almost optimistic.
“Well, yeah. We haven’t had a proper date night, just us. And I kinda want to show my boyfriend off, and maybe show him a good time.” Victor said, suddenly not so sure of his plan. “I… well I thought it would be romantic. I’m sorry, I.. it was a dumb ide-.”
“Victor don’t dare say that. I would love to go on a date with you.” Benji said quickly, “You just caught me off guard, I’m not used to the idea of actual romantic dates.”
“OH… So Derek never…?”
“Nope.”
“God, what an asshole.” Victor said, he still got angry whenever he realised just how shitty Benjis’ ex had been.
“Hey, come back to me.” Benji said, reaching out and resting a hand lightly against Victors cheek, “So, date night?”
“Date night. How about Tuesday? I don’t have basketball, and we are only working quick shifts.”
“Tuesday it is.” Benji said simply, looking up at his boyfriend through his eyelashes, a smile across his face.
Okay, Victor had to kiss him, and he did. Long and hard, until the were forced to part for fear of suffocation.
“Dammit Victor. I really, really need that cold shower.” Benji said, resting his head against the taller boys chest.
“Same.” Victor laughed, smiling softly when Benji pulled the door open to head inside, but not before on last kiss.
“Goodnight Victor.”
“Goodnight B, I’ll see you tomorrow?”
“Definitely.” Benji said, “Now go, I have a shower to take. And things to sort out.” He finished with a wink.
Chuckling Victor made his way down the pathway, heading back towards his own apartment. He’d made it halfway before an idea struck him, causing him to fumble excitedly with his phone, setting up a new group thread.
Not one heterO nor an Oreo between us
Eagle One: okay, I need your help. Operation Sweep him off his feet is a go.
It happened in a dream: Okay, hit us with the plan BabyGay!
If I had to pick a girl: Yes, lets hear it!
I’d be lying if I said I hadn’t thought about it: Also, can we talk about these nicknames? Srsly.
If I had to pick a girl: Shuddup Simon!
Eagle One: Hey! Code names only!
Eagle Two: Guys, please. Okay Victor, tell us your plan.
Eagle One: See, this is why you’re my number two!
I’d be lying if I said I hadn’t thought about it: Hey! He’s my number one!
It happened in a dream: Seriously Simon!
Eagle One changed Simon Spiers name to Jerry
Jerry: HEY! I introduced you to that show!
Eagle One: Muwahahahaha. Now help me!
Chapter 17: Creekwood Knights
I just wanna be Somebody to Someone.
Victor had absolutely no idea what he was doing, absolutely no idea. What the hell was he going to do!
Pilar laughing didn’t help either!
“Pilar this isn’t funny! I can’t mess this up!” Victor said, shaking the two shirts he was holding at the cackling form of his sister.
“Seriously Victor, just pick a shirt! Or you know go without, I doubt Benji would really mind that.”
“Pilar!” Victor said, face burning as he turned back to face the mirror.
“Am I wrong though, am I?” Pilar said, but stood up from the bed and moved towards her brothers’ wardrobe, looking through the clothes Mia and Lake had bought him on his birthday, “Aren’t you supposed to be good at this stuff now?”
“Hey! Stereotyping much? Besides.. I just, I don’t know. I know what I’m comfortable with beyond hoodies” Victor said, dumping both shirts on the bed in the ‘No’ pile.
It shouldn’t be this hard to pick an outfit right? Victor had never panicked this much over what to wear on his date with Mia….
Gee, now I wonder why THAT is.. I wonder!
Victor rolled his eyes at his own, increasingly sarcastic, inner monologue.
“Anyway, I just wanna look good, this is me and Benjis’ first proper date, the cinema thing doesn’t count since we weren’t actually a couple.” Victor said when Pilar raised a questioning eyebrow, “And Derek was a dick, so I want tonight to be super special and romantic. Benji deserves the best.”
Something in Victors voice must have made clear his nerves because, despite rolling her eyes, his sister turned to face him, momentarily ignoring the clothes hanging behind her.
“Victor, I’m pretty sure you could just take Benji for a walk in the park and he’d think it was the most romantic thing ever. You are not Derek, hermano, you are so much better than that dick, Mia told me about him. You and Benji? You two are sickeningly perfect together.” Pilar said, smiling softly at her older brother.
“Thanks P.” Victor said, smiling up at his sister again.
“And I’m pretty sure he thinks the sun just shines out of your ass.” The girl finished bluntly, grabbing a shirt from the closet, and handing it to Victor.
“Thanks Pilar.” Victor said, choking down his laugh, taking the offered shirt and turning back to the mirror, “This actually works. Good job you.”
“Always a tone of surprise. Good luck tonight V, your plan is gonna rock his world though.” Pilar said as she left Victor to change, stopping in the door for a moment, “And Victor?”
“Yeah P?”
“I’m really glad you found Benji and that your happy.” The girl said before slipping out of Victors room, pulling the door closed softly.
Dammit Pilar, don’t make me cry before my date!
“Victor, Benji is here!” Isabel called down the hallway a short while later.
His mom liked to shout that anytime Benji arrived, no one else had an announced arrival, Felix pretty much just walked in when he wanted and anyone else was just sent up the hall if Victor was in his room. But his mom liked to announce it any time Benji came over, mostly Victor imagined, to see the way Victor fell over himself in a hurry, tumbling out of his room and into the hallway. Every single time.
“Thanks, Mami, I’ll be out in a minute.” Victor called back, playing with the collar of his shirt, and fiddling with the sleeves on the jacket.
Lake and Mia definitely have a good eye.
Honestly, Victor didn’t love the idea of having Benji come to him, but they needed Armando to drive them to where Victor was planning their date, and his dad had been really generous offering to drive them all into the city, they’d get a taxi or Uber home. Plus, Victor had needed time after school to ensure everything was ready for them.
Victor finally settled on the fact there was really no more fiddling with his outfit he could do, so he grabbed his phone and wallet and headed down the hall to the living room, seeing Benji with his back to him, chatting animatedly with Isabel and Armando, a bouquet of flowers in Isabel’s arms.
God he was such a sap. He’s perfect.
Sneaking up behind the boy Victor hovered for a moment, winking over Benjis’ shoulder at his parents, both of whom were doing their best not to smile, before jabbing his fingers into Benjis’ sides, causing the boy to jolt up into the air and make a noise Victor couldn’t help but laugh at.
The noise the shorter boy made, well it would be brought up at pretty much every dinner or party at the Salazar’s that Benji was invited too until they left for college, with the story being told over and over despite Benjis’ bright red face each time, and even then it would resurface when they visited on holidays.
“Victor!” Benji said, turning to glare at his boyfriend, though the glare faltered as soon as he saw the boy.
“Hey B.” Victor said, grinning cheekily as he took in how Benji looked.
God he’s perfect. And I’m a broken record…
“That was mean.” Benji said with a pout, ignoring the snickers of Armando and Isabel.
“It was, I’m sorry. Forgive me?” Victor pleaded, pushing his lower lip out and fluttering his eyelashes in exaggeration.
“Maybe. You look good Vic.” Benji said, a rueful smile on his face, reaching out and accepting Victors offered hand, before turning to face Victors parents.
“So, Benji has Victor told you what the plan is for tonight?” Isabel asked as she moved to place the bouquet of flowers in the same vase she’d used for the ones Felix had brought her on Victors’ birthday.
“Nope. He only told me to wear something nice and that we would be having dinner later. Other than that, he won’t tell me a thing, and I’m pretty sure that all our friends know.” Benji said pouting.
Victor had absolutely refused to tell him a single detail about his plan and had silently enjoyed how cute a clueless Benji was, especially when the boy had pestered their friends in school about it, but not even Lake would break.
“Well, if it’s any consolation, he told me.” Isabel said with a chuckle, “And you’re gonna love it. So romantic, you’ll need to tell me all about it when you’re over for dinner tomorrow night okay?”
Victor blushed as Isabel went on praising him and ensuring Benji promised a full and detailed story about their date, but he couldn’t help smiling at the look in Benjis’ eyes.
The boy was radiating pure joy.
“Ready Papi?” Victor asked, looking towards his smiling father.
“Sí, I’ve been ready for 25minutes flaco, just waiting on you finally getting ready. I swear Benji he was in his room for hours with Pilar trying to figure out what to wear.” The man said as he grabbed his car keys and kissing his wife softly before leading the boys out of the apartment, smiling gently when Isabel called out for them to have a good night, but to behave.
Armando led the two teens to his truck; Victor was walking hand in hand with Benji.
“So, hours on an outfit Victor?” Benji asked as they climbed into Armando’s truck.
“Not hours. But I wanted to look good for our first date.” Victor admitted, no point lying about it.
“It was hours Benji. Trust me, Pilar will tell you the same.” Armando added with a chuckle, pulling out onto the road, and heading into town.
“I’ll be sure to ask her tomorrow Mr. Salazar.” Benji said, smiling when Victor groaned.
“Benji, how many times?” Victor’s father said after they had finished laughing at Victor.
“Sorry, sorry. Armando.” Benji finished quietly, smiling softly as he looked ahead out the window, watching the streets fly by as the truck travelled quickly through the streets of Creekwood.
This was something Victor figured his boyfriend might not have experienced before, given what Benji had told him about his relationship with Derek. The more Victor learned, the more incredulous he grew as he realised how much Derek had missed out on by treating Benji as nothing more than a glorified booty call.
“Better, now Victor it’s just up here yeah?” Armando asked, as they took a turn that led them to a massive open park.
“Yup, anywhere along here is good Papi. We’re actually kind of early, despite me taking hours.” Victor teased, smiling when Armando reached across Benji to swat at Victor.
“Cheeky, I swear Benji, Isa and I don’t know how Victor convinced you he’s this nice and polite young man.” Armando said, smirking when Victor squawked in outrage.
“I know right? He showed up on day one this sweet, polite guy. And next thing I know he’s throwing shade and cheek around like they’re nothing.” Benji said, his face falling into a faux-concerned look as he stared at Victor.
“Alright you, you know what, you can go back with my dad right now and I’ll go enjoy this date all by myself.” Victor said, sticking his tongue out at Benji.
“Nope. You’re stuck with me Salazar.” Benji said simply, smiling when Victor only rolled his eyes in response as Armando pulled into a parking space.
“Okay boys, here we are, Victor you have your phone if we need you?” Smiling as Victor nodded, Armando continued, “Good, now you know the rules, no curfew tonight but we expect you to let us know if you’re going to be later than midnight. You still have school tomorrow, both of you. Benji your parents cleared you with Isabel so you’re good to stay out late too.”
Benji nodded when Victor squeezed his hand. At first he’d been embarrassed by his Moms constant habit of confirming everything with Benjis’ parents. But once he realised that it was important to his mother, and to Benji, it didn’t matter anymore. Besides, Benjis’ parents never said no when Isabel called them.
“Okay, in that case, have fun. Victor I expect you to be a perfect gentleman.” Armando warned lightly, handing the boy a very full looking backpack.
“Got it Papi, thanks for the ride.” Victor said, pushing the door open and clambering out, turning to offer a hand to his boyfriend as he climbed out. Stepping up onto the path the boys waved to Armando as he pulled out of the parking spot and headed back down the road.
“So.. alone at last. You gonna tell me yet?” Benji asked as Victor started them moving down the path, walking through the park.
“Nope. It’s a surprise.” Victor said, pulling Benji in close to his side, “But I promise you’re gonna like it.”
“Hmm… I could persuade you to tell me you know?” Benji said, stopping Victor and turning so the taller boy was inches away from him.
“Oh really. And how would you go about that Benji?” Victor said, knowing full well what his boyfriend would do, a thing Victor would never in his right mind stop him from doing.
“Hmmm…. I have an idea.” Benji said, walking Victor backwards until his back made contact with a tree.
“Ooof. You’re gonna hit a tree with me?”
“Whoops, sorry V, sorry tree.” Benji said smiling up at his boyfriend.
“Hmmmm I think you can make it up to me.” Victor said, dipping his head down to capture Benjis’ lips with his own. Victor smiled as the boy leaned into him, arms wrapping around the shorter boys’ waist, dropping lower once in a while, which just happened to coincide with soft moans from Benji.
“I’m still not telling you.” Victor muttered as he kissed down Benjis neck.
“Screw you Salazar.” Benji grumbled back, working his hands up the back of Victors shirt.
“Mmm, another date B. Maybe not do that for the first time in a park hmm?” Victor said, smiling when Benji chuckled, stopping his attack on Victors lips to rest his head on the boy’s chest.
“You’re amazing you know that V?”
An alarm on Victors’ phone broke them apart, breaking the moment.
“Oops, c’mon you. We’re going to be late.” Victor said, grabbing Benji by the hand and breaking into a quick jog, over a slight hill.
“Vic, are you gonna tell me what we- Holy shit!” Benji said as they made it over the crest of the hill.
A wide-open space was occupied by a massive outdoor cinema, with people milling around in front of it, food, and drink vendors to the side.
“C’mon. It’s about to start.” Victor said, dragging Benji down the hill and grabbing a free space on the ground in front of the screen. Victor opened the backpack Armando had given him, pulling out a thick blanket and laying it across the grass.
“Victor, this is amazing.” Benji said, grabbing the boys’ hand and bouncing up and down with excitement, eyes darting about.
“Mmmm, there is one other surprise to this, it’s not just an outdoor cinema, besides I after last time, I figured we could do more than just hold hands during this movie.” Victor said, pulling bottles of water out from the back and dragging Benji down to sit on the blanket with him.
“You continue to amaze me Victor, I can’t believe that was only a few weeks ago, this… ever since then it’s been amazing, but ever since your birthday I’ve been so freaking happy.”
“Me too B, and it’s all thanks to you.”
And time travel.
The lights around the area dimmed as music started playing and the screen light up showing the title card of the movie.
“The Greatest Showman? This is great, I love this movie.” Benji said excitedly from beside Victor, “The music is just so good.!”
“Yeah, it’s also a sing-along B.” Victor said, laughing and smiling when his boyfriend tackled him back onto the blanket as the music started playing.
“Hey, you’re gonna miss the start of the movie.” Victor chided gently.
“Yeah, yeah. You’re so getting a reward for this by the way.” Benji said, turning so he was laying back against Victor’s chest, “Let’s enjoy the movie, even if Barnum was a horrible guy.”
“Yeah, but Hugh Jackman, Zac Efron, and singing. Shush.” Victor said, wrapping his arms around his boyfriend as they got lost in the movie, both of them singing along as the story unfolded on screen.
“Hey, c’mon get up off that cute butt of yours.” Victor said as they watched the opera scene ended and ‘This is Me’ began to play from the speakers.
“What? The movie isn’t over yet.” Benji said in confusion.
“I know that silly. Dance with me.” Victor said simply, offering his hand to Benji, who looked at it in shock, looking around them before shyly accepting. They weren’t the only couple dancing, they weren’t even the only gay couple there.
“You’re amazing you know that Vic?” Benji said after a few moments, smiling as he stepped in close to his boyfriend, arm going around the taller boy’s shoulder.
“Hmm, I don’t know about that.” Victor mumbled, smiling as he held Benji and swayed gently to the rhythm of music, “I’d say you’re the amazing one Benji. You’ve no idea how happy you make me, so I hope that this is just the first of many dates where I try to show you how special you are too me.”
“Victor.. Jeez. You really know how to leave a guy speechless.” Benji said, smiling up at Victor.
“Ha. I try.” Victor said simply, enjoying the feeling of Benji against him. They never actually got a chance to dance at the Spring Fling, so Victor definitely wanted to have one dance at least with the boy on their first date.
When the song had ended and both boys sat back down on the blanket, Benji between Victors long, outstretched legs, resting his back on Victors’ chest, Victor let out a long and content sigh.
I seriously love this boy.
Victor didn’t want to voice it out loud just yet, so instead he tilted his head down to press a soft kiss against Benjis’ temple, content to watch the movie with his boyfriend, who was softly singing along with the songs. Impulsively Victor took his phone out and took a quick photo of the moment. And then another of them both, Benji smiling widely at the screen, with Victors’ chin resting on his should, just as happy.
“Oh, that one is gonna be my new profile pic.” Victor declares, laughing when Benji makes him take a few more photos, which are promptly uploaded to Instagram, with a simple heart emoji as the caption.
This is perfect.
“Hey, B c’mon, we gotta go. I have one more thing planned for us tonight, and we need to go if you wanna eat.” Victor said as the credits ended, and the park lamps came back on. Nudging his boyfriend, who grumbled at having to give up his seat on Victors’ lap, the pair stood and packed the blanket up.
“Victor that was so perfect, you could literally take me to KFC right now, and I’d be happy as hell.” Benji said, helping Victor fold and pack the blanket, dumping the empty waters in the trash.
“Hey, no knocking KFC, but no, it’s something better.” Victor said, pulling his phone out and booking an Uber to take them where they needed to go, “Car will be here in 10 minutes, wanna go sit over here until it arrives?”
“Sure, but umm.. I kind of need the bathroom, that water..” Benji said, rolling his eyes when Victor laughed at him.
“Okay, you go pee, I’ll be over on that bench waiting.” Victor said, smiling when Benji gave him a quick peck on the lips and went off in search of the bathroom.
Walking over to the bench, Victor pulled out his phone, smiling at the encouraging comments under the photos of him and Benji, from Felix and the lewd ‘go get him’ ones from Lake which were under the photo of the two boys sharing a PG rated kiss, though the love was obvious on their faces.
Opening the group chat from the night before, he started typing, rolling his eyes at the new nicknames for him and Simon.
Not one hetero, not Oreo between us
King Oblivious: Victor! Let us know how it goes with Benji!! Good luck!
Eagle Two: Yes! Please let us know it goes well. We’re crossing everything for you.
It happened in a dream: Yasssssss! Get your man Victor!
If I had to pick a girl: We expect more photos! Those instas are pure sugar
BabyGay: I know!!
King Oblivious: Go Victor! Showing off!
BabyGay: Thanks everyone, part 1 has been a success, movie was a good shout!
BabyGay: Now the bit I’m nervous for..
BabyGay: Gahhhhhh
Victor closed the app, flicking through his phone he opened his Facebook profile, adding the new photo and setting hit as his profile picture, he hovered over the upload button, realising the few people outside of his friends and family that didn’t know, would definitely know now.
Fuck it. He thought as he hit upload, glancing at his profile he realised there was one more blank to fill, but that could wait until Benji came back, and speak of the devil there he was.
“Hey you. All good?” Victor asked, standing up to meet his boyfriend and walking up the path to the where the Uber would meet them.
“Yup, all good, noticed you had a new profile photo too, very handsome.” Benji teased, flashing Victor his toothy smile.
“Well, you are in it B, so handsome goes without saying.”
“God you’re cheesy.” Benji said with a laugh.
“Yeah, but you love it.” Victor said, looking around and spotting their car and guiding Benji over to it. Once they confirmed that it was their ride, the two boys climbed into the back, Victor confirming the address and the driver setting off.
“We’re going to Brasstown?” Benji asked curiously.
“Trust me?”
“Always.” Benji replied without hesitation, and Victor couldn’t help himself, he leaned over and kissed his boyfriend.
God I love that! Kissing Mia never felt like this. Ever. I am so 200% gay.
“Ok, calm down Vic, or the nice lady will kick us out of her car.” Benji said, nodding to the lady driving, Victor could see a laugh in her eyes as she checked the mirror.
“Y’all make a very cute couple if you don’t mind me saying. You at the Cinema in the Park?”
“Thank you, and yep, it’s date night.” Victor said, grabbing Benjis’ hand, more than happy to have a driver who didn’t seem to care that they were gay.
“Ah, young love. So sweet.” She said, pulling onto the main road, “Should be there in five minutes folks.”
Replying with their thanks Victor pulled his phone out, firing a quick message to let Sarah know they were on their way, before turning to Benji.
“So, one thing I noticed, and tell me if it’s cheesy.. but my profiles have a distinct lack of relationship status’.. I was wondering…” Victor said, trailing off when he saw Benji looking at him expectantly.
“You were wondering?” He prompted.
“Well, I don’t know if it’s something you wanted to do, but I kinda like the idea of it being ‘Facebook Official’..” Victor said, watching for Benjis’ reaction.
“Oh.” Benji said simply, pulling his phone out and opening the app, typing for a moment before showing the screen to Victor, “Done.”
Benji Campbell is in a relationship
“I do need you to do the same so people can see... well see that it's with you.” Benji said matter-of-factly, laughing when Victor almost dropped his phone in his hurry to update the app.
“Done and done.”
Victor Salazar is in a relationship with Benji Campbell
“Welp, you’re stuck with me now B.” Victor said, pocketing his phone and feeling ridiculously happy for something so small.
“Oh no, whatever shall I do.” Benji said smartly, grabbing Victors’ hand.
“Stay stuck with me?” Victor asked, squeezing his boyfriends’ hand.
“Duh.”
“Alrighty boys, here we are. Have a nice night.” The driver said, smiling at them in the mirror.
“Thank you.” Victor said, rating 5 stars there and then, before helping Benji out of the car and turning to look up at Brasstown.
“Okay, so here we are. At Brasstown.” Benji said, looking around as though expecting something.
“Very astute B.” Victor said, rolling his eyes, “Can you give me five minutes? I need to make sure everything is ready.”
“Umm.. yeah, sure.” Benji said, watching curiously as Victor went inside the closed café.
“Hi Sarah, umm.. Thank you for this.” Victor said, looking around the café, being hit with a sense of Déjà vu from his old timeline.
“Victor, kid trust me, it was nothing. Besides, you did all the work, I just made sure it was ready on time.” Sarah said, waving her hands in dismissal at Victors thanks, “But only because I have a soft spot for Benji, and because I won the betting pool.”
“Sarah, seriously thank you so much, any shifts needing covered, I’m there. I owe you so much.”
“Ha, as much as I’d like to take you up on that offer, I have a different idea in mind.” Sarah said, smiling at the suddenly nervous boy, “All I ask, is that you treat Benji the way he deserves. I’ve seen how happy you two are, even as well behaved you are in work. And Alice told me that Benji has been happier at home than ever, even with… well never mind that. All I want, is to make sure the guy is happy Victor. You get me?”
“Sarah, I promise I will do my best to keep him happy.” Victor said, with so much conviction Sarah actually took a step back.
“Good boy, now, food is in the oven, want me to send Benji in?” Sarah said, making her way to the door.
“Tell him to give me 60 seconds.” Victor said, grabbing an apron and over gloves, before moving into the kitchen.
“On it, behave tonight, I’m placing a lot of trust in you.” Sarah called as she walked through the door, “Hi Benji. 60 seconds, then get your butt inside.”
Victor laughed as the door swung shut, grabbing the food from the oven, rushing to set it on the table, lighting the candles and making sure it was perfect. Just before the door opened, Victor set the playlist up he’d made specifically for this night.
“Victor?” Benji called, stepping into the warmly lit room.
“Hey B, welcome to Ristorante dei Victor.” Victor said grandly, waving his arm around the transformed café.
“Victor..” Benji breathed, eyes taking in the table set for two, candles and roses set between two plates.
“C’mon, take a seat.” Victor said, pulling a chair out for the boy, smiling when he shyly stepped forward and sunk into the seat, “Now on tonights’ menu, we have.. Meatballs di Victor.”
“Victor this is amazing, even if I’m pretty sure that wasn’t Italian. How did you get Sarah to agree to this?” Benji asked, eyes still taking everything in as Victor took his seat.
“Well, I explained I wanted to do something special, and it was too late to book a table anywhere nice. And as soon as I mentioned you, well I sorta seem to be able to get away with anything.” Victor said with a shrug.
“This is amazing.” Benji repeated, tucking into his food.
“Good, I’m glad you like it.” Victor said with a smile, digging into his own food, both boys eating in silence for a moment, enjoying the soft melody of the music.
“Hang on, is this.. is this an accordion version of the Avengers theme?” Benji asked after a moment, “Where did you even find that?”
“Eh, it was nothing, the whole playlist is kinda like that. Our date-not-a-date we went to see a movie and got Italian food. So, I put two and two together… sorry it’s silly.” Victor said, eyes dropping down to his own plate.
“Victor, are you kidding me, this is the most romantic thing anyone has ever done for me.” Benji said, setting his fork in his bowl, “You have no idea how much this means to me. You’re literally the best boyfriend ever.”
“B, I don’t know about tha-.”
“Nope, won’t broker any argument on that. You. Are. The. Best.” Benji said, pointing a finger at Victor, “I know I shouldn’t bring him up, but Derek, well he said stuff like this was hetero-normative bullshit, and it’s just nice to be with someone who doesn’t make me feel bad about enjoying this stuff, who I can be myself about and do sappy things with, without feeling like I’m being fake.”
“Hey, Benji I promise you, anything you want to do, you tell me, and I’ll give it a go. And as far as romantic, sappy stuff goes? I am totally here for that, so long as I get to do it with you.” Victor said, praying Benji knew how much Victor meant it, “You’re my everything B. I’m not gonna let you down.”
“Goddamit Victor, you’re gonna make me cry.” Benji said, rubbing at his eyes.
“Happy tears I hope?” Victor said softly.
“Happy tear Vic. I promise.” Benji said with a chuckle. “God, how’d I get so lucky?”
Emm, I think I’m the lucky on B, time travel gives me that extra point boost.
“Nah, pretty sure that it’s me who is the lucky one B.” Victor said, reaching his hand out to take Benjis’ hand, “Now come on Mr. Eat your food before it gets cold, we still have dessert to get to.”
“You bought dessert?” Benji said, forking pausing halfway to his mouth.
“Umm.. actually, I made dessert.” Victor admitted.
“You made dessert.” Benji asked, fork still hovering.
“Yeah? It’s not a big deal Benji.” Victor said, blushing under his boyfriends’ gaze.
“You are so getting a reward for tonight. This is freaking perfect Victor. I love it. I love y-.. I love it Victor.” Benji said, stumbling towards the end, finally taking
He was totally gonna say it! I know it.
“Benji. I just wanted to give you a nice night. You don’t need to reward me for anything, not that I’d say no.” Victor finished with a wink.
“Well, mission accomplished on the former, we’ll get round to the latter later.” Benji said, focusing on his food again as he fought a blush.
“God you’re cute when you blush.” Victor said before he could stop himself.
“Ha ha. Well, you certainly make me blush enough!” Benji shot back, smiling at his boyfriend.
“Hey, sue me. I like having a cute boyfriend, the blushing is just a perk.” Victor said, setting his fork in his empty bowl, “Now, gimmie that, I’ll go clean up and you get ready for dessert.”
Victor lifted his and Benjis’ bowls, swooping down to kiss the boy quickly before he headed into the back room, cleaning the dishes, and getting the dessert from the fridge where Sarah had left it. Going to work making sure everything was properly plated up and ready, Victor carried both dishes out to where Benji was watching from the table, smiling softly when his eyes bet Victors.
“And I present, dessert.” Victor said, placing the chocolate cake and ice cream down in front of the boy.
“Ahhh, my favourite, you’re spoiling me Salazar.” Benji said, “But you’re sooo far away from me, c’mere.” Benji scooted his chair to the side, indicating for Victor to bring his own around.
“Hmm good plan B.” Victor said, leaning against Benjis’ shoulder as the two boys tucked into their cake, Benji offering his fork to Victor every few bites.
“You know we have the same things right?” Victor said with a chuckle.
“Shush you, its cute.” Benji said, sticking his tongue out at the boy, somehow getting ice cream on the corner of his mouth.
“Hey, B you have- Never mind, I got it.” Victor said, leaning across and kissing Benji deeply, causing the boy to drop his spoon in surprise. Grabbing at Victors shirt, Benji pulled the boy in closer, cake forgotten as hands started to explore again.
“You know, if Sarah checks the cameras tomorrow we are so screwed.” Victor said after they pulled apart for air, both boys laying against each other.
“Aaaaand boner killer. Thank you Victor for bringing my almost-aunt up.” Benji said as he rolled his eyes.
“Hey! I’m just saying. Besides, c’mon I need to tidy up or she will kill me at the very least.” Victor said, grabbing the plates and heading into the rear of the café with Benji following after him.
“You know I can help you right?” Benji said, leaning against the wall, after having been shooed by Victor twice already.
“Yes, but this is your night, so you don’t get to tidy up.” Victor said, flicking water at the boy.
“You’re ridiculously cute, you know that?”
“Shush.”
“Nope. You’re ridiculously cute Victor Salazar.” Benji said, smiling across the room at the boy.
“Shush Benjamin.” Victor said, waving a soapy hand in warning.
“You wouldn’t..” Benji said, eyes going wide in mock horror.
“Wanna bet?”
“I can’t believe you covered me in suds.” Benji grumbled as Victor locked up the café.
“Hey, I warned you.” Victor said, shrugging as he double checked the locks.
“True, I just didn’t think you were serious.” Benji said honestly.
“Hey, you should know, I mean everything I say to you.” Victor said earnestly.
“Oh really?” Benji said, perking up and looking at his boyfriend with a mischievous glint in his eyes.
“Yup.”
“So… tell me then Mr. Honest…. You called me cute earlier, did you mean it?” Benji asked.
“Yes I did.” Victor answered, unsure where Benji was going with this.
“So, anything in particular you like seeing?”
Ah, there it is. The cheeky tease.
“Hmm, it’s a long list B. You gotta be more specific, cause there’s your blush obviously, that cute sparkle you get in your eyes when you talk about your comics or music, your hair when you’ve just woken up, how it’s so messy but also oh so perfect… Oh or your hands, watching you play guitar is like watching magic happen.” Victor said, smiling when Benji looked back at him stunned.
“Um… yeah, um that’ll do it.” Benji said, giving Victor a quick peck on the lips as they walked hand in hand down the street, Victor having promised to walk Benji home.
“And then there’s your butt of course.” Victor said, sneaking his hand down to rest on Benjis’ rear.
“Victor!” Benji said, surprised by his boyfriend’s boldness.
“Yes B?” Victor said innocently, it was almost midnight, so there wasn’t exactly anyone around to see them despite the brightly lit street.
“You’re such a tease.” Benji whined, stopping Victor, and grabbing him by the front of his jacket, “Such a tease.”
Benji pulled Victor down into a searing kiss, making Victors mind go blank with surprise before he felt Benji pull away.
“You… Benji you are gonna get me in trouble someday if you keep doing stuff like that.” Victor said throatily.
“Oh really, and what are you gonna do Vic?”
“Mmmm I’d rather show you.” Victor said, walking Benji back slightly so they were off to the side of the street, where they’d have plenty of warning should anyone come walking up the street.
“Jesus! Victor.” Benji cried out, as Victor made a point of showing Benji exactly what he wanted to do.
“Ah mijo. Good, you are home, how was your date?” Isabel asked when Victor walked into the apartment. Apparently the woman had still wanted to wait up for Victor even though it was well past midnight at this point.
“Hey Mami, it was good, the movie was great.”
“And Benji, did he like it?” The woman said eagerly, smiling when she saw the grin cross Victors face.
“He did. He.. I think he loved it mom.”
“Ahhh Victor, I’m so happy. I am so happy you have each other, are you happy?” His mom said,
“Mami, I’ve never been this happy before, I swear.” Victor said, smiling at his mother who grabbed the boy in a hug, squeezing him tight.
“Good mi amor, you deserve it, now off to bed with you.” She said, leaving her eldest son to his go to his room and get into bed, Benji filled dreams awaiting him.
B: Hey Vic, hope you got home safe x
B: tonight was perfect V.
Victor: Hey u
Victor: Yup, home safe and sound.
Victor: I’m glad you enjoyed it.
B: Thank you Victor, seriously. I mean it.
Victor: Benji, I’m your boyfriend, you never ever have to say thank you.
B: Still gonna :P
B: Night V, sweet dreams.
Victor: Night Benji, love you
Victor: x
Victor sat bolt upright in his bed, staring at the screen, that little blue box showing where he’d typed that word.
Oh shit.
Victors' phone pinged with an incoming message, from Benji. Glancing at the screen, Victors heart almost leapt from his chest. Benji hard replied with four simple words;
Love you too Victor x
Chapter 18: Creekwood Knights
Someone to You.
“Victor to Felix. I need your help, asap. Come in Felix….. Over.” Victor whispered harshly into the walkie-talkie, waiting impatiently for a reply.
C’mon Felix, it’s only 2am.
“Wow, hey, umm it’s like 2am. What’s up buddy? Over.” Came the reply after a few moments, broken by a staticky yawn from the other boy.
“Can you meet me in the stairwell? Like, now?” Victor asked, even as he pulled on his sweats and a hoodie.
“Sure, sure buddy. Give me 60 seconds to get something on that’s more than just boxers.” Felix said, cutting the conversation off.
Victor couldn’t help smiling even as he snuck out of his room to meet Felix, the boy was odd, but he was always there when Victor needed him. Even at 2am when he was panicking about how he’d just text his boyfriend of just over a week that he loved him.
And said boyfriend replied that he loved him too.
C’mon Felix!
As if he’d heard Victors internal summoning, the Weston apartment door opened, Felix slipping out into the without allowing the door to open wider than the bare minimum.
“Hey Victor, are you okay?” Felix asked, sitting on the step beside Victor, drawing his legs up to him to stave of the chill.
“Umm.. yeah, I am. I think.” Victor said, not sure how to start, “So you know Benji, and I had our date tonight yeah?”
“Of course, I saw your Insta and Facebook too, you dog.” Felix said, giving Victor a playful shove on the shoulder, “How did the meal go afterwards?”
“It.. it was actually perfect Felix, he loved it.” Victor said, nearly choking over the last bit.
“Okay, so why do you look like you’ve seen a ghost, did something happen?” Felix asked, eyes full of concern.
“Sort of, here. See for yourself.” Victor said, unlocking his phone and displaying the message thread.
“Umm.. I’m not gonna see your sexts am I?” Felix said, somewhat serious.
“What? Dude no, I’d never show you th-. Just read the last two messages please.” Victor said as he rolled his eyes at Felix.
“Um.. lemme see. Oh. Ohhhh I see.” Felix said, staring down at the last two messages, “So what’s the problem?”
“Felix, we’ve been together just over a week!” Victor said, staring at the other boy, wondering how he didn’t see the issue.
“And?”
“And… isn’t it too soon?”
“Well, that depends, do you love him?” Felix asked, eyes meeting Victors.
“Uhh, yeah. I mean yes. I do. But-.”
“But nothing. Don’t be ashamed of your emotions and feelings Victor.” Felix said, reaching a hand out to wrap around his best friends’ shoulders. “Now, here’s the thing, despite my somewhat, well totally non-existent experience… You love Benji, he loves you. That’s that, no problem.”
“But..”
“But nothing Victor, besides, you didn’t say it in person did you?”
“No? Does that matter?” Victor asked.
“I mean, sort off. It’s easier to be freer in texts or DM’s, if you aren’t ready to say it in person that is fair, it’s just one of those weird things in life. Just don’t’ freak yourself out over it.”
“When did you get so wise?”
“It’s just stuff my mom tells me, we love people in different ways not just romantically, in different amounts, and mom thinks we definitely should tell each other more often.” Felix said with a shrug.
“Well, for what it’s worth, she sounds really smart.” Victor said. He knew Felix never talked about his home life much, and Victor wasn’t one to pry. The boy would tell him when he was ready if there was something Victor needed to know.
“That my friend is an understatement. She’s… well I think she is anyway.” Felix said, suddenly unsure.
“Welp, your word is all I care about so, I’ll take it at face value Felix.” Victor said simply.
“Thank you. Now, your little crisis averted, I’m assuming you didn’t see Mias’ invite for tomorr-. Well, I guess tonight given it’s almost 3am?”
“Um.. no, I’ve been… distracted today.” Victor said, blushing when Felix egged him on, saying they’d need to make sure Benji was never in the way when crossing roads. “Shuddup Felix, what was the invite?”
“Ah, a get together tomorrow at Mias’ place. Nothing like the Stoplight Party though, just us, Pilar, Mia and Lake obviously, Benji and Andrew.”
“Oh. Ugh, that should be fine? What’s the plan?”
“No clue, but Mia said to bring bathing suits. Either hot tub or a pool is involved, I’m not sure. But I wanna be awake for it so, I’m gonna go to bed. Are you okay?”
“Yes. I am, thank you Felix, for what it’s worth, I love you too, just in a totally different way to Benji.” Victor said teasingly.
“That’s gonna become a thing isn’t it. I’m gonna regret telling you that aren’t I?” Felix said laughing at his best friends teasing.
“Oh yee of little faith, don’t you trust me Felix?” Victor said, his tone of voice betraying the fact that he most certainly was going to tease Felix in the future.
“Little faith? Victor I have fuck all faith you won’t tease me over this.” Felix said as the boys burst into hushed giggled.
“Shhhh. C’mon you’re gonna get us caught. Go to bed Weston, I’ll see you at the door in… 4 hours.. oh god.” Victor groaned.
“Ah, do I hear the shuffling arrival of zombie Victor tomorrow?”
“No!”
CreekSquad
Felix: Guys! Zombie Victor hath returned!!!
Felix sent an image
Felix: Behold!!!!
Mia: Seriously? How this time? @Benji what did you do!!
Benji: HEY! This isn’t me; I know he got home just after midnight.
Victor: I can confirm, was home at midnight.
Benji: See. I’m innocent.
Pilar: There’s a mark on Victors’ neck that begs to differ…
Victor: Pilar!!
Benji:
😳
Benji: ummm…
Lake: Ohhhhhhhhhh. I want details
Andrew: Please no, can’t we just talk at lunch, do we need to document this
Victor: I agree with Andrew
Mia: O
Mia: Someone check on Hell, it might be chilly right now…
Felix: We could always play truth or dare tonight, that way we can get all the details we want.
Benji: Felix!
Victor: FELIX!!!
Lake: Ohhhh good call Felix. Smart boi
😊
Felix: 😳😊
Victor wasn’t talking to his friends. It was decided, never ever again.
“But they just keep going on and on about it!” Victor grumbled to his boyfriend at lunch. The pair weren’t sitting with the rest of the group, Victor having had enough teasing for the day.
Pilar in particular was having great fun pointing she’d seen marks on his chest when he’d come from the bathroom in just his sweats.
“Aww, Vic I promise it’s okay.” Benji said understandingly, even though Victor could see the boys smirk threatening to break through.
“They won’t tease you though, even those these are definitely your fault.” Victor said, gesturing to the marks on his neck.
“Well.. there aren’t any marks on me where they can see… so that’s on you babe.” Benji said, smiling when Victor blushed.
“Hmmph… you’re enjoying this aren’t you?”
“Maybe a little.” Benji said, smiling when Victor pouted.
“You are so enjoying this more than just a little.” Victor said, smiling despite his embarrassment.
“What can I say, I’m not ashamed if people know I get to do all sorts of things to the hottest guy in school.” Benji said, with a shrug.
“You are such a kiss-ass Mr.” Victor said, offering Benji a quick kiss.
“Hmmm, I mean, we could definitely try that later.” Benji said in a low voice, quiet enough that the words only reached Victors ears, smiling when the boy stumbled as Benji’s’ words sunk in.
“Benji!”
“Yes Victor?” Benji said innocently.
“You’re so going to pay for that.” Victor said, flicking his eyes around the corridor before grabbing Benji by the hand and marching the boy into a nearby supply closest, “This is payback.” Victor said simply, before attacking his boyfriends’ lips in a kiss that would be seared into Benji’s’ memory for quite a while. Victor made a point to tease Benji as much as he could, the boy almost whimpering in need, but he also made sure to leave a bright red mark on his boyfriends’ throat, where anyone could see it..
“Okay, time to go B.” Victor said, stepping back and withdrawing his hands from where they were roaming under Benji’s’ shirt.
“Nooo! Victor you can’t do that to me.” Benji said, cheeks flushed, panting heavily.
“I can, I did. Now everyone gets to know that I get to do all sorts of things to the hottest guy in school.” Victor said, smirking as he repeated Benji’s’ own justification back at him.
“You’re impossible.”
“Nope, just really unlikely.” Victor said, smiling and opening the closet door, “C’mon B, we have Bio now.”
“I was studying biology! Just specifically yours.” Benji grumbled as he grabbed his backpack.
“Ha, very funny Benji.”
“You’re sooooo gonna pay for this later Victor Salazar.” Benji growled as he straightened his clothes, “You know I can’t hide shit in these jeans.”
“Oh well, you should think before you act from now on.” Victor said, offering a hand to his pouting, blushing boyfriend, and leading him down the hallway towards their class.
“You know, I never figured you’d be this cheeky Vic. It’s kinda hot.” Benji admitted as they sat at their assigned table.
“Shush you, keep it in those extremely tight pants of yours.”
“Oh please, you’d love to get me out of these pants.” Benji whispered back in an attempt to tease.
“Duh, but maybe not when we have a project to work on.” Victor said, trying to fight his blush. Benji’s’ had turned to look at Victor so fast, this time Victor was convinced the boy would have whiplash.
“So, you two are coming to my place tonight right?” Mia asked Victor as the pair walked through the school after final period.
“Yeah, of course. Sorry I forgot to message; I didn’t actually see the message until Felix told me.” Victor admitted.
“Oh yes, I think you were fairly well distracted last night, and during lunch today to.” Mia said mischievously.
“Oh god..” Victor groaned.
“No no, none of that. Victor it’s nice to see you just acting like a normal teen, in a relationship. Go you for jumping your boyfriend every chance you get.”
“Mia!” Victor said, shocked that the girls’ words, this wasn’t the same Mia from last time. This was an evil version who liked to tease Victor and make him blush.
“Am I wrong?”
“No. But still.”
“Victor, c’mon anyone can see you two are crazy about each other.” Mia said, smiling as Victor held a door open for her, stepping through and out into the sunshine.
“Well, I know I am at the very least.” Victor said, thinking for a moment before he continued, “I actually kinda texted him last night, and said I loved him.. and he said it back.”
“OH MY GOD! Victor that’s so sweet. I’m so happy for you!” Mia said, launching into Victors arms and smothering the taller boy in a tight hug.
God, is this what I missed out on by forcing a relationship with Mia?
“Okay okay, shhh. Please don’t let anyone hear, especially not my sister.” Victor warned.
“Oh, come on, you can trust me. My lips are sealed.” Mia said sweetly, “But I demand payment. My legs are awfully tired…. And it’s such a long way to Brasstown.”
“You want me to give you a piggyback… in exchange for not telling anyone I love my boyfriend?” Victor said.
“Yup, that about sums it up. Do we have a deal?” Mia said, rocking on the balls of her feet impatiently.
“Yes, we have a deal, hope on.” Victor said, waiting for the girl to wrap her arms around him as he hooked his arms under her legs, “It’s a good thing everyone knows I’m gay, or questions would be asked.”
“Oh, sweetie, people will still ask questions.” Mia said with a laugh, as Victor set about finding their friends, spotting Benji, Felix and Lake waiting for them.
“Hey guys. Where’s Pilar?” Victor asked, ignoring the questioning looks he was getting.
“Umm… she has debate after school, so we were gonna go get coffee and dinner before tonight.” Felix said.
“Hey Vic, you know you have a Mia on your back right?” Benji said, laughing when Victor spun on the stop trying to look for the girl.
“Victor Salazar! Stop I’m getting dizzy.” Mia called out between giggles.
“Karma for making me carry you.” Victor said as the group walked down the pathway and towards Brasstown.
“Mmmm nope, this was the deal.” Mia replied.
“What deal?” Benji asked.
“Oh nothing, just a little something. Don’t you worry Benji.” Mia said, smiling down at the boy.
“Okay…” Benji said, eyebrow raised in confusion at his boyfriend, who only shrugged in response.
“Sorry B, a deal is a deal. Don’t worry, I’ll carry you from Brasstown.” Victor said, leaning forward to kiss the boy lightly.
“Hey, I’m the captain here, and as much as we ship Venji with all our might, I ship me with a coffee and chocolate muffin more. Now get your butts moving.” Mia said, jostling Victor to get him to move.
“God, girls are so bossy.” Victor griped, a smile breaking out over his face when Benji’s’ laugh reached his ears.
“I know right? Guess we dodged that bullet.” Benji said, dodging a swing from Mia who had obviously heard the comment.
“Hey! I’m not bossy, I’m just always right.” Mia said, ignoring the laughter from her piggy backer and his boyfriend.
“Alright, let’s go get this girl a coffee stat.” Victor said, quickening his pace.
“Yessir Mr boss-man.” Benji said jokingly, offering a mock salute.
“You are hilarious.” Victor offered dryly.
“I really am.” Benji mused as he followed his boyfriend towards the coffee shop, laughing at Mias’ excited squeals.
“Don’t you two ever leave?”
“Well. Hello to you too Sarah.” Victor said with a grin on his face as the woman rolled her eyes at the assembled teens.
“Yeah yeah smartass, don’t be so glib, I still have those security tapes Mr.” Sarah said, smirking when Victor audibly gulped and Benji actually dropped his phone in shock.
“Sarah!” Benji said, staring at the woman.
“Yes Benji. What can I do for you?” Sarah said, her voice professional, but her smirk threatening hell if either boy tried to be coy.
“Umm…. The usual please.. and whatever Victors’ having.” Benji said, handing over his card in defeat.
“That’s what I thought Romeo, sapping up my store.” Sarah said, swiping the card and handing it back along with a receipt before passing the order slip to the barista on shift, Victor was pretty sure his name was Jake.
“Hey, that was all him.” Benji said, jabbing a thumb over his shoulder at Victor before taking the offered muffin.
That little….
“Oi, you weren’t complaining when we were eating the food.” Victor said, jabbing Benji in the side.
“Yeah, that’s right Victor, and he definitely didn’t seem to mind when you were eating his face either.” Sarah said nodding along in agreement with the other boy.
“Sarah!” Benji said, face red as he stoically ignoring the howls of laughter from his friends and Victor.
“Benji.” Sarah said, still smirking victoriously, “Did you know that I am having lunch with your mom tomorrow?”
“Umm… Oh.”
“Yeah, and she just loves to hear about you and Victor, so shush Mr.” Sarah said, handing the boy the ordered drinks.
“Wha- umm thanks.” Benji said, face still red, though he had a confused look now, as he turned on his heel and walked to a nearby table Lake and Felix had already claimed.
“B, are you okay?” Victor asked as he slid into the seat beside his boyfriend.
“Umm yeah, I think. Just, I’ve never heard Sarah say that before.” Benji said, staring at the mug in his hands.
“Say what?”
“That my mom liked hearing about my boyfriend. She literally never asked about you-know-who, but it's non-stop about you. I just.. it's new.” Benji said, looking up to meet Victors eyes.
Oh, Benji..
“Benji. I get you, I'm not used to Mami asking after you.” Victor said softly, taking Benji’s’ hand in his own, “but that’s a good thing isn’t it? That your mom wants to know.”
“Yeah, it really is Vic. Plus you probably should meet them soon.” Benji said, a soft grin on his face which stretched into a full on, beaming smile when he reached over to kiss his boyfriend, all because he readily agreed to met Benjis' parents.
Until Mia threw a chunk of muffin at them, threatening next time she would get the hose, Victor didn’t care though, not when Benji was smiling that smile, canines glinting as he sat hand in hand with Victor chatting excitedly to their friends about tonight’s plan.
I really love him.
“Benji c’mon stop playing with it, we need to go.” Victor moaned; he couldn’t take it anymore.
“Aw Vic, please, give me like 5 more minutes.” Benji replied, his voice muffled, “It’ll be worth it I swear.”
“B, come on please. We’re gonna be late.” Victor said in exasperation, throwing his head back against the door.
“Fine. But I warned you, it’ll be stuck like this all night.”
“Benji, I… your hair is fine!” Victor grumbled as his boyfriend finally emerged from behind the bathroom door.
“Fine? C’mon V..” Benji said trying to get back into the bathroom only to be stopped by Victor picking the boy up and throwing him over his shoulder, “VICTOR! Put me down.”
“Nope, we gotta go. And besides, it’s your fault your hair is a mess.” Victor said as he dragged the boy down the wall, waving goodbye to his parents.
Parents who definitely weren’t laughing at their elder son’s antics, clearly happy to see their son so carefree and just acting like a teenager for once.
Pilar was laughing at them though. Quite openly.
“Sorry B, but you wanted to help Mami with her baking before we left.”
“And you threw flour at me!” Benji cried, still trying to wriggle out of Victors grip, pouting when he saw Pilar filming him as she followed them out the door, waving to their parents calls to have fun and behave.
“Sorry but this is hilarious B.” Pilar said, zooming in to show Benji’s’ red face.
“Pilar, help me. I’ll give you anything.” Benji begged as Victor bounced down the steps, laughing as they met an amused Felix outside his apartment.
The boy wasn’t even fazed by being greeted by Benji’s’ denim behind.
“Hello Bestie, Bestie’s boyfriends butt, Pilar.” The boy said nodding to each in turn, even if Benji couldn’t see.
“Felix! Help, c’mon. Help a guy out?”
“Sorry Benji, Victor seems to have everything well in hand. Though considering where his hand is right now….” Felix trailed off when they laughed as Victor darted his hand back down from where it had been resting.
“Hey, I was enjoying that part.”
“EW. Okay hermano, enough. Don’t need to hear that.” Pilar said as she pulled a face
“Yeah yeah, alright. Poor Benji.” Victor said, setting his boyfriend down and making a show of straightening his clothes and pressing a soft kiss to his head.
“You will rue the day Salazar.” Benji said, trying his best to glare at Victor, who just smiled at him and kissed him again.
“Sure B. Sure.”
“I mean it! You will rue the day.” Benji said, even as he took Victors’ hand and followed Pilar and Felix who were complaining about the first of tooth decay from the sickeningly sweet antics of the couple.
“Alright you two, onwards to Mias’ house!” Felix said as the two boys caught up.
“Okay party people, time for game number one, not Settlers of Catan Felix..” Lake said, turning in a circle to look at the gathered friend group, rolling her eyes when Felix pouted, “Tis time, for Never Have I Ever.”
“Oh god, this is gonna get dangerous.” Mia groaned, sliding off the sofa to sit on the floor beside Andrew.
“It’s not gonna be that bad is it?” Andrew asked from between Mia and Pilar.
“Andrew, it’s Lake. No one will survive.” Mia said gravely, her serious façade crumbling as she started giggling. Victor and Benji smiled as well, both boys nursing simple sodas, Victor had grumbled when Pilar had been offered a light drink by Mia but was surprised when the girl turned it down in favour of a Fanta. “Okay, we play until the first question no one drinks on.”
“Alright, alright come on. Something simple first, Felix you can go first.” Lake said, sitting between the boy and Mia, clutching her fancy glass, which was more tiny umbrella than actual drink.
“Umm… okay, never have I ever… skipped school?” Felix said from Victors other side.
“Really Weston? That’s the best you can do?” Andrew said as he took a drink, nodding as Victor, Benji and Pilar took their own drinks, and Felix only shrugged in response.
“Wowow, perfect little Victor skipped school?” Pilar asked, eyes comically wide as she looked at her brother.
“I’m not perfect little Victor. It was back in Texas, and we did a ditch day, nothing manic.” Victor said shrugging.
“Okay, fair enough.” Pilar said, looking round at the group, “Who’s next?”
“Oh, I have one. Never have I ever gone skinny dipping.” Lake said as she took a drink, as did Andrew.
Victor tried not to gulp to audibly when Benji took a sip from his glass.
Don’t think about Benji naked, in the water…. Oops.
“Everything alright over there Victor?” Mia said, grinning at the boy as he blushed.
“Yup, perfectly fine.” The boy said, crossing his legs and pointedly staring at the ceiling.
“Awwww poor Victor.” Benji said, leaning his head on the boy’s shoulder, running a hand up the boys back.
“Shush you, you’re not making this any easier.”
“Aw babe, are you having a hard time?” Benji whispered in Victor’s ear, his hand dipping down to Victors’ boxers, and flick the waistband.
“Oi, hands to yourself boys.” Lake said, though she clearly didn’t mind.
“Nope.” Benji said, pushing himself closer to his boyfriend, “Deal with it.”
“Alright, who’s next? Andrew?” Pilar said, trying to get the attention of her horny brother.
“Ahhh lemme see.” Andrew said, leaning his head back against the sofa, “Never ever have I sent a nude to someone?”
“Does an accidental towel one count?” Victor asked, ignoring Benji’s sniggering.
“Uhhh sure, let’s say it does.”
“Whoops.” Victor said, taking a drink, noting he was the only one who did, “Seriously? Just me?”
“Yup, looks like you’re the hoe Salazar, who got it?” Andrew said, his smirk showing he meant no malice.
“That.. um that would be me.” Benji said, hiding his face in Victor’s shoulder when the assembled group cheered, except for Pilar who looked a bit green.
“Alright, well. Now that we heard that and never need to hear it again.” Pilar said, “Never have I ever got in a fight?”
Andrew, Pilar and Benji all drank, Victor knew about Pilars’ fight, he’d been privy to that when he’d found her with a busted-up hand after school one day.
“Who did you fight with Benji?” Mia asked, head titled quizzically.
“Ehh, you remember Steven Johnson?” Benji said, looking to Mia.
“The kid from summer camp?”
“That’s the one, well he sort of figured out I was gay, cause he kissed me, and then he hit me.” Benji said, eyes lost in the past, “So I hit him back. That’s the extent of it.”
“Damn, he was cute. Pity.” Mia said, raising her glass for in salute to Benji, who just smiled and returned the gesture in kind.
“Okay, wowee, scrapping boys. Here’s an easy one, never have I ever kissed someone?” Benji asked, changing the topic. At this point the only person who didn’t drink was Felix, who looked sad at the fact.
“Well, that was unexpected.” Lake said simply, thought Victor noticed her eyes were lingering on Felix. Was that going to return? Victor realised that last time, he’d gone to Mia’s to take things to the next level Felix and Lake hooked up for the first time.
I need to nudge them together tonight.
“M’kay, how about this one, never have I ever been caught doing it in public?” Victor asked, cutting across whatever was about to be said, and was happy to see that no one had taken a drink, “And that’s the game. Lake what was game two?”
“Truth or Dare Texas. And before we start I think we need some ground rules no?” Lake said, looking around at the group. “Keep everything PG13, nothing over the top, Victor and Benji are immune from kiss dares etc since that’s just awkward.”
“Okay, who is first?” Mia said once everyone had confirmed they accepted Lakes rules.
“I’ll go, Victor, Truth or dare?”
“Truth.” Victor replied, warily eying the blonde.
“Just how good a kisser is Benji?” Lake asked, leaning forward in anticipation.
“Well, that’s not really fair, I’ve only kissed girls before, and that’s not exactly as fund for me..” Victor said looking to his boyfriend, “Although I will say, it’s pretty awesome.”
“Yeah, considering when Mami and Papi are out you two are basically glued at the lips, I’d expect you’ve had plenty of practice.” Pilar said, frowning when Victor just shrugged.
“What can I say, my boyfriend is hot as hell.” Victor said, pulling Benji in for a kiss as though proving his point. “Okay, Pilar, Truth or Dare?”
“Truth. Go on hermano, I have nothing to hide.”
“What’s one thing you’ve done, that no one knows about?”
“Ummm… remember that weekend I spent at Eliza’s’ before Christmas last year? Well, I actually spend the night at Erics. Nothing happened though!”
“PILAR! I am so using that next time mom goes overboard with chores.” Victor said, laughing at his sister.
“Yeah yeah, I could just tell her about the hickeys all over your chest any time Benji comes over.”
“Touché.”
“Exactly, Okay, Felix truth or dare?”
“Dare. I ain’t afraid.”
“Hmmm… Mia you got any hot sauce?” Pilar asked, smiling when the girl jumped and ran to the kitchen, returning with a bottle of said sauce, “Okay. Two shots Felix, that’s the dare.”
“God you’re evil.” Felix muttered as he braced himself and downed both shots. “Gah that was horrible. “Victor Truth or dare!”
“Dare!”
“Take four shots of hot sauce for having a mean sister!” Felix cried out, chugging on the milk Lake had offered him.
And the game went on each person trying to embarrass the other, Victor got revenge on Felix again, who turned the tables on him, asking who he’d last confessed to loving. Felix had obviously forgotten their conversation in the stairwell and was mortified when Victor pointed out it was him.
“Alright alright, enough bullying Felix.” Mia said, smiling at her friends, “Andrew, I dare you to jump in the pool.”
“Fine. But I dare you all to jump with me. Drop your phones and follow me!” Andrew shouted, scooping a surprised Mia off of the floor and quickly jogging out the doors to the patio.
“He wouldn’t?” Pilar said, looking around at the group, only to be answered by a shriek from Mia and a splash.
“He did.” Lake said simply, standing up and grabbing Pilar and Felix to follow her, pointing out they could change once they’d done the dare, everyone had worn swimsuits under their clothes anyway.
“Benji, of your butt and let’s go.” Victor cried, jumping up and pulling his giggling boyfriend with him, both boys tumbling out the door to the pool.
Victor paused for a moment, taking in the sight of his friends splashing around acting like teenagers. A far cry from how they had been after the Spring Fling.
Life is so good right now.
Victor turned to ask Benji something, but his mind went blank when he turned around and saw Benji standing there in nothing but a pair of tight swim shorts.
“Holy shit Benji.” Victor said, mouth going dry.
“See something you like?” Benji said teasingly.
“Very much so.” Victor nodded as he looked his boyfriend up and down.
“C’mere you.” Benji said as he stepped up to Victor, “You know what I think you need?”
“Hmm?”
“To learn not to carry people about on your shoulder.” Benji whispered in Victors ear, before Victor felt hands on his chest push him back.
Right into the pool.
Victor emerged spluttering, coughing, and glaring up at Benji.
“Get in here Campbell. Now.” Victor said, splashing water at the boy, who took a running leap and jumped over Victor’s head, splashing into the middle of the pool.
“Woohoo Benji. 10 points for splash damage.” Felix crowed from the other side of the pool where he and Pilar were battering each other with pool noodles, Pilar winning when Felix dropped his weapon.
“C’mon jousting, everyone team up. Victor, Benji stop eye fucking and get over here. Weston you’re with me.” Andrew said, indicating Felix to get onto his shoulders, while tossing Benji a pool noodle as well.
“Hey! Look B, guess this means you get to be on top.” Victor whispered to his boyfriend, causing the boy to fall back into the water as he attempted to climb onto Victors shoulders.
“Hmmm. Maybe this once.” Benji replied, winking at Victor as the boy helped him up onto his shoulders.
“You’re a tease B.”
“Yeah, but you love it, don’t even deny it.” Benji said,
“Never will.” Victor replied, readying up to match across the pool, “Now come on. We can win this easily.”
“Tell you what, if we win this, maybe I can take you skinny dipping next time I go.” Benji said, laughing when Victor growled in response, tightening his grip on Benji’s’ thighs, and pressing his head back towards the boy’s crotch.
“You are so going to be the death of me Benji Campbell.”
“Aww, but we have fun though.” Benji said from his position above Victor shoulders, gulping when Victor pushing his head back in response.
“We definitely do. And we definitely need somewhere we can have more.” Victor said, marching forward to meet Andrew, pushing back against the other boy as Felix and Benji attacked on another with pool noodles, Mia, Lake, and Pilar all cheering from the side, shouting out encouragement. Victor couldn’t help noticing that Lake was cheering for Felix an awful lot.
Maybe he didn’t need to do any nudging after all.
Dear Simon,
I think I’m in love. Actually, I know I’m in love, but I don’t know if I’m in Love, if you get what I mean.
When did you know? That Bram is the one for you?
I feel like Benji could be, but I’m only 16. But I also want to take things to the next level, not all the way but I still want to do more with him. I trust Benji
Idk, I just wanna be somebody to someone. And I want to be someone to Benji.
Anyway, I’m gonna go to bed, water wars with your boyfriend on your shoulders is exhausting!
Love,
Victor
P.S. Do you know anywhere in Creekwood that you can go swimming in private? I kinda won a bet with Benji..
Chapter 19: What will happen in Willacoochee?
Wanting You.
Dear Simon,
Do you know what it’s like to be cursed? Because I do.
I swear any time Benji, and I get even 5 seconds alone, it’s interrupted by everyone and their grandma.
If we’re at school we don’t really have privacy, Brasstown has Sarah who delights in torturing poor Benji. if we’re at mine everyone suddenly likes to spend time in my room, wants us in the living room, or needs to ask me something.
You’d think my parents wouldn’t be as concerned, it’s not like either of us is going to get pregnant!
I’m a newly out gay teen. I want to fool around with my boyfriend! Especially since what I saw at Mia’s last week….
Anyway, honestly I wish we could just go away for a weekend. Do something crazy like come to New York, know anyone who has a spare couch? :P
Anyway, I gotta go. Benji is in the kitchen being too polite to be annoyed by Adrian’s pestering. And we have school….
See ya Simon. We should facetime again! I want you to ‘meet’ Benji
Love,
Victor
Victor walked back into the kitchen, pausing long enough to watch his boyfriend listen to Adrian’s latest take on how Elsa could use her powers to create a never-ending snow day, so they wouldn’t have to go to school ever again.
The boy loved Benji, not that Victor could blame him, but they needed to go to school.
“Sorry Adrian, Benji and I need to go to get coffee before school, you’ll see him at dinner tonight anyway remember?” Victor said, trying not to smile when he had to drag his boyfriend away from the young child.
“Oh. I guess.” Adrian said sullenly.
“Hey, don’t worry, you can tell me all about it at dinner. I promise buddy.” Benji said seriously as he waved at the boy. “Bye Mrs. S, see you tonight!”
“See you later, and I told you to call me Isab- oh forget it.” Isabel said, waving her hands in exasperation at her sons’ boyfriend. Benji never seemed to be consistent on calling Victors mother by her name, despite her continued permission he still dipped back into formalities.
“See ya Mami.” Victor called, already dragging Benji down the stairs, not waiting for Felix, since he had said he was waiting on Pilar that day, apparently they had some things to discuss, allowing Benji and Victor some of that rare free time.
“You know, I think this is the first us time we’ve had since our date last week.” Victor admitted to his boyfriend, joined hands swinging between the couple.
“Wow.. I think you’re right. That’s crazy.” Benji said, mouth twisting slightly as he frowned, “We don’t really have anywhere to go that we can be just us do we?”
“Nope. Its us vs the cockblocking world.” Victor said, smiling when laughter burst from his boyfriends’ lips.
“Victor Salazar! Is that the only reason you want me on my own? To get some action?” Benji said coyly, turning to face his boyfriend.
“I mean… did you see yourself in those swim shorts… can you blame me? I’ve never been as glad that Lake is trigger happy with her camera. Or that I was wearing loose trunks.” Victor said, giggling as Benji blushed, a blush that only intensified when Victor leaned forward to press a soft kiss to his lips.
“I… you… you’re impossible.” Benji said, leaning against Victor’s chest.
“You say that a lot. And as for your question, well it’s not the only reason. But I wouldn’t say no to a bit of privacy with my very hot boyfriend.” Victor said, pulling Benji along with him as they walked along the path to Brasstown, both needing coffee before school.
“You know.. we could always try getting away for a weekend? There are a few campsites around that wouldn’t be against two teens staying there alone.” Benji said, turning the corner that led to the coffee shop.
“That would honestly be amazing, have you been before?” Victor asked, maybe they didn’t need New York for peace.
“Well, I used to go to see the fireworks on the 4th of July with my parents out at this one in particular. The cabins are seriously nice, maybe we could go this summer actually.” Benji shyly said as he pushed open the door to the coffee shop.
“Ohhh, that actually sounds really cute.” Victor admitted.
“Well… cute wasn’t what comes to mind when I thought of you and I going there alone.” Benji admitted.
“Wow, and you say I’m bad.” Victor said cheekily, smiling when Benjis’ retort was interrupted by a frazzled Sarah.
“My barista boys, what can I get you? Any chance it’s not coffee?”
“Umm… I was actually just hoping for a cold brew.” Victor admitted.
“Cold Brew I can do.” Sarah said in relief, pulling together the needed items, “Benji?”
“Umm can I actually just get an OJ instead? Is something wrong with the espresso machine?”
Oh. The machine was playing up.. wait, tomorrow was…
“Yup, it’s doing that thing it did before Christmas. We might need to give Wally a call instead this time.” Sarah said, handing the orange juice to Benji.
“Dang. We probably should have done that at Christmas, that guy in town was a crook.” Benji said, frowning as he watched Hannah wrestle with the machine. “How soon do you think we need to call him?”
“Ideally, we have a few weeks. If I need to I can drive the machine up to him.” Sarah said, handing Victor his drink and accepting the boy’s money, rolling her eyes when Benji protested Victor paying. “Benji, the boy pays every time you come before school, you pay after school. The protesting was cute at the start.”
“Wow.. a little stalkerish Sarah.” Benji said indignantly as Victor chuckled and stepped to the side to allow them to talk, though he could still hear them.
“Well, your mom wants updates. Since she hasn’t actually met Victor yet.” The woman said pointedly.
“Yeah… I know.” Benji, suddenly looked uncomfortable. “I just… after last time..”
“Hey, I’m just saying kid. There’s nothing to worry about this time around, definite upgrade.” Sarah said in an uncharacteristically soft tone, eyes darting to look at Victor.
Victor realised that Sarah would have known Derek, and so would Benjis’ parents. And apparently there was a comparison game happening between the new model and the old.
How did Victor stack up in the eyes of Benjis’ parents?
“I know Sarah.. I just want to enjoy this a bit longer before…”
“Hey, chin up Benny.” Sarah said, tucking a finger under the boys’ chin and tilting his head up so he looked at her, before she said softly, so softly Victor almost didn’t hear. “This time they’ll see how truly happy that boy makes you. And if they don’t, well I’m sure the Brasstown security tapes will prove that.”
“Sarah, you wouldn’t.” Benji said.
“Wouldn’t I Benji? I have eyes everywhere.” Sarah said victoriously, chuckling when Benji grumbled.
“Alright, lets go Vic, before she bullies us anymore.”
“Bye Sarah, see you tomorrow.” Victor called as he waved at the woman, who had already turned her attention back to the espresso machine.
Tomorrow is the day the coffee machine broke, and Benji and I get sent to Willacoochee.
Victor and Benji walked together to school in silence, both boys lost in their own thoughts. Victor was worried now that he and Benji were together, that Sarah wouldn’t trust them to go alone, and she’d either send someone else, or tag along. He couldn’t lie to Benji, he wouldn’t trick his boyfriend into staying the night together, and even though he knew that there would be no cheating kiss, he was still nervous. Residual guilt washed over Victor, reminding him of how he had messed everything up last time.
How he’d almost lost Benji due to an impulse decision.
This time, I’m going to be smart. I’m not going to do anything that would freak Benji out, and even if it costs me a night with him, I won’t lie about the machine.
“So, I have a favour to ask you guys. My dad is hosting this university fundraiser this Saturday, and it will be super boring and… well it’ll be super boring. Unless maybe you guys would want to come keep me company?” Mia asked when they’d all gathered for lunch that day.
“Totally, we’re there.” Lake said, looking around the table expectantly, smiling when Felix nodded immediately, and Pilar followed.
“My dad makes me go every year, so I’ll already be there.” Andrew said with a shrug.
“Umm, we have work, but we should be done in time right Victor?” Benji said, nudging Victor who only nodded in response.
Actually, hopefully we will both be in Willacoochee instead B.
“Well, it starts at five, though the first few hours are just old people eating quiches and bidding on a silent auction.” Mia said, her face crinkling in distaste.
“Oh, I love mini quiches, and silent auctions.” Felix piped up, getting odd looks from the table. “What? I can pretend to be bidding on items and not have to admit I’m poor.”
“Aww, sweetie. Please don’t bid on anything, it’s all snobby crap for old rich folk to show off.” Mia said softly, “You’re there as my friend not a university guest, your job is to show up and make sure I don’t die of boredom.”
“Oh, okay then. I can still have the quiches right?”
“Yes Felix, I’ll make sure you get some.” Mia said, rolling her eyes. Victor noticed she flicked her gaze to Lake before she spoke next, “If anyone wants to bring anyone you’re more than welcome to, though maybe just one per person?”
“Well, I was wondering if I could invite Nora? I don’t know if she would go along with it, but I can try.” Pilar said, getting up to find said girl when she got confirmation from Mia.
Nora?
“Lake how about you?”
“Ummm.. I’m good with who we have.” Lake said airily, blushing slightly when Mia raised an eyebrow at her.
“Well, sounds like its gonna be the usual suspects, plus this Nora girl.” Andrew said, “We can play ‘Wife or Daughter’.”
“Oh god…” Mia groaned, chuckling as Andrew happily explained the rules and concept to the bemused group.
“Hey, are you okay?” Benji asked softly, having noticed Victor hadn’t taken part in the discussion much.
“I am, just a lot on my mind right now.” Victor admitted, though he didn’t disclose his thoughts were being overtaken by guilt and anxiety. He wasn’t sure if he could spend the day in Willacoochee again, what if he messed up his relationship with Benji this time.
“Hey, you know you can tell me anything right Vic?”
Ha. Sure, Hey B. I can time travel, and I know everything that’s going to happen, and I sort of maybe caused your relationship to fall apart and then swooped in and replaced Derek.
“I know B. I just don’t really know what it is you know? A lot of little things, just snowballing a little.” Victor admitted softly.
“Well, you know I’m here when you’re ready.” Benji said, understanding that sometimes, people just weren’t ready to talk about things.
“I know, you’re always here when I need you. It’s one of the reasons I lo- I am dating you.” Victor said, catching himself just before he could make that declaration.
Well at least my filter is semi-operational
“Mmhm. Here I thought it was for my rugged good looks and meatballs.” Benji said.
“Well… I am partial to your meatballs B.” Victor said laughing, anxiety set aside for the moment.
“Umm… should we be hearing this?” Andrew’s voice broke through their bubble.
“What?”
“I mean, we’re all cool with you two being a couple, obviously, but can you not… talk about your meatballs at lunch…”
“Huh? OH! Oh god no. Benji has this meatball recipe that is amazing, and he made some on Monday and brought them into Brasstown. It’s a food thing, not a sex thing don’t worry.” Victor said hastily, convinced he’d have died from embarrassment if Pilar had been here for that.
“Oh. Sorry guys.” Andrew said bashfully.
“Don’t worry, I would not discuss Benjis’ meatballs so freely.” Victor teased, “His cake though…”
“Victor!” Benji said when Andrew choked on his drink and both Mia and Felix snorted in laughter.
“Oh my god, yes Victor. Benji, you definitely have the best ass in the school.” Lake said matter-of-factly.
“Doesn’t he?” Victor said, happy to tease his boyfriend.
“You’re a lucky man Salazar.” Lake said, in an exaggerated dreamy tone.
“Oh, believe me I know.” Victor said, suddenly genuine, looking in Benjis’ eyes.
“Aaaand we’re back to sappy heart eyes. Good job Lake.” Felix grumbled as the couple were lost in each other’s gaze.
“Armando come on, it’s just a few lessons a week. You’re being unreasonable.”
Isabels’ voice carried from the living room, down the hallway and into Victors room, where said boy was laying ‘doing homework’ with his boyfriend.
“Oh great, here we go again.” Victor grumbled, standing up from his bed to slam his bedroom door closed before moving back to lay on the bed beside Benji, “Sorry you have to hear this.”
“Hey, don’t be sorry. It’s okay.” Benji said soothingly.
“It’s really not, but honestly, it’s not my job to fix.” Victor admitted, if his parents couldn’t be grownups, why should get step in?
“You’re not wrong, I just worry. I know you tend to take to much of the blame Mr.” Benji said, punctuating the end of his statement by poking Victor in the ribs.
“Ehh, yes and no. Like, I don’t want my parents fighting at all, but also it’s literally over my mom teaching lessons, it’s not something important.” Victor said, rolling over so he was face to with his boyfriend.
“True, I guess it’s got to do with the whole Roger thing.” Benji said softly. Victor had confided in him everything he knew about his mom’s affair, even stuff he hadn’t told Pilar.
“Probably.” Victor said, pulling Benji in close and enjoying the feel of the boy against him, the smell of his aftershave filling Victors senses. He didn’t know how long they lay there; it could have been a moment; it could have been hours.
I could stay here forever. Victor thought as Benji nuzzled his head deeper into the crook of Victors neck, their breathing synchronising as they lay content in each other’s arms.
“Victor! Mami says dinner is ready.” Adrian said, swinging the door open without any regard for his brother’s privacy.
“Motherfu- Okay buddy, we’ll be right there.” Victor said, catching himself before he left.
“Okay, Benji I saved you a seat beside me!” Adrian called, before happily skipping out of the room.
“He does realise I sit in the same seat every time right?” Benji said as he extracted himself from his boyfriends wrapped limbs.
“Yes, but he’s saving it for you.” Victor said, as though that explained everything.
“Uh huh.”
“Trust me, from a big brother point of view it makes sense. Now come, I’m hungry.” Victor said, moving to leave the room, “And I want to kiss you some more before you have to go home.”
“Hungry huh? Sounds more like you’re thirsty to me.” Benji said, ducking the pillow Victor swung in response, laughing as he darted out of the room and up the hallway.
“I’ll get you for that Benji!” Victor called after him.
“So, thank you for coming, I’ll see you tomorrow for work.” Victor said as he walked Benji down the stairs to the front door.
“Yup, I’ll have to do whole hour on my own without you, how will I cope.” Benji said dramatically.
“Well, I could do something to make the time alone worth it.” Victor said, his voice low.
“Oh?” Benji said, eyes glinting with anticipation.
“Mmhm.” Victor said, pushing his boyfriend in to the corner of the stairwell, and proceeding to do things to him that made Victor very glad his dad had mentioned they were having issues with the complex’s security cameras.
“Victor! How is that supposed to make me feel better being apart!” Benji said when they resurfaced.
“Mmm I didn’t say that. Just I’d make your alone time worth it.”
“Yeah, well I definitely need alone time now.” Benji grumbled, pushing his hips against Victors in response, smirking when Victor yelped in shock. “Ha, smart ass.”
“Shush, you surprised me alright.” Victor grumbled, not wanting to admit how much that one action made him feel, and how much get could feel.
“Mmmhm. Okay, goodnight Victor, I’ll see you tomorrow.” Benji said, giving Victor a quick peck before moving to the door.
“Bullshit, you’ll probably Facetime me tonight.” Victor said, knowing if Benji didn’t, Victor himself would.
“True.”
“At least give me time to shower.” Victor called.
“Mmm maybe, not that I’d complain if you wanted to take the call in the shower.” Benji said, winking at his boyfriend.
“God, you are impossible.” Victor said.
“We say that a lot don’t we?”
“Yup. Night B.” Victor said as the door swung shut once Benji had stepped out into the night. Victor waited until he would out of sight before quickly jogging upstairs, taking them two at a time. Stepping back into the apartment, Victor grabbed his pyjamas and headed to the bathroom to shower.
Stripping down to his boxers Victor ran the shower, waiting for the water to heat up, scrolling through his phone to pass the time. Once the room had filled with steam, Victor turned the shower down, lowering and stepping out of his boxers and setting his phone on the counter, though after a moment he picked it up, carefully weighing up his spur of the moment idea.
Fuck it.
Opening Snapchat, Victor stepped forward to the mirror, making sure that nothing R-rated could be seen, but making it clear that there were no clothes anywhere in the photo, snapping a quick photo, happy that the steam helped to cover some bits, before adding the caption.
‘It’s not FaceTime in the shower, but this should… help with your alone time 😉’
That’ll teach him to tease me.
“Hey Simon, how are you?” Victor asked, smiling when the older boys face filled his phone screen.
“Hi Vic, I’m good, classes are a killer right now.” Simon said, and Victor could see the tiredness in his eyes.
“Oof, that sounds rough.”
“Yeah, who knew college would be so hard.” Simon said with a chuckle.
“Hmm… some teachers may have mentioned that.” Victor admitted.
“Ha. Ha. You and Bram should do a comedy gig. HE made the same joke.”
“Hey, great minds.” Victor said with shrug.
“Ugh, now there are two of you..” Simon muttered, his grin betraying his glee.
“Okay, enough about my great mind, what’s up?”
“Well, you mentioned wanting to come to New York, and I actually had an idea for that, but then I got roped into my cousin’s bachelor party the one week I’m off.” Simon said, he actually looked unhappy, “Yay boobs.”
“Oh, ouch. That’s going to be rough buddy.” Victor said, doubting that Simon’s cousin would take them anywhere Simon might see something of interest.
“Yeah, so my kidnap Victor plan went out the window.”
“Hey, don’t worry, it’s not like I can just show up.”
“Well.. I mean I definitely shouldn’t encourage this, but you so easily could.”
“Simon Spier, you are trying to corrupt me.”
“Ha, not quite, just getting you out of Creekwood for a bit. But hey, I’ll keep you updated yeah?”
“Sure.” Victor said happily. He knew Simon would make it back in time if he ended up in New York but still, he’d have liked more time with the boy.
“So… you mentioned in our last call something about taking things forward, and you had some questions?”
“Oh… yeah. Well, I’m not ready to go all the way but…” Victor said, suddenly nervous, even with Simon Victor still couldn’t comfortably talk about sex.
“Hey, that’s natural, especially when you’re with someone you’re very much in love with and attracted to.” Simon said, noting the boy’s unease, “So, instead, tell me what you are ready for, and we can go from there.”
“Well… I was actually thinking of…” Victor said, face going red as he explained what he wanted to do, versus what he felt he was ready for.
“Felix to Victor, are you there, over.” Felix's voice came across the walkie-talkie shortly after Victor had finished his call to Simon. Rolling over, Victor grabbed the device, thumbing the button so he could respond.
“Hey Felix, what’s up?”
“Ummm are you coming to Mia’s thing tomorrow?”
“Yup, why?”
“Well… I don’t know what to do.”
“It’s a party buddy, show up, eat fancy food, mingle.” Victor said, unsure what the boy was talking about.
“No, I know that… I mean umm. Lake sort of.. well after the pool last week, she kind of… kissed me. And we’ve been hooking up ever since.”
“Wow… that’s.. Wow.” Victor said, stunned, it seemed FeLake was destined in every timeline.
“Yeah, but it’s on the DL for now, both of us are taking baby steps.” Felix admitted.
Okay, that was new. But maybe that was better?
“Oh, in that case I’d say play it by ear, but err on the side of friend not date?”
“Hmm… you’re probably right. I just don’t want to upset her.”
“Felix, buddy I think maybe you should talk to her then. Maybe call her tonight, or tomorrow morning at the least.” Victor said, hoping to ensure his friends didn’t accidentally hurt each other.
“Yeah, yeah I will. Thanks buddy. Felix over and out.” The boys voice sounded, before a burst of static and the radio went silent.
Victor only chuckled at the abrupt end to their conversation, rolling over and smiling contentedly to himself.
Life was good.
His phone buzzed and he saw it was a message from Benji, which he quickly opened.
B: Victor Salazar you are evil.
B: I opened that snap in the kitchen, my mom almost saw!
Victor: oops. Sorry B
B: lmao, don’t be, it was really hot.. I didn’t screenshot it
Victor: Benjamin!
B: It’s safe dw
B: You are really, really hot Vic. Pheww.
Victor: You’re making me blush.
Victor: I will see you tomorrow B. Plenty of time to talk in Brasstown 😉
B: Goodnight Vic, I have something to…. Take care of first.
Victor: OMG! You can’t tease me like that.
B: Hahahaha x
B: Luv u
Victor: ILY2
Life was perfect.
“Victor, thank god you’re here. Something terrible has happened.” Sarah said as she greeted Victor at the door to Brasstown.
Oh, déjà vu here we go.
“The espresso machine is busted; Sarah is just being dramatic.” Benji said, popping up in his tight vest, from whatever he’d been doing under the machine.
“I am not being dramatic Benji, is that what you think of me? That I’m dramatic?” Sarah said, phone pressed against her ear as she took in the boy in front of her. Benji only rolled his eyes and smiled at Victor who walked around the counter.
“Okay, Victor you stay here and man the store, Hannah will be in later so you should be fine for now. Benji you and I are going to the repair guy in Willacoochee.” Sarah said, her voice full of authority, to the point Victor nodded in acceptance, casting his eye around the store.
“Umm… wouldn’t it be better if Victor and I went instead? It doesn’t make sense to leave the store without the manager and assistant manager.” Benji said, eyes suddenly panicked.
Ha, uneven sweater nightmares are attacking
“Uh huh. You want me to give you and your boyfriend a day pass to fool around while the machine is getting fixed?” Sarah said, eyeing the two boys.
“Well… when you put it like that, I guess.” Benji said, having the decency to look embarrassed.
“It’s going to cost you.” Sarah said after a moment.
“Name your price.” Benji challenged.
“You come to dinner with me and your mom next Monday night.” Sarah said, smirking when Benji groaned in response. “Come to dinner and I won’t mention this or the security tapes.
“Fine, deal. But we need your car.” Benji said, arms crossing over his chest.
“Done but don’t come back until that machine is good as new. I’ll get the keys.” Sarah said, turning towards her office.
“I’m sorry, I know we have Mia’s thing tonight. But I just..” Benji started, only to be silenced when Victor put his hand over his mouth.
“Hush, you realise what you’ve done?” Victor said, trying to control his excitement, “You, being the best boyfriend ever, just bought us a paid, day away alone, without interruptions.”
“Oh… I actually didn’t think of that, I Please, Victor. I, I can't do another road trip with Sarah. Last time, she made us stop at the Ann Taylor Outlet. Two hours of watching her try on irregular turtlenecks. She bought them all, Victor.” Benji spoke rapidly, horror building in his voice, “All of them.”
“Okay, I said okay, you goof.” Victor said, chuckling at the overly relieved look on his boyfriends’ face, before Victor leaned in to whisper in his ear, “Besides, I can’t say no to you when you’re wearing a top that tight.”
Benji just gulped in response as Sarah returned.
“Here, you two behave. Benji I expect you to call your mom to let her know where you are, Victor I’d advise doing the same. I don’t need angry parents chasing my employees.”
“Yeah, I’ll call my dad now.” Victor said, grabbing his phone from his pocket and stepping to the side.
“Hey Papi, listen something came up at work, I won’t’ be back till later.”
“Victor, is everything okay?” He could hear concern in his dad’s voice.
“Yeah don’t worry, Benji and I need to take the busted espresso machine out to Willacoochee. So, we won’t be back till later.”
“Okay Mijo, are you driving?”
“Sí. Benji doesn’t have a license.” Victor said, glancing at his boyfriend. It was a sign of how close they were now that Victor could see a flicker of guilt in Benji’s’ eyes.
That needs addressed. He needs to know he didn’t do anything worth feeling guilty over.
“Okay Flaco but behave. I’m putting a lot of trust in you, Benji too. I expect regular updates.” Armando said after a moment.
“Of course, dad come on, it a genuine work thing.” Victor said fighting a blush.
“Okay, I’ll explain to your mom. Drive safe, love you.”
“Love you too Papi, see you tonight.” Victor said as he hung up, “Okay my dad cleared it, you ready to go?”
At Benjis’ nod the two boys heaved the espresso machine out to Sarah’s car, carefully loading it in the back, before they both climbed into the front of the car, and bucking themselves in. Once he had everything set up on his phone, Victor pulled out of the carpark and onto the empty road, the GPS guiding them out of Creekwood towards their destination.
Willacoochee here we come..
Chapter 20: What will happen in Willacoochee?
Needing You.
Victor -> Mia
Victor: Hey so just a quick update, B and I need to run to Willacoochee for work
Victor: So, we will be late to the party tonight, sorry.
Mia: Ah! Abandoned for a day out with your boyfriend. WE see how it is!
Mia: Dw though, there’s plenty coming, though… I did want you here so we could watch the whole FeLake dance.
Victor: Omg, did you see them yesterday! I give it a week before they get caught.
Mia: $5 says two weeks.
Victor: You’re on!
Victor: I’ll keep you updated on the trip sitch
Mia: Gotcha Vic, say hey to Benji for me.
Victor -> Felix
Felix: Dude, are you bailing on tonight! I need a Salazar at my side!
Victor: Dude don’t worry. You have Pilar there.
Felix: Oh yeah. Never mind then. :P
Victor: Wow, quick timing on the replacement
Felix: Oh shush. You have fun with Benji.
Felix: Don’t do anything I wouldn’t
Victor: Hilarious
“Mia says hey. And Felix says to not do anything he wouldn’t, whatever that means.” Victor said, as he pulled the car out from where they had stopped, Benji having reminded Victor to message Mia about them possibly not making the party.
“Ha-ha, ookay. I’ll message her hey back.” Benji said, typing quickly on his phone before slipping into a peaceful silence as he watched the trees pass by.
“God I love road trips.” Benji said as Victor drove down the highway. Victor couldn’t help looking over at the gentle smile that spread across Benjis’ face.
“Yeah, we definitely need to do one over the summer.” Victor agreed, remembering how Benji used to go to Dollywood with his dad, “Maybe we could go to Dollywood? Or at least stop by for a few days, it could be a birthday treat for you.”
“Oh my god! Yes, ugh. Best. Boyfriend. Ever.” Benji declared, turning in his seat to smile at Victor, even though he was now focused on driving again, “I mean, it would be a big ask to get you to drive all that way though, it’s like a 3-day drive..”
“Will you be in the passenger seat the whole time I’m driving? Will you be staying in the same room as me the entire time? Will you hold my hand on the roller coasters?”
“Uh, yeah? Yes to all I mean. Why?”
“Then it’s totally worth it B.” Victor said, lifting a hand off of the wheel to grip Benjis’ thigh briefly in reassurance. “Plus, I want to see you geeking out over everything, I know how much you love it and I want to see you happy.”
“Aw, you sap.”
“Yeah, yours though.”
“Amen to that.” Benji said, grinning widely as his eyes traced Victors face.
“Besides, I can’t deprive my poor, sweet Benji of his need for Dolly Parton and theme parks can I? Oh, that reminds me...” Victor said, as he tapped at his phone, eyes not leaving the road, opening a playlist that he might just have prepared for this event, smiling as the music started playing.
“Victor. Did you make a Dolly Parton playlist?” Benji asked in shock.
“I might have, something about her being timeless.” Victor shot back cheekily.
“You are so getting a thank you later.” Benji said, as he bopped his head to the rhythm of the music, tapping at the dashboard as they song hit the chorus, the boy couldn’t stop himself from singing. “Barely getting by, it's all taking and no giving.”
“You know, there’s a joke there. But I’m gonna be a respectful boyfriend and not tease you.” Victor said, grinning at the confused look Benji offered, “All taking? No giving? Get it?”
“Oh god. You’re terrible you know that? Don’t do that to my Dolly songs, please.” Benji said as he laughed.
“Mmm okay, but you’re cute when I tease you.” Victor said, laughing when Benji harumphed.
“It’s a good thing you’re driving, otherwise I’d so get you back for that.”
“Oh really. And how are you going to do that B?”
“Hmmmm, I have an idea. It involves you begging for mercy…” Benji said, chuckling when Victor squeaked in surprise.
“Benji!”
“What? Your mom told me you were ticklish; I need to test that myself.”
“Oh… Nope. Not ticklish, not at all. A tickle? Don’t even feel it.” Victor said, eyes wide as he realised how terribly untrue that sounded.
“Convincing. Wow, can’t believe Isabel lied to me.” Benji said, “I’d still like to research that for myself though.”
“Yeah, research my ass.” Victor grumbled.
“If you want, I can take a look at that too.” Benji said shifting in his seat to watch his boyfriends’ reaction.
“Benjamin! I am driving, you can’t do that to me, I need to focus.” Victor whined.
“Then pull over, there’s a breakfast place just off the next ramp.” Benji said, pointing out a sign up ahead.
“On it.” Victor said, glancing at the mirror as he swapped lanes.
“Woo hoo, I’d kill for an omelette right now.” Benji said wistfully.
“Oh really, because I thought you had other plans for this stop.” Victor said with a chuckle, as he pulled into a small parking lot by a dingy restaurant.
“Yes, I do. But food first, then we can get to that.” Benji said, leaning across to kiss Victor briefly, before pulling back and stepping out of the car, “I’ll pay since you-.”
Benji was interrupted by his phone ringing, which he pulled out of his pocket, frowning at the unknown number.
“Who is it?” Victor asked curiously as he grabbed his wallet and phone from the car.
“I don’t know,” Benji said, thumb sliding across to accept the call, “Hello?”
Victor couldn’t hear who was on the other end but judging by the thunderous look on Benjis’ face it wasn’t someone he wanted to talk too.
“Derek, what the hell. Did you steal someone’s phone to call me? I blocked you for a reason.” Benji said harshly.
“B?” Victor said, looking over in concern.
“Derek. Politely, fuck off.” Benji said, hitting the hang up button with more force than needed. “Sorry Vic, I can’t believe him..”
“Wanna tell me about it?”
“Not right now. Sorry.” Benji said, glaring as the phone started to ring again, the same number flashing up. Growling in anger Benji hung up again and blocked the number.
“Hey, no need to say sorry. You know the rules, talk when you need, and when you want. But no saying sorry.” Victor said, reaching across to take Benjis’ hand.
“Thanks Vic.” Benji said softly in response, smiling when Victor pulled him in for a hug.
“Anytime you need B. Now come on, by boyfriend needs breakfast.” Victor said, pulling the boy towards the front door.
“Ha, yes please.” Benji said, smiling as Victor stepped up to the counter once they were inside and ordered for the both of them, smiling when he waved from the counter as he waited on the food, allowing Benji some time by himself.
“Here you go.” Victor said, handing Benji his order.
“Thank you.”
“No problem.” Victor replied, knowing Benji was thanking him for more than the food, again.
“Hey, umm… I know I kinda suggested fooling around when we were done… but could be maybe not right now?” Benji said nervously.
“Benji, god of course. Don’t worry about that.” Victor said, bumping the boys shoulder.
“Thanks.. I know.. well Derek used too… sometimes I feel like I’m not good-.. never mind.” Benji said uncomfortably.
“Hey. Stop B, I promise there’s no problem, I just want you to be okay.” Victor said, whipping at his mouth with a napkin.
“Thanks Vic, lets just head back to the car before Sarah appears and shouts at us for slacking off.” Benji said, plastering a fake smile across his face.
Victor dumped the empty wrappers and trays and walked Benji back to the car, offering him a soft kiss before they both buckled in and Victor headed back onto the highway, Dolly Parton music playing softly from the speakers. Victor glanced across the car and could see the sad look on Benjis’ face.
“So, you know how you said that Dolly was like the one thing that gay sons and straight dads agree on?” Victor said.
“Umm yeah?” Benji said, looking back confused.
“So, it turns out that me and my dad have something else we agree on instead.”
“Really?”
“Yup. So last night after you went home Dad couldn’t stop talking about how polite you were and how good you are with Adrian.”
“Wait what?” Benji asked incredulously.
“Yup. Apparently the big thing he and I agree on, is that you’re the best.” Victor said smiling, remembering how his dad had spent a solid 10 minutes praising the boy.
“Seriously, but I didn’t do anything?”
“You did though. You helped Adrian with his homework earlier in the week, you helped Mami clean up over dinner. Trust me, the only other person they have to compare to is Eric, and you win by a big ass mile.”
“Oh..” Benji said, seemingly shocked into silence.
“Yup, so the whole Salazar house is pretty much under your spell B.” Victor said, flicking his eyes across and smiling when he noticed the corners of Benjis’ mouth start to quirk up. “Yeah, pretty sure I couldn’t have got any luckier to have you as my boyfriend.”
“You know, I know what you’re doing Vic.” Benji said after a moment.
“Is it working?” Victor said, not bothering to deny it.
“It might be.”
“Good.”
The two lapsed into peaceful silence, the road speeding by as Victor headed towards Willacoochee.
Clang. Clang!
CLANG!
Oh my god Wally. Come on.
“Yeah, she’s broke.” The man said after tapping at the machine with a wrench.
“Okay, so what’s the damage?” Benji asked, doing his best to not laugh at the exasperated sigh Victor couldn’t help letting out. Wally had been tapping at the machine for a solid 5 minutes.
“Well, I know you boys are in a hurry, but this old machine is like my wife at a train station. When I try to rush her, she insists we have time to get soup. She orders the soup, she makes 'em toast the bread bowl...” Wally said before Victor interrupted him, he didn’t need to hear the rest.
“Can you just call us when it’s ready?” Victor said, handing a scrap of paper over with his number on it.
“I shall. And now I shall get my special tools.” Wally said, turning and moving so slowly that time almost seemed to freeze.
“Okay, thanks.” Benji said politely, though Victor could see him chewing his lip. Benji was nervous.
“Hey, you worrying isn’t going to make him move any faster.” Victor said, taking Benji’s hand in his. “If we get tight on time, we can always go straight to Mia’s B.”
If we don’t stay this time…
“You’re right. You are. But we aren’t exactly dressed for a party.” Benji said, gesturing between the pair, “I did see a thrift shop down the road though… maybe we could find something there? And we have time to kill. ”
“Okay. Okay, fine we can go shopping for suits. But I'm not wearing anything someone died in. Deal?”
“Deal.” Benji said, face brightening up as they walked out down the dusty sidewalk towards the thrift store.
“You know this is where I get all my band tees? Places like this?” Benji said, as he heaved the door open, and they stepped into the dusty, open space.
“Really?”
“Yeah, it feels more authentic, like it has a story behind it.” Benji said, immediately going across to a rack of tees.
“That’s… actually kind of cool. I never thought of it like that.” Victor said, joining Benji at the rack, rifling through sets of clothes with him, dutifully holding on to any that Benji took a liking too.
“It’s something I actually learned from my mom. She used to say it when we needed to get second-hand clothes, guess she was trying to make me feel better when kids teased me about hand-me-downs.” Benji said, handing Victor and awful frilled brown jacket.
“Wow. Creekwood rich kids are jerks.” Victor said,
“Yup. Here, this would look good on you.”
“Benji, I’m not Colonel Sanders.. This isn’t KFC.” Victor said, eyeing the white suit he was now carrying.
“Mmmm I’ll be the judge of that thank you very much.”
“Uh huh. I’ll get you back for that. Maybe they sell Speedos.” Victor said.
“Ha, I’m not wearing a second-hand swimsuit Vic, sorry. If you want to see me in a Speedo, you’ll need to buy new.”
“So, what you’re saying is, if I bought one… you’d model it for me?” Victor said boldly, stepping up close to his boyfriend.
“Wow.. you’re really bold today aren’t you?” Benji said, turning to look at Victor in surprise.
“I mean, I’m alone with my hot boyfriend. Also, you didn’t answer my question..” Victor said with a lecherous grin.
“Okay you.” Benji said, rolling his eyes at his boyfriends’ antics before he moved off to look at other racks of clothes. “And yes. Yes I would.”
Holy Shit. Note to self, go to the sporting good store in town asap.
“C’mon let’s go try these on Vic.” Benji called, holding up another stack of clothes that he’d grabbed. “I think I found a nice suit that would look really good on you.”
“Yessir. Coming now.” Victor called, walking by the sniggering sales assistant.
“Y’all are hella cute.” They called as she pointed out the changing rooms to Benji.
“Thank you.” Victor said brightly. It was nice to hear that every now and then.
“You’re very welcome, no sharing a changing room though.” The girl called, smirking when Victor blushed and Benji snorted.
“Thank you for that.” The boys echoed each other, Victor and Benji splitting the pile of clothes.
“See you in a sec.”
Somehow the whole time was better than last time. Benji still somehow managed to pick the most horrible outfits for them both, Victor didn’t know which was worse, the mustard jacked or the powder blue suit.
“You look really good in that.” Benji said, head poking out from the curtains.
“I feel like you’re biased.” Victor said, smiling at his boyfriend who emerged in a terrible plaid/chequered type jacket that looked like the armchair in his Abuelos sitting room.
“Maybe, but I’m not wrong.” Benji said with a wink.
“Goof.” Victor said, slipping back into his own changing room, coming back out in the powder blue suit, giggling when he and Benji danced goofily in front of the mirror.
The pair picked through their assembled outfits, Benji rocking a cowboy hat, greeting Victor with a ‘Howdy’. They played a game of tossing hats onto each other’s heads, Victor laughing when Benjis’ last shot bounced off of his forehead and soared further into the store. Then they were bouncing back and forth while Benji played a racket like a guitar, in shades and a band tee, while Victor wore a dark suit.
“Hey, I think I found something that works.” Victor said, looking at himself in the mirror.
“Yeah? Lemme see.” Benji called, Victor stepping up to Benjis’ stall, drawing the curtain back to see the boy standing there, tee in hand.
“Oh. Oops.” Victor said, not sounding apologetic at all.
“Oi, I’m changing.” Benji said, smirking at his boyfriend. Victor turned and looked over his shoulder, checking to see if the cashier could see them.
“Yeah, I can see.” Victor said, darting into the stall, and pulling the curtain closed behind them.
“Vic?” Benji said breathlessly, smiling when his boyfriend gently pushed him back against the wall.
“Yes Benji?” Victor said, pressing forward and kissing Benji.
“Nothing.” The boy replied, grabbing at Victor hastily, pulling him in closer. Victor wasn’t going to say no to that, he pushed himself closer to the boy, his hands resting on Benjis’ hips, enjoying the feel of Benjis’ bare torso, hands roaming up from where they lay on his hips.
“You’re really hot B.” Victor said, voice heavy with desire, as his lips moved up Benji’s jaw and then down his neck, taking a moment to suck on the spot between his boyfriends’ neck and collarbone, smiling against Benjis’ skin when the boy moaned. Benji scrambled to get Victor’s shirt untucked, hands roaming under the fabric, grasping at his boyfriends back.
“Hey! You two, I said no sharing a stall. C’mon my manager will kill me, put it back in your pants.” The sales assistants voice called through the curtain.
“Sorry.” Victor called back after a moment, giggling softly when the cashier snorted in retort.
“C’mon you, lets go. Before they get a hose.” Benji said, eyes clearing of their lust filled haze.
“Mmmmm okay.” Victor said, offering Benji a quick kiss before going back to his own stall, jacket held in place in front of himself.
“Sarah, stop yelling.” Benji called into the phone, wincing when Sarah shouted across the phone at him, “I don't know how much longer. Okay, fine. We will. Now will you please just do a head space and calm down?”
Benji rolled his eyes when Victor chuckled at him from where he was paying for his new suit, having slipped a few of the band tee he saw Benji eyeing as well to the cashier who smiled and made sure to packed them out of sight.
“Hey, so Sarah called.” Benji said as he got to the counter, “She said to stay in a motel if the machine isn't ready tonight. That way we can bring it back first thing tomorrow before we open.”
“We would stay the night here? I guess that makes sense, it’s already 5pm.” Victor said, glancing at the clock behind the register.
“Yeah. I know we promised Mia we’d try to get back, but if we can’t get this for Sarah we’re screwed. So, let's just pay, drive over to the repair guy, and light a fire under his ass.”
“Okay. Okay, cool.” Victor said, accepting the bag and receipt from the cashier.
C’mon Wally…
Victor jumped as his phone rang, just as expected.
“Oh. One sec, Hello?”
“Hey. I just finished up your repair.”
“So, it's, it's ready?”
“It's ready!” Wally said over the phone, “You just come on by and pick her up. It's Wally's Repair, down past the thrift store, the Five and Dime across from the candy‐‐.”
“Okay. Great, we should be over shortly.” Victor said, turning to Benji who was finishing paying for his own clothes.
“Uh, hey. I just spoke to Wally… and we won’t have to spend the night.” Victor said, trying to keep his voice even, despite his disappointment.
“Oh.. um I guess we should head over then.” Benji said, and Victor could see the disappointment in his eyes as they headed out of the store with their bags, into the fading sunlight.
“Well… I do have another idea.” Victor said, chewing his lip nervously.
Would Benji go for it?
“Oh?” Benji said, squinting as he looked at Victor, raising a hand to keep the sun from his eyes.
“Well… it would just take a little white lie on our part. But I was thinking we could fib to Sarah and stay the night. There’s a motel around the corner, and we could get a twin room..” Victor said, looking down at his shoes as he waits on Benjis’ response.
“Victor.. that’s.. I dunno.”
“Oh, if it’s too much, it’s fine, I just don’t want today to end, asshole exes aside, it’s been pretty perfect.” Victor said, looking his boyfriend in the eye. “I just… I’m not ready for today to end B.”
“Okay. Let me call Sarah now, you call Wally and tell him we will be around tomorrow morning to collect it.” Benji said, cutting off Victors surprised ‘Really?’ as he pulled his phone out. “Yup, now go Mr, I’ll call Sarah right now. Then you should probably call your dad.”
“Good point.. okay, I’m gonna call Wally, then Dad.” Victor said, turning and heading a few steps away to dial the old man. Once he confirmed with Wally they would be around to collect I the morning, before dialling his fathers’ number, frowning when it rang out. Sighing he called his mom instead.
“Hola Mami, sorry, did Papi explain about the work thing?” Victor said when Isabel answered the phone on the second ring.
“Mijo, he did. Is everything okay?” The woman said, worry in her voice.
“Yeah, don’t worry. We’re fine, just something came up, the machine won’t be ready until tomorrow morning. So, we need to stay the night.” Victor said quickly.
“Oh.. we as in you and Benji?”
“Yeah..”
“I see. Okay, well I’m putting a lot of trust in you here Victor, amor. But I do, I do trust you both. Just… be careful, promise you’re being safe?”
“OH my god! Mami, we’re not here to have sex. We’re gonna get a twin room.” Victor hissed down the phone, looking around to make sure Benji didn’t hear that.
“Well, I’m just saying, even if you aren’t, you will someday. And we expect you to be safe. Besides, Benji has spent the night a few times at this point, we know you’ve shared a bed.” Isabel said, and Victor could hear a chuckle in her voice.
“Thank you Mami.. I think. I’ll text you when we get a motel and in the morning when we’re heading back. Can you text Pilar and let her know? I need to charge my phone.”
“Of course, tell Benji I said hello.” Isabel said as she ended the call.
“Oh. My. God.” Victor said, exhaling through his nose as he rested his face in his hands.
“Hey, you okay?” Benjis’ voice broke through Victor’s moment of exasperation.
“Oh, just great. My mom said it’s all good. Then proceeded to tell me to make sure I am safe. I’m pretty sure she is expecting us to be… you know.” Victor said, blushing.
“Oh!”
“Yup, c’mon, lets go get a motel before I die from embarrassment.” Victor said, pulling Benji along, ignoring the boys smirk.
“Aww Victor. C’mon, it’s cute. Your mom and dad trust you, trust us. I’m a little happy, I won’t lie.”
“Yes, well. Shush, come on.” Victor said.
“Hey, you know we don’t actually have to have sex tonight right Vic?” Benji said, stopping his boyfriend as he spiralled.
“I… I know.” Victor said, trying to keep his voice even.
“Are, are you disappointed?” Benji said in surprise.
“Well… sort of , I’m not ready to go all the way you know, but I don’t know, I kind of want to do more.”
“Really?” Benji said, eyes going wide.
“Yeah, I mean, don’t you?” Victor said, suddenly self-conscious.
“Of course, Vic, I mean you have to know that.” Benji said, “You know that right? That you’ve literally been fuelling my fantasies for months.”
“Really?” Victor said, smiling despite his blush.
“God, for someone so smart, you’re so dense sometimes.” Benji said, stepping forward and kissing Victor deeply. “C’mon Salazar, lets go before it gets dark.
“Hi, welcome to Pleasant Bells motel, how can I help you?” The elderly receptionist asked when Victor and Benji stepped up to the counter.
“Hi, thanks, we need a room for the night.” Benji said, thumbing the piece of paper with Sarah’s Brasstown card details written on it.
“Of course, double or twin?” The woman asked, eyes flickering between the two boys. Victor was suddenly nervous; this was still Georgia after all.. it wasn’t all rainbows and acceptance.
“Em, a twin room please.” Benji said, clearly thinking along the same lines as Victor.
“Of course, let me see… Oh I am sorry. It appears that we only have a double room available.” The woman said, frowning at her screen, and picking up a set of forms.
“That’s fine, we just need it for the night, I can sleep on the floor Benji.” Victor said, hoping Benji would play along.
“Hm.. we can send a camp bed up if needed?” The woman said, still not seemingly happy about the idea.
“It’s okay, I have a sleeping back in the back of the car, I can grab that.” Benji said, taking the forms from the woman, and filling them out swiftly.
“Thank you, it’s room 301, here’s you key.” The woman said haughtily.
“Thank you.” Victor said shortly, taking the key and shouldering his bag, “Is there a 7/11 around? We need to get some food and toothpaste type things.”
Last time he hadn’t planned on kissing Benji, but now he was 100% planning on making out with his boyfriend all night. Hence toothpaste, and mouthwash.
“Sure, just down the street, about a 10 minutes’ walk beyond the thrift shop.
“Thanks.” Victor said, following the signs as he led Benji down the hall to their room.
“So, Victor.” Benji said, grinning at his boyfriend as he dropped his bags on the bed.
“Yeah?”
“Remember you teased me about having a plan of seduction all those weeks ago?”
“Umm… yea- Oh my god! Benji no, this wasn’t my plan.” Victor said hastily, “I’m sorry if I forced you into anything you don’t want to do. I can actually get that camp bed if-.”
“Victor, shush. Trust me, I have no problem with this. If you want to just sleep all night, that’s still a win because I get to sleep wrapped in your arms.” Benji said honestly, “If you want to… explore, then I’m here for what you want to do. So, stop panicking.”
“Oh.. okay.” Victor said, smiling as he pulled Benji in for a kiss, frowning when the other boy broke the kiss. “Hey, I wasn’t done kissing at you.”
“I hope not, but we need to get some supplies for tonight. So, do you want me to get everything from the store?” Benji asked when they settled into the room.
“I can come too.”
“Nah, don’t worry, I need to call my mom anyway, and I can do it on the way. Plus, your phones about to die right? So maybe get that charged, but text me the stuff you need.” Benji said, nodding to the power outlets.
“Smart, okay.” Victor said, pulling his charger out of the pack he brought to Brasstown, he always kept a spare on him for work. “Hey, I have my iPad in here, we could watch a movie if you want?”
“Yes. Smart plan you, I’ll get snacks, you get settled.” Benji said, grabbing his wallet and dropping his bags by the bed.
“Any preferences?” Victor said, trying to connect the tablet to the crappy motel Wi-Fi, it was as welcoming as the receptionist.
“How about a rom-com?”
“Sounds good.” Victor said, scrolling through Netflix to find something appropriate, “You sure you’re good to go on your own?”
“I promise.”
“Good, call me if you need me.” Victor said, handing Benji some cash to cover his own items.
“I shall, see you in a bit.” Benji said, closing the door softly behind him.
Victor stared at the door for a moment, as if he could summon Benji right back. Instead of staring at the door, Victor went into the bathroom, washing his face in the dingy sink to calm himself down, before going back to sit on the bed. It was the same room as last time somehow.
He’d told Benji that he was ready for more, but it didn’t mean he actually knew what to do. He was still very much a virgin, not that Benji had ever given him any grief for that, Victor knew he never would. Grabbing his phone, making sure that it was still charging, he text Benji what he needed, and then opened his text thread with Simon.
Victor -> Simon
Victor: Hey Simon.
Victor: Ummm so Benji and I are in a motel, on our own, and staying the night
Victor: I need your advice.
Simon: Hey, umm… I want to ask why you’re alone in a motel..
Simon: But I feel you need the advice more.
Simon: I assume this is a sex thing?
Victor: Yes.
Simon: All the way?
Victor: Not tonight, but I do want to do more than I’ve done before.
Simon: Okay, all I can actually tell you, is to talk to Benji first. Explain what you want.
Simon: Just make it clear what’s yes and what’s no.
Simon: and the stuff that’s yes, try to have fun okay
😉
Victor: Thanks.. I’m just nervous. I don’t want to disappoint Benji.
Simon: I sincerely doubt that is possible Vic.
Simon: Have fun!
Victor smiled at his phone, setting it back on the bedside table.
Okay Victor, you know what you want, you know what you don’t want. All you need to do, is figure out what from that list, Benji also wants to do. Simple.
Victor actually wasn’t worried as much as he thought he’d be. He’d seen videos online, so really he knew what the basic idea was, but porn wasn’t exactly an accurate guide.
“Well, I wanted some alone time with Benji, I guess I got my wish.” Victor said to himself, “I get to spend a night, in private with the boy I love, why the hell am I complaining.”
As his phone beeped, he opened Instagram, seeing a post Benji had tagged him in, laughing at the silly face the boy was pulling as he showed off the carrier bag full of supplies, followed by photos they’d taken throughout the day, in the car, in the thrift store in all their silly outfits, and then finally a cute photo they took outside the motel, in front of the sunset.
‘After an awesome day hunting through thrift shops, I’m ready for a night with my favourite person @victorsalastar.’
Victor smiled as he tapped the post to like and typed out a quick comment, noting that Benji was cute, but he’d better be back with their snacks soon.
God, I really really love that boy. Thank you universe, for giving me what I need.
Chapter 21: What will happen in Willacoochee?
Loving You.
“Hey, Vic, I’m back!” Benjis’ voice called as the door to the room slammed shut loudly, “Whoops. Note to us, the door is heavy.”
“I’m in the bathroom, I’ll be out in a minute.” Victor called back, looking himself over in the mirror once more before heading back out to the main room, “Did you get everything okay?”
“Yup, behold. The mountain of snackage.” Benji declared proudly, dumping the bag on the bed, smiling manically as a ludicrous amount of junk food poured out, burying the few items Victor had asked for, like a toothbrush or deodorant.
“You, are never ever in charge of shopping again B.” Victor said, shaking his head at his boyfriend.
“Aww, come on, we got a night away, we always go OTT on movie nights back home.” Benji said with a pout.
“Stop that, you know I can’t say argue or say no when you pout like that.” Victor said, giggling as Benjis’ eyes lit up with amusement.
“Hmm… you can’t say no to me?” Benji said, stepping up to Victor.
“Mmmmm probably not.” Victor said, his voice cracking slightly, a smile on his face as Benji stepped up and wrapped his arms around his shoulders.
“How about… if I want a kiss?” Benji asked, head quirked as he awaited Victor’s answer.
“Anytime you want.” Victor said, dipping his head down and placing a soft kiss on Benjis’ lips.
“Anytime?”
“Yup.” Victor finished simply, deepening the kiss, and pushing Benji back towards the bed, smirking when the boys knees buckled and he fell back with a soft ‘omph’, though Victor quickly followed him down, laying on top of his boyfriend as he reconnected their lips, Victor attacking Benjis’ neck, hands wandering down his chest and dipping underneath his shirt.
“God. Have I mentioned I love how confident you are?” Benji said between kisses.
“What?” Victor said, pulling back in confusion, smiling when Benji whined at the loss of contact.
“Hey, I wasn’t done kissing you.” Benji said, stretching his neck in a desperate attempt to recapture his boyfriends’ lips.
“Nope, kisses are on hold, what do you mean?” Victor asked, laying his weight on Benji to hold him in place.
“Aww, you said anytime I want.” Benji grumbled, throwing his head back as he accepted he wasn’t getting a kiss.
“Then tell me what you mean B.” Victor said, wiggling slightly on top of the shorter boy, stopping when he felt himself brush up against something hard in Benjis' jeans..
“I said I like how confident you are.” Benji said, suddenly blushing.
“Nooo you said you love how confident I am. Explain, what do you mean.”
“I mean, I remember when you told me you weren’t sure about all this, about being gay, having a boyfriend. How you thought you’d never be ready.” Benji said, his voice soft, “It terrified me that the world might scare off the best thing that’s ever happened to me.”
“Wow.. Benji… I don’t know what to say.” Victor said, blinking back tears in his eyes.
“Hey, no wait Vic, don’t cry please! I’m sorry.” Benji said, suddenly panicked.
“Shuddup, they’re happy tears you idiot.” Victor said, wiping at his eyes and offering a wet chuckle. “You’re… you’re so freaking amazing Benji.”
“Aw come on, now you’re gonna make me cry.” Benji said, smiling up at his boyfriend, who finally relented, and pressed a soft kiss to his lips.
“Hey, Benji… I mean it. You’re amazing, you’re my favourite person in the whole world and you have no idea how happy I am that I met you and get to be with you. I care about you so fricking much B.”
An I am so happy that I got this second chance.
“Vic, I… I feel the same way. You’ve completely turned my world upside down, thanks for that by the way, but you’ve shown me I can be myself. You don’t make me feel shitty about being a romantic. I always wanted to be with someone who doesn't make me feel anxious all the time. You know, someone who makes me feel like I can just be myself, and that's enough. That's how you make me feel, Victor.” Benji said, reaching a hand up to cup Victors face.
“B, that’s how you make me feel too.” Victor said, leaning in and kissing his boyfriend, intent on pouring every ounce of love he could into that kiss.
But it wasn’t enough, Benji couldn’t know how he felt from just that kiss, he had to tell him.
“Benji… I think I love you.” Victor said, pausing when he heard Benji inhale sharply, “Actually screw it, I know I love you. And it’s okay if you aren’t there yet bu-.”
“Victor, shut up. I love you too you idiot.” Benji said, smiling widely reaching up to wrap his arms around Victors' neck.
“Wow, really feeling that love B.” Victor said, mock hurt on his face, though the sparkle in his eyes betrayed him.
“Hmmm lemme make it up to you.” Benji said huskily.
“Oh? OH!” Victor said, as Benji rolled them over, landing with his legs on either side of Victor waist. “I think maybe I should have told you that a while ago?"
“No, right now was perfect, it was genuine. I know you meant it, and I hope you know I meant what I said too.” Benji replied, threading his fingers through Victors.
“I do. To both.”
“Good, now… I believe I was told anytime I wanted a kiss…”
The next 20 minutes was spent without words, but that doesn't mean their mouths weren't busy.
“Victor, c’mon, pick a movie already!” Benji said, as he neatly folded his jeans and set his wallet on the dresser.
“You pick! I picked last time.” Victor said, laying on the bed, offering the iPad to Benji.
“You picked Winter Solider, and that doesn’t count since it’s the next movie in the series!” Benji retorted, grabbing a toothbrush and toothpaste before heading to the bathroom in just his tee and boxers.
“I still picked it!” Victor said, scrolling to a random movie and selecting it, “Okay, Godzilla: King of Monsters it is.”
“Oh. That’s actually good call.” Benji called from the bathroom.
“Always a tone of surprise.” Victor muttered, as he heaved himself off of the bed and padded into the bathroom to brush his own teeth, smiling when Benji handed him a toothbrush, which he offer a quick peck on the cheek as thanks. ”Thank you dear.”
“Welcome.” Benji said, voice muffled by the toothpaste foam.
Victor wet his own brush and layered the toothpaste on, before standing behind Benji to look in the mirror. The pair contended themselves with watching each other, each wondering how something as simple as brushing their teeth could be so intimate.
“Perks of having a short boyfriend.” Victor said softly, leaning forward to rest his head on top of Benjis, giggling when the boys eyes widened in the mirror at the statement.
“Ha. Ha.” Benji said, rinsing off his brush and setting it on the counter. “You’re awfully cocky tonight.”
“Mmmm something about my boyfriend saying he loves me, has me all happy.” Victor said, wrapping an arm around Benji waist pulling him closer.
“Uh huh.” Benji said, rolling his eyes, though Victor could see the joy in them.
“Plus, I’m not wrong, this is comfy.” Victor said, indicating where his head was resting on top of Benjis’. This time the shorter boy didn’t say anything, instead he very pointedly and firmly jerked his hips back, pressing his boxer clad backside firmly against Victors crotch.
Victor wasn’t proud of the squeak he made, nor the fact he dropped his toothbrush in shock. But in his defence, he’d just realised how thin their underwear really was, and Benjis' ass was...
“B!” Victor said, heat rising in his face.
“Ha.” Benji said simply, turning and planting a soft kiss at the edge of Victors mouth, swatting at the boys backside as he passed him into the bedroom, “C’mon this movie won’t watch itself.”
Dios
Victor stood in the bathroom on his own for a moment longer, processing what had happened, how good it had felt, all the while looking down at his fallen toothbrush.
“There’s no way that is going back in my mouth.” He muttered, picking it up, only to swiftly drop it in the bin before heading into the room.
Benji was already in bed, covers pooled around his waist, the snack mountain on the bed by his knees. Victor moved to the door, double checking it was locked, before checking his keys and wallet on the dresser. Happy to find them where he’d left them, he noticed Benjis’ wallet, and his license.
Oh. This needs to happen again doesn’t it.
“Hey, B. I thought you said you didn’t have a license? I thought you failed the test?” Victor said softly, trying not to rush to Benji when he saw the boy look up in panic.
“Oh umm.. That wasn’t exactly true… I have a license. It's just... suspended.” Benji said after a moment, eyes still focused on the license in his boyfriend’s hand.
“Why? What happened?” Victor asked“You remember I told you that before I came out, I was kind of a mess?” Benij said, pausing as Victor nodded, “I knew I was gay, but I didn't want to be. So I drank. A lot. And then one night, I got super wasted, and decided that I wanted Wendy's, real bad.”
Victor walked over to the bed, climbing on to it as Benji exhaled loudly before continuing, reaching out for Victors hand, which the boy gladly took, hoping to offer as much comfort as he could.
“Go on B. You can tell me.” Victor said softly.
“So, I took my dad's car to the drive‐through, and that's exactly what I did. Drove through... ...the Wendy's..” Benji said, not meeting Victors eyes.
“Oh, my God.” Even though Victor had heard the story, it still scared him to hear how low Benji had been, how close he was too losing him before he even found him.
“Yeah. Luckily, no one was hurt.” Benji said against after a while, leaning into Victors chest, sighing as the taller boys arms circled his waist, “But I totalled my dad's car.”
“Wow, that's intense B.” Victor said, running a hand up and down his boyfriends shoulder, “Were, were you okay, or...?”
He needed to hear it, to hear Benji say it out loud, even though he knew the boy was okay.
“Yeah. Yeah, just... banged up. But waking up in the hospital with my parents standing over me, it made me realize that I could have died without ever really being who I was. So that's when I came out.” Benji said, and after a moment continued, “Hey, um, no one at school really knows about the accident, so, if, if you could not‐.”
“Yeah, you know I wouldn’t.” Victor said, pressing a soft kiss on top of Benjis’ thick locks. “I won't say anything. But thank you for telling me.”
“I know you won’t, I trust you Vic, I’m sorry it took so long to tell you.” Benji said.
“Hey, don’t apologise, I’m glad you told me.”
“I just don’t want you thinking less of me for it… or loving me less.” Benji responded, and Victor could hear the vulnerability in his voice
“Hey! That will never happen, I love you for you. And for better or worse, that’s part of your story B.” Victor said, tilting the boys head up so he could look him in the eyes. “Benjamin Campbell, I can’t think of a single thing that would make me change my mind about you, there isn’t a single thing I don’t love about you..”
“Thank you.” Benji said, reaching up to press a long, sweet kiss against Victors lips, “Can we watch the movie now? I kinda want to switch my brain off for a bit.”
“Mmm sounds good. Who doesn’t love giant monsters knocking the crap out of each other?” Victor said, twisting around to grab the forgotten iPad.
“I know right?” Benji said, shuffling about in the bed so he was sitting between Victors long legs, back against his chest.
“God, you’re such a nerd.” Victor said, handing the iPad to Benji who placed it on his own lap, Victor content to wrap his arms around Benjis’ waist, sliding his hands under the boys Brasstown tee.
“Mmm, but I’m your nerd right?” Benji said, smiling up at his boyfriend before turning his attention back to the iPad.
“In this timeline, and every other one.” Victor mumbled against Benjis’ shoulder as he focused his eyes on the small screen between their legs, smiling when Benji hummed in satisfaction.
“And you call me a nerd. But that was very cute Victor.” Benji said, before he shushed the boys response as the movie started, absently reaching for a pack of candy.
You have no idea how much I love you B. I’m yours in this life, and the next.
“Oh shit, no way!” Benji cried out, despite having his mouth full of candy at the time.
“Benji! Say it don’t spray it!” Victor said, wiping at the screen as the post-credit scene ended.
“No but Victor! Godzilla versus King Kong! They’re gonna do it!” Benji said wiggling in place excitedly, not even the least bit fazed as his boyfriend laughed at the odd little dance the boy was doing.
“Yes, yes, don’t worry. It’s not out for like another year or something, but I promise I’ll take you. Just no more assaulting my iPad.” The boy said, flipping the cover over the screen and leaning over to set it in his bag.
“Mmm you know how to spoil me.” Benji said, flopping back, enjoying the feeling of Victor playing with his hair.
“Well, you deserve to be spoiled so it’s hardly a burden.” Victor said, knowing full well how much it meant to Benji to have someone treat him as more than tag along. “Speaking of, I did actually get you a present or two today.”
“What? When? Why?” Benji said, twisting around so he was laying chest to chest with Victor.
“I got you a present or two. When you were trying on that goofy old suit. Because I wanted to and you’re cute.” Victor said, counting off each response on his fingers.
“Victor, you didn’t need to do that.” Benji said.
“I know.” Victor said, rolling the pair over so Benji was on his back, eyes going wide. “I wanted to.” He finished, offering a quick kiss to Benji before sliding off of him and stepping across the room to dig through their shopping bags from earlier. “They’re in here somewhere…. Aha!”
Victor turned to face Benji again, waving the bundle of cloth triumphantly.
“Here you go.” He said, handing Benji the folded-up tees. “I know you only got yourself two, but I wanted to treat you, there’s a Superman one in there too.”
“You didn’t have to..” Benji said, carefully flipping through the tees, smiling gently, “it’s Superboy by the way, black and red..”
“Oops, it has the S on it... Should I not have? I wanted to do something nice..” Victor asked nervously, “I know I don’t know some of the bands, but I saw you looking at them, and figured it wasn’t the worst choices.”
“Vic.. these are so cool! I’m just being nerdy about the character. Thank you.” Benji said, bouncing up on his knees to kiss Victor, the t-shirts clutched preciously in his hands. “You just keep outdoing yourself Mr.”
“Well, you’re worth the effort.”
Just wait till you hear my plan for New York….
“I love you Victor.” Benji said, resting his head on the boy’s chest, sighing contentedly.
“I hope so, cause I’m about to ask you to do something big…” Victor said, trying to make his voice sound serious. It must have succeeded, because Benji jerked back to look him in the eye, “Can you get off me? This angle is wrecking my legs.”
“OH! Sorry Vic.” Benji said, grinning as he climbed out of Victors lap, and off the bed before he padded over to his own bag, placing the clothes carefully on top of his new suit.
“Forgiven, now help me clean this up, I wanna cuddle.” Victor said, indicating the empty bottles and wrappers strewn across the bed.
“Mmm, happily if it gets me cuddles.” Benji said, sneaking a quick kiss as he passed to start clearing up the mess they, mostly Benji, had made.
“You’re adorable B.”
After they finally had the place cleared, the iPad tucked away, and gotten into bed with the only light coming from the dingy lamp on the bedside table, Victor was content, laying here talking with Benji about everything and nothing, it felt right. It felt true.
“So, what do you wanna do, like after school, and/or college?” Victor said, hands lazily playing with Benjis’ hair, eyes roaming the boys soft features.
“Ehhm, I mean if you asked me when I was six, I’d have said an astronaut. Ask me now, and I have no idea.” Benji said, smiling as he enjoyed the sensation of Victors fingers ghosting over his face.
“Hm.. same I think. I mean I’ve really no idea what I wanna do beyond finish school. But in my defence, I just figured out I was gay like this year, never mind the future, so I get a pass.” Victor said, smiling when Benji chuckled beside him. “So you don’t want to do music?”
“I would love too, but at the same time, I love my music, I don’t want to turn it into a job, and then start to resent it you know? I kind of like the idea of being a teacher, for music or art.” Benji said wiggling back into Victors arms, back pressed against his chest.
“Ohhh yes. I definitely see future Benji giving off sexy teacher vibes.” Victor said, giggling when Benjis arm flailing back in an attempt to smack him, Victor leaned forward to whisper in Benjis’ ear, “Mmm Mr. Campbell, I’ve been a bad student.”
“Oh dear lord… that’s… that was awful.” Benji said, wriggling out of Victors grip as his laughter took over, curling into a ball as he howled.
“Hey! C’mon B, it wasn’t that bad.” Victor said, giggling despite himself.
“Oh it so was. It was soooo bad.” Benji said as he continued laughing at his pouting boyfriend. “Your face though! It is so priceless right now.”
Deciding that he didn’t like being laughed at, Victor did the thing he knew would get Benji to shut up.
He flipped Benji onto his back and kissed him. Hard.
Hands working quickly, stripping Benji of his tee before throwing it over his head, then quickly removing his own as Victor returned to his assault on Benjis’ lips, hands roaming and grasping, enjoying the lack of cloth barriers.
Benji nibbled on Victors neck, causing Victor to groan and grind his hips against Benjis, both boys moaning as they felt their clothed erections rubbing together. Victor decided to be bold, and let his hands wander down to the edge of Benjis boxers, pausing for a moment before his hands slipped under the waist band, feeling the warmth beneath the Calvin Klein boxers.
Victor groaned as he felt Benjis’ hands dip as well, trying not to buck his hips when Benji grabbed him through the thin cloth of his underwear.
“Mmmph, Victor, wait. Vic, are you sure?” Benji said, pausing his attack on Victors lips as well of his exploration of the contents of the boys boxers, eyes blown wide with lust.
Without answering, Victor pulled back from Benji and climbed off the bed, smiling gently at the confused look on the boys face. A look that was quickly overtaken by love, and lust as he watched the taller boy strip himself out of his boxers.
Victor looked back at Benji, pointedly not covering himself, allowing Benji to see him in a way no one ever had before, eyes excited though Benji could see the nervousness behind them.
“Yes. I want to try, not all the way tonight, but I want to try new things with you Benji. I love you. I trust you.” Victor said with conviction, smiling shyly when Benji nodded in response, stepping out of the bed and stripping himself out of his own underwear, tossing it into a random far corner of the room.
“I love you too Victor, whatever you’re ready for.” Benji said, pulling Victor back onto the bed, the boys relishing in the feel of each others bare bodies, the warmth, the connection they felt. That spark that had always been there, ignited into a roaring inferno.
Victor smiled as he felt Benjis’ legs wrap around his waist, enjoying the feeling of the shorter boy underneath him.
“Hey, you’ll tell me if this too much right? I only really know how to do this in theory..” Victor said, one hand maintaining its grip on Benjis hip, the other taking the boys hard cock in his hand, as he kissed his way down the boys pale chest, across his abs and that ‘V’ that did things to Victor he couldn’t explain, before pausing as he brought himself level with Benji’s crotch.
“If what’s too muc- Holy shit Victor.” Benji panted out, his breath coming out in sharp burst as he felt Victors mouth begin to explore his boyfriend.
Victor woke up, having slept better than he had in years, arms wrapped firmly around Benjis’ waist, the boys head laying on his chest. Victor just lay there, enjoying the perfection of it all, the peace, the feeling of love he felt for Benji, as his bare, warm body pressed against Victors own. His pride in the new steps they’d taken the night before.
Victor was at peace.
A peace that was promptly shattered by the shrill sound of an iPhone alarm, announcing it was 7am. Victor slid out from under Benji, hand stretched trying to find the shrieking device, after fumbling across the beside table he found it. Slapping at the screen, merciful silence finally returned.
“Benji, wake up. We have to go lift the espresso machine.” Victor said, blearily shaking his snoring boyfriends shoulder, apparently the boy wasn’t for waking. Rolling his eyes, Victor got up, getting dressed quickly and starting to pack their bags and making sure everything was ready to go. It took him ten minutes to clear up, and Benji hadn’t so much as shifted, soft snores still filling the room.
Fine, lets see how you like this.
“BENJI WAKE UP!” Victor shouted, throwing himself on top of the startled boy, tickling him mercilessly.
“I’m up! I’m UP!! Victor stop!” Benji said, tears streaming down his face as Victor finally relented.
“Good morning B.” Victor said cheekily.
“Ugh. I hate that you’re a morning person.”
“I am not, you just can’t do late movie nights.” Victor said, sticking his tongue out at the boy.
“Ha, I don’t think the movie is the reason I’m so tired this morning Vic.” Benji said, glancing down at his own nakedness.
“Oh.”
“Exactly, now, can you find me my boxers?” Benji said, squinting as he looked around the room. “Ah, how exactly did they end up over there?”
“Your guess is as god as mine B.” Victor said, handing said underwear to Benji, making a point of not looking .
I am not staring.
Benji flipped the covers off himself and stood up to step in the underwear.
I am totally staring.
“Earth to Victor, come in Victor.” Benji said, poking lightly at Victors stomach. “See something you liked?”
“Very much so.” Victor said, stepping forward to kiss Benji, pushing the boy back onto the bed, costing them another 10 minutes of time.
This distraction left them rushing to the repair shop, hastily thanking Wally as they loaded the repaired machine into the back of Sarahs’ car, and the boys clambered into the front, giggling to themselves as though they had gotten away with some great crime.
Once they were back on the road, neither boy felt like breaking the silence, both content to just listen to music. Victor couldn’t help be shocked at the comparison of this time, he’d not broken promises, he hadn’t lied to Benji, and hadn’t forced him to cheat. Victor let go of the guilt he held from that night, he released it into the ether, happy to replace the bad with some good.
So, now that’s what happened in Willacoochee
“Hey Sarah, we’re back.” Benji called, as the boys hoisted the espresso machine onto the counter, setting the repair bill to the side for Sarah to file.
“Ahh. My brilliant barista boys, thank you.” Sarah said as she emerged from the office, looking delighted. Victor was sure she was about to hug the machine, “I can’t believe that old man took a whole day to fix this.”
“Yup, he took his time.” Victor said, glancing at Benji nervously as Sarah read through the bill, nodding to herself as she did so.
“Well, that sounds like Wally, it’s why we didn’t take it to him last time.” Sarah said, folding the bill and slipping it into her apron. “Now, I have Hannah and Bailey covering your shifts today, so go home. It looks like you two didn’t get any sleep.”
Both boys blushed under her amused gaze as she took the receipt for the motel and read through it.
“Let me guess, there was only one bed..” She said with a chuckle as she read the details.
“There was!” Benji said heatedly.
“Uh huh. Either way, I don’t mind, I’m not either of you boys’ mother. Now go home, have a nap, come back tomorrow night for the closing shift to make up for today.”
“Thanks Sarah, let us know if you need help today though.” Victor said, though he was secretly grateful when the woman waved them off.
Benji seemed to be in the same mind, as he sleepily let Victor drag him towards the front door, only to pause when Sarah called out to them.
“Oh, boys? Next time make sure Wally doesn’t date the repair log on the receipt?”
Oops.
The pair fled the café at the sound of Sarahs’ cackling.
“Hey Papi, I’m home.” Victor called, as he walked into the apartment, Benji a few steps behind him. Armando was leaning against the kitchen counter, phone in hand, a coffee mug raised to his lips.
“Hola mijo, Benji, I thought you two had work today?” Armando answered, confusion in his raised eyebrows.
“We did, but Sarah swapped some shifts around, so we work tomorrow instead. She sent us home instead.” Victor said, dropping his backpack on the table and grabbing two glasses from the cupboard. Turning to the sink he filled the with water, handing one to Benji as he gulped down his own.
“So, how did everything go? You boys get the machine fixed?” Armando said, watching the gentle touches Victor and Benji exchanged.
“Yup, though Wally is the slowest repair guy in the world. He didn’t get it done until this morning.” Victor said, hoping his father couldn’t hear the lie in his voice as he turned to the sink to rinse his glass out.
“Dios, what did you two do all day then?”
“We found this really cool thrift store around the corner from Wallys’ place and Victor actually got a really nice suit.” Benji said, pulling out his phone to show Armando the photos he’d taken of Victor when they boy had tried on his suit.
"Very nice flaco, you look very macho in that." Armando said, smiling as Benji flicked through the photos of the pair.
“Yeah, and Benji got like a dozen more band tees.” Victor called over his shoulder.
“Hey, you bought like 8 of those, so that’s on you.” Benji said with a chuckle at Victors shrug.
“So you boys had a good time?”
“The best.” Victor said, unable to keep the emotion from his voice, noticing his Dads raised eyebrow, he offered a slight shake of his head in return, followed by a shrug.
“Okay, well you two clearly needed the night away, but I see what Pilar means about tooth rot from all the sweetness.” Armando said after a moment, before draining his coffee and setting the mug in the sink. “I gotta go lift your mom and Adrian from the park. Benji you staying for dinner tonight?”
“If that’s okay sir.” Benji said, his shyness cropping up whenever he spoke to Victors father.
“Benji, you’re always welcome here.” Armando said, ruffling the boys hair as he passed him with a smirk. “Be good, and Victor your sister is in her room, maybe say hello?”
“Sí Papi, we will.” Victor nodded, already heading down to his sisters room, knocking on the door as he arrived. “P, you in there? Can we come in? Benji is here too.”
“It’s open, c’mon in.”
Victor eased the door open, seeing Pilar sitting in her desk chair, typing lazily on her laptop.
“Ahh, the love birds return. Finished corrupting my brother Benji?” She said, spinning round to face them like some cliché Bond villain.
“And hello to you too Pilar.” Benji said, flopping on the girls bed, “And I reckon I have some more corrupting to do.”
Victor blushed at Pilars insinuation, and the wink Benji followed up his response with didn’t help.
“Anyway, what happened at the party? I didn’t really check my phone..”
“Hmm were you distracted?” Pilar said with a chuckle, pointedly looking at the couple on the bed, Benji having shifted so his head was resting in Victors lap.
“Shush, tell me, please.” Victor said, hand automatically moving to play with Benjis’ hair.
“Well… everything was fine, in the beginning.”
Victor couldn’t believe what Pilar was telling him.
Andrew had kissed Mia (again), but this time around Mia had kissed him back, and apparently once she realised what she had done, the poor girl had freaked out and fled the party, though Victor was glad to hear that a worried Lake and Veronica had followed her.
On top of that, Felix had apparently stuck to Pilar and Nora pretty tightly the whole night, as if he was hiding from something, or someone. Pilar noted that the boy vanished anytime Lake had approached them, his normal obsession having apparently left him, and he didn't speak unless it was when he was with Pilar and Nora.
Nora Spier, by the way, was apparently in some of Pilars classes, and that surname couldn’t be a coincidence right?
Anyway, as it stood, Mia wasn’t speaking to Andrew, Andrew wasn’t speaking to Mia, Lake was pissed at Andrew, and Felix wasn’t speaking to Lake anymore.
“So… school is gonna be fun on Monday right?" Victor said, eyeing his sister who only shrugged in response, clearly concerned for their friend group.
"Ahh Creekwood does love it's drama." Benji said from his place in Victors lap.
Dear Simon,
Thank you so much for your advice, I’m not going into details, that’s between Benji and me. But you were right, communication was 100% the key thing there.
Also, I might have told him I loved him, and he might have said it back. And this was literally before anything r rated happened. We were just laying on the bed, and idk, it just felt so natural. And genuine, do you know what I mean?
Like, anytime he says it my heart explodes into a billion pieces from the joy, is that what it’s like for you and Bram?
Anyway, I gotta go to bed, apparently while Benji and I were off doing naughty things and professing our love, something went down at Mia’s party.
So that’s gonna be fun to dive into.
Love,
Victor
P.S. Is your little sister called Nora?
Chapter 22: Let’s Take a Trip!
Do We Dare?
“Hey you, how is my favourite boyfriend today?” Benji asked, setting his lunch tray on the table Victor had claimed for them.
“Hmph. I’m your only boyfriend B.” Victor pointed out, smiling up at the boy.
“Well. Yes, true. But you are still my favourite. And you didn’t answer my question.” Benji finished pointedly.
“Oh.. um I’m fine I guess. Mom and Dad were fighting again this morning. I don’t even know what it was about, something to do with the affair I think.”
Victor honestly thought that the whole affair drama was over, he didn’t remember anything happening to make it worse last time, he and Pilar hadn’t meddled and spoken to Roger this time around.
“Shit, I’m sorry babe.” Benji said, wrapping Victors hand in his own.
“It’s fine, honestly it is. It’s just confusing, like… they were fine last night at dinner weren’t they?”
“Yeah, everyone seemed fine. We even managed to not give away that we totally did more than just sleep in Willacoochee.” Benji said, grinning wickedly.
“Oh yeah, they totally bought that B. They definitely don’t think we spent the entire night going at it like rabbits..” Victor said, remembering Pilars suggestive prompts, and his parents watchful eyes.
“I mean we didn’t technically do what they think we did.” Benji said, grasping for a victory in the argument.
“True, but we did do plenty.” Victor said, smiling as he offered a quick kiss to his boyfriend.
“Hmm, yeah. Who knows when we’ll get privacy to do that again.” Benji said softly.
“Or more.” Victor said quietly, smiling at his boyfriends wide eyes.
“You mean..?”
“Yes.”
“Okay… we definitely need time alone. I mean, that is.. well if you want to you know..” Benji said, getting flustered as he likely attempted to avoid sounding too eager.
“Mmmm trust me Benji, I’d love to get away again already. Maybe we could go away some weekend, just us two.”
“Well.. there’s always my family’s cabin.” Benji said.
“True I..” Victor was interrupted by the ping of his phone, the screen lighting up to show a message from Simon, which Victor deftly flicked across the screen and ready the message.
Dear Victor,
I’m really happy that you and Benji are doing so well, and that the communication advice was apparently on point. From all the things you’ve told me, Benji sounds really great, and we’re all really glad you have him, even if Justin is a little green with envy (He has a thing for musically talented gays.)
‘I love you’ is a biiig step, but honestly, I’d be lying if I pretended I didn’t tell Bram I loved him like a month into dating… because he brought me double stuff Oreos one morning (I’m weak okay?).
As for your friends stuff… yikes. I know what that’s like to me stuck in the middle… whenever you do come to New York, don’t mention Hamilton.. Kim may have fallen asleep when it was their turn to watch the ticket availability and Justin and Bram have yet to get over it.
BTW, your plan for NYC, when are you thinking of doing it? I might have an idea, but I need to check with some ppl first.
Yeah, my little sister is called Nora, she’s still at Creekwood why?
Love,
Simon
P.S. Do I want to know what naughty things? Is that a thing I’m supposed to ask? Idk.
Victor laughed to himself as he read Simon’s message, tilting the phone slightly so a curious Benji could see the screen from where he sat beside Victor on the bench. Both boys enjoying the shade offered by one of the many trees that surround the Creekwood High courtyard.
“Oh, and what exactly do you be telling Simon, that has him telling you I sound great?” Benji said with a chuckle, genuine curiosity in his voice.
“Hmm? Oh, you know just.. …well just some stuff.” Victor said as he waved his hand dismissively, cheeks growing hot.
“Oh really? Just stuff? Huh.” Benji said as he poked gently at Victors side, giggling when the boy squirmed under his touch.
“Uh, do you really want to know?” Victor said, turning on the bench so he had a leg on either side of the seat, Benji mirroring him to do the same.
“I really want to know.” Benji said eagerly.
“What’s in it for me Benjamin?” Victor asked, giggling at his boyfriends exasperated face, smirking when leaned towards the taller boy, smiling roguishly.
“Ha, cheeky. How about, for every nice thing you tell me, that you told Simon.. you get a kiss.” Benji said, offering a quick peck to Victor, “That one is a freebie though.”
“Okay. That’s a deal I can agree too. Another freebie first though please.” Victor said, stealing another sweet kiss, smirking when Benji grabbed head and pulled the boy in for a deeper kiss, smiling against his boyfriends’ lips as the world around them melted away.
“Okay, that’s your last freebie.” Benji said as he finally pulled back from Victor, smiling at the others disappointed moan, after a moment adding, “Though if you get into double digits I’m sure I can think of another thing I can give you.”
“Wow. Umm okay so…” Victor said, blinking rapidly as he processed Benjis’ suggestion, “So I told him how handsome you are obviously, how cute you are when you’re making orders in Brasstown, how smart you are, not just book smart but like.. life smart? Oh, and how insanely talented you are at drawing I legit sent him a photo of your sketch book once, how amazing your music is, not just the band stuff but the solo stuff you write. Like that tune you played on Tuesday. I legit need a copy of that by the way, mom wants to hear it.”
Victor paused to take a breath and a gulp of water, eyeing his boyfriend who was looking at him with an odd expression on his face, one Victor couldn’t quite put a name too. Deciding not to bring it up, Victor continued listing things and ticking them off on his fingers to keep count. In reality the boy just happy to gush about his boyfriend, completely oblivious to the amused looks he was getting from people nearby, or the effect he was having on Benji.
“How kind you are, that you’re amazingly patient, like super patient actually.. How good you look in Brasstown tees came up once or twice..” Victor continued, smiling when Benji bumped his knee shyly, which Victor took as encouragement to keep going. “Okay, that’s.. eight.. I mean there’s like a million and more reasons, but I think in terms of stuff I told Simon.. OH! I definitely gushed about your eyes. And your lips, how soft they are. And I definitely mentioned how you looked in those swim trunks…”
“Alright you! That’s more than 10 now. Apparently you spend a lot of time telling Simon Spier how attractive you think I am.” Benji said, smiling brightly as a soft blush spread across his cheeks.
“Well… yeah. I’m dating the hottest guy around; the people deserve to know.” Victor said, smiling when Benji ducked his head in embarrassment. “But I also told him how honest you are, how big your heart is, how good you are with Adrian, how happy it makes me that you get on with my parents, how I love and hate how close you are with my mom, to the point I’m pretty sure she wants you over every night for dinner just to get the compliments on her food and show you never-ending baby photos. But mostly, mostly I tell Simon how good you make me feel, how happy you make me. How proud I am to be your boyf- Mmmph”
Victor wasn’t complaining. He’d normally be annoyed when someone cut him off, but when that someone was Benji, and he’d launched himself lips first, well… Victor wasn’t going to say no.
“I love you Vic.” Benji breathed once they parted.
“Love you too B…” Victor said softly, resting his forehead against Benjis’ own.
“Oh. My. God. Can you two not be the most adorable thing ever, for like just a second.”
“Hey Felix. You seem chipper today.” Victor greeted the boy in question as he slammed a food tray on the table, scattering cheap cafeteria food everywhere.
“Hello. Sorry. I umm… I didn’t mean that.”
“We know Felix, how are you doing? Victor mentioned the whole Lake thing…” Benji said, sliding off his perch in Victors’ lap as he turned his attention to the other gangly teen.
“Yeah, that’s rough buddy.” Victor said, not knowing what to say. He didn’t want to compare him to the dog from a Dogs Purpose again…
“It’s fine. I mean, why wouldn’t I be hurt that someone I thought was my friend, who I thought might actually like me, who I have had a crush on since grade school… thinks I’m social suicide.” Felix said, his voice getting higher and higher as he started tearing a slice of bread to pieces.
“Hey, you’re allowed to be upset Felix. What Lake said, it’s not right.” Victor said, looking to Benji for support.
“Vic is right man, you’re not social suicide, people don’t know what they miss out on by not being your friend.” Benji said, eyes locking on Felixs’ surprised face.
“Huh?”
“Felix, you’re like the kindest guy in school, you don’t judge people, you don’t give them shit for anything.” Benji said, leaning forward in an attempt to hold Felix’s attention. “Never once did you change how you acted around me after I came out?”
“No, but what do-.”
“You and Lucy. That is it, the only people I knew at Creekwood who didn’t judge me for shit. Even my friends changed.” Benji said, “So if Lake is gonna be dumb about something like that, well it’s her loss.”
Dammit. Why didn’t I get him to do this last time? He’s so much better at it.
Oh… he wouldn’t speak to me last time cause…
“Vic, you still with us?” Benji said, nudging his distracted boyfriend.
“Yup, sorry.” Victor said, his eyes focusing back on the two boys at the table.
“Uh huh. Anyway, Felix and I were just saying, why don’t we have a guys night at my place tonight?” Benji said, looking pointedly at Victor.
Victor sighed softly, him and Benji were supposed to be going on a date that night, Benjis’ parents were out, and they were hoping to take advantage of the privacy.. But Victor agreed this was more important.
“Absolutely, c’mon it’ll be great. We can order pizza, binge watch some movies.” Victor said, trying to show his enthusiasm.
“Ohhh, we can watch all the Star Wars movies!” Felix said excitedly.
Victor couldn’t even complain, because Benji immediately lit up at the idea, leaping into a lengthy conversation that Victor couldn’t quite follow about the ins and outs of, the movie universe. Victor was content to listen as his boyfriend and his best friend bonding over their apparent love of all things Star Wars.
God he’s cute when he geeks out. Note to self, star wars gifts for his birthday.
“Hey, Victor do you have a second?” Felix asked as the trio split, Benji heading to class while Victor and Felix enjoyed a free period.
“Of course, what’s up man?” Victor said, leaning against a nearby pillar.
“So.. I know you and Benji were supposed to have a date night tonight… and I’m sorry.”
“You’re sorry?” Victor said, genuinely confused.
“Yeah, I don’t want to get between you two… you know.. getting down.”
“Oh god, never say that again.” Victor said with a groan. “Felix, trust me it’s fine. Benji and I are just finding it difficult to get some privacy to.. you know.”
“Ohhhh, so you guys haven’t..?”
“Nope.” Victor said, blushing slightly, “We’ve done pretty much everything. And it’s great, I’m just worried to have sex for the first time… I don’t want to mess up and disappoint him.”
“Well.. Virgin to virgin? I doubt Benji could ever be disappointed in you. And, not that I’d know, but apparently everything sort of just comes naturally after a point. Besides, it’s you and Benji. You’re destined for each other.” Felix said, “Though honestly my research into the mechanics of gay sex is seriously limited.”
“Thanks Feli- Wait, what? Research?” Victor said, looking at the other boy with wide eyes.
“Um… yeah. Don’t read too much into that please.. just call it curiosity.” Felix said, suddenly focused on the floor.
“Oh.. Ah.. okay. I got you Felix.” Victor said, wrapping an arm over the boys shoulder and leading him down the hallway to the library.
Well… that was new information that I didn’t need to know.
Victor let Felix lead him towards the impending boredom that comes with studying mulling over the fact that he now fully believed he would never know everything about his best friend.
“Wait, you want to go where with Benji?” Felix whispered across the desk, looking shocked at Victors plan.
“To visit Simon in New York.” Victor answered grumpily, glancing around to make sure no one could hear them. “But I need your help, and the others. But since you’re all fighting among yourselves right now, that’s ruined that plan completely.”
“Wow. Okay, first of all, ouch…” Felix replied, frowning back at his best friends grumpy gaze. “Secondly, yes. We are fighting, sort of. But you really think we’d not put that aside for you? We can plan it tonight at our guys night, I’ll message Mia, you talk to Andrew at practice. Maybe we can swing it as a basketball trip.”
“Felix, I don’t want to be in everyone’s way when they have stuff going on, just because I want to have time with my boyfriend. You guys deserve the opportunity to sort this out yourselves.”
“Well… as fate would have it, thanks to some texting shenanigans, Andrew, Mia, Lake and I all have Saturday detention.. so if ever there was a weekend to do what you wanted, it would be this weekend.” Felix said.
How the hell did they all get detention again?
“How the hell did you all get detention? And Saturday detention too boot.”
“Well….” Felix said, launching into a tale that pretty accurately mirrored the last time. Things never change do they?
“So… how do you feel about going away this week.” Victor said, as he set the snacks on the kitchen counter, sitting himself on the nearby stool.
“Umm we have work? And your parents would never let us go away for the weekend.” Benji said, eyebrow raised in confusion.
“Well, yeah we do, but remember Hannah and Sam do owe us for when we covered for them so they could go to that concert last month. And I know they’re not on the shift schedule this weekend.” Victor said, trying to contain his excitement at the prospect.
“Oh. Well, I mean if they say yeah, then definitely. Where do you wanna go?” Benji asked, excitement shining in his eyes.
“New York.” Victor said simply.
“Ha, yeah if only. That sounds awesome, and also expensive.” Benji said, rolling his eyes at Victors suggestion.
“I am 100% serious B. I worked it all out with Simon and Bram. We can stay with them; they have a pull-out couch. And we can go all around the city with them. Aaaand Andrew and Felix are going to cover for me with my parents, we just need to convince your folks.” Victor said with confidence.
“Ehh.. they won’t notice I’m not here, but I’ll just tell them I’m staying at Lucy’s or something to be safe.” Benji said.
Okay, what?
“B, what do you mean they won’t notice if you’re away?” Victor asked.
“Vic.. I just.. I… they won’t notice, trust me.” Benji said, focusing himself on tidying away the shopping. “Felix should be here soon right?”
“Yes, he will. But we’re totally talking about that later B. When you’re ready of course, but we will talk about it.”
“I promise Vic. Just not now yeah?” Benji said, voice timid, almost afraid. Victor slipped of the stool and rounded the counter to pull the shorter boy into a tight hug.
“Benji, hey it’s okay.” Victor said soothingly, cheek laying atop Benjis’ head. “I know there are some things you’re not ready to tell me, I think I can work them out if I’m wanted to. But until you are ready to tell me, I’m happy to wait.”
Benji hummed softly in response, pulling himself tighter to his boyfriends’ chest, burying his face in the boys shoulder.
“Victor. Did I ever tell you I love you?” Benji said quietly.
“You have mentioned it once or twice, probably the same number of times I’ve told you the very same thing.” Victor said with a gentle smile.
“God you’re perfect.” Benji said, so quietly Victor very nearly missed it.
“Hmmm, not even close, but I do try. For you.” Victor said, pulling back and tilting Benjis’ head up, looking the boy in the eye. “Always for you.”
“Ugh… so we’re going to New York?” Benji said, cheeks flushing as he wriggled in Victor’s grip.
“If you’d like, I know it’s a lot and it’s sort of short notice. But I’ve been planning this since before Willacoochee if I’m honest. First though, someone promised Felix a guy’s night, so keep in PG Campbell.” Victor said teasingly, pressing a hard kiss to Benjis’ lips, tugging the boy closer, hands running down the boys’ sides, teasing at the waistband of his boxers. He deftly slipped his hands up them, grasping a cheek in each hand.
And then he pulled away.
“You are evil Victor Salazar.” Benji grumbled as he adjusted himself.
“Yes, but you still love me right?” Victor asked, heading to the sitting room to get the Campbells giant home theatre system set up.
“Obviously. Even if you’re trying to kill me.” Benji shouted back from the kitchen.
“Just checking.” Victor called back with a chuckle, flicking through the menu until he found the first movie in the series. “Did you and Felix ever figure out what order we’re watching these bloody things in?”
“Hey! Watch your tone Salazar. I love you, but don’t diss Star Wars. And there is only one correct order to watch those in, and since it’s my house, it’s my choice.” Benji shouted from the kitchen.
“Yessir, loading up Episode I now.” Victor shouted back, rolling his eyes at his boyfriend and flopping down onto the sofa and scrolling through his phone. “Felix said he’ll be here in like fifteen minutes B.”
“Excellent.” Benji said, sauntering into the kitchen, “That gives us ten minutes to have fun.”
“Oh really. And what did you have in mind?” Victor said, a grin on his face as he opened his arms and welcomed the weight of his boyfriend laying on top of him.
“I have an idea or two.” Benji said, pressing himself down against Victor.
“Okay, but remember, Felix is gonna be here soon, and I’m in sweats right now, so behave.”
“See… that’s just such an unreasonable request.” Benji said, working his way down to his boyfriends crotch.
“Oh come on! Benji, what the hell is wrong with your boyfriend!” Felix cried, scandalised by the statement he’d just heard.
“I don’t know Felix, I’ve never been as disappointed in my entire life.” Benji said, shaking his head in sadness.
“I’m so sorry Benji, I didn’t realise what you were going through, being with him.” Felix replied mournfully.
“HEY! I’m right here.” Victor said, throwing a handful of popcorn at the two boys.
“Yes, we know where you are. We just can’t bear to look at you right now.” Benji said dramatically.
“Oh come on! I think you two are overreacting.” Victor said, folding his arms in a huff over his chest.
“Ha! Oh contraire mon frere, I think we’re underreacting.” Felix said, eyes squinting at the boy on the sofa.
“Agreed.” Benji said, glaring at his boyfriend.
“I’m just saying! The Jedi had it coming!” Victor argued.
“Don’t! Don’t say it again.” Benji said, flopping dramatically on the couch, pressing his hand against Victors’ mouth to silence the boy.
“They are the good guys Victor.” Felix said, arms flailing in exasperation. “You can’t say they deserved it, or had it coming. And the younglings! Think of the younglings!
“Listen to the man Victor, you know he’s right.” Benji said, smirking down at his boyfriend, who had an eyebrow raised, in exasperation. “Victor…. Don’t you dare lick my hand!”
Benji paused, waiting for Victor to respond, knowing the boy was in the mood to tease him. Which is how they no doubt got into the argument, Victor jabbing at Benji and Felix through the movies.
“VICTOR! Ewww! Stop licking my hand! Geroffff ME!” Benji cried, pulling his hand away and falling off the sofa in an attempt to escape the maniacal laughing of Victor.
“You know the rules B!” Victor cried, leaping off the sofa towards his boyfriend.
“Well this is adorable.” Felix commented, phone in one hand recording, popcorn in the other.
“VICTOR STOP LICKING ME!” Benji screamed.
“Ohhhh, careful Benji, phrasing!” Felix said with a giggle.
“Guys, thanks for this.” Felix said as he made to leave. “I really needed this and it was a nice remind that I have friends.”
“Always man, you always have us.” Benji said, offering a gentle hug to reassure the boy. “And Lake will come to her senses, don’t worry about that.”
“Ha, always so sure.” Felix said with chuckle, “Anyway, we better start laying the groundwork for this trip Victor. You know what you’re gonna do?”
“Yup, don’t worry. I just need to run it by Pilar, and I’m golden, then its up to you and Andrew to hold the line until we get back on Sunday night.” Victor said, knowing his plan would work, but even more assured knowing his friends would be backing them up.
“And it helps Andrew will be out of sight since we have detention.. almost like fate has your back Vic.” Felix said thoughtfully.
Oh you have no idea buddy. No idea.
“Felix, buddy don’t worry, it’s all going to be alright. I have our tickets booked already.” Victor said, smirking at Benjis’ surprised squawk.
“Victor Salazar, I will be paying you back for that ticket.”
“Benji, clam down, we’re getting the bus. And I’ve been saving for this for a while.” Victor said calmly.
Since my birthday actually.
“Well. You two have some planning to do, I’m gonna head home, I want to make sure my homework is up to scratch.” Felix said, smiling gently at the couple. “You guys are awesome, you know that?”
“Thanks Felix.” Victor said, a wide smile on his face.
“I’m really glad you moved to Creekwood Vic, and that you met Benji.” Felix said as he turned to head down the path that lead to the Campbells house.
“Me too Felix, me too.” Victor said, smiling as he watched the boy climb into the awaiting Lyft.
“So you’re cool with helping?” Victor asked, shocked how easily the girl had agreed.
“Victor, you’re doing something totally badass. I’m in, I only wish I could come with you.” Pilar said, voice filled with wonder. “Also, you better bring me back a present.”
“Of course, just remember the story, and I’ll get you whatever you want.” Victor said, smiling widely. With Pilar on his side, his parents would never suspect a thing.
“So… what exactly are you dragging Benji to New York for? It can’t just be a nice weekend away.” Pilar said inquisitively.
Victor knew his sister, and she knew him, so he knew it was pointless to even lie. So he told her all about Simon, his friendship with the older man and his roommates, and why they wanted to meet in New York.
“Yeah, that sounds nice, but why are you taking your boyfriend? OH MY GOD! You’re planning on having sex with Benji aren’t you!”
“Pilar! Would you not shout that out loud. Dios.” Victor said, listening out for the sound of an approaching parent.
“Sorry, but, wow. Just… wow. Gay Victor has waaay bigger balls than straight Victor ever did.” Pilar said, and Victor could see that she was actually impressed.
“Yeah yeah, whatever. Just don’t breathe a word to anyone about that okay?”
“Hey, your secret is safe with me hermano.” Pilar said, crossing her heart as she spoke.
“Thanks P. You’re the best.”
“Duh. Now get out of my room. I wanna video call Nora and Rahim.”
“Who?” Victor asked curiously.
The week passed by pretty quickly, not that Victor or Benji complained about that. Both boys were pretty excited about the weekends adventure.
Victor had laid the groundwork with his parents about the basketball retreat the school was hosting, saying he’d paid for it with his Brasstown wages. Andrew being around talking about it helped, as well as a very well performed ‘grumpy boyfriend’ bit by Benji. Between them all, they had the Salazar parents eating out of the palm of their hands.
Before the boys knew it they were boarding the bus to New York, the rising sun starting to peak from above the horizon, the sky a patchwork of orange and pink.
“New York City, here we come.” Victor said, holding Benjis’ hand in his own as they took their seats, shoulders pressed together.
Hey Simon!
We are on our way! In just 22 short hours we’ll be in NYC! I’m typing this now, since Benji has fallen asleep and, while he’s adorable, his snoring isn’t much of a conversation. So here I am.
This bus is noisy too, it’s 10am, and Benji is not a morning person and getting up early disagrees with him, so it’s just me for now.
I was wondering, do you guys have anything specific planned for the trip? I’d love to play some 1 one 1 basketball with Bram.
I know Benji wants to go to a museum. And no doubt a comic store, so we have those on our list. I just want to make sure he has a good trip you know?
Anyway, see you in 22 hours…
Love, Victor.
Dear Victor,
We can’t wait, sadly though Bram and I have a day of classes to go too, we can’t all skip like a certain couple I know.
As for the weekend plans, it’s all up to you two, this is your weekend. We’re just hear to show you the ropes. Though Bram says he is definitely up for basketball, (bloody sports gays..), Benji and I can just watch instead.
Ivy and Kim have a comic store they like to go too, so they should be able to help Benji with that.
And we have a plan for the final night, just depends on if you two are up for it.
See you in a bit!
“Hey you, are we there yet?” Benji asked sleepily.
“Nope. Not even close B.” Victor said with a soft laugh.
“Oh my god, this is a terrible idea.” Benji said, mumbling against Victors arm.
“Mmmm no it’s not. But I have snacks and Ant-Man and Captain America 3 on my iPad. Wanna watch it with me?”
“God you’re perfect, you even managed to get a movie with Tom Holland in it, so points to you.” Benji mumbled, offering Victor a quick kiss.
“Pfft, you’re easily pleased. And it’s a coincidence I assure you.” Victor mumrered back, flicking across his iPad.
“Nope, massively high standards me.” Benji said, cuddling into Victors side, and taking the offered headphones.
“Whatever you say B. Whatever you say.” Victor said, smiling as the Marvel titles started playing across the screen.
“Oh my god, finally!” Benji proclaimed as the bus eased into the station, the occupants all standing up to grab their bags out of the overhead.
“You are so impatient.” Victor commented, earning himself a smack from his boyfriend.
“22 hours Victor. 22. Hours.” Benji commented, “On. A. Bus.”
“God, you’re so grumpy. C’mon we’re officially in New York City Benji. Woo comma Hoo!” Victor said, jostling his boyfriend as they moved down the aisle.
“Whoopdie frickin doo.” Benji grumbled, bouncing down the steps and alighting on the tarmac. His boyfriend might not be a cheery person when he first wakes up, but Victor could already see Benjis’ eyes darting about taking in the sights.
“Boo you.” Victor said cheekily, taking Benjis’ hand in his as they followed the other passengers down the line towards the terminal and where they’d agreed to meet Simon. Victor and Benji stepped into the New York sunlight, stretching their sore and stiff joints as they went, shouldering their bags and walked through the crowd to the main terminal.
“Victor! Victor! Hey over here!” A voice called over the noise and bustle of the crowd. Victor turned towards the source of the voice, and both boys smiled when they saw a beaming Simon and Bram waving enthusiastically at them.
“B! It’s them, c’mon let’s go!” Victor said excitedly, dragging Benji along after him as he waved at the two older boys.
I can’t believe we’re here! Both of us, in New York City!
Chapter 23: Let’s Take a Trip!
New York, New York 2.0
“Ahh Victor, I can’t believe you’re finally here. Welcome to New York!” Bram said excitedly, bouncing forward to hug the boy, planting a kiss on each cheek.
Just like last time.
“Hey Bram, good to finally meet you in person.” Victor said, smiling when Simon pulled his boyfriend back to let Victor breathe. “Simon, Bram, this is my Benji.. I mean this is my boyfriend, Benji. B, this is Simon my gay guru, and Bram, his boyfriend.”
“Awwwww. Si did you hear that? His Benji. So possessive, so cute. “Ahhh I’m so excited to meet you.” Bram said, stepping forward to greet Benji just like he had Victor last time, rolling his eyes when Benji went wide eyed as Bram kissed his cheeks, “Dude don’t worry, it’s New York, no one gives a shit.”
Victor looked past the blushing Benji to see Simon rolling his eyes at his boyfriends’ antics, a fond smile on his face.
“Alright you, leave them alone. Hey Victor! it’s so good to see you without the lens of Facetime in the way.” Simon said, stepping forwards and offering the boy a quick but warm hug, before he turned to Benji who was actually looking slightly nervous, “Benji, it’s good to finally meet you. I’ve heard many, many, many, man-.”
“Simon!” Victor said, blushing at the grin on the older boys’ face.
“But I have, it’s Benji this, Benji that, ‘gosh Simon, Benji is so pretty.” Simon teased, and despite his embarrassment Victor was pleased to see Benji looked more relaxed already.
“Yeah, about that. What exactly does he tell you?” Benji said, smirking at Victors groan.
“Oh, come on, no. You can’t tell him that, isn’t there like a code of honour between mentor and mentee?”
“Mmmm… Nope.” Simon said cheerfully, before wrapping an arm around Benji’s’ shoulder and leading him out of the terminal and out onto the street, “Okay so it all started when I was in class one day and got this DM on Instagram from this new Creekwood kid.”
“Bram please! Stop him.” Victor whined, shouldering his backpack and .
“Sorry Victor, but once Simon starts, there is no stopping him.” Bram said with sigh, looking over to where Simon was happily chattering away with Benji. “Though let me tell you, some times that’s definitely not a bad thing.”
“Oh dear lord, I don’t need to know!” Victor said laughing as they walked to catch up with their respective boyfriends, just in time to hear Benji laughing as Simon told him more stories.
“And then, oh my god the number of things I had to hear ‘is an outdoor movie-theatre too boring?”
“Oh my god, he told you that!” Benji asked, giggling hysterically.
“Who do you think helped him plan it. Your boyfriend has a terminal case of overthinking things.”
“Hey! I can hear you!” Victor said indignantly.
“We know.” Was the dual response he received from Simon and Benji.
Just because you aren’t wrong, doesn't mean you can be so cheery about it all.
“VICTOR! AH! Get over here you!”
“Justin!” Victor cried, rushing over to accept the offered hug from the older boy, revelling in the oddly familiar feeling of it, “Ivy! Kim!”.
Victor was happily crushed by the 3 overly excited roommates, (flatmates if you’re European, or Justin), basking in the warmth of their unfaltering acceptance.
“I can’t believe baby gay is here! Although, hello, who is this?” Justin trailed off, eying a nervous Benji who stood awkwardly in the doorway, watching his boyfriend be swarmed with strangers.
“Hey, eyes off, that one’s mine.” Victor said proudly, extracting himself from the huddle and bouncing over to Benji, offering the boy an encouraging smile. “Everyone, this is Benji, Benji this is… well my gay support group I guess?”
“Umm.. Hi everyone.” Benji said meekly.
Victor wasn’t sure he’d ever seen the boy as nervous as he was now.
“Hello. I’m Justin, with a soft J, like juoosh.” Justin said, offering a hand to Benji, a bright smile crossing his face when the younger boy shook it readily. “So, Baby Gay here has told us many things about you.”
“Yes.. thank you Justin, Simon filled him in on that already.” Victor said, casting a glare over his shoulder at a smirking Simon, before turning back to Benji and speaking in a low voice, “Justin was super helpful when it came to dealing with the whole religion versus gay thing.”
“Thankfully, Victors’ folks are reasonable people, so I didn’t have much to do.” Justin said, but Victor didn’t miss the way Justin perked up at Victors thanks.
“Well, thank you so much Justin, I’m glad Victor has someone there for him.” Benji said warmly.
“Oh, pish posh, it was nothing.” The young man said airily, waving away Benji’s’ thanks as he left to go check something in the kitchen.
“I’m Ivy-.” The girl with short hair and an orange hat started, only to be lightly bumped out of the queue by Kim.
“Hi, I’m Kim. And before you ask, my pronouns are they, them, theirs.” Kim said, shaking Benji’s’ hand confidently.
“Oh.. umm okay, nice to meet.. you?” Benji said, as though unsure of himself.
“Wonderful to meet you Benji, glad to see you’re not just a figment of this little one’s imagination.” Kim said cheekily, smiling widely at the younger boys.
“Ha. Ha. Y’all are just the funniest.” Victor deadpanned.
“Poor Victor, so what’s your deal Benji?” Ivy said, resting her head on Kim’s shoulder.
“My deal?” Benji said, looking to Victor for guidance.
“Mmhm, are you gay, bi, pan?” Ivy prompted.
“Oh, gay. I am totally gay. For Victor.. and other guys in general I guess?” Benji said, looking around as though expecting someone to jump out from behind the sofa and correct him but instead just saw the group surrounding them nodding and smiling at the couple.
“And I am eternally grateful for that. Although the other guy’s thing is new.” Victor teased, offering a smile and kiss to his boyfriend, who relaxed into the taller boys’ side as they all giggled.
“Aww. This is adorable, and sickeningly sweet. Any friends of Bram and Simon's is a friend of ours.” Justin said, while Ivy perked up right away when she realised that Benji was getting comfortable with them.
“Absolutely. You should totally come with us to Messy Boots tonight!”
“Yes!” Cried Justin and Kim in response, bouncing around excitedly. “Oh, my God!”
"What's Messy Boots?” Benji asked in a confused tone, echoing the previous version of Victor.
“It is the best party in town.” Justin replied, to nods from the rest of the group. “They have this drag show where they bring people from the audience on stage.. and its amazing. And I’m sure Victor here won’t be against the idea of taking you dancing to a gay club. Not after all the talking he’s been doing anyway. ‘Oooh I want to take Benji here and do this. Benji would love that. Hey I should show this to Benji.’.”
“Hey! It wasn’t that bad Justin!” Victor said, though he couldn’t help but giggle when the older boy gave him a challenging look. “I didn’t just talk about Benji the entire time.
“Funny, Nora used to say the same thing about Simon when we started going out, apparently he never shut up about me. That and she was sick of all her Oreos going missing when I came around.” Bram said, offering glasses of water to both boys.
“That’s because you ate a whole bag of them that she bought to bake a cake with.” Simon said as he wrapped an arm around his blushing boyfriends’ waist.
“Hmm, Nora, that’s the one in my sisters’ class?”
“Apparently. Small world I guess.” Simon said with a shrug.
“So, what did you two want to do while you’re here? I assume you didn’t come here just for little old us?” Kim asked, flopping onto the sofa beside Justin.
“Honestly? We just needed time away from everything back home. It’s one drama after the next, feels like we’re in a TV show with really cruel writers.” Victor said with a huff, pulling Benji along and into his lap as he sat the nearby armchair.
“Nah Vic, if it were a show we’d be ‘just friends’ and you’d be dating Mia or something. We wouldn’t get together until the last moment after some big dramatic, emotional moment.” Benji said, giggling at the absurdity of the idea.
Oh, dear lord, you don’t know the half of it.
“So, Victor, how about before you get too settled, we get a game going?” Bram said, nudging Victor’s bag, “You brought some gym gear right?”
“Yes, definitely, let me get changed.” Victor said excitedly, slipping into what he knew to be Simon and Bram’s’ room. Setting his bag on the bed the boy quickly stripped down to his boxers, pulling on shorts and a grey gym tee, before shoving his hoodie and sweats into the bag.
“Okay, I’m ready.” Victor says to Bram once he steps back into the main room.
“Awesome, Si, you want to come ogle me while I teach this Texas boy some tricks?” Bram said, throwing a wink at his amused boyfriend.
“Hmmmm, watching Ru Paul with Justin, again, or watching my totally hot jock boyfriend get sweaty and run around in shorts.. No contest.” Simon declares as he bounces up off the sofa, dodging the cushion Justin lobbed at him.
“B, if Simon is coming to cheer Bram on, you’re coming too right?” Victor said, throwing a pouting look at the shorter boy, who only rolled his eyes in return.
“Well.. I have no idea what is going on during your games at the best of times, but I suppose for you I can do it.” Benji said, smirking at Victors frown.
“Hmph. Fine, you can just sit your cute butt on the bench and watch with Simon.” Victor teased, smiling as he took Benji’s’ hand and followed the older couple out the door and down the elevator, with Bram commenting that at the very least their glutes would get a workout.
“So, just to be clear, no one is going to have a problem with us at this court right?” Benji asked, and Victor could hear the boys’ nerves in his voice. Victor realised that while Benji may be out and proud back home, New York was a much different place, and was, as he knew first-hand, a really intense experience.
It was as it should be here for Victor. No one cared that they happened to be gay.
“Oh totally, don’t worry. It’s a gay league.” Bram said simply.
“Yeah, apparently that is not like a Justice League type thing.” Simon said, faking a pout, but Victor was happy to see the nerdy reference got a smile from Benji again.
“Don’t worry about it thought Benji, the whole point of this is to show you guys that there is no one way to be gay right? You can be femme, butch, athletic.” Bram continued, walking backwards, Simon’s hand guiding him through the street and allowing Bram to continue, “or in my dear Simons case, painfully, unathletic.”
“Hey! I do plenty to stay in shape thank you very much.” Simon said.
“Oh, what exactly do you do to stay in shape?” Bram said, looking genuinely confused at Simons’ declaration.
“You.” Simon said, smirking while Benji blushed, Victor sniggered, and Bram choked in surprise.
“Si!”
The other three just laughed at him, and continued to chat happily among themselves, Simon and Bram having to nudge the other two boys every once in a while when they paused too long to look around the city. When they finally made it, Bram led them to the court, making sure that Simon and Benji both had a good spot.
“Okay B, try not to be too confused.” Victor said cheekily, stealing a kiss knowing that no one would judge them, given what Bram had told him last time.
“Don’t worry Benji, I haven’t a clue about basketball either, but god I love to watch Bram play.” Simon said as the boys walked away.
“Yeah, I definitely get that.” Victor heard Benji say, and he couldn’t help but blush when he saw how Benji was watching him with a hungry gleam in his eye.
Do not think of that. Not in these shorts!
“That was so embarrassing. But still I got a photo with Jason, so Andrew is gonna be jealous as fuck.” Victor said, between gulps of air. Even though he’d knew how the game would go, it still shocked him how out of his league the other players were. Though in Victors defence, he was up against a former NBA player. “You know, at Creekwood I’m actually considered a good player.”
“Don’t sweat it man, I get my ass kicked almost every week.” Bram said as the boys threw themselves onto the bench beside their respective boyfriends. “Honestly, that’s better than we’ve played in a while, you’ll have to come back to help.”
“Ha, well I’ll play any time I’m here, that’s for sure.” Victor said, taking a drink from the water Benji offered him.
“Hey, good game, Bram. Maybe next time you'll even make a shot.” Jason’s voice boomed across the court. “Maybe you could learn a thing from the new kid.”
“Oh, that's cold. I’ll remember that!” Bram called back, while Victor preened under the praise.
“So, if you guys get your asses kicked, why do you come here all the time? Isn’t there a court at your school?” Benji asked.
“Well, there is but I like it better here because, on one hand, this is legit next door, and it’s on the way to my classes.” Bram said, pausing in thought, leaning into Simons’ shoulder, “But also, it’s just nice. I don’t have to worry about anyone freaking out about getting in close, no ones afraid to play full contact. Back in school when I came out there was some… resistance from our rival soccer teams. Some players wouldn’t tackle or mark me, they were ‘afraid of the gay kid’ on the Creekwood team.”
“Oh, I never knew about that.” Benji said, looking genuinely surprised to hear that.
“Yeah, well it was shut down pretty quickly. Hell, hath no fury like Ms. Albright on a mission.” Bram said smiling in remembrance. “She organised for the entire staff to start showing up to games, of course Simon’s parents heard about it too, and organised stuff as well. As soon as anything homophobic went down, Albright called a break and had the other player kicked out of the game, turns out everyone was videoing it.”
“Wow.. That’s kind of crazy.”
“I mean, it was, completely. But also, it was problematic too. People started jumping the gun, getting too ahead of themselves. Soon players wouldn’t go near me, not because I was gay, but because if they tackled me they were worried they’d get jumped by Ms. Albrights group.” Bram said, frowning slightly now, smiling as Simon slipped his hand into his.
“What happened though? That doesn’t sound like it got better at all.” Victor asked. He hadn’t had many issues in his matches, he hadn’t noticed any organised parents or anything.
“Well, it was actually the teams, we all got together and aired shit out. The other teams agreed that we all just wanted to play, and we all agreed that there was no place for homophobic assholes on any of the teams.”
“Okay, that sounds good. But I’m still not seeing how that stopped the homophobic players?” Victor said, puzzlement in his voice.
“Oh, well, it sorts of did. One of the team captains, actually he came out as Bi shortly after, kicked out all the players who wouldn’t agree, he wrecked his team for it.” Bram said softly.
“Holy shit.” Victor said after a moment.
“Yep.” Bram said, offering the younger boy another smile. “So that’s why I come here Benji.”
“I get it. I think.” Benji admitted after a moment. Victor watched as his boyfriend chewed on his lip, clearly deep in thought. “When I came out, at first, I just kept trying to keep everything the same as it was before you know?”
“Yeah, I get that.” Simon said, watching closely.
“And it was working mostly, until it came to the school dance, the Spring Fling, you know the one they’re putting posters up for right?” Benji asked.
Yes. I know the one.
“Yeah, umm I know the one.” Victor said, thinking about the tickets sitting in his drawer back home.
“Well, everything was fine, until I showed up to the dance, with Derek.” Benji said, staring down at the floor.
What?
Victor looked at Benji, he’d never heard about this, about anything that had happened before. As far as he knew Benji’s’ coming out, drinking aside, had been smooth sailing.
“Yeah, so we walked in together, with Lucy and her date Alex. And it felt like the entire school stopped and stared at us. I know realistically it wasn’t, but that’s how it felt. We walked in, acting as though nothing was wrong, and it was fine. Until we heard some of the guys talking about us, and they were definitely not complimenting us. And then I freaked out, I had a panic attack, there and then.” Benji said, looking up at Victor, his mouth twisted in frustration, “I ran right out, hid in the bathroom, Derek was pissed at me for it too.”
“B, I’m so sorry, I never knew.” Victor said, pulling his boyfriend in close to him.
“Well, that’s because I never told you.” Benji said with a wet chuckle.
“True.” Victor said ruefully, he couldn’t get mad at Benji for having a past, and his own experiences.
“I know that I told you I’d tell you some stuff, that was actually one of the things.” Benji admitted.
“All in good time love, it’s okay.” Victor whispered, pressing a soft kiss to Benji’s’ temple.
“Hey, guys, not to interrupt. But we should head back.” Simon said after a few moments, having given the teens time to process.
“Yeah, okay sorry. We kind of zoned out didn’t we.” Victor admitted, grabbing Benji’s’ hand and pulling him up off the bench.
“Eh, it’s okay.” Simon said with a soft smile. “Let’s go, Justin and I have a whole day planned for you two.”
CreekSquad
Victor Salazar shared an image
Victor: Hey @Andrew you jealous?
Andrew: HOLY SHIT!
Andrew: Is that Jason Collins?
Victor: Tis
Victor: He knocked me on my ass like 5 times.
Andrew: You played basketball, with Jason Frickin Collins?!!
Victor: Yup.
Benji: I watched. IF anyone cares.
Andrew: Hush Benji, Victor, how did you meet him!
Victor: He plays basketball with Bram.
Andrew: Dude!
Benji: How’s detention?
Lake: Finally, someone cares enough to ask. It’s awful.
Andrew: Agreed.
Mia: Drama queens. It’s really not that bad, and it’s our own fault.
Mia: How is New York?
Victor: OMG its amazing! Look!
Victor Salazar shared 10 images
Felix: Dude! You went to the Pokémon store! I can’t believe you did that without me!
Benji: DW, why do you think we went
😉
Felix: !!!!!!!!!! NO!
Victor: Benji! Can’t you keep a secret?
Benji: Nope.
Victor: Disaster.
Pilar: Who’s Jason Collins?
Andrew:…….. Salazar, I’m gonna…
Victor chuckled at the explosive messages from Andrew, pocketing his phone and leaving Pilar to fend Andrew off herself.
“You are a disaster B.” Victor said, swinging Benji’s’ hand in his own as they followed tiredly behind an equally exhausted group up the stairs. Simon hadn’t been kidding when he said Justin had a full day planned for them.
“Hey, you showed him the photos!”
“Touché. Truce?” Victor said, smiling at the shorter boys amused chuckle.
God, his laugh.
“Yes dear, truce.” Benji said, bumping shoulders with Victor, who responded by bumping his hip in the Benji’s’. Benji retaliated by grabbing at his boyfriend and tickling him mercilessly. Victor wouldn’t let him win that easily, so he locked his arms around the shorter boys’ waist and lifted him off the ground, kissing him firmly, but not before a surprised squeak emitted from Benji’s’ mouth.
“Hey, you two coming or what? Enough baby gay action, save that for later.” Justin called, waiting for Kim to open the door so everyone could carry the many, many bags of shopping they had through to the apartment.
“Sorry.” Victor called back, promptly dropping his boyfriend back on his feet and racing up the remaining steps. “Blame Benji.”
“HEY!”
“Uh huh. I’m sure it was Benji’s’ fault entirely.” Justin said, rolling his eyes as said boy walked through the door.
“It was!” Victor said, looking to everyone
“Who was it that picked the other up?” Ivy said, smiling in victor when she saw the defeated look on Victor’s face, while Benji just looked smug, albeit flushed.
“Okay, fine. Justin, don’t you have to get ready.” Victor said, in an effort to redirect the attention.
“Girl, you are on point today. Hand me that bag, there’s a new look I want to try.” Justin muttered, gratefully taking the stack of makeup Victor handed to him. “Ivy, help me with this.”
“Yes milord.” The young woman responded, rolling her eyes at Justin.
“Once Justin is in Messy Boots mode, he can’t be stopped.” Bram said with a fond smile.
“So, when you guys go out to this place, does everyone dress up in drag?” Benji asked curiously. Victor was just glad Benji had handled the question more tactfully that he had in his previous timeline.
“No, it’s not a requirement, it’s just something I personally like to do. It’s a way for me to express myself.” Justin said, looking up from the mirror in front of him. “Victor told you I had religious parents right?”
“Yeah, he mentioned it, but he didn’t tell me much, he said it wasn’t his place.” Benji said, glancing at Victor.
“Well, thank you Victor, I appreciate that, but look here.” Justin said, swiping through his phone and showing it to Benji. “This was me three years ago. My parents would have me put on this gorgeous ensemble and walk around the neighbourhood and try to convince people to join a religion that I knew wanted nothing to do with me. As you can probably tell, I was not loving my life. It was... It was a dark time. Anyway... That was fake, you know? That wasn’t me. It was putting on a character. That was drag if you get my meaning.”
Justin gestured to the assembled make up cases.
“This is just me being me.” He finished, smiling at the cheers and whoops from the assembled crowd.
“I get it, I think.” Benji said after a moment, eyes watching Victor, “My parents aren’t religious or anything, but when I came out, they weren’t as accepting as they like to pretend. My dad, after I came out, things changed between us and we didn't have the same relationship as we used to. One day I got home from work, and he took me to a strip club, sat me down and paid for me to get a lap dance, hoping it would get through to me.”
What the hell!
“B, seriously?” Victor said as he stepped forward, resting his hand on his boyfriend’s shoulder.
“Yeah, I don’t think he meant it in a bad way, but it still felt like a moment of ‘are you really sure about this’, you know?” Benji continued after a moment. “Anyway, I kindly tipped the nice lady and walked right out of there. Had a screaming match with him in the street, then walked off. We never told my mom and never talked about it.”
“Benji, sweetheart, I’m sorry to hear that. What about your mom?” Kim said, wrapping the boy in a tight hug while Victor watched his boyfriend curl into their new friends embrace.
“She’s… fine mostly. She was more embarrassed than anything, I can tell. Whenever we were out and someone asked if I was dating, she’d just wave them off or change the subject, even though I was with someone at the time.” Benji peeked over at Victor, who did his best too offer an understanding smile, even as his mind was reeling.
He never said..
“Anyway, that’s why Vic hasn’t met them, I don’t have the energy to put up with their bullshit when I’m with someone I love. I’m sorry Vic.”
“Hey, don’t you dare apologise to me Benjamin. I can meet them whenever you are ready okay?” Victor said, fully understanding the reluctance from his boyfriend for them to visit his house, and why he didn’t seem to care if they knew where he was or not.
“Thanks Vic.” Benji said, slipping from Kim’s embrace into Victors arms.
“Hey, I love you, that’ll never change okay?” Victor whispered in his boyfriends’ ear, noting that the others were giving them some privacy but likely could still overhear them.
“I love you too Victor. So much.” Benji replied, swiping at his eyes before he pulled back from Victor. “So, there is something else you need to know, I won’t tell you why, but I don’t drink. Period.”
“Hey, don’t worry, Simon is the same.” Bram replied without even blinking.
“Yeah, alcohol and I do not mix, so I figured what’s the point.” Simon said with a shrug as he flicked through his phone. “Yo, I’m ordering pizza now, cause we aren’t going clubbing on an empty stomach. Who wants what?”
Victor was watching Benji, he could see the boy was stunned by the lack of response. Victor knew that Benji didn’t drink, he knew it was something to do with his past, and the accident, but Benji never spoke about it. He wasn’t an idiot, he knew his boyfriend, the boy avoided alcohol religiously, not that Victor cared, and he mysteriously disappeared on the 3rd Wednesday of every month, which Victor knew from some research was the same time the local AA met.
But that’s not my business, he can tell me when he’s ready, and I hope he knows that.
“Yes, pizza, lets go. Though don’t let Benji order, he likes pineapple on his.”
“Wow. And here we thought you had taste Campbell.” Bram said in mock disgust, ducking when Benji swung a cushion at him.
“Hey, I will have you know I have excellent taste.” Benji said stubbornly.
“Uh huh, do explain that one.” Bram said, hiding behind Simon to avoid another cushion shaped missile.
“I’m dating Victor aren’t I?” Benji said, crossing his arms and smiling when the older members of the group groaned, Ivy mock retching.
“I think that absolves you B.” Victor whispered in his ear, pressing a soft kiss to his boyfriends’ lips.
“Hey, Simon, do you mind if we change in your room? Sweats aren’t exactly club clothes.” Victor asked as he helped tidy up their pizza party.
“Sure, your bags are in there right?”
“Yup.” Victor said with a nod, handing the boy a freshly washed glass as he pulled the plug from the sink.
“Then go ahead, I can finish here, you didn’t need to do this you know.” Simon said, nodding to the dishes.
“I know, I wanted too. You guys have been nothing but amazing to us since we got here today.” Victor said, drying his hands on the towel offered by Simon.
“Victor, you’re one of us, you and Benji. You’re family.” Simon said sincerely.
“Thank you. And thank you for how you’re treating Benji.” Victor said.
“You really love him don’t you?”
“I do Simon, I know I’m only 16, but I know in my heart I do. And I think, I hope he feels the same way.” Victor admitted, before taking a breath and continuing, “You remember what we talked about? About me not being ready, for that? I think I am, I think, when we next get the chance, I am ready to go all the way.”
“Really?” Simon asked, watching Victor carefully, smiling softly at the boys nod, “Well, I’m glad to hear that. I trust you to do it right and talk to Benji beforehand though.”
“Of course.” Victor said, as though it was the most obvious thing ever.
Why would I not talk to him about stuff like that?
“Good, now you two go change, though there is a lock on our door, just don’t do anything too much yeah?” Simon said, laughing when Victor blushed, then nodded and ran off to grab his boyfriend.
Victor in his hurry missed the thoughtful look on Simon’s face, and the gleam in his eye as he called Bram over and began talking in hushed tones.
“Benji, c’mon let’s go get ready.”
“Yes dear.” Was the amused reply he got as he dragged him to the couple’s bedroom, pushing the door closed behind them. “You know we have like 20 minutes before we need to go right?”
“Hmmm do we? Imagine that.” Victor said with a grin, walking towards his boyfriend and pushing him gently against the door, before reaching around and locking it.
“Oh.”
“Yeah, oh.” Victor said, reaching up to cup his boyfriends face in his hands. “We can’t do a lot, but we do have some privacy, and we do need to get you out of those clothes so…”
“You’re incorrigible.” Benji said with a grin, leaning back to pull off his tee.
“It’s your fault.” Victor replied, hands roaming down to Benji’s’ belt. “Had to watch you all day, with your silly grinning face, and your sweet kisses, and I had to be so PG about everything.”
“Hmmm says you, running around in those basketball shorts this morning. You’re a tease.” Benji murmured, reaching to lift Victor’s shirt over his head before going back to attack his boyfriend’s neck.
“Dammit B, don’t stop doing that.” Victor breathed as he finally got the shorter boy down to his underwear.
“Yeah?” Benji said with a smirk in his voice, pushing Victor away from him, and smiling when his back met the wall.
“Get over here B.” Victor demanded hungrily as he shimmied out of his own trousers.
“With pleasure.” Benji said, leaping towards his boyfriend, and running his hands down the taller boys lean, tawny torso. “I do believe I owe you a treat for this amazing trip Victor Salazar.”
Before Victor could tell Benji he didn’t owe him anything, he watched his boyfriend sink to his knees, and felt his boxer briefs follow a moment later then a warm mouth envelop his rock-hard cock.
“Oh shit, B!”
“Victor, Benji. Put c’mon we gotta go, you two can play sword fights later!” Ivy called through the door, with the loud boom of Simons’ laugh following after.
“Dammit, I was so close.” Victor whined, resting his head back against the wall as Benji stood up, pouting at the repeated pounding on the door.
“Yeah, just a minute.” Benji called when Victor didn’t answer their friends call, “Don’t worry love, we’ll get another chance soon.
“A minute? You realise we still need to actually get dressed right?” Victor whispered, extracting himself from Benji’s’ sweaty embrace.
“Well, in my defence, I got distracted.”
“Hey, I won’t complain, trust me.” Victor whispered, smacking his boyfriend’s ass lightly before moving to find his bag, and the clothes it contained.
Thank God for Lake and Mia’s birthday gifts.
After many blush inducing comments, they finally arrived at the club, Victor’s stomach was filling rapidly with butterflies, but Benji’s’ hand slipping softly into his own quickly calmed his nerves.
“You two still got the energy for this?” Simon whispered teasingly as he stepped into the queue with the young couple.
“Ha ha Simon.” Victor grumbled.
“Welcome, gays, girls and everything else, to Messy Boots. You’re gonna love it.” Justin announced as he marched through the doors as though he owned the place.
“C’mon B, lets go see it.” Victor said excitedly, pulling Benji into the club, a wall of sound greeting them.
Messy Boots, get ready to meet Venji.
Chapter 24: Let’s Take a Trip!
Messy Boys
“Okay, Justin is apparently flirting with the bartender already, so that will be interesting, here’s hoping he’ll finally make a move tonight.” Simon said to the younger boys as they surveyed the club from where they stood by the entrance.
“Does he flirt with a lot of guys?” Victor asked. Outside of his last visit to the bar, and his conversations with Justin, Victor realised he really didn’t know that much about him.
“Nah, he just has this thing for Lucas, the guy behind the bar over there. He’s a friend of Ivys.” Simon said, pointing to a handsome guy who was showing off his cocktail skills.
“Damn.” Benji said as he saw him, and Victor agreed. The tight tee the guy wore was basically a second skin.
“Okay you two, maybe put your tongues back in your heads. Aren’t you two happily.. you know, happy together?” Simon teased.
“True, but I wouldn’t say no to…” Victor said, catching himself quickly before he could voice that particular fantasy.
“Oh my god! Say no to what!” Benji cried out excitedly, laughing at the mortified look on Victor’s face, “You and Lucas?”
“No!” Victor said, feeling heat rising in his face. Damn Benji for being so teasing.
“You, Benji and Lucas?” Simon asked, a traitorous grin on his face as Victor spun to look at him, ignoring Benjis evil cackle.
“SIMON!” Victor cried out.
“Damn Vic.” Benji said, pulling Victor in closer, pressing his body tight against the taller boys, lowering his voice so only Victor could hear him, “That’s definitely an idea that we should discuss in the future.”
Victor gulped and looked at Benji, seeing the lusty haze in his eyes, and realising that Benji was actually serious. And from the pressure against his thigh, Victor knew his boyfriend liked the idea too.
Holy shit.
Victor couldn’t help it but he grabbed Benji and pulled him in for a searing kiss, grinding slightly against the shorter boy.
“As long as you’re there B, I wouldn’t say no.” Victor whispered huskily into his boyfriends ear, a shot of pleasure rushing through him when he felt Benji press against him harder for a moment.
“Okay. I totally do and do not want to know what that was about. C’mon you two, lets go head back and meet up with everyone else, I think that’s all you need to see.” Simon said, checking his phone for confirmation from Bram that they had gotten a table. “Thank god Ivy knows Lucas, otherwise we’d never have a table on nights like tonight.”
“Are the shows popular?” Benji asked as they moved towards the centre of the club, the flush in his cheeks from earlier having mostly faded, voice loud in an attempt to be hear over the volume of the music.
“Yeah, it’s usually pretty full anyway, but most definitely on show nights!” Simon shouted back, his voice barely carrying to the couple, over the music blasting through the speakers overhead. Pointing across the floor, Simon continued, shouting, “There they are, follow me!”
“It’s so fucking loud in here.” Victor shouted to Benji, as they followed Simon across the dance floor to their booth. Bram, Ivy, Justin and Kim had already gone ahead and gotten everyone drinks, while Simon was showing Victor and Benji where everything important was, and where the drag show would happen later. Victor was pleased to see a couple of jugs of water in the centre.
“What?” Benji said in reply, straining to hear his boyfriend, “It’s so fucking loud in here Vic.”
“I said,” Victor started, just as the noise dropped, leaving a rare moment of silence so the whole club heard him shout, “It’s so fucking loud in here!”
“Yeah, well that’s cause you keep shouting Baby-Gay!” Justin called from their table, laughing happily when Victor stuck his tongue out as he sat down beside him, grabbing at the empty cups and pouring him and Benji glasses of water.
“Ohh shush Justin.” Victor said, pulling Benji tighter beside him, rolling their eyes when Simon planted himself in Brams’ lap instead of the open seat beside him. “Have you had any luck with that cute bartender yet?”
“Girl, I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Justin said, despite the fact his eyes were now focused on said bartender.
“Have you even spoken to him, besides ordering drinks?” Victor asked curiously.
“Well.. not in so many words.”
“Or any.” Ivy chimed in, dodging the handful of bar nuts Justin threw her way.
“Okay then Baby-Gay. What do you suggest hmm? We can’t all have our high school sweethearts perching in our lap.” Justin said, nodding at Simon and Bram who at least had the decency to blush.
“Well.. I’d say at least go up and speak to him. He hasn’t stopped looking over here since you got here.” Victor said, watching as at that moment, said bartenders’ eyes flicked from the customer he was serving, to Justins face.
“C’mon Justin, you got this.” Simon said encouragingly while the rest of the table cheered Justin on.
“Alright, alright you pack of animals, I’m going in!” Justin announced after a moment, downing his remaining drink and slamming the empty glass back onto the table. Shoving himself out of his seat, the young man marched confidently up to the bar, catching the guys eye, he struck up a conversation.
“Ha. Knew he could do it. Pay up Bram my dear.” Kim cheered, offering their empty hand to Bram expectantly. The young man begrudgingly handed over a ten-dollar bill, but when he sat back he was smiling as their group watched Justin charm the bartender, who reached across and scribbled something on a napkin before handing it to Justin with a smile.
“Damn Just, way to go.” Bram mumbled, finishing his own drink, pulling Simon up with him, “C’mon none of us are here to sit around watching Justin finally get some. Grab a guy, grab a girl, grab somebody, or grab yourself. Let’s go dance!”
Victor watched as the boys tore across the dancefloor, Bram bouncing about energetically, while Simon just followed after him, laughing as he watched his boyfriend. Victor couldn’t deny the look of love in the man’s gaze.
“Hey, Vic, you wanna dance with me?”
Victor was brought back to reality by his own boyfriend’s voice. Benji was looking at his, chewing his lip nervously. Victor couldn’t help but stare at his boyfriends lips for a moment, deciding that he may as well kiss them better. Just in case Benji said they were sore later on, it was purely for preventative reasons.
Plus, when he pulled back, Benji was bright red, which it Victors mind, was absolutely worth doing.
My god he’s adorable.
“Hell yeah I do!” Victor responded, leaping out of his seat and grabbing Benjis hand before following Brams lead and dragging him onto the floor and spinning around to pull the shorter boy close to him.
Victor grinned happily as Benji wrapped his hands around Victors shoulders, pulling him in close as the pair started moving together on the dance floor. This time around, Victor wasn’t nervous in the slightest to be in the bar, so he had zero issue dancing around the place with his boyfriend. They weaved around other couples, other groups, dancing like maniacs to the beat, laughing together when Benji spun Victor around dramatically.
Eventually the group all merged into one big huddle, the young couple jammed in between Kim and Simon, shouting and singing along to whatever music it was the DJ was playing.
“I threw a wish in the well. Don't ask me, I'll never tell. I looked to you as it fell.”
“No fucking way!” Victor cried out, spinning around to grab Benji who was dancing with Kim. “Benji, it’s our song!”
Victor grabbed Benji and started bouncing about him, screaming the lyrics back at him. Benji only laughed, grabbing Victors hips and dancing in time to the song, before the boys split apart and re-enacted the original coffee shop dance. Much to the amusement of just about everyone around them, and to Victors embarrassment, he counted at least two of their friends who had their phones out and were recording them.
Buy instead of clamming up, Victor just slid behind Benji, and enjoyed the boys ‘rump shaking’ dance moves.
I am so fucking happy right now.
“Two waters please.” Victor said, leaning against the bar in an attempt to catch his breath.
“Coming right up.” The bartender said with a smile, turning to grab the bottles from the refrigerator and walking off to get a card reader when Victor flashed him his bank card.
“Yo.” A voice said to his left. Victor turned and, even though he was an apparent time traveller, he still got caught off guard by déjà vu.
Oh, Mike.
“I’m Mike.” He said confidently, offering a hand to Victor.
Don’t say nice this time.
“Victor, good to meet you.” Victor said, accepting the offered hand and turning back to the bar to take the bottles of water and his card from the bartender.
Turning back Victor noticed Mike glance at the two bottles in his hands, frowning slightly.
“You here with someone?” He asked.
“Yeah, my boyfriend and I are in town for the weekend.” Victor said pointedly, wanting to get that one cleared up right away.
“Boyfriend? Damn, all the cute ones are always taken.” Mike said with a dramatic pout, “So where are you guys coming from?”
“Atlanta, well just outside Atlanta, small town called Creekwood.” Victor said, scanning the crowd for his boyfriend, smiling when he saw whatever it was that Simon was doing with Bram, but he was pretty certain it wasn’t classed as dancing.
“Oh shit, really?” Mike said, surprise colouring his voice.
“Yeah, why do you know it?” Victor said incredulously.
“I do! My dad lives there, I live up here with my mom.” Mike said, finish with an awkward chuckle.
“Well shit, that’s one hell of a coincidence.” Victor said, laughing with the other boy.
Who knew?
“Hey, what’s a coincidence?” Benjis’ voice sounded to Victors right. The boy coming up and planting a soft kiss on his cheek, eyes focusing on Mike.
“Benji, hey you. Here’s your water babe.” Victor said with a smile, offering the boy his drink and wrapping his arm around Benijs’ waist. “This is Mike, he’s.. Sort of? From Atlanta.”
“Hey, you must be the boyfriend. I’m Mike.”
“Benji.” The shorter boy said, shaking the offered hand with a funny look in his eye. “Do you two know each other?”
“Nope, we just got to talking while I was waiting on our drinks.” Victor said, watching Benijs’ face carefully, knowing full well what Mikes intentions had been.
Is Benji jealous?
“Yeah, don’t take this the wrong way, but I kinda came over to hit on him.. I didn’t know he had a boyfriend though. I swear.” Mike said nervously, flicking his eyes between the two.
“Ha, well I can’t fault you for wanting to hit on him cause he’s a catch, but yeah, sorry he’s taken.” Benji said, with a laugh, the funny look gone from his eyes before he suddenly asked, “Hey, are you here with anyone?”
“Nah, it’s just me, I’m on my own tonight.” Mike said, and Victor could hear emotion in his voice, there was something more to it.
“Well, why don’t you hang out with us, we’re staying for the show, and, well Victor and I leave tomorrow, but we could still get to know each other and introduce you to our friends.” Benji said.
Victor looked at the boy surprised at the offer, but pleased that Benji clearly saw a potential friend in the guy, rather than a rival.
As if anyone could rival Benji.
“Wow, umm yeah if you don’t mind?” Mike said awkwardly, smiling when Benji nodded towards their table were Ivy and Kim were teasing Justin as the boy watched the bar closely.
“C’mon, lets go get introductions over with, I think the shows starting in like 20 minutes.” Victor said, leading them over to the table, seating himself and Benji beside Justin and leaving Mike to slip in beside Kim and Ivy. “Guys, this is Mike, be nice.”
“Dammit Victor, are you just collecting cuties now?” Kim asked, smirking as Mike blushed furiously. “And they’re all so easy to tease. Hi, I’m Kim.”
Victor sat back, slipping an arm around Benji as he smiled at the sight of everyone geting to know each other, Simon and Bram still absent. Victor didn’t’ want to think about what they were getting up to.
“You know what B? You are full of surprises.” Victor whispered to his boyfriend, making sure Justin couldn’t hear.
“Hush, I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Benji said honestly, flicking his eyes up to meet Victors.
“Uh huh, sure you don’t B. Hey, remember earlier that little idea…” Victor said, taking pleasure in seeing Benji go bright red. “AH HA! Thought so, you naughty boy.”
“That.. I mean I didn’t… Victor shut up. He’s.. well, he’s no you, but I wouldn’t say no.” Benji replied, face flushed as they both glanced towards Mike who was now happily chatting to Ivy.
“Ha, well maybe some day. But I’m quite happy to have you all to myself Benji. I kind, well I think I’m ready.” Victor said softly, a small smile crossing his face when Benji just took his hand and squeezed it in response before he spoke.
“Victor, I am happy to hear that, but I promise there’s no rush. It’s not like we have privacy here anyway.”
“True, but still. Soon, I promise.” Victor said, hand slipping down from Benjis shoulders to rest on his thigh, squeezing tightly.
“Hey! Baby-Gay, hands where we can see them.” Justin spoke up, making Victor jump. He’d forgotten they were there.
“See Mike, sadly poor Victor here is afflicted with a terminal case of horny-for-Benji.” Ivy said, ducking behind Kim when Victor flicked some water at her in response.
“IVY!”
“Why me. Why do I keep getting dragged out in front of crowds?” Victor moaned.
“Well, it probably has something to do with these soft cheeks.” Benji teased, pinching his boyfriends face, laughing when Victor slapped his hands away.
“Well, that or it’s the deer in headlights look you get.” Bram said bluntly.
“Abraham! You be nice to Victor. Didn’t you hear him? This is the ‘Best night of his life’ and it’s all thanks to us.” Justin said.
“How do you figure that one?” Simon asked, handing Victor and Benji a hot dog each.
“Well, we brought him to the club so, I’m taking credit.” Justin said primly.
“Well, I replied to his DM first, so I’m taking credit.” Simon replied flicking Justin as he spoke.
“Rude.”
“Yup.”
“Guys, hey, it’s down to all of you. I’d have been lost without you, but now I.. well it’s odd, as much as I love my friends back home, they’re all straight, as far as I know anyway. And they don’t really get it.” Victor said seriously, looking around the huddled group, “So it really has been great, spending time with you all, even you Mike, and we literally just met a few hours ago, it’s nice to have friends who understand. And of course, I have Benji.”
“Hey, we get it Vic, everyone on of us gets it, and we all had a little bit to offer you, you know that.” Simon said, “A little piece of the puzzle, we were in your corner the whole time. You’re one of us Victor, we’re a community, all of us have been through the same thing, in some way or another. Big or small, we all know what it feels like, we’re a family.”
“Dammit Simon.. why is it when you make these speeches my allergies always play up.” Ivy complained after a moment, wiping tears from her eyes.
“You don’t have any allergies Ivy.” Kim said pointedly, “Just admit you’re a massive softy and we can move on.”
Victor laughed when Ivy refused to admit anything, and took the moment to look around his friends, the inclusion of Mike was a surprise, though a pleasant one to say the least. Who knew the random guy from his previous timeline might prove to be a potential long term friend.
“Hey Mike, so we’re gonna head on, but you have our numbers, and no doubt at least seen the friend request someone sent within 30 minutes of talking to you.” Victor said, rolling his eyes when Benji squawked at the insinuation.
“Hey, I was being friendly!”
“Hmm. Okay B. But Benji and I have to be up early tomorrow for the bus, so I guess this is goodbye.” Victor said, offering the boy a quick hug, slapping his back before stepping away to allow Benji to do the same.
“Thanks Victor, Benji. It was really nice meeting you, thanks as well for not being dicks about… well you know.” Mike said trailing off.
“About you wanting to bang my boyfriend? Don’t worry man, it’s all good.” Benji said teasingly, causing Mike to blush and the group to laugh, “I don’t think anyone blames you there.”
“Benji! Leave him alone. Seriously Mike, it was good to meet you, and keep in touch. And most definitely let us know when you’re in Atlanta.” Victor said, pointing a finger at the boy to emphasize his point.
“You got it Victor. I’ll see you around.” Mike said with a smile before waving down a cab and hopping in.
“He seems nice.” Justin voiced, “Don’t you think so Benji?”
“Oh my god, seriously? You wanna play that game, where did you vanish to earlier? I noticed Lucas was gone at the same time.” Benji said, crossing his arms and smirking triumphantly.
“Well.. you don’t need to know about that. Simon don’t you have something for the brats?” Justin said, rolling his eyes when Benji just laughed.
“Oh, yeah actually we do. Well, one of them was a bit more last minute than the other, Victor here.” Simon said, shrugging off his denim jacket and handing it to the boy, who couldn’t speak. He was so shocked and so happy that he got one of his most treasured possessions again. “A little something to remember New York by. Also, Bram said that he would, uh, burn it if I wore it one more time.”
“Hell yeah I will. Finally, thank you for taking that Victor, you’ve no idea how much that means to me.” Bram said, hugging Victor tightly after the younger boy slipped the jacket on.
“Alright, alright, it’s just a jacket you.” Simon said, slapping his boyfriends back. “Part two, is for you both.”
Simon pulled an envelope out of his pocket and handed it to Benji, who opened it and gasped when he saw the contents inside. Showing it to Victor both boys turned to look at the assembled group.
“Guys, are these…?”
“Hotel keycards? Yeah they are. We already moved your bags over there, room 308.” Bram said with a wide smile, “Si mentioned that you were looking to… go to the next level. And as much as we love you, I don’t need that happening in my bed thank you very much.”
“Simon!” Victor hissed, face burning in embarrassment. “I can’t believe you told him that.”
“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean for him to announce it like that.” Simon said earnestly, a panicked expression on his face “I really didn’t, I just wanted to do something nice for you, and you were so happy earlier and I just wanted to make sure that your first time was special and not ruined by like your mom walking in or someth- oof.”
Simons’ rambling was swiftly cut off when the full weight of a 16 year old boy, slammed into his chest. Victor wasted no time in wrapping the older man in a bone crushing hug.
“Simon. Shut up.” Victor mumbled against the boys chest.
“Shutting up.” Simon mumbled, returning Victors hug in his usual awkward manner.
“So… you got us a hotel room?” Benji asked after a moment, smiling when Victor withdrew from Simons arms.
“We did. We all chipped in cause New York isn’t cheap, even out here.” Simon said bashfully, “But we wanted to give you something nice, consider it a late birthday present.”
“Simon, I… we can’t thank you all enough for this.” Victor said, smiling as he felt Benji slipping his hand into his.
“Yeah, thank you Simon. We really can’t say that enough.” Benji said, a glint in his eye.
“Okay, okay, stop or I’ll be blushing till kingdom come.” Simon said, pulling out his phone as he did, “Now, I booked an Uber for you, it’ll be here in like two minutes. Victor, I umm moved your bags there and… everything you two might need is in the side pocket.”
“Huh?” Victor said as Benji just chuckled and rose onto his toes to whisper in Victors ear.
“He means supplies Vic, you know.. for fucking each other.” Benji breathed.
“Oh!” Victor said, refusing to meet anyones eye, relived when their car pulled up. “Okay, we gotta go like right now.”
Hastily shoving Benji towards the car, Victor paused briefly before wrapping Simon and Bram in another tight hug.
“You guys are the best gay gurus a kid could ask for, you know that right?” Victor said quickly, before jogging to hop into the back seat with his boyfriend.
“So, are you ready?” Benji asked, and even Victor wasn’t oblivious enough to miss the double meaning to the question.
“Completely and 100% ready B.” Victor said, contenting himself with taking Benjis’ hand in his own as the driver pulled away from the kerb and drove them towards the hotel.
“Welcome, your bags are in your room, Mr. Spier had them sent over earlier.” The receptionist said as she confirmed their room. “Enjoy your stay.”
Unlike the lady at the Willacoochee motel, this woman was perfectly pleasant and offered them both a kind smile. As though she could understand the enormity of the situation.
“Thank you, we will. Have a nice night.” Victor said politely as he walked with Benji towards the elevator, nodding politely as they stepped aside to allow an older couple to exit first.
“You okay V?”
“I am. Trust me Benji. I am 110% okay.” Victor said with a smile, “Just nervous is all, you know how I am.”
Benji just nodded as they stepped into the lift, not responding as a group also joined them, only speaking again when they got off on their floor.
“Vic, you know we don’t have to go all the way right?”
“I know, I want to. I’m just nervous, I think I know what I’ll like, but I’m still worried I won’t know what I’m doing.” Victor admitted, dropping the keycard into the lock on the door, before pushing the heavy door open.
“Hey, you know we will be going at your pace too right? This might be your first time, but it’s also my first time with someone I actually am in love with, so it’s a big deal to me as well Vic.” Benji said, softly, leading his boyfriend over to sit on the couch.
“Benji, I love you, totally and completely, and I really, really want to have sex with you.” Victor said, chuckling when Benji snorted in amusement. “I am just… worried I’ll not like certain things that you want to do.”
“What things V?” Benji asked, cupping his boyfriends face in his hands.
“What if I don’t want to bottom or I do and I don’t like it?” Victor blurted out, cursing himself as he did. He couldn’t look Benji in the eye, not after blurting that out, so instead he focused on the zipper on Benji’s jacket, playing with it, watching the light glint off of the dark metal.
“Hey, Victor sweetheart, look at me.” Benji murmured, reaching to tilt Victors head up so their eyes met. “You’re overthinking, so let me break that down. If you don’t want to, we won’t try that, if we do and you don’t like it, we stop immediately. It’s that simple.”
“Really?” Victor asked, honestly surprised.
Why am I surprised, this is Benji.
“Really. Besides… I kind of was hoping…” Benji said, trailing off.
“B?”
“I was kind of hoping.. well.. that is I wanted.. I was wondering youwouldfuckmeforourfirsttime.” Benji blurted, everything coming out at once.
“I’m sorry?” Victor said, not sure he’d heard what he thought he did.
Please be what I think you said.
“Oh come on Vic..” Benji groaned, leaning against his boyfriend, “I want you. To fuck me. There, I said it. Are you happy?”
Fuck yes I am
“Oh fuck yeah, I am most definitely happy.” Victor replied, pulling the boy into his lap, smiling as Benji shifted so he was straddling him, a leg on either side. “But then, I am with you, so I shouldn’t be surprised.”
“You’re such a sap Victor Salazar.” Benji murmured, leaning in to press a soft kiss to his lips.
“Maybe, but I’m your sap.” Victor replied, hands drifting to rest on Benjis hips as the boys traded soft kisses for a while.
“Hey, I’m gonna take a shower before.. you know.” Benji said, blushing lightly.
“Sure, I kinda need one anyway, Messy Boots sort of lived up to the name.” Victor said, pouting when Benji got up off of him, not bothering to hide how much he’d been enjoying it.
“Well.. you know we could always share, would be a shame to waste the water.. and the opportunity.” Benji said cheekily.
“Oh, that’s true, good for the environment isn’t it?” Victor said, smiling as they went in search of their bags. Finding them they went about grabbing their shower stuff, Victor stepping out of his old clothes, in just his underwear as he set his old clothes to the side, he checked the side pocket, finding a post-it note taped to the zipper.
Dear Victor,
I am so proud of you, and how mature you are being about all this.
We all are.
Enjoy
😉
Love, Simon
x
P.S Blame Bram for everything beyond the condoms and lube.
P.P.S Blame Simon for saying, “Get what you think they’ll need.” Love, Bram x
“Goddamn Bram!” Victor groaned as he opened the pocket.
“Victor?” Benji said from across the room, standing in just his boxers, towel in hand.
“Look at this.” Victor said numbly, though, not numb enough to miss the sight of his boyfriend in some very tight underwear. “Dammit B, leave somethings to the imagination.”
“Har har, you’ve seen it all before, more or less.” Benji said, swatting at Victors ass before peering into the pocket of the bag. “Oh. Oh wow.”
“Yeah, did they really expect us to use this all tonight?” Victor said, nerves betraying him.
“I doubt it Vic, don’t worry. We don’t have to use anything.” Benji said, grabbing one of the items and pressing the button on the end of it, blinking in surprise when it started buzzing. “This though… this could be fun.”
“B!” Victor said, scandalised, though he couldn’t hide the fact that the idea did excite him.
“See, you like the idea.” Benji said, stepping up close behind Victor and reaching for the waistband of his boxer briefs.
“B, lets not make a mess before we shower.” Victor said, biting his lip as Benjis’ hand dipped below the elastic waist and cupped his growing erection. “Dammit B.”
“Hmmm, you’re right. Shower time.” Benji said, swiftly withdrawing his hand and heading towards the shower, pausing to throw the now silent toy back on the bed, before sliding his boxers off and throwing them into the corner of the room, “Aren’t you coming yet Vic?”
“Benji… you’re killing me.” Victor breathed, shucking his own underwear off, and grabbing a towel to follow his now naked boyfriend into the bathroom. “Holy shit, now this is a bathroom.”
“I know right, and hey, just look at the size of this shower.” Benji said, waving his arm to indicate the massive walk in in the corner.
“Damn. This is the size of my bedroom.” Victor muttered, setting his towel on the rack beside Benjis, stepping lightly across the cool tiled floor to press himself up against Benjis’ back, arms wrapping around his waist. “So, this shower… definitely looks like it can fit two people.”
“True, but judging by what I’m feeling pressed against my ass right now, I don’t know if it’ll do us any good, considering the aim is to get cleaned up.” Benji said, pushing his hips back to press against Victors hardening dick.
“Dammit B. Fine, we can keep the shower P.G.” Victor groaned, enjoying the view of his boyfriends naked body in the nearby mirror.
That you time travel.
“Well… maybe not P.G. but we don’t want you wasting everything on a little quickie do we?” Benji teased, slipping out of Victors arms to turn the shower on, checking the temperature as the water ran.
“Wow. Okay, wow. You think I’m just this one-shot wonder huh?” Victor said, sauntering up and pressing Benji back against the cool glass of the shower door.
“Well… As much as I would love to see you prove me wrong, I kinda want to see one shot in particular.” Benji breathed, reaching down to pull at Victors erection. “And we need to be in bed for that, at least this time.”
“Mmm, true, but it doesn’t mean I can’t make you feel good for a bit beforehand.” Victor mumbled, fumbling for the door and guiding Benji into the steam filled shower.
“Okay, but first we do need to get clean, I’ve glitter in places I don’t want you finding glitter in.” Benji said, breathing heavily as Victors hands started to explore his body.
“Wow. That’s hot.” Victor replied sarcastically, chuckling as he pulled Benji tight to him, hands resting on his ass cheeks, both boys content to feel the warm shower water running down their bodies.
“Hey, Victor?”
“Yeah B?”
“I do need a hand getting prepared though… you can definitely help with that right?” Benji asked, smiling slightly when he felt Victors hands tighten on his ass.
“Fuck yeah I can.” Victor said, pressing a searing kiss to Benjis lips as his hands started to dip lower, in between the shorter boys firm ass cheeks.
“Oh fuck, Victor..” Benji moaned, arms flailing to grip whatever he could.
Ha.
“Yes Benji?” Victor asked coyly, pausing what he was doing, waiting for Benji to catch his breath.
“Keep. Doing. That.” Benji said, pulling Victors face back to his, hands scrabbling at his boyfriends back, one slinking up and gripping Victors hair, the water from the shower making it curl.
“Yessir.” Victor murmured.
“Okay, that was the longest fucking shower ever.” Victor said as he towelled off.
“Yeah, for sure. Though are you complaining?” Benji replied, hair tousled as he threw his own towel back in the corner.
“Most definitely not. Though..” Victor trailed off as his eyes focused on the bed, hands fidgeting nervously.
Why the fuck does a bed seem so scary right now?
“Hey, Vic, it’s okay to be nervous.” Benji said, padding across to take Victors hand. It still amazed Victor that it almost seemed as though Benji could read his mind at times.
“I know. Logically, I know that. I just… I want this to be good for you Benji, I don’t want you to feel like you have to hold my hand through all of this.” Victor admitted, settling on the bed, smiling when Benji plopped down beside him.
“Okay, first of all, I’ll never say no to holding your hand, physically or metaphorically.” Benji said, grabbing Victors hands as if to prove his point. “Secondly, Vic, no one knows what to do their first time. I didn’t, and it was scary as hell. Hopefully though you have something I didn’t, that will make it better.”
“What, the vibrator Bram bought us?” Victor teased, trying to diffuse his nerves.
“No, well, actually that might help, well.. considering my plan I assume you’d be using it on me.. Umm.” Benji said suddenly lost in his imagination, Victor couldn’t help notice that Benji’s body was clearly reacting to the idea.
“Hey B? As much as I love seeing you get hard, I feel like you were making a point?” Victor said softly, grasping his boyfriends cock, stroking it slowly. And with that action, he also grabbed his attention.
“What? Oh I know, you have something I didn’t. You have me. And I love you.” Benji said, his voice so genuine and honest that Victor paused his motions, something Benji didn’t seem to approve of.
Goddamn mind reader, always knowing what to say.
“Plus, I really, really want you to fuck me. And I’m prepared to take as long as you need.” Benji said, moaning when Victor sped his motions up again.
“You know Benji, words like that, I’d think you were trying to seduce me.” Victor said, turning to face the shorter boy, easing him back down onto the bed before climbing on, resting between his legs.
“I just might be. What of it?” Benji said breathlessly.
“Hmmm I might just be inclined to go along with it.” Victor said, pressing a kiss to Benjis lips before dragging himself back, and settling between Benjis’ legs. “Now, I’ve only ever seen this in porn, so let me know if it feels… weird.”
Before Benji could question his boyfriend, he had dipped between the boys legs, lips searching for his target, hands busy playing with Benjis dick.
“Victor. If you’re about to do what I think you’re gonna do… please hurry up.” Benji moaned from above him.
“Tut tut, always so bossy.” Victor scolded, before he ended the conversation by pressing his face forwards into his boyfriends ass.
“Jesus Victor!” Benji moaned, Victor taking this as a good sign went to work, making sure to keep a constant tempo as he jerked Benji, eating him out to the same pace while he listened to the boy writhe and moan on the bed. Sliding the bottle from his bag into his hands, he stopped his ministrations, replacing his tongue with his lube covered fingers.
“Victor, I love you, but I swear to god, if you don’t fuck me right now, I’m calling Mike.” Benji begged, his voice sending jolts of electric to Victors own cock.
“Hmm, now I am pretty sure you’re mine tonight B. So if that’s what you want, all you have to do is ask.” Victor said, reaching over grab a condom, slipping it on easily.
Thank god for health class freebies and practice.
“Victor Salazar, fuck me. Now.” Benji said.
“Yessir.” Victor complied, thrusting his hips in the tight, warmth of Benji.
Fuck yes.
“Holy fuck, yes!” Benji cried, looking up to lock eyes with his boyfriend. “Hey Vic, you don’t have to worry anymore, you’re fucking amazing at this already.”
“Yeah?” Victor asked, confidence growing, so he heaved Benjis’ legs over his shoulders and renewed his pace.
“Vic! Fuck yes!”
Chapter 25: Who Else Would It Be?
Revelations and Introductions
Dear Simon,
I'm writing this on the bus right now, since I know I'm going to bed as soon as I get home.
Benji is already drooling on my shoulder (sorry to your jacket)
Thank you so much for this weekend, and the HOTEL! The debt I owe you and whoever packed that bag...
Anyway, I feel so much closer to Benji now, is this what it's like when you first.. you know, with Bram?
You don't have to answer that, it's just it feels like there's no way this would ever be as good if it was someone else.
Benji gets me, yes, he's still a bit out on somethings, but i can't blame him for that. We both learn from one another.
Anyway, it looks like we're about 20 minutes from home now, so I gotta wake up Benji, so i need a solid 30 minutes...
Love, Victor
“Felix to Victor, are you there? Over.”
He wasn’t answering that.
“Felix to Victor, are you there bestie? Over.”
No way. Not at 6am.
“Feli-.”
“What Felix!” Victor cried as he leapt out of bed to grab the walkie-talkie to beg his friend for an answer to why he woke him up at 6am when he knew Victor was exhausted from his trip to New York.
“Oh, good you’re awake. Can you meet me outside my apartment in like 5 minutes?” Felixs’ voice came across nervous, so nervous that Victor immediately lost the will to scowl as it was replaced with concern.
“Felix, buddy are you okay?”
“Yeah… I am. I just need to tell you something.” Felix said.
“Sure, see you in a minute.” Victor said, clicking off the walkie-talkie and hurrying to pull on some sweats and a hoodie.
What could Felix need to tell him?
Victors mind flashed back to the last time he’d returned from New York and the revelation he had made to Felix. Could the other boy be…
Nah.
Victor shook his head of the thoughts, confident that Felix wasn’t about to come out to him, but admitting that he really didn’t know what the boy might want to talk to him about. Moving quietly through the apartment, Victor slipped out the door into the stairwell, hearing nervous shuffling coming from the where he knew the Weston apartment was. He turned the final corner and saw Felix clad in just a bathrobe and boxers pacing up and down the hallway.
This is really eating at him.
“Hey bud, what’s going on?” Victor asked quietly, not wanting to rouse any of their neighbours.
“Hey. Hi, hello.” Felix mumbling, hands running through his messier than usual hair. “What brings you here?”
“Um.. you?” Victor said, confused by the boys behaviour, well, more confused than normal by Felix.
“Ha. Right. Umm so there’s something I need you to see, something I should have told you about a long time ago. But I was embarrassed to do it, and I know that it’s silly to be embarrassed, especially after you told me your whole secret withing like a day of knowing me.” Felix blurted, pointedly staring at the spot just off Victors left shoulder, refusing to look him in the eye.
“Felix! You’re freaking me out a little bit.” Victor said, stepping closer to the boy and resting a, hopefully, calming hand on the boys twitching arm. “What’s going on?”
“Just… just come see okay?” Felix murmured, turning and opening the door to his apartment, stepping back to signal Victor to go inside.
“Umm.. okay?” Victor said, stepping into the dark apartment hesitantly, waiting for his eyes to adjust to the low light provided by a single solitary lamp.
As the black turned to muddled greys Victor could make out stacks of boxes, magazines, heaps of clothing thrown around the room, the floor practically buried underneath the mass of… junk?
What was this?
Victor turned slowly, taking everything in, eventually making a one-eighty and spotting Felix in the doorway, on the verge of chewing through his lip.
“Felix, what is this?”
“This is my life.” Felix said with a shrug, stepping in and closing the door behind him.
“Umm.. I really don’t know what to say.” Victor admitted, unsure what to do.
I never knew any of this.
“So, basically my mom doesn’t like to throw things away. Like… anything. And it’s fine. But it’s why I don’t invite anyone over, cause they don’t deserve to judge us, me, or my mom, for something she can’t help.” Felix said defiantly, his tone daring Victor to argue.
“Felix, I really don’t know what to say.” Victor admitted, “But I sure as hell am not going to give you shit for this.”
“I- really?” Felix said, surprise in his voice. Clearly he had expected a different answer.
“Felix, you once told me that you didn’t know the perfect thing to say, but you were happy I had told you my secret. Well that goes both ways. All I have is one question. Are you okay?” Victor asked, looking directly into Felix’s eyes.
“I… yes. Mostly, I mean I would love to be able to sit on the couch, but I’m happier having my mom around than causing more problems for her.” Felix said slowly, eyes flicking around the room.
“Okay. Just promise that if that ever changes, you come to me.” Victor said forcefully.
“I.. Yeah, I promise Victor.” Felix said, blinking rapidly.
“Felix, come on don’t cry.” Victor said mirthfully.
“I’m not! It’s my allergies, it’s making me blink a lot.” Felix said defensively.
“Felix?”
“Yes?”
“That’s a load of shit. You’re crying.” Victor said with a smile, wrapping the boy in a tight hug.
Okay, this isn’t what I’d expected. But dammit if I’m not going to be there for him all the same.
“So what if I am. What are you going to do, tell on me?” Felix said cheekily.
“No, I’m going to hug you some more, then we’re going to go get coffee at Brasstown and work out a way to make sure everything with this is working for you and your mom.” Victor said, frowning when Felix stiffened at his words.
“You can’t tell anyone Victor, this isn’t your secret.” Felix said, in a voice that almost had Victor recoiling.
“Felix.. I wasn’t going to. I just meant I want to make sure you and your mom are both okay.”
“Oh.”
“Yeah.. so coffee?” Victor said hesitantly.
“Yeah, yeah coffee sounds good. Besides, I’m sure you need the energy after a weekend locked up with Benji.” Felix said, grabbing his keys to head to the door.
“Hey Felix?”
“Yeah man?” The lanky boy said, turning to look at Victor.
“You think maybe you could put some pants on before we head out?”
“Oh shit!” Felix said, finally realising his state of undress, scurrying to where Victor assumed his bedroom was, face reddening as Victors chuckles followed him down the hall.
Victor > Benji
Victor: Hey, I’m walking to school with Felix, wanna meet us at Brasstown?
Victor: Also morning x
Benji: Sorry Benji is not available rn, it’s too damn early.
Victor: Awwww. Wear you out?
Benji: I hate you.
Victor: No you don’t
Benji: At 6:30am, I’m considering it.
Victor: Uh huh. See you at school B x
Benji: zzzzzzzzzzzzzz
Victor: :O
“All good with Benji?”
“Yup, well he says he hates me but that’s normal for this early in the morning.” Victor said, slipping his phone back into his pocket, walking alongside Felix towards the coffee shop.
“Fair. It’s way to early in the morning to function anyway.”
“Felix, you woke me up early.” Victor said, looking at his friend pointedly.
“Anyway. How’s Casa de Salazar right now, how’s things with your folks?” Felix asked, deflecting from Victors accusation.
“Ehh, it’s okay. Mom is opening up her “Academy of Music”, which is nice, I guess. Though Dad was a little bit funny about it.” Victor said, not wanting to think too much on the argument Pilar had overheard and informed him of.
“Ahh, I may have heard about that…” Felix admitted, his face scrunching uncomfortably.
“Yeah.. I think it’s part of the whole Roger thing, that’s how it started with him and I guess dad is a little bit paranoid.” Victor reasoned.
“I mean, that makes sense right? But at the same time that’s kinda crap for your mom.” Felix said, mouth twisting as he mulled over the situation.
“Eh, you know what man, it’s their own thing to sort out, not mine. They have another counselling session tonight I think, but honestly, I don’t know if I want to know about it.” Victor said, remembering how last time he’d tried to make it his mission to fix everyone else’s lives above his own.
“Wow. That’s pretty mature. Who are you and what did you do with my best friend.” Felix said cheekily, darting ahead to open the door to Brasstown, conveniently dodging a swipe from Victor, and darting right up to the counter.
“You know, Sarah, I don’t think that Felix needs my discount this morning.” Victor said when he reached the counter, smiling when Sarah started ringing up his usual without even asking.
“Uh huh. But he’s your best friend Victor. A fact he liked to bring up, sixteen times this weekend. Sixteen Victor. Sixteen times.” Sarah said, the smile on her face not quite reaching the manic look in her eyes.
“Ahh… umm maybe I’ll add a little bit more to the gratuity...” Victor said, tapping the screen of the offered tablet in affirmation, wincing at the annoyed harumph.
Dammit Felix, what did you do.
“Oh, can I get a bearclaw please?” Felix asked, clearly oblivious to the awkward moment.
“Nope.” Victor said, grabbing the receipt from Sarah, and guiding Felix over to the table to wait on their drinks. “Felix what the hell happened this weekend? Sarah looks ready to kill us. And I wasn’t here this weekend.”
“Umm.. I have no idea what you’re talking about.” Felix mumbled; his interest captured by the grain on the table.
“Felix.” Victor prompted.
“I kind of spent the weekend here. A lot. With Lake.” Felix grumbled.
“Okay, many, many questions on that. Didn’t you have detention this Saturday?” Victor asked, remembering the fallout from last time.
“We did. And we talked. And we kind of might have made out a bit.”
“Uh huh. Charming. And how does this all add up to you pestering Sarah to the point she’s mad at me.” Victor asked, failing to see the connection.
“Well, Mia and Andrew sort of went off on their own, together. I guess they talked things through? Still not sure what’s going on with that if I’m honest, hey maybe you should talk to Mi-.”
“FELIX.” Victor interrupted.
“Yes?” The other boy responded, eyes begging Victor to change topic.
Not happening.
“Felix.”
“Fine, so after detention, Lake and I made plans to meet here on Sunday.” Felix finally said, smiling softly when Sarah approached them with their order. “And I got here on Sunday, early as usual. So I grabbed a table, and waited. And waited. And texted Lake. And tried to call her. So I guess Sarah was probably pestered by me. I should probably apologise.”
“Wait, so Lake stood you up?” Victor asked, knowing that the girls obsession with social standing was probably a factor.
“I guess. I mean I don’t know, maybe I am overthinking it.” Felix grumbled, stirring far too many sugars into his coffee.
“Felix.. buddy, come on.” Victor said, nudging the other boy gently.
“Okay, so I called her, and she answered. And it was the same as last time, it didn’t mesh with her image or something.” Felix said, hands running through his hair.
Victor couldn’t help but stare at his friend, the look of dismay on his face. What the hell was going on, Felix hadn’t had to go through nearly this much drama last time around.
How the hell am I meant to help him.
“Hey, come on man, we need to go to school.” Victor said, not knowing what to do, just following the boy out the door and heading in the direction of Creekwood High.
Victor > Benji
Benji: Hey, what time are you gonna be here?
Victor: Umm 5 mins? What’s up?
Benji: Just checking, I’ve some stuff to sort out so I had to come in early
Victor: Is everything okay?
Benji: Umm. Up for debate, I’ll tell you when I see you, yeah?
Victor: If you’re sure B
Victor: You sure you’re okay??
Benji: Not really.
Victor: Okay B, I’ll see you soon x
“Hey, isn’t that Benji?” Felix said, nodding ahead as they approached the school.
Victor followed his gaze, eyes lighting when he saw his boyfriend, but frowning when he saw him standing with Ms. Albright, and two people Victor recognised as Benjis’ parents.
“Yeah, it is, and those are his folks. I wonder why they’re here.” Victor mumbled, taking the steps two at a time.
“Have you met them yet?” Felix asked, following him up the steps.
“Nope.”
“Are you ready to?”
“Nope.”
“Are you gonna say hello?”
“Yup.” Victor said, inhaling through his nose.
“Cool, I’m gonna go hide, oh look there’s Pilar and Rahim. Thank god.” Felix said, darting across to where Victors’ sister was standing talking animatedly with a taller boy Victor didn’t recognise, but smiled back when the boy waved politely at him, before turning to where Benji was standing, his parents still talking to Ms. Albright.
I guess that must be Rahim.
Victor stood awkwardly to the side, waiting for his boyfriend to notice him. Finally Benji looked in his direction, catching Victors eye and smiling
“Hey B.” Victor said, waving awkwardly.
“Hey you.” Benji said quietly, an almost apologetic smile on his lips.
“Is everything okay?” Victor asked, flicking his eyes towards the still conversing adults.
“That, is very much up for debate.” Benji said softly, watching as his parents shook Ms. Albrights hand.
“Thank you again Mrs. Albright, we are so sorry that this has happened, we can’t tell you how embarrassed we are.” Mr. Campbell said.
“Well, don’t worry about embarrassment sir, lets just be sure everyone is safe and sound hmm?” Ms. Albright said, an eyebrow raised at the man.
“Of course, of course.” Came a more chagrined reply.
“Well, I will let you folks get on with it. Boys, see you get to class on time.” Ms Albright finished, before heading into the school, already distracted by students messing around with a drone. “Land the damn thing before you land yourself in detention Wallace.”
This left Victor and Benji awkwardly standing with Benjis’ parents, silence surrounding them.
Well this is delightful.
“Benjamin, we’ll talk more about this all later yes? Right now, we have to go, we need to be at the office for a meeting.” Benjis’ father spoke, eyes flicking to Victor monetarily.
“Oh. Yeah, of course, umm before you both go, Mom, Dad. This is Victor, my boyfriend.” Benji said, a genuine smile on his face as he spoke. Victor could see something in his boyfriends eyes, and not wanting to prop his own ego, avoided calling it pride.
“Ah, Victor, a pleasure to finally meet you. We’ve heard quite a bit about you.” Benjis’ mother spoke after a moment. “It is a delight to meet you, we really must have you round for dinner some night.”
“It’s very nice to meet you Mrs. Campbell. Dinner would be lovely.” Victor said, hoping the smile on his face wasn’t quite as nervous as it felt.
“Alice, please dear. Anyone who makes our Benji smile like he does is deserving of a first name basis.”
“Mom.” Benji groaned, cheeks flushing with embarrassment.
“Oh hush Benjamin. There’s nothing wrong with being happy and in love.” Alice said with a soft smile, eyes sparkling as she teased her son, before she very unsubtely nudged her husband.
“What? Oh, yes, hello Victor. Pleasure to meet you.” The man said, offering his hand to Victor who took it and shook it firmly.
“Good to meet you sir.” Victor said, getting the feeling he wouldn’t be getting the offer of a first name from his boyfriends father.
“Hmm at least this one has manners.” The man mumbled, though clearly not aware that he hadn’t been quiet. That or he didn’t care, and judging from Benjis’ face it was likely the latter.
“Dad. Seriously?”
“What? I’m just saying, at least this one seems to have some manners and wits about him. I can’t imagine him doing anything like this.”
Anything like what?
“Dad, please not now.” Benji said, and Victors heart went out to his boyfriend, he could hear the genuine plea in his voice.
“Alright Benjamin, don’t be so dramatic.” Mr Campbell said, rolling his eyes at his son, “So Victor, what are you into?”
Victor hesitated, somehow it felt like there was a right and wrong answer to what should have been a straightforward question.
“Umm, I like music, and I play basketball.” Victor said uncertainly, frowning when he saw the mans eyebrows shoot up.
“Basketball? Really? What position.”
“Dad, I told you, Victor is the star player of the grizzles team.” Benji said, torn between frustration at his father, and pride in his boyfriend.
“I dunno about star player B. And I play Point Guard Mr Campbell.” Victor said.
“Do you want me to get the coach over to confirm it Vic? Because I will.” Benji said, “Victor is responsible for the Grizzlies winning streak.”
“Really, well you must be some player Victor.” Mr Campbell said, sounding genuinely surprised that Victor was athletic. “I used to play myself back in college. I didn’t think you’d be the athletic type.”
Stereotype much?
“He really is amazing Dad, you should see him.” Benji said through gritted teeth, aware of the insinuation.
“Again, B, you’re exaggerating. But you folks should come to a game some time. My parents usually come and then we all go out for dinner after, it would be a chance for us all to get to know one another better.” Victor said, pointedly leaving out the fact that the Campbells had made minimal efforts to get to know their sons boyfriend. Though after Derek, Victor was sure they were just being cautious.
“That, sounds like a wonderful idea dear.” Alice said, sounding genuinely happy about it, “We will get the next date of Benji, and I will call your mother about setting something up.”
“That sound-.” Benji started, only to be cut off by his father who loudly announced that they needed to get to the office.
What a charming man…
“Of course, Benji we will see you at home, Victor it was a delight to meet you.” Alice said, both Campbell parents turning and walking down the steps without a further word.
“At least this one doesn’t look to be a menace. I can’t believe the shit that boy pulled.” Mr Campbell said as they descended the steps, further conversation out of earshot.
What the hell happened?
“Benji?” Victor said after a few moments, looking at his boyfriend.
“Later Vic, I promise, just please not now.” Benji said, voice shaking slightly. Victor took a second and took in his boyfriends appearance, he looked exhausted. Not the ‘stayed up too late in New York’ exhausted Victor was, but the ‘Oh god this is too much’ exhausted.
“Is there anything I can do to help amor?” Victor said softly, pulling Benji into a firm hug, letting the shorter boy sag against him in relief.
“For now, just hold me. Please.”
“Always Benji. Always.”
Chapter 26: Who Else Would It Be?
Stand By Me?
“Hey, you ready to head in?” Victor asked softly, Benji still wrapped in his arms.
“Nope, m’comfy.” Benji mumbled stubbornly into Victors jacket.
“B, c’mon. Classes, learning, education.” Victor said, marching towards the entrance, dragging a now giggling Benji with him, despite the boy clinging to his chest.
“Yes, but out here has trees, sunlight, fresh air..” Benji grumbled into the denim covered shoulder of his boyfriend.
This boy will be the end of me.
“C’mon B. You know we can’t skip. As much as I really, really want to right now.” Victor replied, steeling himself against the puppy dog eyes his boyfriend flashed him.
“Dang it. When did that stop working?” Benji asked after a moment, seeing that his boyfriend hadn’t been swayed by his attempts.
“Mmmm its not that it doesn’t work, just Ms. Albright scares me more.” Victor admitted cheekily, smiling at his boyfriend. Taking his hand he pulled the still sulking Benji towards the school entrance, pushing through and stumbling into someone immediately.
“What the hell?” Victor grumbled, looking at the crowd of students standing just inside the doors.
“Watch it ki-. Oh hey Salazar, you’re gonna wanna see what’s happening up there.” A kid from Victors Econ class said, “Your boy Weston is up there with Lake.”
Oh crap, the dance.
Victor pushed through the crowd, still latched onto Benjis’ hand. He did not want to see Felix get hurt again. Shoving his way through, Victor finally made it to the front of the crowd, finding Mia and Andrew watching with anxious expressions on their face.
In the centre of the crowd were Felix and Lake, the former staring dumbfounded at the latter, who was wringing her hands and looked altogether more nervous than Victor had ever seen her in the two timelines he’d known her, the girl looked ready to cry.
Felix what the hell is happening?
Victor moved to step forward only to jolt back in surprise when Mia grabbed his shoulder and pulled him back, shaking her head stubbornly. Sighing in resignation the boy stepped back and watched as his best friend…. Stood there without speaking..
“Felix, kinda need you to say something.” Lake said, as though she had just read Victors mind, voice strong but not hiding the nerves the girl was obviously feeling.
“Umm… umh, uh yeah. Kay, just a- You want me? To go to the Spring Fling with you? What about your soci-.” Felix asked.
“Well, I’d have thought that that much was obvious given I just very publicly asked you. And yes, I was worried about the social aspect, but dammit you little nerd you make me happy. We work well together, I think anyway, and I’d like to see how that goes. So yes, Felix Weston, I am asking you to the Spring Fling.” Lake said tersely, sounding more like herself with each word.
“Come on Felix, say something.” Victor mumbled under his breath, praying the boy didn’t unintentionally hurt Lake. Victor may still favour Felix as his best friend, but he’d grown much closer to Lake this time around, and he’d be damned if he’d let anyone hurt her, best friend or not.
Finally after an age, Felix seemed to gather enough focus to answer Lakes question, drawing a breath which seemed to draw the full attention of the crowd, a hush passing over everyone as they waited for the lanky boy to finally answer.
“Yes. I will.” He said before rushing forward to gather Lake into his arms.
“Oh thank fuck.” Andrew said with a relived sigh, groaning when Mia slapped his chest in exasperation, pointedly not looking at their friends who were wrapped very, very tightly around one another.
“Oh god I may vomit.” A voice said from Victors other side, the boy snorted as he recognised his sisters every cheerful commentary. “Can you two find a closet or something, some of us have class to get too.”
“Well said Miss Salazar, you all have class together.” Ms. Albrights voice rang out, making everyone gathered jump, in the case of Felix and Lake, they sprung apart as though shocked. “Alright, everyone move your butts. Weston, Meriwether, don’t let me see that happening all day hmm?”
“Yes maam.” Felix said, smiling widely as he walked down the corridor, Lakes hand in his, grinning widely. Benji offered Victor a quick peck as he headed to his own locker, they didn’t have class together until after lunch and they shorter boy was obviously still distracted from whatever he and his parents had spoken about earlier. Victor just waved him off, promising to see him at lunch and that they’d talk later.
“Damn, go Lake, did you know about this?” Victor asked Mia once they’d gotten through the halls to their lockers.
“Ehh, I knew she wanted to. But I didn’t expect that.” Mia admitted, a shrewd grin on her face. Victor took a moment to look at the girl, realising she looked tired and nervous.
“Hey, are you okay?” Victor asked quietly, remembering all the drama Mia had went through last time, even without his lies.
“Ehhh, that’s a good question. Honestly, I don’t know. Dad drama.” Mia said, mouth twisting slightly into a frown.
“Yeah? Like Veronica type dad drama or something else?” Victor asked as the pair walked to class.
“Bit of both, can I tell you at lunch? I’m not sure I’m in the mood to talk right now.” Mia admitted.
“Of course, that seems to be going around.” Victor said, trying not to let his concern twist into spite.
“Yeah?”
“Mmm, Benji had a meeting with Albright before school, his folks came along, and he won’t tell me what happened.” Victor said, following Mia into the class and sitting at their usual desk.
“Oh Vic, I’m sorry, but you know Benji, he’ll tell you when he’s ready.” Mia said reassuringly, Victor forgot how much the girl beside him could comfort him with just a few obvious words. It never sounded cliché or trivial coming from Mia.
“Thanks Mia. I know, I just worry, you know?” Victor said.
“Oh sweetie, you can’t fix everything you know?” Mia said softly.
I thought I could. Isn’t that why I came back in time? Or does Benji not trust me enough to tell me what’s bothering him, doesn’t he think I can help?
Before Victor could run himself into a state of panic, the instructor finally stop up and called the class to attention, distracting the young man from his inner turmoil, unaware his friend next to him was having a similar inner battle. Victor took a second to send out a DM plea to the person he always went to for advise, praying the older man had something to offer.
Dear Simon,
How do you know when Bram isn’t okay? Like when do you know the difference between, not wanting to talk, and needing to talk but not wanting too?
Something is up with Benji and I’m worried about him, but he doesn’t want to talk and I don’t want to push him at all.
Help,
Love, Victor
By the time Victor and Mia met everyone for lunch, they’d both had managed to spin themselves into a defeated, panicked state. Mia more so than Victor but the boy wasn’t far behind her. Heads hanging low the pair, romantic partners in another lifetime, headed towards ‘their’ table, not managed to return the cheery smiles offered to them by their respective best friends who were sat cosied up and looking downright adorable.
Oh god, is this what Pilar means about Benji and I?
Victor didn’t have long to ruminate on that, as Benji slid onto the bench beside him, offering him a soft hello, and a bump on the shoulder. Victor could see from the boys eyes he’d been crying and any and all annoyance or negative intent he felt towards his boyfriend, however unconscious, vanished and was replaced by an abundance of concern and love.
“Hey you. Doing okay?” Victor whispered, taking Benjis’ hand in his own gently, offering as much comfort to the boy as he could right now.
“Eh, I’m here. Can we talk after lunch? I have a free period..”
“Of course, amor, I’ll get Andrew to cover for me with coach, its just free practice today anyway.” Victor said, relaying the request to Andrew who’d slid in between him and Mia, smiling thankfully when the taller boy confirmed it wouldn’t be a problem but he’d cover nonetheless.
Victor was interrupted by a message from Simon, who’d finally replied to him.
Victor,
I’m sorry to hear that Benji is having a tough time, and I’m sorry to hear that you’re not sure how to help him. If I’m honest, there’s really no right answer, which might not be the best thing for your “gay guru” to say to you, but it’s the truth.
Whatever is eating at Benji, he will tell you when the time is right, even if he doesn’t want to. Just give him time, let him know that you are there for him, and if possible distract him. But eventually it all boils down to one things.
Let him talk, listen to him tell you what he needs to say.
Love, Simon
Conversation around the table was slow, despite Felix and Lakes happy bubble, everyone was hyper aware that Mia was just downright not okay. The girl had been pushing her food around her plate all lunch, and had blanked multiple attempts to pull her into any conversation.
“Alright Mia, come on. Spill, what the heck is going on with you?” Lake said, tactful as ever. Still the girl knew Mia best, she knew how to get a response out of her.
“Uhm, it’s my dad I guess, as usual.” Mia admitted, “So Veronica is pregnant.”
“OH shit.” Lake said, hand shooting out to grab Mia’s, concern covering her face. “Isn’t she like super old, like 40 or something?”
“Lake. She’s not ‘super old’, but that’s not the kicker. They’re getting married as well, this summer I think.” Mia said.
“Aw babe, that’s just crazy, how do you feel?” Lake said, having gotten up and nudged into the seat on the other side of Mia, wrapping an arm around her as best she could, Andrew had the girl in the tight hug already.
“I don’t know. Angry I guess? They told us last night, well, they told us about the wedding, I worked out the pregnant bit myself and they confirmed it.” Mia said, indicating her and Andrew, her boyfriend having joined her for the meal and ensuing awkwardness.
“Mia, I’m really sorry, that’s kinda shitty. I know it’s not the same, but I know Pilar wasn’t thrilled about Adrian but that passed. Maybe this will be a good thing?” Victor said hesitantly, he didn’t want to make things worse, but it was all he could offer, he didn’t know that far into the future.
“Honestly? It’s not even that baby, that’s not really a bad thing, it’s not even Veronica that’s the problem, it’s my dad. I’m used to him being away for ages and being alone, but he always came back to me. To me! Now he’s going to have this new wife, new kid, and I’m just waiting for him to leave. Just like my mom did.” Mia said, tears rolling down her face as she bared her soul to the group, “I just don’t trust him not to leave me behind, and I’m even afraid he’d do it to the kid. Cause you know what, having a mom that ran away sucks, but a dad that is there but isn’t, sucks worse, ‘cause you know he just doesn’t want to make the effort.”
“Mia, your dad made some mistakes, but that man adores you, he wouldn’t abandon you.” Andrew said reassuringly, looking to the group to back him up.
“Yeah, but you don’t hear how he talks, about how he wants to get this job or that job, never bothering to talk about the fact its halfway around the country, and I’d either be left here or have to follow along.” Mia said, tears slowing slightly, only to be replaced by sniffling sadness.
“Hey, if that happens you can totally bunk with me.” Lake declared, the genuine offer in her voice clear, making Mia laugh when she added that they would need to get another bed in the room so she might need to borrow Andrew for a bit.
Damn Lake, good going.
Eventually the bell rang and the group split to head to class, Mia wasn’t okay but she was a lot better now, walking with Lake and laughing softly as Felix babbled about some show he was watching with his mom.
Leaving Victor and Benji alone.
“So, you wanna go to our tree?” Victor asked, offering his hand to Benji as he stood.
“Sure, that sounds like a plan.” Benji said tiredly, Victor tried not to let the boys tone affect his thoughts, but it was hard when you were in a persistent state of panic all day long. Walking through the courtyard, Benjis hand wrapped tightly in his, Victor couldn’t help smiling to himself though, the weight of Benjis hand was like a reassuring presence in and of itself. The world couldn’t hurt him when he was with Benji.
Finally, the boys made it to the tree, sitting themselves comfortably against it, side by side, shoulders pressed tight, hands still firmly held between them.
“So, what happened, I know you said you weren’t ready to talk earlier, and i understand that, but I’m worried and I’m sorry if I seem like a dick, but it’s freaking me out and I need to know that you’re okay, and if you’re not I need to know so that I can help.” Victor said, unable to stop the word-vomit spewing from his lips. Watching his boyfriend as the blond boy chewed at his lip, a sign he was nervous, Victor couldn’t help but let that little voice of anxiety worm its way to the forefront of his mind.
He’s not gonna break up with me is he? Whatever happened, whatever I did I can fix it.
Benji finally looked at Victor, pain and hurt shining in his eyes, which had filled in the moments pause with unshed tears, leaving the boy looking sad and broken, more so than Victor had ever seen him.
How bad can this be? Remember what Simon said.. Let him tell me.
“Victor, it’s about Derek.”
Well fuck me. That bad.
Chapter 27: Who Else Would It Be?
Dance With Me?
Victor had very obviously thought about how he’d planned to ask Benji to go to the Spring Fling with him, it felt like it would be the perfect crux point of his time travelling. Proof that everything he’d been doing had been the right thing to do.
The thing that would make it all better, make the loss of his old life worth it.
He’d work with Sarah, similar to their first date, to get Brasstown ready for a ‘Prom-posal’ that would knock Benjis’ socks off.
Him and Sarah would have worked hard to get the store front ready, hanging fairy lights across the ceiling, white clothes on the tables, arguing over the music to play, before Sarah was rushed out at the last minute when Victor realised Benji was on his way.
He’d offer him a single rose with the note attached, asking him to be his date, Benji would say yes and they’d spend the night dancing to whatever sappy music Sarah had decided on, and they’d just dance in silence for a while.
Hopefully without bruised toes interrupting them.
What actually happened was not according to the plan in the slightest.
Like, not even close to the plan.
Derek?
“What did he do?” Victor asked, confusion in his voice.
What the fuck does Derek have to do with any of this?
“He um.. he’s kind of been harassing me. Ever since we broke up.” Benji said, looking at anything but Victor.
“What the fuck, Benji are you okay? What did he do? Are you okay? Why didn’t you tell me?” Victor said rapidly, stopping sharply when he saw his boyfriend recoil from him in shock.
“B, I’m sorry, I’m sorry I didn’t mean to shout. Do you want to tell me what happened?” Victor said after a moment, pausing to recollect himself.
“It’s okay Vic.” Benji muttered quietly.
“No it’s not, I shouldn’t have shouted. I’m sorry Benji.” Victor said earnestly, “Forgive me?”
“Always.” Benji said, a small smile lighting his face up, “You sure you want to hear this all? It’s kind of a lot.”
“Hey, I dunno what type of boyfriend you think I am Benji Campbell, but I am always here yeah, good and bad. So tell me, tell me anything you want to tell me, or don’t. Just know I’m here.” Victor moved to take Benjis hand in his, but was rocked back by the weight of his boyfriend throwing himself into his arms. Victor could feel Benji shaking against him, he was crying.
I’m gonna kill Derek.
“Okay, um so obviously you know that I dumped Derek, shortly after we met.” Benji said after the couple separated again, pausing to make sure Victor was paying attention.
“Yes, I vaguely remember being overjoyed about that.” Victor said, blushing slightly.
“Ha, anyway, he obviously didn’t take it well, you saw how he’d not stop calling, I had to block his number.” Benji said, pulling at the grass underneath them, “Well, he’d also been calling me from pretty much any other number he could, I’ve like fifty blocked numbers now ‘cause of him. Apparently he saw us the night of our ‘not-date’ date, remember we got that food and we walked home?”
“Yeah?”
“Mm, apparently that confirmed his suspicions that you stole me from him. ‘Took what was his’ is actually what he said.” Benji continued, smiling grimly at Victors growl. “Anyway he obviously didn’t do anything that night, but then the spamming got worse. He rang my house drunk on your birthday, that’s why I was late by the way, we had a whole screaming match on the phone, with my parents downstairs, so I had to explain it all to them. My dad was ready to file to get a restraining order against him, but I talked him out of it. I just wanted it over with you know?”
Victor nodded, wondering if this would have happened Benji last time, given how long it took for his relationship to break down without Victor’s active meddling.
“Anyway, he stopped calling for a bit after that and I thought it was over, that I could be happy with you and just be a kid. Then he stepped it up a notch, he started showing up when I was working, I don’t know how but it was always the days you weren’t in. I couldn’t do anything at the start, Sarah wanted to ban him but we had no reason since he didn’t do anything. Then he showed up drunk at the shop. You know that table that was broken? That was him, he fell and smashed into it. Sarah kicked him out and threatened to call the cops if he came back, and changed the schedule rules to ensure no one was ever on a single shift alone.” Benji said, eyes glazed over with past memories, not seeing the pain in his boyfriends face.
How did I not know any of this!
“Benji, love I’m so sorry, I didn’t know.” Victor said mournfully.
“Oh I know, that was by design. I don’t communicate well remember Vic?” Benji said.
“B, but this…”
“Oh I’m not done.” Benij said with a dark, humourless laugh. “After dickhead Derek got kicked out of Brasstown, he vanished again, though I am pretty sure I saw him lurking a few times but I can’t be sure. The weekend of our work trip he showed up at my house, completely drunk, remember my phone wouldn’t stop buzzing all day? Well, he told my parents all this horrible shit about us, that we were going around pretty much fucking all over the place, doing all the horrible stuff. And given my history with drink, my parents didn’t totally disbelieve him.”
“What!? Benji how could they even trust a word he said, you used to drink, that doesn’t mean you’re a horrible person, doesn’t mean you’d do bad things.” Victor said furiously.
“God I love you.” Benji said simply.
“Huh?”
“You, I love you. Never once have you judged me for my drinking.”
“Why would I?” Victor said in confusion.
“Ha, anyway. After that, I had a long, blunt discussion with my folks when I got home, they breathalysed me by the way. Tried to say you were a bad influence on me, said I moved on to fast. That’s why I didn’t want you to meet. The way my mom acted today, she’s such a hypocrite.”
“B….”
“So that all leads up to today, nothings happened since then until apparently this morning. Derek showed up at the school, drunk again, and hit Mr. Anderson. Apparently he was screaming for us to come out, it was like 6am so no one was here, but they called the cops and he was carted off, the school wanted to check with us, given my history with him, and that’s how my parents got involved. Apparently he was spewing threats about us, saying all these horrible things, Mr. Anderson wouldn’t repeat them but Albright was furious.”
“Jesus…” Victor said, leaning back against the tree, trying to absorb all the information Benji had given him.
“Yep. So, I understand if you want to leave now.” Benji said, looking away from Victor.
“Huh?”
“If you wanna go, I won’t stop you, you deserve better. I have too much baggage, it’s not fair on you.” Benji said, failing to hide the strain in his voice.
“Benji. You’re a fucking idiot.” Victor said, smirking when his boyfriend whipped his head round to look at him. “What about all that you just told me, in anyway suggests I have to break up with you? So you have a shitt- okay a really shitty ex. So what, he’s not you, and you’re not him. I want you. I love you Benjamin Campbell, so stop trying to chase me off.”
“So… wait you’re not mad?”
“Why would I be mad?” Victor said, genuinely confused.
“Well… Cause of all the stuff with Derek..” Benji said, failing to finish his point.
“So what about that asshole, he’s not the guy I love. Benji I have loved you since pretty much the first day I met you, the day you said yes to being my boyfriend is so far the happiest day of my life, you make me feel complete, I want to spend every moment with you, I can’t wait to take you to the Spring Fling and show you off to everyone, to dance with you, to watch all the awkward couples and laugh with our friends. I can’t wait to go on more trips like New York, to explore the world with you.” Victor said, pausing to take a breath as he focused on his boyfriends face. “I love you, you dumbass.”
Benji didn’t speak for a long while, he honestly looked like what Victor imagined the human version of a stalled processor to be, after a worryingly long time he finally spoke.
“You want to go to the Spring Fling with me?”
“Oh. My. God.” Victor said, smacking his boyfriends shoulder, “I pour my heart out and all you care about is the bloody school dance.”
Victor grumbled and stood up, offering his hand to Benji who took it hesitantly, standing up with his boyfriend under their tree.
“Benji Campbell, my dumbass, hot as fuck, perfect, nerdy, artsy, voice like an angel boyfriend, would you do me the honour of being my date to the Spring Fling dance this week?” Victor said, pulling the two tickets from his wallet and offering them to Benji. He'd had planned on asking him that night at work anyway, he mentally made a note to text Sarah and cancel the plan.
Okay, so it’s no surprise at Brasstown but this might work.
“Hell yeah I will.” Benji said, lurching forward to kiss Victor, deeply, pushing him back against the tree to show just how much he appreciated the invitation.
Damn B.
“Damn Benji. That was really, really good..” Victor said breathlessly once their lips had separated for more than five seconds.
“Mmm, well you used a lot of endearing descriptions in that request so I figured I owed you some wow time.” Benji said coyly, his dark mood having long vanished.
“Ha, good to know. I always forget you like having your ego stroked.”
“Ha ha, but come one, we both know that’s not all I like you stroking.” Benji said huskily as he shoved himself up against Victor, grinding his hips against his boyfriends.
“Benji!” Victor squeaked, looking around to make sure no one could see them.
“Ha, gotcha.” Benji replied cheekily, stepping back a little.
“Wow, you so owe me for that.” Victor said, frowning as he adjusted to significantly tighter jeans.
“Mmm, No problem.” Benji said with a smile.
This boy.
“Come on you, lets take a walk yeah, we can plan for the dance and give me time for this to go down.” Victor said, pointing to his crotch.
“Charming.”
“Hey, I can charm the pants of you, so don’t knock it.” Victor said.
“True.”
The two boys walked in silence for a while, enjoying the peace and quiet. Victor couldn't help but look at Benji every so often, smiling when their eyes met, giggling when they caught the other staring just a second to long. Eventually the bell rang signalling they'd have to go back to class, so the boys made their way back to the school, stopping by Victors locker as he collected his books.
“So you’re sure that the whole Derek stuff doesn’t bother you?” Benji said quietly, his face worried again.
“Mm it does, he’s a dick and I never want to see him again, but you’ve not done anything wrong so why should I let it affect our relationship. We are perfectly fine B.” Victor said with a shrug.
“Huh. That’s not a bad point.”
“Yeah, I make those sometimes you know.” Victor said with a smile, remembering something his mom had asked him about, “Oh by the way, there is one little condition to us going to the dance together.”
Benji raised an eyebrow, a small frown on his face, waiting for his boyfriend to explain.
“Mom wants you by the apartment early for couples photos.” Victor said dramatically.
“Oh my god you ass, you had me worried! Of course I’ll be there, gotta make sure everyone knows this hot piece of ass it yours.” Benji said with a laugh, happily wrapping his boyfriends arm back around his shoulder, Victor revelled in the feeling of it, of Benji, of them.
"So, you told your mom we were going together before you even asked me?" Benji said coyly.
"Mmm yeah, something about you being a sure thing." Victor said, pressing a quick his to Benjis' lips before darting off to class, leaving his boyfriend grinning like a loon as he headed the opposite way to his own class.
By the time Victor got home, he’d already messaged his mom and they were going to head into town to get him a suit for the dance. And since Victor had a fair idea of what Benji would be wearing, he knew he could get something that would work well with it. Isabell was just delighted to take her son shopping and she nearly croaked when Pilar announced she would need a dress, since she and Rahim were going as a pair, just as friends but it was better than stag Pilar reasoned.
Victor reminded himself that he’d promised Pilar he’d speak to Rahim but they never seemed to meet, and honestly Victor didn’t know what the boy would gain from speaking to him.
Oh well, I’ll burn that bridge when I get to it.
Time was catching up pretty quickly with his last life, and Victor was running out of future knowledge fast. Not that much of it mattered anymore, given how much had changed and more often than not, he found himself without any advantage or foresight. Although he wasn’t complaining when his parents offered to allow Benji to spend the night of the dance at their apartment.
There was one thing he knew for sure, this Spring Fling would be day and night compared to the last one.
No one else gets hurt.
Chapter 28: Remember that Spring Fling Thing?
It Just Feels Right.
“Hey B, you got your suit?” Victor asked by way of a greeting as he met his boyfriend at the bottom of the apartment stairway.
“Of course, can’t take my hot boyfriend to a fancy-schmancy dance without a good suit.” Benji said, offering a bright smile when Victor leaned down to kiss him, the taller of the boys wasn’t able to keep his thoughts in the present.
Ha, very different to how last time started off. I would much rather kiss Benji.
“Good point mr. C’mon up, mom is making dinner and might just be making your favourite foods.” Victor said, laughing when Benji ducked under his arms and started hoping up the stairs two at a time.
“Why didn’t you say so! I’d have been here ages ago.” Benji said, shouldering the garment bag as he bounded up to the apartment, leaving Victor standing at the bottom of the stairs.
“You know, I would be mad right now that you're ditching me, but those jeans look really, really good on you.” Victor called after his boyfriend, smiling at the chuckle that sounded down the stairs.
“Perv.”
“Oh like you come to watch me practice basketball for the sport.” Victor called back, taking the steps quickly to catch up with Benji.
“I mean, have you seen yourself in those shorts?” Benji said, smirking when Victor finally caught up with him.
“Okay you, I hate to kill the mood, but my folks are behind that door, so cool your jets.” Victor murmured, leaning in to kiss his boyfriend despite his instructions, deepening the kiss and pressing Benji back against the wall.
“You cannot kiss me like that, and then not expect me to jump you.” Benji groaned once they split apart, leaning his head back against the wall as he inhaled deeply.
“Oh but I can.” Victor said, opening the apartment door and leaving Benji alone in the hallway. “Mami, Benji is here.”
Victor swore he didn’t hear the boy groan in frustration, and he double swore he didn’t chuckle at the fact.
“Ah Benji, sweetheart, you’re just in time for dinner.” Isabel called out from the kitchen where she was putting the finishing touches on their meal, “Adrian sweetheart, you and Felix set the table sí?”
“You got it boss.” Felix replied cheerfully, already handing a stack of plates to the youngest Salazar, who carried them with a look of intense concentration as he maneuverer across the short distance while Felix grabbed everything else.
“Awesome work lil’ man.” Felix said, offering Adrian a smooth high-five when they’d successfully completed the task.
“Hey everyone, am I okay to leave this in Victors room?” Benji said, indicating the garment bag on his shoulder and the backpack on his other shoulder.
“Of course, you know the way. Victor I don’t think he needs directions this time. Go get your father.”
Victor fought a blush as everyone laughed at him, he hadn’t even noticed he’d started to walk down the hall with Benji. Holding his head up, the not-blushing boy left the apartment and headed upstairs to find his father who was working late on a job in their block. Finally finding the older man fiddling with the wiring connected to a hallway light.
“Papi, dinners ready.” Victor said softly, not wanting to bother any of the other residents.
“Ah, thanks flaco. Benji get up the stairs alright?”
“Huh?” Victor said in confusion.
“Mmm you know sound travels pretty easily up these stairways right?”
“Oh? OH! Oh god.”
“Yeah, so I guess Benji was just being polite when we watched those games on TV hmm?” Armando said, finishing with whatever task he was working on, and refitting the light.
“Oh god..” Victor muttered, softly knocking his head against the wall.
“I mean, all the poor boy had to do was say.” Armando teased.
“Okay, c’mon, lets go. Before that poor boy eats all Mamis cooking.” Victor said, eager to get out of the awkward conversation bouncing down the stairs ahead of his father, heat rising in his cheeks.
“Hey, actually Victor just a second.” Armando said, picking up his pace to reach his eldest child, “There’s something I wanted to say before tonight, and now’s as good a time as any.”
“Oh lord, please don’t be a sex talk.” Victor whined.
“It’s not.” Armando said with a laugh.”
“Oh, wait it’s not a gay sex talk is it!” Victor said in horror, “Cause Simon and Bram gave me a pretty educational and serious talk on that, condoms, STDs’, the works.”
“Ha, no, though remind me to thank those boys for that. Though I think the guys at PFlag have info packs, I’m gonna pick one up next time for you two.” Armando said, mostly to himself, not picking up on the rapidly dying Victor in front of him, oblivious to the fact with every word his son was praying for the walls to swallow him whole.
“Papi! You wanted to say something?” Victor said, hoping the plea was clear in his eyes.
“Ah, si, sorry. Anyway, I just wanted to say how proud I am of you amor.” Armando said, a soft light glinting in his gaze, “I know that we moved here under… problematic circumstances, and that things aren’t perfect, but I am so glad that you didn’t let that hold you back from finding yourself. And your Mami thinks the same kiddo, we aren’t perfect, by no means but you, your brother and sister? You all are.”
“Oh..” Victor said softly, not sure what to say, normally his father wasn’t big on emotional speeches.
“And, not that you need it, but we really do approve of Benji, you two have something special, something rare. Don’t let that boy slip away from you.” Armando said, smiling as his sons face lit up at the mere mention of Benji.
“Thanks dad, he’s.. well I think he’s really special. And I want to do better for him, you know that his ex wasn’t the nicest guy.” Victor said almost breathlessly, looking towards their apartment, as though his gaze could pierce the thin walls.
“Victor, kiddo you’re doing more by just loving that boy. Anyone can see that you two adore each other. You’re not Derek, and Benji is a perfect match for you. That being said, I’m still giving him the talk since you two have no curfew tonight.” Armando said, clapping Victor on the shoulder and walking down the hall to their home and easing the door open to the apartment, leaving Victor to his thoughts.
“Wait, what Papi don’t you dare!” Victor called once he’d processed his fathers words, darting after the man, bursting through the door only a second after him, to the shocked looks of his family, apart from his dad who looking immensely pleased with himself, and a confused Felix and Benji, both already sat at the table with plates piled high with food.
“Victor! Are you okay?” his mother asked, stepping round the table.
“Sorry, yeah I’m good, just tripped coming in the door.” Victor mumbled, walking past her to the table, pressing a soft kiss into Benjis’ hair as he passed him, pointedly ignoring Pilars gagging noised. “Oh grow up.”
“Dios, Victor you need to be careful, you don’t want poor Benji to spend the night in the emergency room if you trip him.”
“Hang on, why am I tripping him. I can dance, I’m graceful.” Victor defended, siting down beside Felix, glaring at Benji who was sniggering across the table at him.
“Mmhm, whatever you say Vic.” Benji said, faux concern in his voice, his façade shattering when Pilar let out a snort of amusement.
“I play basketball! I spend most of my time being light on my feet and dodging around to make sure I don’t stand on someones feet.” Victor said, pointing his fork accusingly.
“Ah Victor I don’t think those skills translate.” Isabel said, hiding her grin behind her hand.
Well at least she’s polite enough to fake sincerity.
“Why am I getting bullied? This isn’t fair.” Victor said with a dramatic huff.
“Aww, there there, I’m sure Benji can show you some moves.” Felix said, his face not betraying the double meaning, except for the slight quirk of his mouth.
“Felix!” Victor hissed, looking from the boy to his boyfriend, noting that at least this time Benji was blushing too.
“Anyway,” Isabel started, pointedly ignoring the sniggering from Felix, Pilar and worst of all her husband, “I expect a video of slow dance. You said no to us chaperoning, this is the compromise.”
“Yes mami. We promise.” Victor said, rolling his eyes at his mom, but secretly pleased. A year ago he never would have imagined that his mother, his Christian mother would have been demanding slow dance proof of him and his boyfriend. A boyfriend she obviously approved of.
“Good, but not that I don’t trust you, Pilar if you get me at least a video and half a dozen photos, I’ll take you into town next week to get you those new albums you wanted.” Isabel said calmly, ignoring the betrayed squawk from her eldest, in favour of smiling cheekily at her daughter.
“Pilar, if you even think about it, I know where your baby photos are hidden.” Victor said, again wielding his fork like a weapon.
“Benji, c’mon you gotta sing it.” Adrian demanded, nudging Benji as they followed the lyrics crossing along the screen.
“Yeah, come on Benji, you have to sing this one.” Felix demanded, shaking at Benjis’ shoulder before breaking into song along with the younger two Salazars;
“So he’s a bit of a fixer-upper,
But this we’re certain of
You can fix this fixer-upper
Up with a little bit of love!”
Victor glared at the trio when they pointed at Victor, making it clear just why they’d waited for this song.
“I’ll say! So tell me, Benji
Is it the way that he runs scared?
Or that he’s socially impaired?”
“I hate you all.” Victor grumbled from where he sat on the floor, leaning back against his boyfriends legs.
“Hey, what’s the problem hermano, don’t you want us to fix you up with Benji?” Pilar asked between bursts of giggles.
“I’m good, thanks. I think I’m fixed up pretty well for now.” Victor said, smiling when Benji shifted his legs to lock his ankles around Victors waist, smiling back at him when he looked up at him.
“Hey, c’mon everyone, he’s not in that much need of fixing up. Although, I would like to know what he means by ‘for now’.” Benji said, struggling to keep a straight face.
“Benji!” Victor said, turning on the spot and dragging the other boy onto the floor with him.
Unfortunately, this apparently was an invitation for the beginning of a dogpile, and when Victors parents walked in 5 minutes later, Victor was struggling to extract himself from the bottom of the group of bodies, crawling away from them, across the floor on his belly. Before he could get his legs free, he felt the pressure increase and looking back he saw Armando had sat himself on the couch and was now using the top of the pile as a convenient footrest.
A footrest that was also more commonly known as Felix.
“Mrs S, ya gotta help me!” the boy cried out.
Victor narrowed his eyes at his father who simply smirked back, and Victor groaned since it was the exact same smirk his sister often got when she was far too pleased with herself.
Well, he’s not moving anytime soon.
Dragging his legs out from under the pile, Victor stood up and stepped back from the writhing pile of people he loved. As he sat watching his boyfriend squirm as he was in a tick war with Adrian, who was trying to defend himself against Benji and Pilar, while Felix tried to shift the foot that was pining the boy down.
How the hell is this my life? Time travel notwithstanding, this is insanely amazing.
“Armando, dios let the kids up. They need to get ready for the dance!” Isabel said once she finally listened to the ongoing pleas for help from Felix.
“Ah, okay amor. Up you get.” Armando said, after a moment.
The pile toppled across the floor, bodies rolling in every direction, Adrian giggling as he rolled across the floor far further than he should have.
“Okay, okay, Pilar shower now. Felix you go home and I advise you do the same, but be up here for photos.” Isabel said, slipping into mom mode as she directed everyone around without any effort. Felix caved quickly, beating a hasty retreat and promising to be back in an hour, Pilar reminding him to make sure Lake knew when to be there for as well, as she headed to her own room. “Victor, Benji go start getting ready, then you each need to shower once Pilar is ready.”
“We know mami, we’re not little kids.” Victor said grumbling as he pulled his boyfriend up off of the floor.
“Uh huh, well go, and no funny business, you’re not being late because you two can’t keep your hands to yourselves.” Isabel said firmly.
“Mom!”
“Go.”
“C’mon B.” Victor said, taking Benjis’ hand and leading him down the hallway passing Pilar who was heading for the bathroom already.
“Did I ever tell you I love coming over here?” Benji said, after they had all their stuff ready for the dance, garment bags hanging up side by side, just waiting until they could shower and change.
Then it was time for the dreaded photos..
“No, but I just assumed you liked seeing me.” Victor said cheekily.
“Well, obviously that’s a perk. But seriously Vic, even when we were 'just friends', it was one of my favourite things. Hanging out after work, watching movies or even just doing homework.”
"Well, I don't know how long we were ever 'just friends'. But, Benji, you.. I love it too, having you here, with me.” Victor said, pulling Benji close to him, their faces inches apart. “Having you here, seeing you with my family, it just feels right. I love you, and I love having you in my life.”
Even if it did take two tries.
“Yeah, that sounds about right for what I feel too.” Benji said softly, resting his forehead against Victors, both boys just enjoying holding each other in the easy silence of Victors bedroom. “I can’t imagine my life without you, does that sound ridiculous?”
“Mmm maybe, but I can imagine mine without you, and I know I’d rather not see it.” Victor said, bridging the small gaps and pressing a soft, but sincere kiss to Benjis’ lips, smiling when the shorter boy pressed himself closer as he returned it.
I’d do it all again if it meant making you happy Benji.
BANG
“VICTOR, BENJI! THE SHOWER IS FREE!”
“Ah… thanks Pilar. I think Mia heard you all the way across town!” Victor snapped back
“Victor sweetie, stop pacing, Benji is literally in the other room getting changed. Once he’s ready he’ll be out.” Isabel said, from the sofa where she was fawning over Mia and Lakes dresses while Andrew and Armando talked basketball and the Grizzles chances for the next season.
“Oh he’s out of it Mrs. Salazar, he’s in full Benji-mode.” Lake said, while Mia nodded along in agreement, as Andrew and Felix sniggered behind their hands at him.
Victor was ignoring them, too busy waiting on Benji, checking his hair, his bow tie, was he wearing matching shoes?
“I gotta say though, I love that you let your curls out tonight, it’s totes better than that token straight boy gel job you had going on.” Lake said, eyeing Victors hair approvingly from her place on the sofa, leaning slightly against Felix.
“Well, Benji said he liked it so..” Victor muttered; Lake having broken him from his pacing.
“And whatever Benji says goes right?” Mia said teasingly, laughing pleasantly when Victor stuck his tongue out at her. “Though, the suit is a 10 out of 10 too, and I know Benji didn’t pick it since he’s been complaining about not seeing it yet.”
Victor felt his cheeks flush at the compliments, looking himself over in the mirror. Originally he was going to go with a normal black tux, but then he saw the burgundy patterned jacket in the store, and he just knew he had to get it.
“So, Pilar, when is Rahim getting here?”
“He texted me a few minutes ago, he’s on his way now.” Pilar said, looking up from her phone momentarily. “We’re gonna get a lift with you guys but I think we’re meeting up with Nora, Alec and a few others.”
Victor couldn’t help smiling at his little sister, even though she fit in well with their group, he was glad she had her own group of friends in her own class.
“Wow P, using us just for a limo?” Felix said, clutching his chest as he mimed being wounded, flopping dramatically into Lakes arms, the blonde just rolling her eyes in amusement and stroking the boys wild hair.
“Pretty much.”
“That’s cold Pilar.” Lake said, “I love it.”
The group laughed merrily, interrupted by a knock on the door, Pilar bouncing up to open it and reveal Rahim standing there, a slim white suit and a nervous look on his face.
“Hi everyone.” The boy said, nervously chuckling as he stepped into the apartment and waving awkwardly, though the warm welcome from everyone seemed to ease the boy a little. “Sorry if I’m running behind a little, my parents were just determined to grill me on what was happening tonight.”
“Hey Rahim, it’s good to meet you.” Victor said kindly, offering his hand to the younger boy, smiling when he took it in a slightly jittery handshake.
“Good to finally meet you Victor, Pilar told me a lot about you.”
“Well, it’s good to finally get some face-to-face time. Pilar has been trying to get us all together for a while now.” Victor said kindly, the boy was clearly nervous, and Victor wasn’t sure why, in Rahims case he had zero future knowledge to use.
Victors train of thought was slightly derailed however by the sound of his bedroom door shutting and footsteps coming up the hall, with Benji finally stepping into the room letting Victor see him in his suit.
Holy shit.
“Holy shit Benji.” Victor said, allowing his eyes to roam all over his boyfriend, taking in every detail as wolf whistles filled the room.
The shorter boy was wearing the same suit as he had last time, but this time, this time Victor was really allowed to look at him in it, to appreciate how good Benji looked in his suit. How well it fit him, and knowing what was under it…
Nope, now is not the time to think like that, not in these pants.
So he looked back up, at the face of the boy he loved, taking in the expression on his face, the look that crossed his face, the glint of his sharp canines that betrayed the beginning of a smile. Victor couldn’t help himself and stepped away from Rahim and closer to Benji, taking the boys hand in his own, pulling him close.
“You look amazing Benji.” Victor said sweetly, eyes meeting Benjis’.
“Yeah, I got that from the ‘holy shit’.” Benji said with a giggle, pressing himself against Victor lightly, the pair enjoying each others warmth.
“Okay love birds, enough, time for photos!” Isabel called, dragging Armando over to help her with the camera. “Everyone line up over here, pair up, Benji, you in the front first, sorry sweetie, you’re… well you’re short.”
The stunned silence that followed was broken by a cackle from Victor and the group dissolved into quick laughter, before Isabel hurried them up, lining them up against the wall, adjusting little details on everyone’s outfits and poses, promising Benji he could swap places with Victor in the next photo.
Victor loved his mother, but the woman was a demon when she got her hands on a camera. They did photos of them as a group, just the boy, just the girls, separate pairs, Victor and Felix, Victor and Andrew, Pilar with Felix, the eight of them standing in a line holding Adrian who lay across their arms, grinning widely, then another with Felix and Adrian swapping places.
Victors heart almost burst when Isabel dragged Benji back for a photo with the whole Salazar family.
“Come here Benjamin, I need one for the mantle. And I’m pretty sure Victor is going to claim the one of just you two.” Isabel said, squealing with joy when Victor wrapped her in a bear hug.
“Yeah, he only has 200 to choose from.” Pilar teased from her spot where her and Adrian stood, Armandos arms wrapped around them both. “And come on, last photo, the limo is here.”
“AH, dios Pilar you’re right, lets go kids. Vamos.” Isabel said, herding them to the door, handing purses and phones to grabbing hands, accepting pecks on the cheek from Victor and Pilar, and then Benji, and then Felix. Andrew didn’t want to be rude so he also followed suit, leaving the Salazar matriarch rolling her eyes at the teens, especially when Rahim pointed out he liked to take someone to dinner first before he kissed them. “Very fun Rahim, you’re a charmer. Benji dear remember you’re coming back here tonight, your mom okayed it yesterday.”
“No problem Isabel, I doubt Victor will let me forget.” Benji said cheekily, laughing when Victor lifted him over his shoulder and carried him to the door.
“Yeah well, you remember the compromise, we have to take them to dinner next week.” Victor said in mock horror.
“Victor Salazar!” Isabel said sternly, the glitter in her eyes making clear there was no malice behind her tone.
“Bye!” Victor said, darting out of the room before his mother could say anything else. The group all piled out of the apartment, and into the limo Mia and Lake had rented, it was only a short trip to the school but someone, most likely Lake, had instructed the drive to take a longer, scenic route so they could enjoy it.
Victor smiled as he watched his friends goof around and be silly, laughed when Andrew and Benji stood up through the sunroof, screaming into the night while the rest just laughed their antics. Pilar and Rahim where taking selfies and fighting over which ones to post, Felix and Lake were laying out a ‘plan of attack’ for when they got their, and Mia was resting her head on Victors shoulder as she videoed their boyfriends
“You know, I think we both did pretty well in the boyfriend department.” Victor whispered to her as they watched the two boys bouncing around, well, their legs anyway.
“Damn right we did. And if I can be so bold, I think they did pretty well in getting us.” The girl said, switching her camera to take a photo with Victor, both of them smiling widely, like teens in love.
He couldn’t not marvel at how different his life was, how much he’d changed with his second chance. And knowing that tonight was the last of any future knowledge he had, after tonight there was no telling what would come their way, but Victor knew that whatever it was, it was worth it.
His resolve doubled when Benji pulled him up to replace Andrew, and instead of screaming into the air, pulled him into a searing kiss, while their friends cheered below them.
Yeah, as long as I have Benji, I can handle whatever the universe throws at me.
Chapter 29: Remember that Spring Fling Thing?
An Impossible Dream No More.
“Oh my god! This place actually looks amazing.”
“I know right? Who knew that anyone at this school had taste, present company excluded.” Lake said, pausing to snap a series of quick photos by the wall of LED lights. Pilar and Rahim had already headed further in, looking for their own friends, leaving the three couples to themselves.
“Hey, we should get a group photo!” Victor said, pointing to the professional photographer who had been set up near the main doors, already snapping away shots of both couples and friends.
“Yes, love it. As much as I’m sure your moms’ photos are lovely...” Lake trailed off, trying to find the right words to finish.
“They’re still gonna be mom photos, believe me I know. Heck at this point Benji knows.” Victor said, smiling at the relieved look on Lakes face now she was reassured that there was no issue with critiquing their moms’ photos.
Pilar and Victor had long agreed that the woman was a menace with a camera and there needed to be limits to what she posted on Facebook.
Lake clearly isn’t as mean or hard edged as she had first appeared when I came to Creekwood the first time.
“Oh, hey Vic can we get a couple portrait as well? I kind of want one for my bedside.” Benji said, low so only Victor could here.
“Absolutely doing that. Love that idea, as much as I love those photos from New York, I want a photo with you in that suit before it gets all messed up.” Victor said, wrapping an arm around Benji’s’ waist as they all moved over to join the queue for photos, Andrew and Felix stepping off to get drinks.
Well, I know there won’t be any repeats of the original stoplight party... Andrew and Felix are friendly at the very least now.
“And what exactly would mess up my suit hmm?” Benji asked, eyes sparkling as he asked the question he knew the answer too.
“Well, it’s a school dance. It’s sort of a custom for couples to sneak off for a bit. Find an empty classroom… have fun. Almost get caught and run through the school holding hands.” Victor said, giggling as he finished.
“That sounds like something worth getting my suit messed up for. Maybe not the almost getting caught bit, but well, it’s a good thing I’m dating an athlete.” Benji said, reaching up to press a kiss to Victor’s check, laughing when the taller boy held him close.
“Hey, no need to stand so far you know.” Victor said, squeezing Benji closer to himself.
“You know you two are adorable but sickeningly sweet all at once.” Lake said, not pausing her queue-photoshoot of the group, indicating Victor and Benji to pose for another picture.
“Hey, have you seen him?” Victor asked, pointing to Benji, “Wouldn’t you be all over him?”
“Oh totes, I’d climb him like a ladder.” Lake said, not the least fazed by the choking sound Mia and Benji made, smiling coyly while Victor only laughed.
“As much as I’m flattered, and I think I am, I’m one tree you or any girl won’t be climbing.” Benji said, cheeks bright red.
“Aww, what a loss.” Lake said.
“What’s a loss?”
“Benji, straight girls weep at the loss.” Lake said dramatically.
“Ehh, okay.” Felix said, clearly not sure how he was supposed to respond.
“Don’t worry buddy, Benji and I weep regularly that you’re straight.” Victor said, Benji nodding solemnly beside him.
“Aww, really?” Felix said, seeming to miss their sarcasm and being genuinely touched as he walked backwards with the motion of the queue.
“Ummm…” Victor said, not sure what to say now. He didn’t want to knock his best friend, so he decided to go another route, “Hey, we’re next up.”
“Coward.” Benji whispered in Victor’s ear when they turned to face forward as they waited to be called forward.
“I’m not knocking Felix.” Victor said, “Even if he’s not my type.”
“You’re adorable you know that?”
“You might have mentioned it, could stand to hear it said more though.” Victor said.
“Okay, you’re adorable, but you’ve got an ego as big as your you-know-what.” Benji said, squeezing Victor as he spoke.
“Benji!” Victor hissed, “Not in this suit, these pants are tight enough.”
“Spoilsport, I suppose we should keep these photos PG.” Benji said cheekily.
He will be the death of me.
“Alright, next group.” The photographer called, distracting both boys while they were directed to stand. Annoyingly the photographer seemed to think Benji, and Victor were just friends and kept trying to separate them ‘for height consistency’, causing Victor to bristle with irritation.
Then in their couple photos, he kept positioning them in “friendly ways”.
“Hey, I know my boyfriend’s short, but I’d still like to stand close him in the photos, if that’s not too much to ask.” He said, not able to stop himself.
“OH. Oh, my word, I do apologise. I didn’t kn... well I didn’t know did I?” The man said, scrambling to cover.
“Just take the picture.” Victor said sharply, doing his best to smile and lean into Benji’s’ touch as he tried to settle him.
“Hey, Victor, take a breath. It’s okay.” Benji whispered as the man took their photos, letting them pose as they wanted with minimal instruction.
“Sorry, I know.” Victor said, inhaling and exhaling slowly, finally glad to walk away once the man had taken the photos and their details to collect them once they were done at the end of the night.
“Hey, I think we’re gonna take a walk yeah, clear our heads.” Benji said as they joined their friends, who just nodded in understanding.
Victor and Benji did a lap of the floor, Benji mostly leading Victor, nodding to people they knew as they passed, spotting Pilar and Rahim dancing with a group of people, recognising Nora among them. The couple looped the room and headed out the doors at the end, passing down the hallway that last time Benji had confronted a panicking Victor, and broken his heart all over again by telling him to stay away.
This time they walked right past and down the hallway, finding the art room unlocked, the two slipped in, Benji guiding Victor still.
“You want to talk about it?” Benji asked, lifting himself up onto a desk, and pulling Victor over to stand between his legs, the desk offering enough height that Benji could pull the boy into his chest.
“Yes. No. I don’t know.” Victor mumbled, not wanting another spring dance ruined.
“Well, that’s clear.” Benji said with a scoff, rubbing soothing circles on Victors back. Victor leaned into his touch, craving the comfort that only Benji ever could offer him.
“Sorry, it’s silly, but I kind of forgot you know, that people are still going to assume.” Victor whispered, his time-travel gifted confidence wavering. “There are always going to be people who look at me, us differently, or ignore us, just because we love each other.”
“Vic, you have to remember, that you’re really not out that long. It’s all going to be new to you, so first of all, you are allowed to feel like that.” Benji said, running his fingers softly through Victor’s hair. “It sucks, I have aunts who just don’t interact with me anymore, they ignore everything, my mom’s sister, well let’s just say last time we saw them my mom tore her a new one for the stuff she said. Since then, she’s been a ghost to us.”
“B, I didn’t know that.” Victor said, looking up at his boyfriend, the dim light of the classroom offering a ghostly look to him.
“Because it was never worth telling. The thing to remember Victor, is that while there’s always going to be assholes who don’t approve, there’s a million more people who are ready to love and accept you. Now the LGBT+ community isn’t perfect, but there is always a place for someone, and always a community for those who need one. Remember New York? If you needed them Simon and the rest would be here in a heartbeat.” Benji said with conviction, and Victor knew he was right.
“I know, you’re right.”
“Of course, I am.” Benji said with a smirk.
“You know... you’re the one that said I had a big ego. I think yours is bigger.” Victor said teasingly.
“Oh, now I know we both know who is bigger, but if you want, I don’t mind a refresher.” Benji said, raising an eyebrow, as if to ask were they really about to do this.
In response Victor walked over and locked the classroom door and pulled the shades on it.
“And where exactly have you two been?”
“Oh, just around. Went for a walk. Had a talk, nothing spectacular.” Victor said as he and Benji joined their friends at a table just to the side of the dancefloor.
“Uh huh. And that’s why Benji’s shirt isn’t buttoned up right and your bowtie is missing is it?” Mia said, pointedly taking a sip from her glass as everyone watched both boys’ squirm.
“Umm… it was hot, so I took it off?”
“Oh, I’ll bet it was hot.” Lake said cheekily, smirking under Victor’s glare.
“Well, to be fair, I took his bowtie off. And a few more things.” Benji said.
“B!”
“Oh, come on, they know. And for the record, he's wrong. It was most certainly spectacular.” Benji said easily, rolling his eyes at his boyfriend.
“Yeah, well obviously they know. But you don’t have to give in to them so easily.” Victor grumbled, sliding his seat a few inches closer to Benji’s’.
“True, but now we can move on. Plus, Lake is right, it was really, really hot.” Benji said simply.
“Point.” Victor acknowledged, still taking a moment to stick his tongue out at Mia who was giggling into Andrew’s shoulder.
“You know, I just said I bet it was hot, you added the really, really bit Benji.” Lake said.
“Yeah, well it was really, really hot.” Benji said grinning when Victor turned from him and buried his head in Felix’s shoulder.
“Felix help me, say something interesting before I die with embarrassment.” Victor cried dramatically.
“I am sorry buddy, but I don’t think anything I could come up with would be more interesting that the Venji sex-capades Lake is cooking up and besides, it’s not like you and Benji did anything wrong by going at it in a locked classroom, if anything you guys should be lauded for being so comfortable that your boyfriend freely admitted it.” Felix said without taking a breath.
“Well… that was certainly interesting.” Andrew said, rolling his eyes and offering his hand to Mia as the music shifted and they got up from the table to dance.
“Hey, Felix come on, lets go dance.” Lake said, grabbing the surprised boys’ elbow and dragging him onto the dance floor.
“Yessir, milady.” Felix said, throwing a salute in Victor’s direction as he eagerly followed Lake onto the dancefloor sliding up beside Mia and Andrew.
“Hey, do you want to umm... you don’t have to if you don’t... I mean.” Benji said, and restarted a couple of times, looking down at his hands as he spoke.
Victor was hit by a vision of Benji sitting at a table with Derek, in this hall, looking glum and upset as he watched the others dancing.
Okay, the glumness may have been because of me and my silliness, but I know for a fact Derek never asked him to dance and didn’t even want to go to the dance.
“Benji, do you wanna dance with me?” Victor said, standing up and offering his hand to his silly, silly boyfriend.
“Yeah, yeah I’d like to.” Benji said with a soft smile, Victor once again resolving to do whatever he could in the future to make sure Benji’s smile never left his face.
“Come on then, get that cute ass out there, I want to show you off.” Victor said, giggling as he pulled Benji up from his seat and spun them both wildly onto the dancefloor, both boys stumbling into their friends when they lost their balance.
Any embarrassment Victor might have felt was drowned in happiness when the other four simply whooped excitedly and dragged both boys into a huddle, the six teens bouncing up and down as music was blasted down at them from the speakers.
Victor bounced around with Benji, giggling and shouting to the lyrics of the song, and the next moment he had Mia in his arms, grinning like a madman when the twirled him on the floor, as Andrew and Benji awkwardly tried to figure out something for themselves to do while their partners were do busy trying (and failing miserably) to mimic the dance routine from Friends.
“No, no no. Vic c’mere. You know what we gotta do.” Felix cried out, stealing the boy from Mia, and immediately breaking into the dance from Pulp Fiction. A dance Victor had no idea how to do, since he’d never seen the movie (something Felix would later correct) so Andrew stepped in to dance with Felix instead, laughing as he took on the part of Uma Thurman.
“Benji!” Victor shouted happily as his arms found their way around said boyfriend’s waist, pulling the shorter boy tight so his back was pressed to Victors chest, the boys laughing as they swayed and watched their friends dancing around them.
As the night went on, no dramatic bathroom moments, no tearful confrontations, no cheating or breaking hearts, Victor allowed himself to have fun, to be a teen, bouncing about and dancing with his friends, with the guys from the basketball team, with his boyfriend. They stood and watched as Mia and Andrew were crowned Prom King and Queen, standing beside Felix and Lake, who didn’t need a big dramatic on-stage moment this time. Pilar off to the side with her friends, standing with her arms around Rahim and Nora, giggling and smiling more than Victor had seen her do last time.
Something he had once imagined to be an impossibility, was very much happening.
“You know this all feels like a dream sometimes.” Victor said to Benji as the two danced to a slow song neither of them knew, the night winding down and slower, more romantic songs were being played.
“What do you mean?” Benji said, not lifting his head from Victor’s shoulder.
“You. Sometimes I wake up, and for a moment, I don’t believe its all true, that I got to have this life. That I get to have you.” Victor said, speaking earnestly, doing his best not to let slip that this was his second try.
“You know, I think I know what you mean, sometimes I’ll be sitting reading or in class and it’ll just hit me. You make me so happy Victor, I’m really glad you moved here. And I’m really glad we went on the Ferris Wheel that night.” Benji said, pulling back to meet Victors eyes, their gaze holding nothing but pure love.
“Hmm, you know I almost chickened out of the whole coming out thing. I was back and forth on coming out the whole time, I was gonna do it, then I almost chickened out when I met Mia and Lake, told them there was ‘no person’ in Texas missing me. Then I met you and that plan just went right out the window.” Victor said honestly.
“Me? What did I do!” Benji said in confusion.
“You, my love, walked down a hallway, with your floppy hair, and your Pink Floyd tee and my heart stopped beating and time slowed down.” Victor said, smiling when he saw the blush creep into Benji’s’ cheeks. “And then you stopped and introduced yourself to me and started talking about destiny, and my heart was revived and beating a million times a second.”
“Victor...”
“And then you helped me in the courtyard, and then Brasstown, and then the Ferris Wheel, and then you broke up with Derek and then and then and then, you became my best friend. And I felt myself falling for you even harder. All your little quirks, the way your lips quirk when you’re teasing me, how you love comics and movies and how you can literally talk for hours about them, how you gave me time to come out, you never pressured me, you put up with my crazy family. You were my first boyfriend, my first time. You are my everything Benji Campbell.” Victor said, not once breaking his gaze from Benji’s’
“Jesus Victor... you can’t just dump that all on me in public.” Benji grumbled, wiping at his eyes and sniffling.
“Sorry B, but you asked.” Victor said, brushing his thumb lightly against Benji’s’ cheek.
“True, and for the record, you’re my everything to Vic.”
“Mmm, good, now come on, lets just dance while we can.” Victor said, drawing Benji close to him, watching over the top of the boys’ head, eyes meeting Mia’s and he smiled back at the girl, who waved softly his way, to content to do more as she was wrapped in Andrews arms, her sparkly dress glinting in the lights.
Felix and Lake danced not far from them, Lake dancing on Felix’s toes, her heels held in Felix hands as he swayed softly in place with her.
Yeah, this is pretty much perfect.
“Hola niños, you’re both back late. How was the dance?” Isabel said as she greeted them when they got back to the apartment.
“It was great Mami, but I’m exhausted. We walked home after, Lake and Felix were being a bit PDA heavy to be trapped in a limo with them.” Victor said as he flopped down on the sofa beside her, Benji flopping down beside him.
“Ah, I think I’d have done the same. Your sister got home earlier and went right to bed after a shower, she said Mia and Andrew won the crowns?”
“Yeah, it was sweet.” Victor admitted.
“It’s crazy though how much Andrew changed this year; I couldn’t see him winning a year ago.” Benji said from Victors other side. “He used to be a real jerk.”
“Yeah, but Mia is good for him, she mellows him out. Grounds him.”
“Ahh, I see, well balance is important for any relationship.” Isabel said knowingly.
“Mmm, true Mami.” Victor mumbled softly, hand sliding to grip Benji’s’.
“Now, I think you boys need showers and then bed, you both look exhausted.
“Aw, we were gonna watch a movie.” Victor whined, not wanting to admit that he was bone-dead tired.
“Sweetheart, Benji is gonna be here all day tomorrow, you can do watch it then. I’m gonna stay up and wait for your dad to come back, he was dropping Rahim home.” Isabel said, rolling her eyes at her sons’ antics.
“That’s true.” Victor said simply, standing and stretching before offering his hand to his boyfriend who slowly stood and followed him towards the hallway.
“Goodnight boys, sleep tight.” Isabel called softly as they left.
“Night Isabel.” Benji said between yawns, shoving Victor when he chuckled at the boy.
“Leave me be, I wanna sleep.” Benji said.
“Okay love, you go get your stuff, and you can shower first.” Victor said, pressing a soft kiss to Benji’s’ temple as he slipped his suit jacket onto the hanger.
“Mmm, thanks love.” Benji said, grabbing his shower stuff and shuffling off to the bathroom, coming back ten minutes later in a soft tee and his boxers. Victor repeating him, pausing to wish his mom and dad goodnight as he came back from Rahim’s.
Making his way back to the room, Victor found Benji wrapped up in his bed, tee discarded on the floor, scrolling through his phone.
“Hey, you, c’mere, help me decide what to post.” Benji called softly, waving his phone Victors way.
“You’re so obsessed.” Victor scoffed, switching off the light, before stripping down and slipping under the covers with Benji. “That being said, I get full veto powers as your boyfriend.”
“Oh, you do, do you?”
“Mmmhm, so you can’t post any bad pics of me.”
“Not even this one?” Benji asked, showing a photo of Victor and Mia from earlier in the night, mid routine.
“Especially not that one.” Victor teased, snuggling closer behind Benji and resting his chin on the boy’s shoulder. “I’m definitely making that one of us my new profile pic.”
“Mmm dang, I was gonna steal it. Guess I’ll use this one.” Benji said, opening his gallery and showing Victor a photo of the two of them. It had clearly been taken towards the end of the night, Benji’s head was on Victor’s chest, while Victor rested his chin on Benji’s’ head. Both had their eyes closed and honestly the picture looked magical.
“Dammit, who sent you that?” Victor asked, not taking his eyes from the screen.
“Pilar.”
“Dang, remind me to thank her for that.” Victor said, grabbing his own phone to fire of a quick Instagram post with his favourite photos from the night, tagging everyone he could before setting it on the charger by his lamp.
“Mmm yeah, I loved it. I might get this one framed instead of the one from the photographer.” Benji said as he locked his phone and set it on the bedside table beside Victors.
“I think that’s a great idea B.” Victor whispered.
“I have those sometimes you know?” Benji said, turning in Victors arms to face him.
“Hey you.”
“Hey yourself. I’m really sleepy.” Benji said as Victor watched the boys’ eyelids flutter as he struggled to keep them open.
“Mm me too. Goodnight, B, sleep tight.” Victor whispered, pressing the softest kiss he could to Benji’s’ lips before rolling onto his back to get comfortable, Benji following him.
“Love you Victor.” Benji mumbled, cheek resting on Victors bare chest.
“Love you too Benji.” Victor whispered, tightening his arms around the boy who was already snoring lightly. Victor listening in silence as his boyfriend slept, his fingers teasing Benji’s’ hair, marvelling at the softness of the boy in his bed.
How can things have gone so well this time? Just by being honest so much changed. And yes, I had some future knowledge. But I have everyone, this time I have everyone I need, and I’m so fucking happy.
Everything is different.
Thank god for time travel. But just for consistency…
Victor pressed his ear, and spoke very softly into his boyfriends’ ear, smiling when the boy just grumbled and pulled himself tighter against Victor’s chest.
“Benji, not that I haven’t made this clear to you, but I’m gay.”
Chapter 30: Remember that Spring Fling Thing?
Good Morning Benji.
“Hey, Vic, sweetheart, wake up.”
Victor rolled over, hoping to escape the terrible instructions of The Voice.
“Victor, c’mon. Wake up.”
“No, 5 more minutes.”
“Victor. Please?” The Voice asked, softer this time.
“Mmm.” Victor only groaned in response.
“Fine, but I’m eating your share of the food. Come on, your mom made the whole works.”
That did it, Victor sat upright, covers tossed around him.
“There’s food?”
“That woke you up!” Benji laughed, shoving his bleary eyed boyfriend.
“Well, yeah. Why didn’t you lead with that Benji?” Victor grumbled, stumbling out of bed, looking for clothes.
“Here.” Benji said, handing Victor a soft pair of flannel pants and one of Benjis’ band tees, that never seemed to make it back to Benjis’ house. “You know, if this is what you’re like in the mornings… maybe I need to prepare.”
“Mm you tease, but if you offer me food, I’ll wake up for you every morning till the end of time.” Victor said, kissing Benji lightly on the brow, not sure how bad his morning breath was.
“Every morning?”
“Yeah, as long as it’s you bringing me breakfast in our bed.” Victor said, oblivious to the effect his words were having on Benji.
“Our bed?”
“What?”
“You said our bed. Just now.” Benji said slowly.
“I did.” Victor said, confusion in his voice he turned to face Benji, one leg in the flannel pants.
“Our bed, till the end of time?”
“Benji, you’re really confusing me.” Victor said, struggling to get dressed and understand his boyfriend simultaneously.
“No, sorry. It’s just, that’s kind of a big assumption..”
“Oh.. Um, does that freak you out?” Victor asked, suddenly nervous.
“I.. No actually. I just didn’t think you thought about that stuff.” Benji admitted.
“Well, I do, not actively, I don’t have like a roadmap.” Victor said, stepping closer to Benji, “But, I don’t know. I talk to Simon or Bram, and I see us doing that. I know I’m a year behind you, but I can see us living together at college, getting an apartment in the city, going on holidays together, getting ma-. Anyway, I’m sorry if I freaked you out.”
“No! God, no Vic, you didn’t freak me out. I’m just glad that I am not the only one thinking those things.” Benji admitted.
“Oh, you’re thinking about stuff too hmm.” Victor said, his initial panic bleeding away as a smirk crossed Benjis’ face.
“Mmm, maybe.”
“Anything in particular.” Victor asked, smirking when Benji’s cheeks coloured, “There is!”
“Maybe.”
“Tell me.” Victor said, stepping up close. “Please.”
“Mmmnmm.” Benji said, shaking his head.
“Please.” Victor said, “Come on B. I’ll start poking.”
“Don’t you da-.”
Poke!
“Please.”
Poke!
Poke!
Poke!
“A puppy!”
“What?” Victor said, finger hovering an inch from Benjis’ side.
“I was walking home the other day, and I cut through the park, and there was this couple walking through, and they had this little puppy and I just couldn’t see us doing that.” Benji said.
“Oh.”
“Yeah. What.. what do you think of that?” Benji said nervously.
“I think, that we should finish college first B. We can’t split a puppy between classes.” Victor said, offering Benji a quick kiss and then bent down to pick up his tee and threw it over his head. “Now, I think I forgot something, oh. You mentioned food.”
“Victor, wait, you just pretty much affirmed that I’m it for you, and you’re just gonna go get food now?”
“Benji, there was never any doubt that you are it for me. I know I’m only 16, but yeah, that’s how I think.” Victor said simply, offering his hand and waggling his fingers to encourage Benji to take it.
“Oh, goddammit Victor, you can’t do that too me then expect me to sit down for a family breakfast.” Benji said.
“Mmm, but I can mi amor.” Victor said, pulling Benji close, “Oh, and I almost forgot.”
Victor cut of Benji’s next question with a searing kiss, pouring into it every ounce of love and affection he felt for him.
“Good morning Benji. I love you but let’s go get breakfast.”
“So, what do you boys have planned for today?” Armando asked as while Isabel cleared the empty dishes off of the table.
“Ehh, honestly, I think we’re actively just gonna do nothing.” Victor said, looking to Benji for his input, smiling when he nodded happily, the boy in a daze from being stuffed with Isabels cooking.
“Ah, to be a teenager, well, we’re gonna head out to the park with Adrian for the day, and Pilar is at Noras house, so you guys will have the place to yourselves today.” Armando said casually, finishing off the remains of his coffee.
“Oh, well, I think we might go out for lunch but I honestly I just wanna take a lazy day. I think we have Captain Marvel to watch, then Endgame?”
“Mmh, then the second Tom Holland Spider-Man.” Benji said with a knowing smile, happy in the knowledge Victor would readily watch any movie with said celebrity in it.
“Yes, and that.” Victor said, rolling his eyes at Benjis’ easy teasing.
“Well, sounds like a fun day. Just remember your mom is going to want to see photos of the dance.” Armando reminded Victor, smirking when Isabel affirmed this from the kitchen.
“Ughh, okay fine. But I’m putting a 30 minute limit on it.” Victor said sternly, knowing his mother.
“Mmm good luck with that flaco.” Armando said with a chuckle.
“Why must the world hate me.” Victor said dramatically.
“There there.” Benji said in mock concern, patting Victor on the back solemnly.
“How do you put up with him Benji?” Isabel asked as she came back into the room, offering a top up of coffee to everyone at the table.
“Oh, you know. Lots of patience, he’s not so bad once it gets past midday. So there’s like a 5 hours sweet spot before he gets cranky again.” Benji says, wrapping an arm around Victors’ waist.
Victor harrumphed but didn’t say anything, too comfortable in Benjis embrace, and marvelling at how his morning was going. Is this what could have been last time?
Would he have ever been able to work things out in such a way that he and Benji could casually have breakfast with his parents. He doubted it, by the night of the dance last time, his parents had separated, he’d cheated on Mia, and he and Benji barely really knew one another.
“Victor?”
“Hmm? Sorry, I was in a world of my own.”
“I can see this, are you feeling okay.” Isabel asked, concern colouring her tone.
“I am, sorry mom, what were you saying.”
“I was just asking if you needed anything before we head out?”
“No, I think we’re good, Benji and I can go get snacks if we need any.” Victor answered.
“Okay, fair enough. Adrian sweetie lets go!” Isabel called down the hall, the only answer a rapid pounding of feet down the hall.
“BENJI! You’re here early.” Adrian said, launching himself into Benjis lap for a hug.
“Hey buddy, yeah I slept over last night after the dance, remember?” Benji said, ruffling the youngest Salazars hair.
“Oh yeah, I forgot. Did you and Victor dance together?”
“Mmhm. We sure did.”
“Did you kiss?”
“Adrian!” Isabel hissed, her face colouring at the boys question, “That’s not polite to ask people.”
“But mom, Benji and Victor are boyfriends, and boyfriends kiss.” Adrian said.
Well you can’t fault the kids logic.
“Okay, I did kiss Victor yes.” Benji said, an easy smile on his face.
“That’s gross. Why.” Adrian asked, despite having answered his own question earlier.
“Cause he’s my favourite person.” Benji said simply, not seeing the eye rolls from the Salazar parents.
“Okay, Adrian sweetie lets go. You boys have a good day, call us if you need anything, we should be back by eight o’clock.” Isabel said, as she ushered the still chattering Adrian out the door.
“Bye mom, dad. See ya buddy.” Victor called, watching them leave before he turned to Benji, “So, we have the apartment to ourselves for like 9 hours..”
“Yeah, I guess we do.” Benji said, turning to face Victor with a coy smile, “What are we going to do about that?”
“I have an idea, or two. Back in the bedroom.” Victor said, leading the boy to his room.
“Victor Salazar, you whore.” Benji said with a false scandalised tone.
“Oh shuddup.”
Turns out Victors idea was actually to have a nap, and he awoke a while later to see Benji, still laying beside him but awake and scrolling through his phone.
“Hey, again.”
“Hey yourself.” Benji said, flickering his eyes from his screen to meet Victors, “Have a nice nap?”
“Mmhm, can’t not enjoy being in bed with you.” Victor said, rolling over and throwing an arm across Benjis’ waist.
“Ohh, ten points, very smooth.” Benji said.
“Thank you, learned from the best. So, whatchya looking at?”
“Just photos from last night, Lake put up like 5 different posts.” Benji said, tilting the screen to show Victor.
“Wow, that’s a lot of posts. That girl loves the gram.” Victor said, leaning in to press his lips to Benjis’ shoulder.
“Uh huh. God knows what her camera roll has.” Benji said, locking his phone and sliding down to lay face to face with Victor.
“Hi.”
“Hey you.”
“Mmm, I like this.”
“Like what?”
“Laying next to you. It feels right.” Victor says, leaning forward to offer a Benji another kiss.
“It does, doesn’t it.”
“God we’re sappy.”
“Yeah, but I’m happy.”
“Oh lord. I think that’s it done, bye Benji. That was way too cringey.” Victor groaned while he rolled away from his giggling boyfriend.
“What! Noooo don’t do this to me.” Benji cried, making grabby hands at Victor, “Come back to me.”
“Mmmaybe, what do I get in return?” Victor asked.
“Me. Forever and ever.” Benji said simply.
“Huh, you know that’s a pretty good deal. Though, I have one extra demand.” Victor said.
“Name it.”
“Kiss me.”
“Oh I’m gonna do much more than kiss you Victor Salazar.”
“Yeah?”.
“Mhm.”
“Prove it.” Victor challenged.
“Well, you definitely proved it.” Victor said, gulping down the offered bottle of water. Both boys were standing in the kitchen of the Salazar home, clad in just their underwear.
“Ha, well, never hurts to know what you’re going to be stuck with, you know, forever and ever.”
“Wow. You’re not gonna let that go are you?” Victor said.
“Nope, just like I won’t let you go either.”
“B, you gotta stop saying stuff like that.”
“Why?” Benji asked.
“Cause otherwise what just happened is gonna happen again.”
“Oh really? Right here in the kitchen?” Benji asked, the look on his face mirroring the one from last night in the classroom.
“Well…” Victor said, taking less than a second to decide what to do, before walking over and picking Benji up, lifting him onto the counter and kissing him deeply, bottles of water forgotten.
Mami is gonna be so pissed if she ever finds out.
“Jesus Victor. I think I can skip the gym this week.” Benji said, reaching for another bottle of water.
“Ugh, same. Definitely enjoy that more than circuits with the team.”
“I’d hope so. I don’t let just anyone do those things to be and, well if you’re not enjoying it…” Benji said, trailing off.
“Oh I think we both know how much we both enjoyed that. And what happened in the shower… and the hallway.”
“Don’t forget the second shower.” Benji said cheekily, gulping down another mouthful of water.
“Wanna get out of here? Nothing to much, just a walk in the park, maybe get some coffee?”
“Sure, where at?” Benji said, giggling when Victor picked the boy up and threw him over his shoulder and carried him down the hallway.
“You menace!”
Finally having managed to keep their hands to themselves for more than five minutes, Victor followed Benji down the concrete path, hand in hand, through the little park near Victors home.
“Hey, you wanna get ice cream?” Victor asked, pointing to the cart of to the side.
“Victor, if I ever say no to that, shot me, cause I’m an imposter.” Benji said, dragging Victor across to the cart, offering the man the needed cash for two cones. “Thanks.”
Taking the offered cone from his boyfriend the two teens continued down the path, parking themselves on a bench beside an older couple. Sitting in silence the pair lapped at their ice creams, Victor teasing Benji when his melted and dripped everywhere.
“I just can’t take you anywhere.” Victor said, reaching over to wipe some ice cream from the boys cheek.
“No! Come on you have to take me places.”
“Okay, where do you wanna go?” Victor asked curiously.
“I mean, I’ve always wanted to go to Europe.”
“Okay, bit out of my budget just now.” Victor said, “But I mean… we both have jobs, we could save up, maybe next summer? We could go to France or Spain, I wouldn’t say no to seeing you on a beach.”
“A beach? I mean we can literally get the train to Savanah... but oh my god, yes to Europe. One hundred and ten percent yes.”
“Okay, but you have to convince my mom, I’m not taking that on.” Victor said with a laugh.
“Oh come on that’s not fair!” Benji grumbled, Victor was about to retort when the woman on the other bench leaned across to speak to them, the man she was with trying to pull her back, embarrassment on his face.
“Babe, no leave them alone
“Hi, sorry to interrupt, but I just wanted to say, you two seem like a very lovely couple.”
“Oh, umm thanks.” Victor said, looking to Benji with what could only be described as a ‘WTF’ expression.
“It’s just so nice to see two young men out together so confident and happy with each other. My son and his partner B-.”
“Em, Emily come on, leave the kids alone.” The man said, taking the woman’s hand and pulling her away, offering the two teens an apologetic look.
“What? Jack I was just being nice.” The woman said, shaking her head as she followed the man.
“Okay, that was weird as fuck.” Victor said, when the two adults had left.
“Wasn’t it? She seemed nice, but a little overbearing. Still, better than what I thought she’d say.” Benji said, eyes following the couple.
“True, I was bracing fror something worse.” Victor said nodding in agreement, “Still she said we seem like a lovely couple.”
“Well I could have told you that.” Benji said, resting his head on Victors.
Both boys just sat, comfortable in each others presence, talking about nothing of greet importance, or showing each other silly things they’d found online and not had a chance to send to the other. When Benji went to get a drink at a nearby vending machine, Victor took the time to craft a message to Simon, his mind on the two timelines he’d lived.
He was out of future knowledge, he didn’t know what would happen tomorrow, or even the rest of the day. He was running on instinct now, on his own judgement. His life was unknown to him, and instead of scaring him, that thrilled him, because he knew of one sure thing.
That he’d have Benji by his side.
Forever and ever.
Dear Simon,
Sorry for being MIA, the dance has us all on low-power mode. Things were pretty awesome last night, it amazed me how much my life has changed since I moved here. Coming out, meeting Felix, Mia, you, Bram… and of course Benji. It’s crazy af.
Anyway, I just wanted to say thank you for all the guidance you offered be all way back then. You’ve no idea how it helped, especially before my birthday, but even after that, when we came to New York, Messy Boots. You have no idea how much that helped me and Benji.
So thank you Simon, so so much.
Love, Victor
Victor you sap. You know you could just FaceTime me right? And we’ll be home this summer so you’ll see us in Shady Creek.
Thanks though :P
“Hey, you wanna go get that coffee? Felix texted and said they’re heading to Brasstown.” Benji said, waving his phone to Victor.
“Sure B, sounds like a plan.” Victor said, standing and taking Benjis’ hand at his, smiling at the shorter boy.
“So, did you boys get to watch your Spider-Man movies?” Isabel asked as they sat around the TV, popcorn in their laps. The Salazar family, Benji included had all convened for a movie night, Benji having been asked to spend the night again. Pilar and Adrian had pestered them into joining so that they could veto their parents’ choice on the movie. “You guys must be sick of the tv by now.”
“Ehh, nope, we never even got around to it. We just went for a walk and stuff.” Victor said, offering Benji a secret smile reserved only for him before stealing a quick kiss, giggling when his siblings faked vomiting at the sight.
“Oh shut up, I’m happy, let me kiss my boyfriend.” Victor said, smiling when his mom sat on Benjis’ other side, offering her popcorn to the boy.
He’d do all this again if he had to, if he had to make sure that Benji was happy, but he knew tomorrow would come, and the next day and the next. And he never truly wanted to go back and change anything. Because it was worth it, the second life, having to go through all of that again. It was worth it for Benji.
Only ever for Benji.
Forever and ever.
Love, Victor: Take Two
Epilogue One
Victor let’s go!
“Victor! Oh my god I can’t do this anymore.” Benji shouted, exhaustion in his voice.
“What! Benji come on, it’s not that big a deal.” Victor defended, hands waving in frustration.
“It is to me!” Benji shot back, not caring who could hear them.
“I know it is, but that doesn’t mean my argument is invalid.”
“Your argument sucks.”
“Wow, thanks for that.” Victor fired back, rolling his eyes at the boys retort.
“It does. ‘Because he’s Batman is not a viable reason to have him beat Superman!” Benji said, exasperation strung through his voice.
“I think it works.” Victor said, knowing fully how much he was riling Benji up.
“Victor Salazar, you take that back or I’m gonna kick your ass.”
“Oh come on, there’s as much chance as that happening, as there is Superman winning a fight with Batman.” Victor said, dodging the shoe that was thrown his way.
“Hey guys, come on, we have a plane to catch and you two are gonna get us kicked off the flight.” Felix cut in, a frown covering his normally cheery face. “And it’s 3am. So shut the fuck up.”
“Oh, sorry Felix, we didn’t realise how loud we were.” Victor said, cheeks blushing as he took in the glares from their friends.
“Sorry guys.” Benji mumbled. Handing back the headphone to Victor, pressing play on the iPad they watched the movie on, “You’re still wrong Victor.”
“Mmm, okay I concede on the condition you give me a Super-Kiss.” Victor mumbled, snuggling closer to his boyfriend of over three years.
“That I can do, but right now, watch the bloody film.” Benji said, pouting as he focused his attention.
“Okay, I- wait, is that Henry Cavill without a shirt on?” Victor asked, suddenly focused on the tablet screen, letting Benji snicker in the background.
“Such a hoe.”
“Shuddup you.” Victor mumbled, settling properly, as much as he wanted to sleep, he couldn’t. They were going to Spain, and Victor was ridiculously excited. The six teens had managed to save enough, (helped no doubt by some rich parents) to take them to Valencia, so they could spend the month in Europe like Victor and Benji had imagined the night after their first Spring Fling dance.
They were going to celebrate their move to college, or in Benji’s case, he was going to celebrate Victor coming to college, having already completed his first year. The boys had already managed to get an apartment with Felix since they were going to college in New York.
As it happened so were Mia and Lake. Andrew was still figuring things out, so this holiday was more of a break for him and Mia than a celebration.
“It’s a good thing I love you.”
“Mmmhm, shush.” Benji said, looping his arm through Victors.
“Okay, I don’t know how, but somehow, you look better on a European beach than you do on American ones.” Victor said, eyes trained on his boyfriends toned body as he lay on the sandy beach beside him.
“Ha, you’re one to talk, you legit look amazing. The things I’d do to you right now..” Benji said, rolling over closer to Victor.
“Oh really, well tell you what, you make a list and once we get home we can get working on it once we move to New York.” Victor said, butterflies filling his stomach when he mentioned moving in with Benji.
“Hey, you know that Felix is gonna be living with us right? We don’t want to scar the poor boy.” Benji said.
“Oh please, remember when we walked in on him and Colin? I was traumatised for weeks.” Victor said, grumbling about the party they’d had at Mia’s and he’d walked in on the boys.
“In his defence, you should have knocked the door.” Benji said snickering at Victor, squealing when said boy leapt on him, attacking him with tickles.
Felix and Lake had dated for almost a year before parting way, neither on bad terms but both agreeing that they weren’t going to work out and would rather stay friends. No one had been sure how to take it, and were wary that they simply were putting on a brave front.
Until Lake had been the first one to congratulate Felix when he introduced them to his then boyfriend Colin, and announcing that he was bisexual in the same breath. Since then, the two were closer than ever, not unlike Victor and Mias friendship.
“You ever think about how crazy our lives are?” Victor asked, as he and Benji strolled down the beach, both sneaking looks at each other in their bathing suits.
“How do you mean?” Benji asked, squinting at Victor in the afternoon son.
“Well, just how crazy it is, we’re getting ready to move to New York with my best friend, you’re in your second year of teaching college and I’m getting ready to go to Cornell. Like, that’s an Ivy. How the fuck am I getting in there?”
“Cause you’re amazing Victor Salazar. Goddamn amazing.” Benji said, smiling up at his boyfriend. “And I love you, with all my heart.”
“You sap. I love you too Benji Campbell.” Victor said, kissing his boyfriend, minding wandering to the new savings account he’d set up, and the ring catalogue he’d hidden with Felix for the time being.
There was time for that to come, but Victor was sure that the time right time wasn’t as far off as he’d originally thought. He loved Benji, and wanted the world to know it.
Plus, a long engagement wasn’t the worst thing.
Epilogue Two
Say I Do.
“Hey, come on man, you can do this. It’s easy, just two words, ‘I do’.”
Victor flicked his eyes across the room, his stomach fluttering with anxiety.
“That’s easy for you to say Victor, you’re not the one that has to stand up there and say them.” Simon shot back, pacing back and forth in the small side room, where Victor, Justin and Jack stood, helping Simon get ready.
“Si, it’s normal, come on, you know Bram is doing the same right now, do you doubt that he loves you?” Jack asked, a hand on his sons shoulder.
“No but..”
“Hey, no buts, do you love Bram?” Jack asked.
“Of course I do.” Simon said sharply, as if insulted that that was even in question.
“Then you’ll have no problem saying it kiddo.”
“You got this Simon, no one doubts you and Bram, sickeningly sweet as you both are.” Justin said, fiddling with Simons suit, straightening the tie around his neck. “Now, are we good to go?”
“Yeah, yeah I think we are. Has someone checked on Bram? Oh, that’s dad. Victor, you can head out, thanks for checking on me.” Simon said, “Go find Benji.”
“You sure?” Victor asked, not wanting the older man to panic again.
“I’m sure, dads got my back.” Simon said, thumb thrown over his shoulder to where Jack and Justin were talking in hushed tones.
“Okay, see you soon man, good luck.”
“Thanks Victor.”
“Everything okay?”
“I think so, he’s terrified though.” Victor said, sliding into his seat by Benji.
“I wouldn’t blame him, I’d be a wreck.” Benji admitted.
“Oh come on, you’re the king of confidence.” Victor said, genuinely surprised that Benji thought he’d be nervous.
“Oh I so would. Can you imagine us up there, in front of a load of people? It would ruin me.” Benji admitted.
Oh stay calm Victor.
“Us? Imagining us getting married B?” Victor couldn’t not tease the boy.
“Shush you.” Benji said, pointedly not denying it.
“So you’d rather have something small? Not a big ceremony?”
“Mm I think so. Just something small and intimate. Just us, family and friends that may as well be family.” Benji said.
“I think I agree. It would be about us, not other people.” Victor said, doing his best not to picture he and Benji walking down the aisle together.
Not yet anyway.
“So we’re agreed.” Benji said, a silly grin on his face.
“Always, nice small, intimate wedding. Now I just need to find a groom.” Victor said, mind focusing on the little black velvet box that was hidden in his suitcase.
“Wow, well, you let me know if when you start looking.” Benji said, something dancing in his eyes as he watched Victor.
“Oh don’t worry, I’m sure I’ll start soon, and I doubt it’ll be a long search.” Victor said, feeling Benji’s hand tightening in his own.
“Vic..” Benji breathed, his eyes wide.
“Yeah B?” Victor said, smiling at his boyfriend.
“You’re an ass you know that.”
“Yeah, but you love me.” Victor said with a smile.
“I do, I love you Victor.” Benji said, sealing the vow with a kiss.
Victor and Benji broke apart, and stood as music started to play. The boys watched as their friends and mentors walked down the aisle, hand in hand.
Some day B. Soon.
“You know, we still suck at dancing.” Victor muttered as he and Benji swayed to the music playing softly from their speaker.
“True. But what can you do.”
“Well, we should probably get dancing lessons at some point, wouldn’t want to make an ass of myself.” Victor said.
“Hey, I doubt you could do that, but sure sign me up.” Benji said.
“I’ll keep that in mind love.” Victor said, smiling down at Benji.
“Hey, I gotta go to the bathroom, back in a sec.” Benji said, stepping apart from Victor and heading into the tiny ensuite attached to their room.
God I love him.
Victors eyes drifted to his suitcase, the tiny hidden pocket, holding the little black box.
Fuck it.
Walking over to the suitcase, Victor ruffled through the contents until he found it, slipping it into his pocket. He flicked through his phone, switching the song to a soft recording Benji had made for him, for his birthday last year. Pressing play the soft notes of Call Me Maybe began to play.
Ignoring the cliché, Victor got down on one knee in the middle of the tiny room, in his wedding pants and shirt, hair messy, not even wearing shoes, ring box primed for the bathroom door to open.
Finally, it did, Benji walking out, having changed into his usual bedtime attire of a soft tee and shorts, wiping his damp hands on a towel, stopping in place when he saw his boyfriends pose, and what he was holding.
“Vic…” Benji breathed.
“Benji. Will you m-.” Victor started, only to be cut off.
“Yes.”
“What?”
“I said yes. Yes Victor I will marry you.” Benji said, taking a small step forward, his sock clad feet shuffling on the carpet of the room.
“You couldn’t let me finish?” Victor teased, beckoning Benji closer, reaching for his hand.
“Well, I couldn’t wait for you to ask more like it.” Benji said.
“You knew?”
“No, not really, hoped more like it. Didn’t think it would be tonight.” Benji admitted, smiling when Victor slid the ring onto Benjis’ finger.
“Well, hope no more B, cause you’re mine now, forever and ever.” Victor said, standing to take Benji in his arms, kissing him deeply.
“I’ve always been yours Victor, and I always will be.” Benji said, playing with the ring on his finger, smiling widely at it.
“Good, now, I need one more thing from you tonight Mr. Campbell.” Victor said, in mock seriousness.
“Oh? I’m sure I can give you something.” Benji said coyly.
“Well, as much as I can’t wait for that B, and I really can’t.” Victor said, smirking at his boyf-, no his fiancés face. “We need to call my mom and tell her.”
“Oh god.”
“Ha, regretting that forever and ever yet?” Victor said, giggling when Benji shoved him back onto the bed.
“Nope, just going to have to distract you more than I’d planned tonight.” Benji growled at Victor, stripping him of his shirt quickly.
Victor let him work, sighing happily under Benjis’ touch. His phone forgotten, they had the time, it wouldn’t hurt to call his mom tomorrow, not when Benji was already doing that.
“Fuck, I love you Benji. Forever and ever.”
"Forever and Ever." The other man repeated, smiling up at Victor, the man he loved with all his heart.
|
You walked down the hall into the room with the nameplate AO4 on it. you open the door and close it behind you.
You set down your bag and sit on the table waiting for your usual doctor to come in. He was a sweetheart, though no feelings for him since he was married with a kid on the way.
It was around 6 minutes until you heard the door open with a slow creek, but who you saw in the doorway was someone who you did not know, neither did you expect.
You saw a handsome man with blue hair that was held back by a black ribbon that ran down his back, tan and toned skin, and a silk sounding voice. He walked through the door laughing with another doctor with a clipboard under his arm and a pen in the pocket of his coat.
He closed the door behind him and let out a satisfied sigh, he made eye contact with you and gave you a friendly smile.
”Hello...” He looks at the papers on the clipboard with your name and information “y/n, is it? I’m Dr.Kae. how are you doing this morning?”
You stared into his eye, the other was covered with a black eyepatch that was well hidden by his bangs. “I’m doing well. Sorry if this is disrespectful, but is there any reason why i don’t have my usual doctor?” You fiddled with your fingernail, trying to resist the urge to check him out. Kaeya let out a laugh, it seemed real, but you weren’t too sure yet. Maybe he’s just a happy guy?
”Ah yes, Doctor B. has went to a new office, i’m assigned as your new doctor for now on.” He turned his back to you and rolled his sleeves up, you immediately caught the veins that ran up and down them, even if it was a little skin. He washed his hands and then put gloves on. He turned to face you, “I’m sure the others already did the basics correct? I heard from a few birdies that you’re having back pains.” His eyes softened a bit.
”Oh yeah. about that. Is there anyway you can relieve me of this pain without any meds?” You watched him as he approached you slowly.
“Don’t mind me, i’m going to feel your back to see if i can feel anything out of place, and I want you to tell me if it hurts or not. Without meds, then my top answer would be to go to the chiropractor or something like that.” He leaned into your shoulder, his cologne filling your nose. He smelled like soap, but also a hint of vanilla and cinnamon, a great combination, sweet smelling.
He lifted shirt to where only your belly button showed and he ran his hands up and down your back, pausing and pressing some places to see what hurt you and what not.
You tried your best to ignore the heat in between your legs, as your heartbeat increased from him running his hands over the back of your bra.
He pulled away quickly. He felt your heartbeat, since a part of his shoulder was resting on your chest. “I’m going to check your heartbeat, the clipboard says you’re healthy, but your body language looks very questionable.” He explained, grabbing his stethoscope.
He put it on and started with your back, again getting really close to you. He noticed almost everything that you did. He then pressed it onto your chest, listening to how it increased everytime he moved as you took deep breaths.
He pulled away and pulled the stethoscope out of his ears and hung it around his neck. He turned and wrote something onto the clipboard quickly, he turned back to you. “Have you been getting enough sleep lately?” He watched you shake your head. Giving you a small smile “oh yeah? I can tell. It’s not hard to notice you know.” He shrugged. “Can you stand up for me and then bend to go touch your toes? Tell me if you’re uncomfortable.” He moved behind you as you reached for your toes, He pushed your shirt up and checked rubbed your back twice, following up your spine. “I don’t see anything wrong, You can stand up straight. But i’m going to check your eyes now. Just in case. Don’t want you spending too much money.”
As he checked your eyes, you noticed that he was very touchy, he grabbed your chin and lifted it towards him, the light making your pupils dilate. You felt yourself get hot again. “You have beautiful eyes, you know? But I don’t see anything wrong with you.” He pulled his gloves off and put the tools away. “Let me check your temperature, Y/N. you felt very hot through my gloves.
You shot him a look “Hot how?” Kaeya looked back at you, noticing what he said and gave you a wink “I mean both ways work, you are very attractive, but that’s besides the point.” He pressed his ungloved hands against your forehead, “still burning up.” he muttered.
“Can you lift your shirt a bit? I’m about to check your lower back.”
You did as he said, he got behind you, his hands pressing against your hips and then your waist, and back and forth. His thumbs pressed against your lower back, if the things he did didn’t feel good then, now it does. It feels like a massage more then anything.
“good girl..” He whispered, his breath was icy and you felt it right on your neck. You realized how close he was. “Say.. this is going to get unprofessional, but i’ve noticed your body language this whole time. you’re attracted to me aren’t you? You’ve been checking me out this whole time without even noticing, babe.” He winked at you.
You turned to him “well.. let’s let it get unprofessional then yeah? And if i was, what’s the problem with checking you out?” Your faces were dangerously close to eachother. You basically just stroked his ego. “oh yeah? I know i shouldn’t, but you’ve been testing me.” He said quickly, pressing a rough and desperate kiss onto your lips
After a few hot kisses, the both of you start making out sloppily. He pulled you with him, locking the room door and then pulling away, kissing you up and down your neck.
You pushed him into the chair, getting on your knees and pushing your hair out of your face. Now the both of you were in the mood. Kaeya leaned down to kiss you but pulled away when he let you start taking off his belt.
You unzipped his black pants and pulled his boxers down, you was met with a boner in your face, a huge one at that.
You smirked and looked back up to him, trailing your tongue between the head and the tongue before taking him all the way into your mouth and earning a very whorish, but hot moan.
You bobbed your head, going a relatively fast pace. Meanwhile kaeya was busy trying to cover his moans, his hand over his mouth and his head angled towards the ceiling.
You reached up and ran your hands over his clothed stomach, you felt and through them.
“Sorry, Y/n.” He shifted and started face fucking you. Choking on his size as it hit the back of your throat without even trying. You watched him the whole time, feeling yourself getting hornier by the second. This man was so fucking fine. He grabbed a fistful of your hair and started going faster. The vibrations of your moans around him drove him wild.
“Good girl.. Good girl Y/N” He praised you through loud moans that he was trying to suppress. You in general drove him wild, You noticed him thrusting sloppier.
He thrusted all the way in, hot sperm filling your mouth.
“Don’t swallow yet..” He pulled out of your mouth. Lifting you onto the table, he undid your pants. “Hold it in your mouth until i say swallow, Be a good girl.” He said into your ear, purring it almost. He rubbed his finger up and down your soaked panties, watching you squirm. He spread your legs wider, and then sliding them off. “You’re so wet.. Sexy.” His finger rubbed up and down your clit.
You watched his hands, “such lewd noises don’t you think?” he suddenly pressed two of his fingers, pointer and middle, together and entered.
He felt as you squeezed around his fingers, and watched as you threw your head back in ecstasy.
He moved his fingers painfully slow. and then sped up out of nowhere.
His fingers reached places that you’ve never reached yourself. You attempted to moan, but couldn’t due to the fact that you’d swallow the cum in your mouth.
He watched your every expression, he continued fingering you for a bit, before pulling his fingers out and licking his fingers clean. He took the ribbon out of his hair, his hair falling over his shoulders. “remove your clothes.” he ordered, the tone of his voice turned you on even more, despite you whining to the loss of contact. You removed your clothes quickly, watching as he removed everything as well to the point where you both found eachother checking eachother out.
He had a black snake tattoo across his chest, and multiple tattoos on his biceps and shoulders.
He touched you all over, before dipping his head between your legs, making eye contact with you and then licking your juices, sucking and cleaning everything.
You threw your head back once again, he reached up and caressed your neck, lightly squeezing.
“You taste so good..” He groaned against you, the vibrations made your legs shake. His tongue really did work wonders. He even entered your clit with his tongue a few times.
He swirled his tongue around the bud and watched as you came, your juices on his face, he licked everything, cleaning you off and then his face. Nothing going to waste.
He stood up straight, kissing your neck and leaving marks. in one swift motion you were on the ground, your lower back lifted in the air and your legs over his shoulders. “I’m sorry, I couldn’t hold back anymore.” He whispered, and then thrusted into you, hard.
“Don’t you dare swallow it.” He said with a glare, You squealed, stopping yourself from swallowing.
He waited until you gave him a thumbs up. He started off slow, but then went brutally fast. The sound of skin clapping and his moans filled the room. The feeling of pain, then pleasure filled your senses, making it painfully better with all of the blood rushing to your head.
Kaeya went deeper with each thrust, hitting your g-spot easily. His hair got wild, You noticed he didn’t try to cover his moans this time. He couldn’t care anymore.
“Holy shit.. you’re taking me so good. Good girl..” he praised you over and over. He leaned forward, going a little bit deeper. He seemed like he was holding it together..he was not. You on the other hand was so into it, the euphoria hit and you felt like you were of cloud nine, feeling lightheaded from the blood rushing to your head, and the pleasure. You squeezed around him. signaling that you were close.
“Yeah? You’re close? Me too, darling” he panted through moans, his hair stuck to his forehead.
His thrusts got sloppier, and soon he gave you one last hard thrust and the both of you came at the same time. This time you actually moaned, choking on the cum that rested on your tongue. You didn’t swallow any of it though.
Kaeya breathed heavily before pulling out, he dropped your legs gently and sat your upper body up. He grabbed your chin and forced you to look at him.
“Open your mouth.” He ordered.
You open your mouth, tears at the corners of your eyes, and drool coming down the corner of your mouth. “Good girl... Such a good girl for me right?” he praised. “this sight is so lewd.. i’m going to remember this forever. You can swallow”.
You swallow, it wasn’t hard, it just was a lot and it was salty. “We should do this again. I enjoyed this. I’ll leave my number on the table. You can leave whenever you want. Doctors aren’t going to walk in until your out.”
He winked at you, before writing his number down on a spare piece of paper and leaving it on the table, whereas you were on the floor.
He got dressed pretty quickly and put his hair in a bun. He clicked his tongue twice and unlocked the door, and closed it behind him.
You got dressed quickly, leaving the doctors office as fast as you can. Not knowing if any other person outside of your room, which smelled of sex, heard the noises you both made.
You took the slip of paper of Kaeya’s number, putting it into your pocket. Your legs were sore but the adrenaline covered that for you.
You made it to your car. Taking a few minutes to breathe and process that you just got dicked down by one of the finest men you’ve ever seen. All you can think about is the encounter.
By the time you get home you kick off your shoes and take some time picking out some decent clothes, since your bottoms reeked of sperm.
You were exhausted, i mean you did just get the best sex of your life, even if you were on the floor. You sprawl over the couch, on your stomach. Soon drifting off to sleep.
By the time you woke up it was around 7pm. You rose from the couch, looking a complete mess, but thinking heavily about the encounter earlier.
You rushed to your pants that was in the hamper and took out the slip of paper with his number on it, you entered it into your phone. Maybe just talking to him will get your mind off of it.
Y/N: Hello
You sighed, you doubted that he was going to respond anyways. Almost immediately after you hit send you got a response.
Kaeya: Hey, I’m going to guess who this is.. It’s y/n isn’t it?
Y/N: Yea... how did you know?
Kaeya: Fun fact i’m a psychic. Joking, but it’s just a hunch. What you texted my number because you can’t get enough of me now? I knew this was going to happen.
You realized texting him was just going to stroke his already huge ego. You sat there staring at your phone, deadpanning. You decided to just test the waters a bit.
Y/N: I just texted you cause I was bored. I’ve had better dick anyways.
Kaeya: oh really?
Kaeya: Don’t be like that darling, you’re trying to toy with me aren’t you? so obvious. You act like you weren’t a moaning mess a few hours ago.
Maybe toying with him wasn’t the greatest idea either, he saw right through you in .2 seconds.
Kaeya: If you went out of your way to text me then you obviously couldn’t get me off your mind. And I couldn’t get you off mine.
Y/N: You’re so corny.
Kaeya: Well maybe you need someone corny in your life.
Y/N: Is this really how doctors speak to their patients? you’re such a bad doctor.
Kaeya: Am I? you want to come punish me?
Y/N: wtf you horny or some shit?
Kaeya: Idk, you’re the one who texted me first. Come over at 9PM. My address is _____ Apartments, floor 7 room 803 . We can have a few drinks.
Y/N: I know that apartment, just how rich are you??
You realized your mistake, and now you were going to HAVE to go and drink with him. Though it didn’t seem all that bad.
Now it was around 7:50pm, to waste the time you just showered and did your best to look presentable, who knew if you were going to get laid or not tonight? Though it’s most likely.
You wore something simple, but still pretty showy. You glance at the clock, it was around 8:30pm now. if you call a taxi, you should get there by 8:50.
After the Taxi picked you up, you were dropped off at this beautiful apartment building. An expensive one at that. It’s said that the rent is 7.5k a month. Definitely worth it though.
You ride the elevator to the top floor, walking down the hallway was like walking down a really nice hotel with suites. You stopped at a door with gold numbers on it that read 803.
You knocked on the door, after a few seconds the knob unlocks and you’re greeted with kaeya, who had his hair pulled back into a ponytail, black pants, a white shirt that was tucked into them and a black and gold belt.
“Ah, Y/N. I was convinced that you weren’t coming.” He chirped, opening the door and stepping to the side, letting you walk in and take your shoes off at the door.
His apartment was clean, white and spotless. not a single flaw that you could see with your own eyes.
“Follow me.” He winked at you, tapping your forearm before leading you to the kitchen where there was 2 glasses and a bottle of red wine. “I hope you like wine.” he shrugged.
You smiled, though you weren’t so sure about drinking in such a nice establishment. You stared at Kaeya’s shirt where his chest peaked out a little bit.
“I look nice don’t i? you don’t look to bad either. You smell good though.” he snapped you out of your daydream.
You resisted covering your face in embarrassment. Kaeya in the meantime poured both of you wine around the same amount. “You can drink, i know you’re having doubts. it’s one of the reasons i brought you here.”
You mimicked the way he picked up his glass. you both tapped your glasses together and took a sip. “What were the other reasons?” You both made eye contact. Kaeya didn’t answer your question but you both knew, just a hunch.
“This is good wine isn’t it? one of my favorites. Red wine over white any day. even though that may be biased.” he tried to spark up a conversation.
You swirled the wine around in your cup, taking another sip, it was very good. almost like a juice that made you feel getting closer to being tipsy every little sip you take. “You must know a lot about alcohol. We’re you an alcoholic in your past life?” you joked.
Kaeya chuckled, “Well what makes you think i’m not in my current life?”. he takes another sip out of his cup. He wasn’t a light drinker, but he definitely found himself getting closer and closer to being tipsy since he had 2 glasses of wine before you came over.
“Doctors should know better, even those who are filthy rich.” you stated, feeling the warmth spreading all across your body, you were definitely tipsy.
Kaeya laughed along with you, he could definitely tell you were getting drunk at this point.
“Be careful-“ He was cut off when you tipped your hand a bit too much and sent the wine running down your shirt and chest.
“Shit! I’m so sorry about that, do you have a towel?” you whip your head around for something to wipe the wine off of your chest.
Kaeya watched the wine trickle down in between your breasts, if he wasn’t horny texting you then he definitely could feel it now. He pulled his chair closer to yours, dipping his head under your chin.
“What are you doing?-“
”I don’t think you need a towel.” he said, before licking your chest, making you rub your thighs together. his mouth works wonders, seriously. He licked and sucked leaving marks on your skin.
He groaned softly, “i’m sure you don’t mind if we go to the bedroom..” he looked up from your chest. All you could do was nod, he slipped his hands into your jeans and lead you to his room, with a huge bed, enough to fit 3 grown men.
he closed and locked the door. his lips met yours in a desperate sense, the kiss getting sloppier and sloppier, tongues swirling eachother.
Kaeya closed the gap between you too, he felt you grab the back of his head and pull him closer into the kiss, both of you losing your breath. You pulled the ribbon that kept his hair in a ponytail.
He pushed you down onto the bed, he couldn’t keep his hands to himself anymore. He started removing your clothes quickly. the both of you starting to get hot and bothered.
He unbuckled his belt, sliding his pants and boxers down, and watching his fully erect cock spring up. he took off his shirt and tossed it who knows where.
He pushed you further onto the bed, still intensely making out with you. He couldn’t get enough.
He licked the valley between your boobs all the way down to your core, before he dove right in, nose and chin deep.
The alcohol got to you, getting tipsy itself it’s enjoyable, you feel like you aren’t even on this earth anymore, it just feels so.. euphoric.
You moan, grabbing kaeya’s hair and pushing him further, trying to grind on his nose. he swirled his tongue around the entrance and the bud, watching you squirm.
You felt him enter his tongue into your entrance, just for a short while. He took your lips and swirled them in his mouth. licking you clean.
He knew you were close, by the way your chest rose and fell. after a few seconds you came into his mouth.
He cleaned off everything before pulling you into a kiss, making you taste everything that he did.
You rose onto your knees, dropping your chest and facing him, arching your back and coming face to face with his cock, lifting your head.
You look up at him and take him in deep immediately. your hands fiddle with his balls as you deepthroat him. tears stinging your eyes. You bobbed your head, hollowing out your cheeks and then going a faster pace.
Kaeya was a moaning mess, he had a fistful of your hair. You swirled your tone around the tip. you take one hand off of his balls and start stroking whatever you couldn’t reach into your mouth.
“Holy shit i’m going to cum. good girl... good girl just like that.” he praised in a breathy tone. After a minute he came into your mouth, hot liquid hitting the back of your throat. “Swallow it.” he ordered. pushing you lightly onto your back.
He watched you as you swallowed every last drop, he grabbed your thighs, spreading your legs and aligning with your entrance.
Your clit ached for some kind of friction, you attempted to move down to grind onto his cock, but it didn’t work out at all, since he was going to watch you beg for it.
Just as you were about to whine to tell him to penetrate you, he thrusts into you, all the way at full speed.
You gasped, moaning in pain and pleasure before giving him the nod to start moving.
Alcohol fueled him completely as he drilled into you. skin clapping, moans, and the sounds of sex filled the hollow room as he went harder and faster with every thrust until he was plowing into you at a merciless pace.
Both of your moans filled the quiet room as you both felt the high building fast. He put your legs onto his shoulders, slowing down before forcing himself to go deeper.
This was something you’ve never experienced. never sometime intense like this. You screamed out in pleasure.
”Yeah? that’s how you like it huh? You’re so naught.” he said between his moans.
His hair stuck to his forehead, and his hair was becoming wild. He watched as your eyes rolled back into your head.
“Let it out, nobody can hear you. tell me who’s fucking you good right now”
You had tears streaming down your face, gasping when you felt him start rubbing your bud in a counter clockwise motion.
Kaeya slapped your thigh. “Who’s fucking you right now?” he whispered into your ear.
You struggled to form any words, your words slurred and your mind went blank, all you felt was pleasure.
You felt the knot in your stomach get closer and closer.
“I’m close. I can feel you getting close too. let’s come together.” he breathed out, he was stuck between panting and moaning.
You both noticed the thrusts getting sloppier, with every single thrust hit your g-spot. Kaeya did one last thrust that set you off, he pulled out quickly to come onto the sheets. Kaeya let out the hottest moan you ever heard from him, his eyes rolled back into his head momentarily before he lost the strength and fell on top of you, falling to the side.
Your throat hurt from screaming. Now that was something you’d never get tired of.
“Holy shit..” he breathed out, looking at you as you both got into the bed. “You’re lucky these are soundproof walls. someone would’ve filed a noise complaint about your screaming.”
you punched his chest jokingly before pushing him slightly and resting your head onto his chest.
“I’m tired after all of that. let’s sleep.” you muttered.
Kaeya hummed in response.
Not once did you think you were going to hook up with your doctor, but now here you are, naked in his own bed.
|
Some souls just understand each other upon meeting. - n.r. Hart
He was stuck. Georgi was stuck and he didn't like it because when you're stuck, work wasn't done, and when work wasn't done, deadlines aren't reached, and if deadlines weren't reached, he'd be dead.
Georgi remained slouched over his desk beneath a dim light, his eyes squinting over a large file when the nervous presence of someone at his door shook his concentration. He was about to release a growl of frustration at the disruption, but as he realized who this intruder was, instead of a scowl, his features switched to a well practiced smile.
"Mr. Katsuki. Please...come in."
"I'm sorry for the intrusion." The artist smiled shyly, his feet shifting awkwardly beneath him as he hugged at himself slightly. "I acquainted myself with your advisor and was told that you were busy. I'm sorry again about the early meet up, but I needed to speak with you on terms for your upcoming gallery?"
Georgi leaned back into his seat with a tiresome sigh. "Ah yes, my pet project." he smiled. "I believe we do have some things to discuss."
Yuuri hesitated. The only thing on his mind was how he managed to lie through his teeth when speaking about his advisor. Alexei? Yes, the handsome idiot who misjudged him by a long shot. He adjusted his glasses and awkwardly motioned to the chair opposite Georgi. "Would you mind if I..."
"Oh yes,..." Georgi replied quickly, mentally scolding himself for his manners having fallen short of acknowledgement until now. He motioned to the chair in question and smiled. "Please, sit." When Yuuri did, he swallowed hard. He quickly shifted within his seat, clearing his throat. "So...Mr. Katsuki as you're well aware, my employees have reached out for you on your exceptional artistic ability. I plan to have a grand gala for this endeavor in hopes of expanding awareness to other...business perspectives. Simply a cover up for further partnerships in my field if you will."
Shit, he was nervous. Ugh! Why couldn't he be smooth and confident? Eros didn't have this problem! A small blush pricked at Yuuri's cheeks at the realization that his talent was noticed. Georgi's hands busied themselves with the paperwork on his desk; his eyes cast down in a determined look. "I hope to hold the gala tomorrow evening. At the event, I will be meeting a man by the name of Nikolay Semenov." Georgi sighed and shuffled with a particular colorful paper on the hardwood surface.
Yuuri's mouth opened to speak, but he fell short, not really knowing how to reply and for noticing the familiar work on his desk. Brows burrowed, he leaned toward the desk, far too interested in what he stared down at. "Is that my art?"
Georgi's hesitant gaze narrowed down at the page once more, a long exhale forming as he ran a hand through his hair. "Yes it's lovely. I hope to have something similar like this at the gallery presented, but..." He lifted a single sheet from a stack and brought it closer to his vision as if the closer distance his eyes had from the scattered font would somehow make things more clearer; as if he would realize something that was obviously missing. "Sorry. I'm just buried in work. Things are complicated for me at the moment and I'm hoping things are handled well when the gala begins." He paused and looked at Yuuri. "You must come as well. It starts at 8, close to my home of course so no need to worry on directions."
It wasn't an invitation. It was more of a demand the way Georgi presented the information.
Yuuri smirked to himself, forced from his thoughts at the sight of Georgi's serious and determined eyes which moved frantically over the file. Clearing his throat sweetly, he moved closer to the edge of his seat, nearing the desk more. "Of course."
Poor Georgi. He had no idea who he was messing with.
"Excellent." Georgi leaned back into his seat, running a hand down the length of his face. "I believe we can discuss the theme for the gallery as of now. Your art itself can be handled by Alexei."
"I see."
There was a silence, one that enveloped for a long while before Yuuri managed to notice Georgi's sudden shift within this instant. He frowned and moved slightly.
"Would you be opposed to the idea of Love?" Georgi suddenly asked, poking at Yuuri's thoughts in hopes of discovering something. The way that Yuuri's eyes flickered to the side with the briefest of frowns seemed to be the answer. "Mmm. Do you not like the theme?"
"Oh no." Yuuri's eyes widened. "There is nothing I have against Love; nothing at all." His hands began to twitch within his lap now, his eyes staring down at them as if to coax better composure. "I just... it wouldn't be my first choice."
"Mm, and why's that?"
"Let's just say Love isn't something much in my life." Yuuri looked at Georgi, his smirk making him uncertain, causing his brows to furrow again. "Things have happened and although I have two amazing friends..." Yuuri paused, looking to him as though he were nothing more than a pathetic basket case, unsure if his answer in this matter was appropriate. "I suppose I don't have much of it other than that in my life now. Love, I mean."
Shaking his head and falling from his thoughts, Georgi gave Yuuri a smile upon noticing his anticipation of his reply. "Well, that's alright.
"Oh... Are you sure?"
"Certainly." He said plainly.
Yuuri's eyes narrowed and he lingered in undesired silence in hopes of Georgi's continuation, but he merely stared back at him with an undefinable look. "You think I can pull it off?"
"I'm confident in your work, but with that, we can discuss later. As of now, I want you to prepare for the gala tomorrow night and wear something..." Georgi held a hand to his lip and hummed. "Exciting. Present yourself around the room, maybe even help me connect to a few potential partnerships. Sound good?"
"Sounds great, Mr. Popovich." Yuuri stood, his mind coming to the conclusion that if his assumption was so, that he'd need to think a little deeper and try to come up with something. Maybe Phichit can help? "Well, I suppose I will see you tomorrow."
Standing himself, Georgi made his way toward him; both coming to a halt at the door. "Indeed." He stuck his arm out, clearly wanting Yuuri to extend his own and shake his hand for a proper ending to the meeting.
"I hope to see you shine, Katsuki. You're welcomed to bring at most- 2 guests."
What a perfect number 2 was. Yuuri returned the gesture, grasping his hand and remembering how silly business men were and how carelessly they flaunted their fancy watches and stacks of cash. Maybe he would have to dazzle the crowd? Phichit and Otabek would be there and with that, some confidence. He may not have the mask, but...
There was a bewitching grin gracing his lips, "Perfect."
~
Otabek poked his head out from the elevator once the doors opened. He looked from side-to-side to make sure the coast was clear and once he was sure it was, he made his way out of the elevator with all the stealth he had learned under Eros's tutelage. As he moved quietly over the room, he cradled the device tucked under his arms tighter. Phichit was exploring right now and Yuuri was at Popovich's place so he should be free. He just had to see how this would work when hooked up to one of the big computers they used for hacking and gathering intel on places Eros would rob. I mean sure, he helped buy the thing, but technically they all chipped in to pay and Phichit...
Otabek pushed the thought aside for now and decided to focus on the task at hand. He practically tip-toed over to the computer and smirked a bit as he pulled back to place the white box device on top of the computer's main console.
The device in question was an old gaming console from college: the Game Station 365. He had never really been much of a gamer himself (he's lying), but Otabek was never one to pass up the chance to play around with the latest musical technology. Plus, getting good enough to beat Phichit and Yuuri at some of their favorite games was fun in itself. Lately though, he spent most of his free time focusing on just one game. Nothing beat crushing your college buds in rocking out after all to old memories.
He placed the guitar shaped controller next to the Game Station as he began to look for a good way to hook the game console to the computer console. It was a little trickier than he thought it would be at first, but eventually he figured out how to get it all to work. When he did hook the controller up, he turned on the Game Station before stepping back as far as the cord would allow. Otabek tapped his foot while he waited for the game to load. When it finally did, he went through the usual process of picking a character and what song to play. Again, it was not a song most people would expect him to play, and he honestly didn't know why he liked it himself, but he knew he was good at it. Again, he had to wait as the screen loaded this time, but as he did, he held his right hand above his head with his middle and ring finger pressed against his thumb while he held up his other fingers. He closed his eyes and listened to the song.
she's my cherry pie
cool drink of water such a sweet surprise
tastes so good make a grown man cry
sweet cherry pie oh yeah
she's my cherry pie
put a smile on your face ten miles wide
looks so good bring a tear to you eye
sweet cherry pie yeah
Once the prelude was over, his eyes snapped open and his hand came down to work the lever that acted as the strings on the main body of guitar while his hands glided over the four colored buttons on the neck. For the uninformed, it might look like he was just mashing buttons and moving a lever up and down, but it was actually a much more complicated ritual. It took a great deal of skill and concentration to get the timing down just right. Any mistake and the notes would come out wrong and the virtual crowd would boo him restlessly.
Once Otabek really got into it, he allowed himself to cut loose and act like he was really on a stage performing in front of a live audience. He threw his arm up in an exaggerated way as he pretended to strum the strings hard for the more intense notes. His head bounced up and down at the more calm parts of the song then all out for the faster parts. He swiveled his hips back and forth, even repeating the chorus every time it came up even as his fingers effortlessly manipulated the controller.
well swingin' on the front porch swingin' on the lawn
swingin' where we want 'cause there ain't nobody home
swingin' to the left and swingin' to the right
if i think about baseball i'll swing all night yeah
Otabek's voice echoed throughout the room and at the moment, he couldn't care less if anyone heard him, he was having way too much fun! He sung bad, but who cares? Otabek was fucking awesome.
As the song neared it's end, he added a few jump kicks to repertoire dance moves to go along with the rest of his grinding he was doing. When the song finally ended, he held the guitar by the neck as he raised it and his other arm above his head in celebration of the praise from the virtual crowd.
"Thank you, Saint Petersburg!" He called out cheerfully.
"Yeah! Whooo! Encore!" an all-too-familiar voice cheered behind him.
Otabek's eyes went wide and he cringed a bit in surprise before he spun around to find Phichit standing behind him. He held his sides as he doubled over in laughter. His face was about as red as an apple and every time he looked at him to try to say something he just ended up laughing even more. Otabek's face began to turn red as well, but it was out of anger instead of joy.
"And how long have you been standing there?!" He growled as he jabbed a finger in Phichit's direction.
Phichit still had a little trouble speaking through all his laughter, but eventually he was finally able to calm down enough so he could at least stand straight. He let out a few deep breaths to calm himself even more before he was finally able to speak again.
"About…about halfway into the second chorus," he revealed, lifting a finger to wipe a tear away.
"And you didn't say anything because…?"
"Because it looked like you were having too much fun. Plus, it was just hilarious to watch!" he explained before laughing a little more again. "Gotta tell you, Becky, I never pictured you for a Guitar Hero fan."
"What have I told you about calling me 'Becky'?" Otabek reminded him as he held up the plastic guitar in a threatening manner.
"Becky with the good hair- I mean that I shouldn't if I value my life," Phichit stated matter-of-factly.
"So you do listen." Otabek nodded as he lowered the guitar.
"Seriously though, when did you get this?" Phichit asked as he walked over to the Game Station.
"I never got rid of it."
"So that's how you got so good at those games!"
"Duh."
"But why didn't you tell me you had 'Guitar Hero II'? We could have been jamming out together."
"Because I prefer to do all my jamming by myself."
"You're just afraid I'd beat you," he teased with a playful smirk.
"Oh you wish! I could totally mop the floor with you!" Otabek spat back.
"Are you accepting my challenge?" Phichit asked as he cocked an eyebrow and smirked even wider.
Otabek seemed a little unsure for a second, but a determined look quickly crossed his face and he placed his hands on his hips in defiance of Phichit's question.
"Yeah I am," he insisted. "Go get your controller and we'll see who rocks hardest."
Phichit let out a slight snort before he raced towards his room to grab a controller. Otabek shook his head in disbelief, and a bit of amusement, as he reset the game and scrolled through the list of songs for something he knew he could use to beat Phichit. A devious smirk crossed his face as he highlighted a song he had unlocked not too long ago.
"Oh yeah, that's the one," he whispered as his smile growed bigger.
A loud pop and Otabek's head turned when he saw Phichit bounding over with his own guitar controller clutched in his hand. He ran over to the Game Station and hooked up his controller then walked back over to stand next to Otabek as he reset the game again and set it for two players.
"So what song are we playing?" he asked.
"Oh, it's a surprise," Otabek said with a sly smile.
"How is that fair?"
"You could always back out now and spare yourself the humiliation."
"Not a chance."
"Alright then."
When the select screen came up, Otabek quickly scrolled through them until he got to the song he wanted to play.
"Hey wait! I didn't see what the song-" Phichit started to protest.
He was stopped when the speakers suddenly seemed to scream at him, causing him to scream as well in surprise and fall back to the ground.
"TROGDOOOOR!"
A rough guitar rift started to play right after the scream. One that Otabek matched with little difficulty while Phichit still sat on the floor and checked to see if he could still hear.
"You just gonna sit there all day or are you gonna at least try to match me?" Otabek teased as he continued to play.
"Oh, it is so on!" Phichit declared as he finally pulled himself up and started to play as well.
Soon enough they were even in points, much to Otabek's disbelief. Determined not to be out played by the hacker, Otabek started pressing the buttons on the neck hard and moving the lever that much faster. Phichit kept pace with him and chuckled a bit as his points continued to match and at times surpassed his. At some point during their guitar dual they actually got into the song and began to jump up and down as much as Otabek had done earlier by himself. Unknowingly, they actually started to move in unison. They swayed and jumped as one and even went as far to raise their guitars at the same time as they went into the solos on the song. As they battled each other, the voice of the singer actually seemed to encourage them all.
"Whoa! Listen to those wicked dueling guitar solos. It's like squiggly versus wiggly over here. Go squiggly! Go squiggly! Squiggly wins!"
"Yay!" Phichit cheered.
"What are you cheering about?" Otabek muttered. "You're not squiggly."
"I am totally squiggly!"
"Yeah right!"
"Pfft! Whatever!"
They went back to focusing on the song and again fell back into moving together. They each banged their heads in time with the other as they reached the final stretch of the song. Again, Otabek started doing a few jump kicks as Phichit fell to his knees and held the guitar controller high on his chest. When the song finally ended, they both stood still and caught their breaths as they waited for the final tally to come in. They were shocked to see the same total over both their character's heads.
"50,000 points each?!" they screamed together. "We're even?!" They then looked at each other in annoyance. "Stop that!"
"You can both stop it," a familiar, voice came from behind them.
They both jumped in surprise then spun around to find Yuuri glaring at them with his hands crossed.
"Shit! Sorry, sorry, there's a very good explanation for this," Otabek started.
"He did it!" Phichit quickly shouted, pointing to Otabek.
"Gee, thanks!"
"Enough! Yuuri began, holding his hand up. Both Otabek and Phichit nervously twiddled the controllers in hand, observing their friend. Vicchan trotted in from the doorway and hopped on top of the bed, observing his master as well in curiosity on what his next move would be.
Phichit cleared his throat, "So, um...how was your day?"
After a moment, Yuuri sighed and slumped to the ground, deflating slightly and laughed sarcastically. "Agh, exciting in a way." He snatched Phichit's guitar away and caused him to whine when he kicked his leg.
"What was that for?!"
"Because I love this game and you hid it from me."
Phichit raised his arms and sputtered dramatically, "That was Otabek!"
The accused man flushed red and looked away, baffling Yuuri. "Otabek? Really? I didn't take you for the Guitar Hero type."
"That's what I said!"
"Well I like it." Otabek retorted, staring back at his friends. The two looked back at each other and laughed, Yuuri offering back Phichit's guitar before playfully smacking Otabek and grabbing his controller.
"You both stink. I could beat you guys easily."
It was simultaneously agreed that work would be discussed later.
~
Viktor remained in the passenger seat of Yuri's rented car as they sat in the always wonderful Saint Petersburg bumper to bumper traffic. A minute had not gone by that Yuuri had not crossed his mind at least once and he hated that he was incapable of just letting the image of him go. The inexplicable intensity of emotion that developed over him any time he crossed his thoughts (all the time now) had become nothing more than a burden on his life, especially since there was nothing he could do to change it. Even as Yuri's car came to a pause before the tux shop, his mind wandered back to him. Would Yuuri prefer if he wore a bow tie or suit and tie? Would Yuuri be attending the gala? What was Yuuri doing now?
"Oww!" He snapped at the sharp presence of Yuri sending a flat hand against the back of his head.
Yuri shook his head with a satisfied smirk. "You're not even listening to me." He paused, noticing his attention return to the tux shop. Leaning towards him, he sighed. "Can you stop thinking about that pig already? You only met him once, and your dumb ass ruined it. Just forget him already."
Viktor sighed, knowing it was a lost cause, but he couldn't shake the feeling he could've done better. What was wrong with him? And why was he so intrigued? Usually the roles were reversed. "I'm trying."
"I can't tell. Since we've been here, you're hooked up on an artist then you get robbed by Eros." Yuri said the last part with much distaste, openly displaying his dislike on the matter. "I thought you were the agent's best. If you ask me, I've never seen you more pathetic."
"Thanks, that helps, Yuri... really." Viktor looked to Yuri with a glare to which he immediately felt triumph from.
"Let me ask you something. Did you really think the way to properly meet someone was using a crappy pick-up line? I'm actually enjoying the fact you got knocked down a peg, moron." Yuri laughed, knowing his teasing of him was beginning to frustrate him further. He and Viktor were getting a tad closer and yet their childish game of taunting between one another never came to an actual halt.
"Why do you live to torture me, Yura? Do you think I'm not suffering enough with my mistakes?"
Yuri shook his head with a curt exhale. "The mere fact you're some gigantic heart throb that leaves behind a string of broken hearts everywhere he goes, only to get rejected to me is amusing. Call it a taste of your own medicine I suppose."
Viktor rolled his eyes, then passed a glance around and froze. "Oh my god, do you think...do you think I fell in love?"
There was a loud snort that emitted beside him. "God you're such a hopeless romantic. No, I don't think you did. I think you're not used to getting your way is all." Yuri veered to the left and halted the car, glaring pointedly at Viktor. "Now enough with your sappy romantic bullshit and tell me about the gala Georgi mentioned. Is Nekolay gonna be there?"
Viktor's voice answered back with a bored gaveling of sorts; one which Yuri was familiar with in what he could describe as his business voice. "Yes he is. Right now we can confirm Georgi is planning to sought him out at the party in order to discuss some business." His eyes hardened over Yuri, who in turn became fidgety at the seriousness. "What did you gather when you searched the mansion earlier?"
Yuri's brow curved in frustration, the air in the car thickening with previously unspoken issues. "I went in just as that artist left the room and Georgi's wife called him for dinner. When I looked through the files on his desk, there was something about a stolen iPad that held a lot of important data on it. Apparently, the damn thing is really important considering the guy who was responsible at the time for holding it was executed in a rather gruesome manner."
"That important, huh?" Viktor's lips were tensed in a firm line, veiled over his grinding teeth, his eyes unblinking and indescribable.
"Yeah and they suspect the thief to be Eros. It is his territory at the moment and the little evidence the guy got spoke of the things vanishing without a trace and no security footage to back him up."
"Ah."
"So as of now, our next move needs to be going to the gala, finding what Nikolay is up to, then finding the iPad, but firstly we need to find-"
Viktor did his best to conceal the involuntary glare that succumbed his features, but it wouldn't matter either way; Yuri knew what they had to do next. "Eros."
~
"HOW THE HELL DID YOU WIN?!"
"I don't know."
Phichit gave a dramatic cry and fell back onto the hotel bed, wailing. It had taken an extra hour of coaxing the winner from the two competitors before, but Otabek reined true- beating Phichit by a hair and facing the challenger Yuuri.
Only to lose several times.
"Sorry, Otabek." Yuuri laughed. "I played this game all the time when I was younger."
Otabek glared at him and crossed his arms, plopping back onto the bed with a frown and tossing the controller carelessly away. Inhaling deeply, Yuuri turned to the two with a sheepish smile. "So I need to ask you both something...Today when I went to Popovich's house, he gave me a heads up there would be a gala and I can invite two people so..."
Otabek laughed. "You want us to come, huh?"
Yuuri giggled. "You know me well." His feet became rather interesting to him in order to ease the amount of nerves he felt at the moment. Latching his left hand over the elbow of his right arm, he gave an innocent shrug, "But we have to dress up..."
Have you ever seen a jack-in-the-box pop? It just bursts up excitedly with a wicked grin betraying your previous opinion on the innocence it contained within the enclosed beautiful packaging.
That's what Phichit was. It was no secret that Phichit wanted to be a fashion designer. He had his own blog, loved to make a mess out of fabrics and spend his free time sewing magic out of nothing. It was spontaneous, original, it was him. Of course the college life of an aspiring fashionista, a wannabe musician, and a starving artist was unmerciful, leading the three musketeers together. Although their occupation at the moment was albeit a sharp contrast to their former selves, one would always get the opportunity to relive the glory days and strike out with their passion.
That is why Phichit jumped wildly into the air and caused the DJ out the trio to flail rather ungracefully to the ground and make the winning guitarist have a heart attack.
"Can I make our outfits!? Pleaseeee?! I made you the Eros one, and Otabek, I can replicate that fancy one you saw off Instagram."
Yuuri shuffled awkwardly, still attempting to regain his composure and normal heartbeat. "S-sure Phichit. Just- just don't go too crazy, ok?"
Otabek stuck his thumb up in the air to show his approval and Phichit gave an excited squeal. "Oh! You're gonna love it Yuuri! I'll model from the Eros one and it'll have a skirt, and be red that fades to black, and OH! Heels! You have to wear some makeup too cause you have to accentuate your blah blah blah-"
Yuuri face palmed, regretting his decision at giving Phichit full control.
Follow me on my tumblr below if you want. There we can chat or explore the glory that is Victuuri.
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To say that Jane experienced a mountain of relief when she was greeted by the sight of a peacefully snoozing Sherlock next to her the following morning would be a vast understatement. She'd half been convinced she'd wake up to find that the night before had all been a dream. Although she could argue that she hadn't really seen a lot of him in the last few months, he was looking more tranquil in this blissful moment than he had ever since she had returned. She pondered whether or not that peaceful expression would vanish when he woke up.
The man certainly knew how to effortlessly get her heart pounding. She realized that he had one arm underneath her, wrapped almost protectively around her, and his other hand was resting seemingly affectionately on her barely protruding stomach. It was adorable, and with the sun peeking through the window behind him and giving his unruly curls a halo-like glow, he looked like an angel. How could any one man look so bloody gorgeous?
He slowly stirred, quietly groaning as his long legs stretched to the foot of the bed before relaxing once more. She felt him draw her impossibly closer to him, watching him ever-so-slowly open his eyes. She knew exactly what he was thinking. She'd been having the same thought just moments before when she was waking. A dopey smile appeared on the corners of his lips.
"Good morning, Jane." he greeted, voice rough from sleep and deeper than usual. It was a delicious sound.
"Good morning, William." she replied with a smirk. He frowned for a moment before chuckling, twirling her hair around his fingers habitually.
"I can't believe you even remember that." he mumbled, nuzzling his face into the crook of her neck.
"It would be a little silly if I didn't know my husband's full name." she mused, sliding her fingers into his curls and gently stroking his scalp. He let out a sound akin to a purr and it made her giggle.
"Should I start calling you John when we're in private, then?" he wondered aloud, pulled back just enough to catch her eye. Jane groaned, shaking her head.
"Not even my own sister calls me that anymore!" she protested, shoving at his chest playfully.
"What does she call you?" he asked curiously, eyebrow quirking upwards.
"Jane! Just like everyone else!"
"But I'm not everyone else; I'm your husband." a cheeky grin appeared on his lips.
"So? What? You like calling me by my original name?" she asked skeptically. "Last night you were telling me that men don't marry one another in this time and now you're getting off on calling me John?"
"What exactly is 'getting off' in this instance?" Jane groaned, rolling over and hiding her face in a pillow. She could practically feel the man smirk, running his hand over her hip. "The way it's making you blush, I can only guess..."
"I'm not blushing!" she protested. It was a complete lie and the smug bastard knew it. He could probably see that the tips of her ears were red, the observant prat.
A small rumble of amusement left him as he gently guided her hair out of the way to plant loving kisses over her shoulders. It caused a pleasant shiver to run up her spine.
"So what did Adler say last night?" She had meant to ask him sooner, but the party-goers the night before hadn't given her an opportunity to do so. They all wanted to know where she had been and what was going to happen now that Sherlock and Ms. Adler's wedding was cancelled. It had been a long night of jumping through delicate hoops to avoid certain topics, so long in fact that when the party was over the both of them had gone straight to sleep.
"Not much of note." he answered, not bothering to pull his lips away from her still flushing skin. "She mostly tried to convince me that she was the better option between the two of you and that I should marry her instead."
"What made you pick me over her? She's quite pretty..." it was a question she hadn't meant to ask, one she wasn't sure she wanted the answer to, but now that she'd asked it on impulse, it was too late.
"Is she?" he asked seriously, like he hadn't noticed. Perhaps he hadn't. Beauty was never really something he had paid much mind to, now that Jane was thinking about it. "I don't care about that. All that matters to me, is you. Perhaps that's difficult for you to believe, especially now that I know the truth about you, but I do love you, Jane. That's never going to change. I wasn't marrying Adler because I felt anything for her. I felt nothing towards her, honestly. I was just doing it in hopes that it would appease my mother. Sort of foolish of me, looking back on it... as if marrying that woman would make my mother worry any less about me."
Jane slowly glanced over her shoulder at him, raising an eyebrow.
"You mean to say that we could've gotten back together months ago if you weren't such a thick-headed prat?" she teased, an affectionate smile playing on her lips. Sherlock merely chuckled, giving her side a playful pinch. She let out a surprised yelp, turning fully to look at him with feigned fury in her eyes. "So that's how you're gonna play this, huh?"
She moved to straddle him, grabbing his wrists to prevent any further assaults to her more ticklish spots. He giggled happily, sitting up properly and moving to kiss her tenderly. She melted into the kiss, slowly releasing his hands. His arms snaked around her waist as his tongue glided across her lips, begging entry.
He broke the kiss suddenly, falling back into the pillows with a soft sigh. Jane looked down at him with a quirked eyebrow.
"What's the matter?" she asked, cupping his cheek. He leaned into her touch instinctively, pressing gentle kisses to the palm of her hand.
"Well..." he started, a light blush dusting his high cheekbones. "I am dying to ravish you, but you're pregnant..." Jane stared at him for a moment and then started giggling. "Are you mocking me?"
"No, no, no! I swear, I'm not. It's just so adorable how much you care!" Jane assured, swatting away his hands as he tried to playfully pinch her sides again.
"I am not adorable!" he protested, but her laughter was contagious and so the words came out along with his own chuckles.
"You really are." she countered, laughter dying down. Slowly, her hand reached for his member, starting to stroke him slowly.
"Jane..." he groaned, head tipping back against the pillows. "Don't be a tease."
"I'm not!" she promised, leaning down to kiss him. "I just thought you might be delighted to know that the medical community of the future has determined that as long as neither of us are too rough, having sex won't affect the baby whatsoever..."
"Truly?" he moaned, pulling her down to kiss him deeply. "I had no idea someone could say a phrase that simultaneously sounded so intelligent and incredibly lewd..."
"If you like it that much, I'll endeavor to try more lewd but intelligent conversation on you."
Molly and Lestrade's baby was beautifully healthy little girl. It was easy to see the relief on Greg's face when he learned that both mother and child had made it through the birth perfectly fine. Given his history, Jane could hardly blame him for the groove he had paced in the hardwood floor of their estate during the twelve hours of labor that Molly had endured. She had tried to invite the man to be by his wife's side during the process, but he was so insistent that he didn't want to be in the way that eventually, Jane just let it slide.
And when Jane confessed to Molly that it would only be a few months later that the Holmes estate would have its own baby, the mousy brunette was practically beaming. As it turned out, Molly had a surprise of her own to share. She had talked with her husband and the both of them had agreed that should their baby be a little girl, as it was, her name would also be Jane. Jane had never been so flattered in all of her life.
Ms. Adler had quickly returned to her life in London after realizing that Sherlock had no intention of restoring their engagement. Anyone who had the displeasure of her company in the months following, generally described her behavior and demeanor as venomous. It took her nearly a year to get over herself and start treating people nicely again. Jane never could decide if her actions had come from a genuine like -perhaps even love- of Sherlock or a disappointment in being rejected. Either way, Jane would be lying if she had said she wasn't relieved to have Ms. Adler absent from their social circle.
As it turned out, the reason Jane hadn't seen Mary Morstan around since her return was that she had married a young man by the name of Alexander Waltz and was living happily in London with him. They had apparently been friends since childhood. It was a relief to know that she was probably living a good life. Every once in a while, Jane and Mary would exchange letters, but their correspondence was few and far between.
Mr. Moriarty and Lieutenant Sebastian Moran continued their secret romance. Whenever Moran was stationed anywhere, Jane and Sherlock would see a lot more of James Moriarty. This made Sherlock often prickly and Moriarty would shoot the man a knowing smirk whenever they had tea together and Sherlock's hands would rest protectively over his wife. Jane found their dynamic amusing and Sherlock would often pout about it.
Jane sat at a table on the lawn lightly set for afternoon tea, quill in hand as her children ran about the garden chasing one another. It was a perfect, sunny, springtime afternoon; one reserved for family. Sherlock was sitting across from her, legs stretched out under the table as he indulged the subtle contact of their brushing ankles. He had a book poised in his hands, but curiosity as to whatever his wife was thoughtfully writing would catch him every time he turned a page. He dare not disturb her. It was rare to see her so concentrated. In fact, he mused that the last time he had seen her so narrowly attentive to anything was the day she had stitched his arm up. There was some amusement to be found in the fact that she made the same face during surgery as she did, scribbling away on that piece of parchment.
Finally, she set the quill down, leaning back in her chair and stretching. Sherlock raised a brow, looking at her curiously.
"Whatever it is you're writing, it seems you've finished." he mused and she chuckled in response.
"It does seem that way, doesn't it?" she hummed, leaning forward and reaching for her husband's hand. He indulged her.
"I must admit, I'm terribly curious as to what it is you've been writing." he confessed, pressing an affectionate kiss to her fingers.
"I could tell. You've been sneaking glances at me all afternoon."
"If you can name an afternoon where I'm not sneaking glances at you, Mrs. Holmes, I would be most surprised." Sherlock retorted with a smirk, setting his book down to sip at his tea.
"Flattery will get you everywhere." she chuckled, glancing out over their garden at their children.
"I had actually caught on to that concept." he assured with a giggle of his own. "But you are denying my curiosity still. I haven't read a word. I can hardly imagine what you've been writing."
"You mean you respected my privacy?!" She feigned shock and he let out a sigh.
"I may not be considerate enough to respect other people's privacy, Jane, but you are my wife." he murmured, catching her eye. "The exception to all of my coarse behaviors."
"How romantic." she teased before turning serious. "I was writing to my sister." He quirked an eyebrow in expectation that she'd elaborate. "I know that there's not exactly postage to the future, but I don't know, a part of me hopes that she'll come across it and know that I'm okay. I didn't exactly leave her with the impression that I'd make it back to the time I wanted."
"May I?" he asked, lifting up the letter. "I'm curious what you wrote." Jane nodded.
Dear Harry,
I don't know if this letter will find you well, but if it does I want you to know that I made it back alright. At the time of writing, it's late May, 1819. I'm sitting in the garden with my family, wondering if I can put into words just how beautiful your niece and nephew are.
I know it's not fair that you'll never get to meet them with two centuries between us, but I figured if there's a chance you could at least find out about them, you'd never forgive me if I didn't tell you, so here it goes.
Hamish Gregory Holmes is five years old. He's too smart for his own good, a trait he shares with his father. He's very active and adventurous. He likes to read, and he's a struggle to put to bed. Every night he has a different argument for why he should stay up late and some of them are very difficult to counter. He is almost the spitting image of his father, though he did end up with my eyes. He has the most unruly black curls. They're a bloody nightmare to comb every day, but he insists that I'm the one to do it, so I try my best.
To be honest, Hamish came as a bit of a surprise. I wasn't sure I'd be able to have kids so I never entertained any hope for it. He ended up being the miracle that brought Sherlock and I back together. The two years I'd spent back in our time had passed the same here and Sherlock didn't really take my absence well, not that I can blame him.
I wasn't at all pleased when Sherlock suggested the name Hamish, but he warmed me up to the idea after a few months and eventually I relented. I'm glad I did. The name suits him far better than it did me.
Harriet Virginia Holmes is now three years old. She's the exact opposite of her brother. She's quiet and reserved, and would much rather play by herself, but every once in a while, she will play with Hamish. Despite her age, she speaks excellently. She has a fascination for flowers and I think she's happier whenever she's outdoors, one thing she shares in common with Hamish. She's also got black hair, but I'd argue that she's got a lot more of my facial features than Sherlock. It's hard to know for certain at this age, though.
The two of them are chasing each other around the garden today and every time I look up from my writing, it appears that they've switched who's chasing who. Hamish will chase Harriet around, trying to encourage her to play with him. Harriet will chase him around, trying to make him put on one of the flower crowns she's made.
It would be silly of me to suggest that every day is perfect, but even the bad days, I'm so glad that I'm here, that this is my life. I miss you terribly. I think the last two years we spent together were probably the closest we've ever been, but I want you to know that I'm happy here.
I love you,
Jane
It was on Hamish's seventeenth celebration that the young man who looked very much like his father did at that age, came to the conclusion that he knew exactly who he would marry. It was odd - no, incredibly silly - of him not to have noticed before how absolutely beautiful she was, especially since they'd grown up together. Perhaps it was the confident smile on her face or the regal blue dress she was wearing for the occasion, but as far as Hamish was aware, she was the only young woman in the room.
In fact, this was not the case. Anybody who had an eligible young woman within eighteen miles of Baskerville had begged the Holmes for an invitation to this particular evening months in advance. It was one of the burdens that came with having a sizable fortune coupled with a handsome son with good manners. At seventeen, Sherlock had already managed to push away most of society, leaving Mycroft in the spotlight. Hamish was very different in that regard. The young man was a beacon for friendship among his peers and respect among those older than him. He was just as adventurous and mischievous as his father before him, but he was also polite when the need arose and he could coerce himself out of almost any situation.
The woman in question that he had fallen so utterly in love with this evening was none other than Ms. Jane Lestrade, who had spent a majority of the evening conversing with his sister, Harriet. He would watch her with a dumb smile on his face whenever the two of them would burst out laughing.
"Enjoying the view?" a voice said next to him. People had been trying to talk to him all evening, but this was a voice he could not ignore since it belonged to the lady of the house.
"Mama! I don't know what you mean." he denied, pulling his gaze away from Jane and Harriet and to his mother.
"Mmhmmm." Jane agreed skeptically and it actually caused him to blush.
"I suppose I wasn't at all subtle..."
"Not in the slightest." she confirmed and his blush only grew. "But you know she's more likely to notice you if you go and talk to her yourself, right?"
"I don't know what I'd say..." he admitted bashfully.
"Well, you could ask her to dance." Jane reasoned and he pondered it for a moment. "After all, propriety dictates that she dance with you at least once this evening. Now, stop staring at her like a puppy after some scraps and go ask her." With that she gently pushed him in the direction of his newfound affection and returned to her husband's side.
"Erm... Ms. Lestrade, sorry to interrupt, but I was wondering if you might honor me with a dance?"
"I'd be delighted." she agreed. Harriet smirked, wandering off to enjoy other delights that the evening had to offer.
The next spring, the Holmes and Lestrade families were officially united. Molly took a great deal of pleasure in being able to officially call Jane family; Jane felt the same. The young couple bought a small estate not far from Baskerville and both families would visit them often. And Sherlock and Jane knew it wouldn't be too much longer before Harriet would grow up at leave them too.
It was almost silly that, in fifty years, their habits had hardly changed. They'd still read together in the drawing room and in bed. Almost every conversation would have some form of teasing or flirt in it. And incredibly, they were still very much in love.
Most nights, assuming he wasn't too tired, Sherlock would pepper kisses over his wife's shoulders as he held her to him. Jane would offer lazy smiles, occasionally pulling her husband in for a long, tender kiss.
"Mmm... you always make me feel so lovely." she mused, leaning into his lips.
"You are lovely." he murmured, starting to gently massage her back.
"Flattery?"
"Honestly." he answered with a tender smile. "You, Mrs. Holmes, are the finest wine and nothing delights me more than indulging in your company year after year."
"You are such a romantic!" she groaned with a wide smile.
"Don't go telling anyone. I've put a lot of effort into my grumpy and foreboding old man aesthetic." he joked and they both chuckled.
"How many years do you think we have left?" she wondered seriously. He kissed along her jaw lovingly.
"I don't know, but death itself couldn't stop me from showing my love for you."
"Huh."
"What?" Sherlock wondered, shifting to look her in the eyes.
"Well, it's just a weird memory I have that I'd forgotten about popped up in my mind when you said that and it got me wondering if there's more truth to that statement than either of us realize." she confessed, brushing his hair out of his face with her fingers.
"What do you mean?" he asked with furrowed brows.
"I had thought maybe it was my imagination, but the night I first came here I'd heard a voice I didn't know say my name. And I felt something touch me, but there was no one there."
"And you think it could've been me?" he questioned thoughtfully.
"Maybe... I've never heard anyone besides you say my name with as much love as that voice did..." she shrugged, kissing his nose.
"Hmmm... well, I do love you." he agreed with a small smile, kissing her reverently.
"I love you too, Sherlock, more than I'll ever be able to properly express." |
There comes a certain quietness, after she’s cried, like nothing was ever going to happen again. That’d be quite a relief, actually, if that was the case: if nothing did actually happen ever again, after that. If she could be absorbed into the dark wood of the confessional, if she could be taken by the hand and brought up to new heights or flung down into new depths, by him, by Him, whoever it was who wrenched her heart out of her chest and held it aloft to be bathed in moonlight and mercy. Then she hears him in the dark, calm and commanding in equal measure; kneel, his voice curling through the darkness of the confessional; just kneel .
She places her glass down, slightly unsteady, and sinks to her knees as she would before an altar.
If she knew the word hagiographic, she would be using that to describe him, standing above her, curtain drawn back and expression inscrutable with intent. Instead, she thinks, god, he does look good in the, erm, and, when the corner of that wicked mouth twitches with an equally wicked smirk, I hope this doesn’t awaken anything within me. He looks at her like she’s the second coming, like she’ll be coming in a second, and like she won’t be the second one coming, all wrapped up in one, electrifying gaze. There’s a tiny part of her, perhaps a couple of cells in her pinky toe, that is re-considering whether this is a good idea, but then they’re both kneeling in a communion booth in a dark church, hiding from their troubles, and she is desperately lonely and desperately frightened and desperate, just plain desperate, she knows she’ll be lost the second he touches her. And she's lost. Of course she is.
He cradles her face like she is a relic, caresses her skin like she is something to be worshipped, and she is frightened of moving, of speaking, of doing anything at all that may break the spell, have him bolt into the darkness like a wild horse who hasn’t quite come to learn her scent yet and, really, that was a bad simile, because now she’s just thinking of riding him to death. Gently, sweetly, he kisses her, and the yearning that is building up in her chest, somewhere lodged under her ribs, is unlike anything she’s felt in years, because it's just been so horribly long, and his lips are softer and warmer than she had ever dared dream. When they break, he’s still gazing at her steadily, hungrily, and she's afraid he’s going to say something, do something, might even bolt, attraction and anxiety and arousal a maelstrom in her core, before he kisses her. Really kisses her. The touch of his lips is an electric shock, jolting them both into action, turning whatever objections they’d had into ash. She’s not sure which of them moves first, only that they rise together, almost grappling in the moonlight spilling through stained glass windows. Hips and elbows knock against wood, even the need to breathe no incentive to stop. She breaks apart to scrabble at the black cloth that hides his desire and reminds him why he hides it both, only to kiss away his stupid apologies, until they’re stumbling again, adrift in a sea of desire.
He collapses before her onto the seat on which she had been so recently confessing, staring up at her, reverent and terrified. Already looking thoroughly debauched, all messy hair and reddened lips, and trousers tugged down his thighs, his cock is red and swollen against the black of his robes. A cloudy drop of precum has beaded at the tip, and she drops to her knees because she wants to, and it seems like she can, and she is so, so tired of pretending otherwise.
“Shit, fuck ,” he says, before she’s even got her mouth on him. “We should - we - condom.”
Oh.
That.
“Clean, surprisingly,” god this better not kill the mood , “You?”
He blinks a few times. “I - I mean, it’s been a while, but, yes - maybe we should - ”
“Brilliant,” she says, and dives back down, wrapping his lips around the head of his cock and sucking down as much as she can without actually unhinging her jaw.
She suppresses a grin at the hard thud of his head falling back against the wall of the booth, his whole body unguarded and pliant, sinking further and further down on his cock until he’s whining, until he’s begging, until all he can do is tangle a hand in her hair and pray for forgiveness. And, pray, he does, a litany of quiet words and curses falling from his lips as she commits the shape of him to drunken memory.
She has a man of the cloth pressed up against his confessional booth, his trousers halfway down his thighs and his cock warm and heavy on her tongue, and he is begging for her. It’s more than enough to have her removing one hand from his hip and shoving it down the front of her jeans, the good old sign of the horns. She moans around his cock, rocking into her hand, until her fingers are slick, moving of their own accord. Only on the first signs of him beginning to unravel entirely does she lift off with an obscene pop, keeping one hand on his cock, the other teasing her clit, cunt wet with desire.
“Jesus, fuck,” he says, chest heaving underneath his robes, Adam’s apple bobbing as he tries in vain to steady himself.
“Did you know,” she says as conversationally, keeping her rhythm as slow and steady as she can, “it’s really fucking hot when you curse.”
He groans, a deep, full-body sound that reverberates around the inside of the confessional. "You’re such a fucking tease.”
He’s clinging to the bench like he’s clinging for an anchor to purity, his arousal rolling through him in waves: the itching of his fingers, the hammering of his heart, the shallow pools of his breath, any semblance of holiness crumbling to dust before her very eyes. It’s a bit of a fuss, unbuttoning her jeans and shoving them down her waist with one hand, (thank fuck she wore nice knickers today, even if they get shoved aside as well), but she manages it somehow.
“I thought you were the one who said we weren’t gonna have sex.”
“Yeah, well, I’ve made my bed - ”
She stands to straddle him, sliding her cunt, slick and pulsing, against his cock, and he breaks off with another moan.
“You may as well fuck in it?”
“That’s not gonna happen, if you keep doing that,” he says, voice deliciously strained, and she rocks against him a couple more times, because it feels too good, because he looks too fucking beautiful like this, all slack mouth and fluttering eyelashes and deep, ragged breaths. “I really think I’d rather have this last longer than you’re threatening to make it right now, Jesus, Mary, and Joseph - ”
He’s pushing her away now, and her heart drops to her stomach, to where all the blood is pooled in her body, until she is suddenly, pathetically grateful to her past self that she shaved everything, just in case, because he's burying his face between her legs and drinking her like she has the goddamn G&T of cunts. If the man upstairs doesn’t strike them down there and then for this, maybe there is nothing to fear when closes her eyes for the last time. There’s some difficult maneuvering, more elbows knocking against wood as she makes sure that beautiful tongue is not going anywhere, before she's sat on the bench again, the priest kneeling before her and sucking on her clit as if it’s all seven sacraments. That tongue, accustomed to scripture and invocation for so long, tastes her as if as if her body is the key to his salvation. Those fingers that diligently leaf through bibles and place the body of Christ on the tongues of devoted parishioners fuck her as if content to never do those things again. Something rumbles low in his chest when she tangles a hand in his hair, and he hums against her clit, the vibration coursing through her body. Another fluttering moan, louder now, shatters the silence and sanctity of the church and any claims she may have not doing this kind of thing anymore, and her orgasm shudders through her, release and relief and regret washing over her in waves.
His tongue continues its rhythm until her shudders subside; only then does he lift his head and sit back on his ankles. If he looked debauched before, it’s nothing compared to now, lips red and well-fucked, wiping her come off his chin and grinning up at her as she catches her breath.
“Oh, fuck, I've missed doing that,” he says, and even his voice, hoarse with need and desire and worship, is enough to send another shudder through her body. “Do you know how many times I’ve imagined doing that?”
“Jesus,” she breathes, heat coursing through her at the thought of him touching himself at the thought of her, sensitive cunt clenching almost painfully. “Whatever else you’ve missed doing, be my guest. Literally, whatever else.”
“You’re gonna be the fucking death of me,” he says as the implications hit him, shaking his head like he can banish the images she knows have already sprung up in his mind. “No, but, seriously, though, do you know many times I’ve imagined doing that?”
“Had me in your prayers, then, Father?”
He chuckles. “You could say that.”
“It’s a turn on for you as well, isn’t it?” she asks, after a beat.
“More than you could fucking imagine.”
What he misses doing, apparently, involves having her braced against the back of the confessional, hands splayed against the dark wood and arse in the air. He’s pressed against her back, kissing her neck, neither bothering to remove any more clothes than absolutely necessary. His fingers skim the top of her cunt, delicate like he's handling holy paper, before they sink further, pressing down on her still-sensitive clit. She moans, torn between grinding into his fingers and back against his cock, insistent against her hip.
“For fuck's sake, will you just fuck me already?”
“Look, if I wasn’t on the verge of coming in my pants like a teenager,” he replies, far more sarcastic than he has any right to be in this moment. “I could get you off like this for hours.”
“Father - ”
The hands disappear from her hips without another word, leaving her cold, alone, trembling from the final drag of his fingers against her clit. Then his fingers dig into her hips, and she feels his cock pressing into her, and everything narrows until the only thing she’s aware of is his slow, steady slide into her (and probably also to Hell, who the fuck knows at this point). She presses back immediately, biting down on her arm to stifle a desperate noise as her skin stretches around him, and he swears, again and again and a-fucking again as she swallows him, inch by inch.
“Fuck, you feel so good,” he murmurs, and it feels fucking great to know he's just affected as she is, just as dazedly aroused.
She clenches her cunt, just as an experiment, and smiles lazily when it forces another shudder and groan out of him before he begins pulling back and rutting forward, wasting no time in fucking her senseless. The wet sounds of skin slapping against skin and their ragged breathing are the only noises in the otherwise silent church. He’s steady at first but, when she starts chanting, harder, Father, please, under her breath, he laughs, breathlessly, and finally puts those beautiful arms to what really should be their God-intended use.
God, he sets a punishing rhythm, slamming into her with crushing abandon. Her hands scrabble for something, anything to hold on to for dear life, her breasts bouncing almost painfully and the confessional booth shaking in time to him fucking into her. But every bit of pain or discomfort - her breasts, the strain of her arms, his fingers digging into her skin - is just that much more pleasure, as much as the feeling of his cock sliding in and out of her slick, sensitive core. She’s lost all control over her voice, a litany of Father, Father, Father as he fucks her, rougher than she’s been fucked in years. Her body, already pliant, is practically singing for the man, her own pleasure building again: enough for her to need a release but not quite enough to cause it.
She’s more than happy to have her whole body smushed up against the back wall of the confessional to bring one hand back down to her clit if he continues fucking into her like that.
The movement of her fingers sliding against her swollen clit has another orgasm shuddering through her in minutes, and he won’t be able to deny, with God as his witness, how watching her crumble by his hand sent him hurtling towards his own completion. He slams into her once, twice, then shudders, her cunt spasming and sending aftershocks throughout her entire body as he spills warm and deep inside her.
The church is suddenly, deathly quiet, but for the sound of their laboured breathing.
He pulls out with a soft, sated, sorrowful moan, and she whines at the sudden emptiness, collapsing against the wall of the confessional. She knows she probably has bruised hips and a ruined friendship and quite a bit of come dripping down her thighs - she’s not even entirely sure she remembers her own name - but she’s far too fucked out and fucked up to care. Without speaking, they dress, and neither he nor He pin her with judgement, but his shoulders hang heavy with guilt, his robes stained with the evidence of his sacrilege.
“In my defence,” she says, after a long moment of silence. “You did tell me I could come whenever I want.”
He says nothing.
“And that you’d like me to come.”
“Oh, fuck you,” he says, and she grins, and he grins, and she knows that this sin can be forgiven, even if it does not deserve to be. |
Today was the day. It was time to finally leave America behind them. The gang had been held up in the abandoned house for several days as they waited for Arthur’s wounds to heal and, at long last, the man was well enough to stand and move around in relative comfort.
The Pinkertons had since moved their search for the remaining van der Linde gang members to Saint Denis and everyone was on edge and anxious to leave. Fearing getting caught if they didn't get out soon.
The captain of the boat they were hitching a ride on had been paid half up front and briefed on the plan. In the dead of night they would make their way to the boatyard in small groups of three or four, sticking to the shadows as they made their way to the docks. They had to be as quiet and unremarkable as they possibly could. Any kind of attention was unwanted.
For now though, all they could do is prepare for the long journey across the ocean and wait for nightfall.
“What do ya think Tahiti’s like?” Uncle asked as he idly picked at his scummy toenails with a knife.
“I heard it’s like paradise.” Mary-Beth swooned. “White, sandy beaches, always sunny and the perfect temperature all year round.”
“That’s quite the pretty picture ya paintin’ there, Mary-Beth.” Arthur commented sarcastically as he stood at the back of the room, arm raised as Abigail changed and dressed the bandages on his stomach one last time before they set out. “Where’d ya, hear that? One of ya story books?”
Mary-Beth twiddled her thumbs and looked down at her feet like she was nervous, “well actually I heard it from Dutch.” Her voice was quiet. She knew mentioning that name anywhere near Arthur would set him off.
She was right.
“Yeh, well Dutch was a deluded fool.” Arthur scoffed, “he could spin shit into gold with just a few words if he wanted to. Good riddance, I say.” It was obvious Arthur was still hurting over Dutch’s betrayal and everyone would tiptoe around the subject, avoiding the man's name or any reference to him at all costs to avoid upsetting him.
“Arthur, give the girl a break. She’s just excited to get outta here. We all are.” Abigail frowned as she stood up, packing away the medical supplies given to them by the doctor.
Arthur grunted in response, grabbing his blue cotton shirt from one of the crates nearby and pulled it back over his head with a wince. The wound was healing just fine but it still hurt like hell on occasion.
Then the door burst open so hard it caused dust to fall from the walls and ceiling. John, Karen and Charles rushed in, squeezing through the door frame all at once. Karen was waving a flyer in her hand and the three of them started talking at the same time. It was difficult to understand what any of them were saying and it was giving Arthur a headache.
“Calm down,” Arthur instructed as everyone else stood and came over to see what the commotion was about. “One at a time, please.”
Karen stepped forward with the flyer, pointing it printed-side out for everyone to see. Arthur’s eyes widened with disbelief.
“It’s a notice of a public hangin’ today at midday… Bill Williamson, Javier Escuella and…” Karen paused a moment to gather her nerves and then continued “…and Dutch van der Linde are to be hanged in the central courtyard for the crimes of murder, theft, random acts of violence, torture…” she continued on until Arthur tore the flyer from her hand, ripping it up in front of the group.
“Arthur?” John said from behind Karen, disappointment clear on his face.
“What, John?” Arthur growled angrily as he threw the paper to the floor. “You wanna go save that traitor? He left you to die and lied to my face about it… lied to everyone. He was more concerned with ego and money than with gettin’ us out safe and alive.” Everyone was quiet. They knew Arthur had a point about Dutch.
John stepped forward getting up in Arthur’s face, “and what about Bill and Javier? What did they do to deserve this?”
Arthur had no response to that, words stuck in his throat as he tried to think of a reason. He had nothing against Javier and Bill, in fact he quite liked both men but his mind was so clouded with anger that he wasn't thinking straight.
“What Dutch did was fucked up,” John continued, “but the man’s sick in his mind and Micah took advantage of that. Dutch raised us from boys, Arthur, he deserves a second chance.” John took Arthur’s hand within his own and squeezed it tightly, never taking his eyes from Arthur’s. “Please?”
The fairer haired man was struggling with what to do. He wanted to make John happy more than anything but another part of him wanted to watch Dutch swing. In the end his anger won and he ripped his hand from John’s.
“No. That's final.”
“No?” John said with a sneer. “Fuck you, Arthur. I’ll go get them without ya then.” John turned, snatching his gun belt from the crates by the exit and left, slamming the door behind him.
“Sorry Arthur.” Charles said softly as he opened the door. “I’m with John on this one…I’ll make sure we’re back before sundown.” He then disappeared from the room.
“Fuck…” Arthur swore under his breath as he paced back and forth. Everyone else was staying out of his way as they watched him. “Fuck, fuck, fuck!” He ran a hand through his hair and let out a frustrated sigh, turning to Abigail. “Pass me my guns please, Abigail.” His voice full of defeat.
He wasn’t doing this for Dutch. He was doing this for John.
Abigail smiled and gathered his pistols, rifle and repeater and helped Arthur to equip them. “You be careful now, don’t go actin’ a hero, you still ain't fully healed.” She warned him sternly.
“I know, I know.” Arthur placed his hat atop his head, “get Sadie to meet the Captian right now, tell him there’s been a change of plans. We will be bringing the boys straight to the boat and then we leave. Make sure you’re all there with the money and supplies before we arrive.” Arthur paused and bit at his lip a moment while he thought. “If we ain’t there by three o’clock leave without us.”
“Arthur, no…” Abigail said, shaking her head.
“I can’t risk gettin' y'all caught or killed. Just listen to me for once.” Arthur turned and left the building to catch up to John and Charles.
He didn't have to go far as the two men were waiting just outside in the alleyway.
“No shit, you were right.” Charles laughed, chucking John some money and a packet of cigarettes. Arthur was confused. “He bet me you’d come to join us, I didn't believe it, but here you are …” Charles explained.
John was smirking to himself as Arthur glared. He was such a little rat. Arthur fucking loved him. He really would have to tell him that sometime.
“Just shut the fuck up and lead the way.” Arthur said with a lopsided smile, seeing the humour in the moment. He really would do anything for John and John knew it. “We got thirty minutes to get to the courtyard.”
The three men made their way through the town, avoiding lawmen as they went. There were a lot more posted than usual, making it harder to get to their intended location. The sheriff had obviously beefed up security for the occasion. Arthur had a feeling it was because he knew they’d try some grand rescue. It was making him nervous.
Finally they arrived at the courtyard, hanging back behind one of the buildings across the cobblestone road to avoid being spotted. John pulled out his binoculars and surveyed the area. “A’right… looks like this is going to be pretty tough.”
Arthur rolled his eyes, snatching the binoculars from John. “Ya think, Johnny?” He then peered through them himself. “I see one, two, three… about ten guards in the court, then we got at least fifteen more monitoring the streets… this is such a dumb idea…” Arthur couldn't help but voice his concerns. He moved the binoculars to the stage and saw their three long lost friends with rope hung loosely around their necks, and another familiar face. “Agent Milton’s up there with the boys.”
“I’ll take down as many as I can silently on the streets around the courtyard,” Charles said pulling his bow and arrows from his shoulder. “When I get to the brick fence just there you two come out and we’ll take care of the rest.” John and Arthur nodded and Charles quickly and quietly left.
John pulled his pistols out, ready and waiting for their turn to move when he felt a hand on his chin, turning his head so that he was forced to look into his lovers clear blue eyes.
“Be. Safe.” Arthur instructed, gripping the younger man’s chin roughly. “Don’t be stupid out there.”
“Arthur, ya gotta trust me.” John said, eyes softening as he pulled Arthur’s hand down from his face.
“I do, I’m just…afraid.”
“Well don’t be,” John said with affection, leaning up to place a quick, soft peck on the other man’s lips, “we got each other's back, remember?”
Arthur smiled. He remembered.
Time was escaping them and Arthur checked his pocket watch when they heard the sheriff begin reading his speech to the crowd below the stage. “Five minutes. C’mon, Charles.” He said under his breath.
“Look, there!” John pointed at Charles who was running towards his position, giving a thumbs up in their direction. The two men pulled their bandannas up and then snuck across the road. No one was paying them any mind, everyone was too busy waiting for the show.
Charles and Arthur quietly grabbed the two guards at the entrance, stabbing them in the throat and laying them gently down on the ground, but it didn't matter in the end as the sheriff had seen them, the stage giving him a good view of the courtyard.
“They’re here!” The sheriff shouted at the guards. “Capture them, dead or alive.”
Bullets were now whirling through the air in their direction. Civilians were screaming and pouring out through the main entrance making it hard to see into the courtyard.
“You go get the boys,” Arthur instructed John who nodded and headed left, shooting his pistol at a lawman as he went. “We’ll take care of the guards from here.”
“Roger.” Charles responded and both men stepped out from their cover, guns blazing. They had to keep the guards distracted while John cut the three men down.
John had made his way to the stage with relative ease and had pulled his knife out to cut at the rope as fast as he could manage.
“Son, are we glad to see you.” Dutch said, relief written all over his face as John worked at the rope above his head.
“Watch out.” Bill shouted and John looked up. Agent Milton was heading his way, gun pointed directly at him.
“Step away and put your hands up.” The man said sternly, “make one move and I will shoot.”
John let go of the knife. It dropped to the floor at his feet. He took a step back from Dutch, hands above his head.
“Now if only all of your kind were this cooperat—” Agent Milton never got to finish his sentence as Dutch, who had grabbed one of John’s pistols from his hip as he was cutting him down moments ago, had shot him directly in the chest. Milton’s unmoving body fell to the wooden floor with a thud.
“Well that was anti-climactic.” Javier laughed.
“He was really starting to get on my nerves.” The oldest man smiled, “now please, John. Cut us down.”
John shook off his shock, picked up his knife and got to work freeing the three of them. He handed his second pistol to Javier and Bill got the repeater.
The men joined Arthur and Charles at the courtyard gate and the six of them began making their way towards the docks, shooting any guards that came their way until the coast was clear.
“Arthur.” Dutch tipped his head to greet the man. “You’re the last person I expected to see today.”
“Don’t think this means we’re family again.” Arthur said bluntly. “I did this for John. Not you.”
“Okay but ya bleedin’, son.” Dutch looked at Arthur’s stomach which made Arthur look down.
“So I am…” he touched the wet, red patch on his shirt and brought his hands up to inspect the blood on his fingers. He must have popped a stitch or three in the excitement of it all. “No matter, let's go.”
The docks were near but they couldn't risk drawing the law in that direction so they had to take a more stealthy long-winded way to their location. Arthur checked his watch once more. Two thirty. They were making good time.
“Okay, one at a time, sneak around the containers and onto that boat.” Arthur pointed to the large, black boat in the distance. “Tell ‘em ya goin’ to Tahiti and they’ll let ya on. John, you first.”
John rolled his eyes and sighed, knowing Arthur was making him go first because he wanted to make sure he was safe, but he didn't argue. After John was Bill and then Javier.
Dutch was next to leave and as he was about to move across to the next lot of cover Arthur grabbed him by the wrist roughly, yanking him back. “If you pull another stunt like you did back at Beaver Hollow I will not hesitate to put you down, ya hear me?” His voice was a growl and Dutch looked genuinely worried.
“I’m so sorry about all that, Arthur. I truly am.”
“I don't wanna hear it, just don't do it again.” Arthur shoved Dutch forward and both of them made their way through the docks.
Everyone had made it onto the ship and were greeted by the rest of the gang.
”Glad to see you finally made it, gentlemen.” Sadie said patting John on the back. “Looks like I missed out on a good time.”
“Go, go.” Arthur demanded at the driver who started the engine. The ship workers raised the ramp, preventing anyone else from getting on just as a small group of guards rode up to the docks. They were shooting at the ship but it was in vain as it had already begun to head its way further into the river and away from Saint Denis.
It seemed as though they were finally, truly safe and everyone collectively cheered, danced and embraced in pure joy and relief. It was the first time in a long time Arthur could remember them all so happy.
John joined him at his side and smiled. “We did it, Arthur…we’re fuckin’ free.”
Arthur wrapped his arm around John’s waist, bringing him close to kiss his temple. “It’s a weird feelin’, finally not having to worry about the law. Kinda doesn't feel real.”
John nodded and then pulled away. “Now let's get you patched up before we have another near death experience on our hands.”
***
That night on the boat there was a huge party. Music, singing, alcohol and food. Everyone was laughing and having a wonderful time. Even the ships staff had joined in.
Arthur was sitting away from everyone, watching John play with Jack when Dutch joined him, sitting on a crate across from him.
“Thank you, Arthur, for coming back for me and the boys. I am in your debt.”
“Like I said, it weren’t for you.” Arthur shrugged.
Dutch sighed and pulled out a box of cigarettes from his chest pocket. There was a brief silence between them before Dutch spoke again, “This feels familiar doesn’t it?” The elder man lit a cigarette and offered it to Arthur who took it without a word. “Let’s hope Tahiti is a lot nicer than Guama.” He lit another, for himself this time, and took a deep puff.
Arthur took a drag too and blew the smoke in Dutch’s direction but remained silent. Truthfully he was a little worried that Tahiti wouldn’t be all that they’d hoped it would be but he wouldn't dare say it out loud. Not when everyone was so hopeful for once.
“So, you and John, huh?” Dutch said awkwardly. Arthur wondered when he would bring that up. He knew Dutch was trying to reconnect with him. Feign interest in his life to get him to accept him into the gang again.
“Yup.” Arthur said as he mouthed at the cigarette before pulling it away again. “There is something so pure and good in that man, somethin’ you or I will never understand. He makes me want to be better.” Arthur found himself speaking without meaning to. When it came to John he couldn't help himself. “Plus, he is excellent at fuckin’.” Arthur smirked at Dutch who choked on his cigarette, eyes wide and cheeks tinged red with embarrassment.
Arthur got to his feet and dropped his cigarette on the ground, putting it out with his boot. “Go join the party, Dutch.” He patted the man on the shoulder and left him on his own with that image in his mind. Arthur made his way towards John, who was now looking over the edge of the ship, hands gripping the railing so tight his knuckles were going white. It was obvious he was uncomfortable being surrounded by so much water.
With a sneaky smile, Arthur tiptoed up behind his partner and gripped his waist, jolting him forward like he was going to throw him into the water. There was no worry of that as Arthur had a tight hold on him but John still yelped in horror. Turning around quickly with his brows furrowed.
“Ya fuckin’ arsehole.” He exclaimed, punching Arthur hard on his chest. “That ain’t funny.”
Arthur laughed deeply and raised his hands in peace “I’m sorry, I’m sorry.” His arms found their way back to John’s hips and he leaned forward, whispering against the other man's ear. “Enjoying yourself?” He nipped John’s earlobe and took into his mouth sucking it lightly.
John melted against him and nodded, snaking his arms up and around Arthur’s shoulders. “Stop teasin’.”
They brought their foreheads together and John closed his eyes as their bodies swayed, ever so slightly, to the music being played by Javier on one of the skippers guitars.
The moment felt right.
“John.”
“Yeah?” The man blinked his dark eyes open to look into Arthur’s blue ones.
Arthur had never felt more nervous but he knew if he didn't get this out now he never would. So he blurted it out as fast as possible, “I love you.” he bit his lip and leaned back as words continued to vomit out of his mouth “but, uh, if ya don't feel the same way you don't have to sa—”
“Arthur, shut up a minute…” John laughed, putting his hand up to cover the man's mouth.
John paused with a big smile on his face before he finally responded. “I love ya too, idiot.”
Arthur sighed with relief and John moved his hand from his partner’s mouth and closed the gap between them. Lips coming together in a sweet kiss.
Right now, Arthur didn't think life could get any better. |
Since Jim’s simulation had been canceled both men were free until classes again on Monday. Wanting to waste no time in getting better aquatinted the pair made their way off campus to Spock’s nearby apartment.
The first thing Jim noticed upon entering the apartment was the sweltering heat. It was well above what Jim considered comfortable, but then he remembered that Vulcan was a desert planet and much hotter than Earth.
As if sensing his thoughts Spock broke the comfortable silence, “Computer, set temperature to 70 degrees.”
“You didn’t need to do that,” Jim smiled turning to his Vulcan. “I would have been just as fine as soon as I took my uniform jacket off.”
“But I did T’hy’la,” Spock said taking Jim’s hands in his own. “Your comfort is my main concern. The temperature is of no consequence to me.”
“But then you won’t be comfortable,” the blonde fussed.
“I can put another on another layer T’hy’la,” Spock assured him. “Please do not worry about me.”
“Somehow Mr.Spock I don’t think I’ll be able to do that for the rest of my life.”
“Indeed I dare say that I will have my hands full worrying about you as well.”
Spock leaned in pressing their lips together enjoying the softness of his soulmate’s lips and the way Jim’s body bowed towards his craving more of Spock’s touch. One hand made it’s way to the back of the blonde’s neck with the other wrapped itself around Jim’s waist pulling him closer.
All the while Jim couldn’t think of anything beyond the strong arms wrapped around him, or the lightly chapped lips against his own. Too soon for either of their liking they broke for air staring into each other’s eyes.
“At the rate we’re going we won’t make it to Chris’ for dinner tonight,” the human breathed.
“Indeed,” Spock exhaled shakily. “Perhaps we should find another way to occupy our time.”
Looking over Spock’s shoulder Jim looked deeper into the apartment spotting a 3D chess board on the bookshelf. Immediately he knew how they could pass the time without jumping each other’s bones.
“How about a game of chess?” He suggested. “We can talk while we play.”
Spock nodded, “That would be most agreeable. I will make us so tea while you set up the board.”
With one more chaste kiss the pair separated to perform their tasks. Jim strode across the room being careful taking down the board, all the while taking in the rest of the apartment around him. It was sparsely furnished with the exception of the overflowing bookshelf, and a small platform where Jim realized Spock must meditate.
The sudden image of Spock meditating while Jim curled up on the sofa with an old novel popped into Jim’s head making him smile from ear to ear.
“What has you so amused?” Spock asked from behind shaking Jim from his daydream.
“I was just imagining curling up on the sofa with a book while you were meditating, thinking about how domestic it is. It’s silly I know,” Jim answered.
“It is not silly,” Spock replied setting down their tea next to the chess board only to wrap his hands around Jim’s waist. “We will have that T’hy’la. One day soon, and not just here in San Francisco, but on the Enterprise as we make our way across the galaxy.”
“And one day we’ll be the greatest command team Starfleet’s ever seen, with me as Captain and you as my First Officer and Chief Science Officer,” Jim announced.
“Not with me as Captain?” Spock asked amusement lacing his voice.
“Something tells me that you would much rather spend your time on experiments than running the entire ship,” he answered with a smirk.
“You are correct Jim,” the older man agreed. “My main focus for coming to Earth besides finding you was to become a Science Officer.”
At his words Jim stilled, “I was your main reason for coming to Earth?”
“Affirmative,” his warm breath fanning the back of Jim’s neck. “I turned down a position at the Vulcan Science Academy in favor of coming to Earth.”
Jim took in the weight of Spock’s declaration. The VSA was the most elite school in the galaxy. For Spock to turn down a position just to find Jim stunned the blonde. Surely Jim wasn’t that good of a reason he thought to himself.
“Why else did you decide to come to Earth?” The human asked turning to face the Vulcan. “Surely I’m not reason enough.”
A sad look filled Spock’s eyes as he realized what his T’hy’la must think of himself to cause that comment, “Jim you were what drove me here especially after the degrading remarks the Council made against my mother and I.”
“What remarks?” The blonde instantly angered.
“It is the past now my Jim,” Spock replied. “But they said it was remarkable how perfect my scored were despite having a human mother.”
“So just because you’re half human it means you’re not as good as them?” Jim fumed.
“I am the only one of my kind and as such have been ridiculed from a young age,” he explained. “And when the Council said humans were a disadvantage I thought of your name on my wrist and realized that I did not belong there anymore.”
“Oh Spock,” Jim sighed happily. “I’ve never had anyone do something like that for me before.”
The Vulcan blushed a deep green as Jim locked their mouths together in a fierce kiss. Hands began roaming new placed wanting to memorize each detail, exploring new parts of each other. Completely forgetting about everything else Spock began dragging Jim towards his bedroom intending to become fully acquainted with his soulmate before the night was through.
Just as the pair were about to cross the threshold of Spock’s room two distinctly loud sets of beeping began forcing them apart. They both reached into their pockets for their communicators, and what they saw made both their hearts stop.
We have received a distress call
from Vulcan. Report to Hanger 1
immediately.
|
It’s easy enough for Jon to find the whorehouse again, even without asking Tyrion. An hour of wandering the streets and Jon finds the house with the many colored glass where he remembers it snug against the high hill. Chataya, the same tall, black skinned woman opens the door. She blinks when she sees Jon. “Ser Snow. I did not think to find you here again.”
Jon forces a smile he does not feel and steps inside, the smell of perfume filling his nose as he does. The room is just as he remembers: myrish screens decorated with figures caught in the throes of passion, ornate copper dornish lamps simmering in sconces, and lush rugs thick as fur. Shame coils in his gut, a bone deep disgust for the desire that he can feel prickling through his skin. “Is your daughter here?” He asks Chataya.
“Alayaya? She’s occupied for the moment.” Chataya raises an elegant hand to the common room. “Perhaps one of my other girls would suit you? Tansy is especially lovely tonight.”
Jon shakes his head. “I’ll wait.”
“Of course.” Chataya fills a goblet of wine she passes to him. “She should not be long.”
Jon nods his thanks. He takes a long swallow from the goblet and crosses the room. It is empty but for a table where a man plays dice with a gold haired maiden who’s gown has slipped down to her waist to bare the slope of her breasts and their pink tips. The man looks up as Jon passes and Jon recognizes him as lord Osmund Florent. Jon doesn’t flinch away from his gaze. There’s no hiding your shame, Snow. All the court will know it now.
Jon takes a seat on a silk couch with embroidered and gold tasseled pillows. He takes another swallow from the goblet, heat prickling down his throat, but doesn’t sit back, instead hunching forward with his elbows resting on his legs.
“Is milord feeling unloved?” Jon turns at the words, and before he has a chance to resist a warm and lushly curved girl is sliding onto his lap, perfume filling his nose. He looks up to find the same wicked smile he remembers from all those years ago dancing across the girl’s lips. She sweeps back the red hair falling across her shoulders and pouts. “You’re far too handsome to be brooding so.”
How many times has he shamed himself in his thoughts at simply the memory of her red hair and full lips and wicked smile? A dozen? A hundred? Jon forces himself to wrench his gaze up and meet hers. “I’ve come for Alayaya.”
“How rude of her to keep milord waiting.” Dancy’s hand slips down, and Jon shivers as her fingers grab the hardness trapped by his breeches. She giggles. “He doesn’t seem to want to wait. Why not let him out and see how he likes my lips wrapped around him?”
Jon shudders as Dancy’s fingers slide along the length of him. He is hard, achingly so, and nothing has ever felt half so good as her fingers around him, the tug and slide of them. So easy it would be to give into that feeling, to lose himself in the warm curves of her, the smooth skin that the few wisps of silk she wears do nothing to conceal, the press of her perfume. He’s already come here to shame himself one way, why not another? A hundred times he’s already had her in his thoughts: the tangle of her hair in his fingers as he wrenches her head back and takes what he wants, the stiff and pebbled tips of her breasts between his teeth, the wet warmth of her around him, the moan of his name on her lips as he tears his pleasure from her as if he truly were the wolf he dreams of.
“Ser Snow.” Jon looks up to find Alayaya standing before him, slender and lovely in a wisp of yellow silk. Her mouth curves in an amused smile as her eyes move over Dancy. “My mother says you sought me.”
Dancy pouts at him again, lips full and red. “Mayhaps milord would like to take us both to bed?” Her hand gives him a firm squeeze and she giggles. “You have more than enough to share. And two mouths on a cock is such a prettier sight than one, wouldn’t milord agree?”
Jon clenches his jaw. All his life he’s heard the whispers that bastards were creatures of lust, faithless and base, and all his life he’d thought that with a ser before his name and a white cloak he could escape them. But he hadn’t, and with Dancy’s warm and soft on his lap and the promise of her and Alayaya twining around him he knows he never will, that he will always be a creature of lust and faithlessness.
There are no true knights. None except you.
It takes everything Jon is, every drop of will in him, all he’s ever wanted or feared, to stand in that moment. But he does, Dancy spilling from his lap as he stands despite how he knows his hardness is plain for all to see. Dancy falls back on the couch and pouts up at Jon, but he ignores her and turns to Alayaya. “If you would, my lady.”
The room she leads him to is much the same as the one he remembers from years before, a great silk canopied bed set in the center. Alayaya takes his cup and places it on the sideboard before rejoining him. “It’s true you know. Dancy and I have danced between the sheets together before. If my lord likes I can still fetch her so we may share you between us.”
She slides a warm hand up his chest and for a moment Jon is just as tempted again to forget his vows, to bury his face in Alayaya’s neck and lose himself in the scent and smooth warmth of her skin, the comfort of another body. But he forces himself to shake his head and reach up to catch her wrist. “It’s not why I’ve come.”
Alayaya tilts her head to the side, eyes large and dark as they regard him. “Why have you come then, Ser Snow?”
“You said you meant not to mother any bastards last time.”
“And I have not.” Alayaya smiles faintly. “You spent your seed into my hand if I remember it well, my lord.”
“But if I hadn’t. You have other ways?”
Alayaya regards him calmly for a moment, then silently moves again to the sideboard. She opens a drawer and slips out a small, plain bottle she holds out to him as she rejoins him. “Moon tea can be taken for months after, but is easiest to stomach if drank soon.”
Jon’s mouth is dry as he reaches out and takes the bottle from Alayaya. He turns it between his fingers, looks up to find her gazing at him. “You still mean not to father any bastards, then?” She asks softly. “We are no curse, you know. We are a gift.”
Jon shakes his head, throat dry. More than anything he’s ever wanted he wants to believe Alayaya in that moment. But he knows it a lie, knows it deep in all he is. His birth was no gift for the father whose honor it stained, no gift for the lady wife whose marriage bed it insulted, no gift for the sister he has failed again and again and again.
He fumbles at his side for the purse he brought, but Alayaya smiles and shakes her head. “My mother would never allow me to accept anything from a knight of the Kingsguard, ser Snow. And you need not worry. None will ever hear a whisper that you were here. Your honor is safe with us.”
Jon shakes his head, a bitter taste in his mouth. “No. If any ask, tell them I bedded you.”
Alayaya regards him for a long moment before nodding slowly. “I will tell them that I was visited by Ser Snow of the Kingsguard.” A smile plays at her lips. “I will tell them you were fierce as a wolf between the sheets. That you rode me long and hard and well and that I have never laid eyes on a cock half so thick and long as yours.”
A bitter smile tugs at Jon’s lips. For a moment he wishes he could thank her, but she cannot know why he is truly here, and so instead her he leans forward and kisses her forehead. He turns before he can see her face, turns and leaves the room before he can be tempted once again to stay.
It is dark when Jon slips into Sansa’s chamber again. She sits in the same chair as when he left her and for a long moment Jon is not sure she has moved at all since the day before. She does not look up from her embroidery as he latches the door shut behind him. “One of my maids told me a funny rumor,” she says lightly, but Jon knows her well enough to know the false note to it. “She says lord Florent glimpsed you in a whorehouse.”
They shouldn’t, but the words sting. Jon kneels before where Sansa sits. She blinks at her embroidery but doesn’t raise her eyes. “I did,” he says. “I went to-”
“-I’m glad you could find some comfort there,” Sansa continues over him as though she can’t hear him, voice still firmly light. “I am. I may be trapped in this tower but that need not mean you must be too. What is it like to be able to come and go as you please? You and Arya could always do that, but not me. Even before this cage I’ve always just been an empty headed little songbird.” She laughs, high and bright and horrible. “I’m sorry you’ve had to stay here with me in this tower so long, Jon, truly I am. I know a man has needs, needs as your lady sister I can hardly satisfy. We are not Targaryens. Or Lannisters.”
Jon frowns and grabs her hands, forces them to stop their needlework. “What are you talking about?”
“Don’t you know? Cersei told me once when she was deep in her cups. She didn’t remember the next day but after Robert died she told me how Jaime has been inside her, how she only ever feels whole when he is. Perhaps that’s what it takes to keep a knight of the kingsguard from breaking his vows.” Sansa giggles. “What do you think, Jon? Would fucking me keep you true?”
The words catch Jon like a slap. He drops her hands. “That isn’t funny, Sansa.”
“No?” She rolls her eyes. “I could make you happier than she makes Jaime, you know. All the court says I’m more beautiful than her. I’d treat you gentler too, let you use me like one of your whores and never once complain. I’m sorry I have all these bruises, but you can give me one of your own if you want. Would doing that make it easier for you? Would it make fucking your sister sweeter? I want it to be sweet for you, Jon, truly I do, so sweet you’ll never leave me, so sweet you’ll strike me at even the thought of another man in me.”
There is a dull roar in Jon’s ears as he reaches up and clasps Sansa’s face between his hands, jerks her eyes back to meet his. “I will never strike you.” The words are sharp, short, harsh, but Jon needs her to understand, needs her to know beyond the flicker of a doubt. “And I will never leave you, Sansa. I swear that, swear it before the sight of gods and men, swear it by the old gods and the new. Not today, not tomorrow, not ever, not until I draw my last breath and the life leaves my body and the crows come to feast on my eyes. You are my heart, Sansa. You are all I have. Never doubt that. Never.”
For a long moment Sansa’s stares at him still with her horrible smile and then it crumbles and she collapses against him with a sob that wrenches Jon’s heart. He crushes her to him, presses his mouth to the top of her head as she shakes in his arms, sob after sob wracking her. Into her hair he murmurs promises and pleas and hoarse words he should have spoken long ago, and when his voice runs dry he simply holds her, holds her like he did all those years ago after Lady died, holds her as her sobs fade away and her shoulders eventually still.
After what feels like a long, long time, Sansa stirs and slips back into her seat, gaze downcast, eyes still red. Jon reaches into the pouch at his side and draws out the bottle, takes her hand and presses it to her palm. “It’s moon tea.”
Sansa looks down at the bottle. She shakes her head, voice whisper thin. “I told you, Jon. It will only happen again.”
“It won’t. We’ll find a way, Sansa. We will.”
A long time Sansa is silent, fingers turning the bottle between them. “I dream sometimes,” she says softly, haltingly, as though speaking will cause the memory to slip through her fingers. “I dream of being a wolf, of running under a white moon and black sky. In the dream… in the dream there’s always another wolf with me.” Her eyes find his. “A white wolf with red eyes.”
Jon’s throat aches. He reaches up, curls her fingers around the bottle of moon tea. “In my dreams I run with my sister. Swift and grey and fierce.”
Under his hand Jon feels Sansa’s fingers tighten around the bottle. Her voice is a whisper, faint and fierce. “We must be wolves then, Jon.”
|
The limousine rode casually along the streets of Los Angeles while Lynn stared through the window as the stores and shops passed by.
Her thoughts carried her back to her family's get togethers and her Uncle Nick's visits. He was always a cheerful man and almost always brought her a gift when he come to visit. It wasn't that he was her only uncle it was that he was her favorite relative, period. His passing saddened here deeply.
The Limousine pulled up in front of the bank and parked along the curb. The driver got out and opened Lynn's door for her. She slowly exited from the vehicle's interior and scanned the skyscraper before her. She pulled her purse strap over her shoulder and went into the bank's lobby.
She approached the receptionist's desk and gave her name and safe deposit box number. The lady quickly dialed a number on her phone and asked Lynn to have a seat. She had just sat down when she heard her name.
"Mrs. Wilkerson?" A man's voice came from behind her.
"Yes," she replied quickly and turned to see a man in a black suit approaching her. His black hair and pasted on smile had all the trademark banker's look to him.
"I'm Ben Taylor, right this way please...and how are you today?" He asked politely, while shaking her hand. The two walked to a set of elevators and quickly went to a lower level. His casual conversation was charming but her mind seem to be elsewhere for most of the way to the safe deposit boxes.
Ben Taylor opened the room in which her uncle's safe deposit box was in and allowed Lynn to enter then pointed to the wall that kept the box she was coming to see.
"Your key please, Mrs. Wilkerson." The banker reached his hand out and took her key from her and opened up the box. He took the sealed drawer, and turning, placed it on the table behind them. "I'll give you a few minutes," he said, then left.
Lynn set her purse down and sank slowly into the chair, gazing at the long steel box. She opened it with care and took a deep breath. The first thing she could see was a stack of papers and envelopes that she removed and flipped through quickly. One of the envelopes seem to have pictures so she opened it and thumbed through the selection of various photos.
The pictures were mostly of her uncle's new wife, whom Lynn had never met. There were a few older pictures of her father and uncle together as kids. Then she saw her self with pigtails and the memories came flooding back. A tear rolled down her cheek and she wiped it away. As she sniffed Lynn mumbled, "I wish I could see him one last time."
The lights became brighter and brighter until Lynn looked up from the safe deposit box and a flash caused her to shield her eyes. Using the photos in her hand to cover them, she then noticed that she now held a feather. A long white feather with black tips and two beads. A green one and a white one tied on to its quill. Lynn gaze at the feather until she heard someone say, "Hello, Dinky."
Lynn gasped for breath as the words soaked into her ears. There was only one person in the world who called her that, Uncle Nick. Her eyes were on the feather that she held. She turned quickly and saw her uncle behind her. Jumping to her feet she lunged at him with outreached arms. She wrapped her arms around his neck and embraced him with all her might. Her hands were free now, see looked bewildered at her empty palm but soon forgot the feather as she leaned back and smiled at her Uncle Nick.
"God, I missed you Unkie Nickie," she said. It had been her special name for him all her life. Their smiles matched as their eyes met. She then noticed she was not in the bank but back home where she had grown up. It was like she had gone back in time to the last moment she had seen him. She looked around the old home before he finally spoke again.
"Well, you gonna fish for it?" Uncle Nick always said that when he had a present for her. Her smile grew as she began darting in and out of his pockets like she did when she was a young girl. Checking every pocket deeply and thoroughly until she found something and brought it to surface. A small box that she gazed at with a huge smile. She looked into her uncle's loving eyes with a grin as she opened it.
It was a charm bracelet with stars and moons. "I still have that same bracelet to this day..." Her words slipped from her mouth as her shoulder was shook.
"Mrs. Wilkerson? Are you ok?" A man's voice broke her thoughts. She was startled for a moment until she realized it was Ben Taylor, the banker. He was looking at her hand that held the picture of her when she was younger. She placed the papers and pictures in her purse as she answered him.
"Yes, Mr. Taylor, I'm fine. Just recalling old memories I guess." Lynn said as she began thumbing through the safe deposit box again. "I need just a few more minutes, please."
"Of course," he replied then left the room again.
Lynn was putting the contents of the box into her purse, some old coins and currency. A fraternity ring and several keys along with the envelopes and documents. She emptied the box and slowly rose. Ben Taylor immediately came to replace the safe deposit box to it's numbered slot then quickly went to the door and opened it for Lynn.
"Thank you, sir," Lynn mumbled as she exited the vault of boxes.
The limousine driver was patiently waiting outside as Lynn approached the vehicle. He opened her door and she crawled into the back seat, settling in as the driver began to pull away from the bank.
"Back to the hotel?" The driver asked.
"Yes, please," Lynn answered.
............................................
Arriving back at her hotel and entering her suite, she first caught a glimpse of the dream catcher on the bed as she laid her purse down. She saw that it now had only five feathers.
"What the...?" Lynn blurted. Confused as to the disappearance of the feathers, she began searching around the bed for the missing feathers, looking along the floor and under the bed. Then she looked under the bedspread until she gave up the search. Sitting on the bed, she took the dream catcher in hand and pondered the mystery of the missing feathers and where they could have disappeared to.
"I wish I knew where these feathers were going." She mumbled as she lay back on the bed with the dream catcher in her hands. The room seem to get brighter so she closed her eyes and curled up in the bedspread. "I am so exhausted and tired," she thought as she drifted into slumber.
The darkness was soothing until she realized she was standing in front of the large web that once held her tightly. Looking at it's massive webbing with intrigue and curiosity, she noticed movement in her peripheral vision. Turning slightly she saw the big Indian walking steadily towards her. The tanned man that fueled her desires approached her quickly, wrapped his arms around her and kissed her deeply. She thought about resisting but she submitted to him fully and returned the passionate kiss.
His towering frame and strong grip excited her fully. His ravishing mouth on her lips, cheeks and neck caused her to melt into him. He fondled her breasts and ass cheeks while his tongue tasted her flesh. Nipping and licking her until she soared with delight. She wrapped her arms around him fully and returned his kisses.
The tall Indian pulled back slightly, took her hand gently and began to walk away. He pulled her to follow while his massive hand encircled her dainty fingers. They walked away from the large web towards what seemed to be a small light at the end of a tunnel. It soon became clear that it was a small fire in a tavern that they swiftly approached. There at the fire was the old Indian woman, Little Breeze, stirring the fire with a stick and chanting a tune lightly.
The big tanned Indian guided her to a seat on a large log next to the flickering flames. Lynn sat down and watched Little Breeze toying with the coals. The large Indian man quickly disappeared.
"You have been busy with your wishes," the old Indian woman said smiling. Then turned with her charming grin and faced Lynn directly.
"What's going on?" Lynn asked curiously.
"Before you ask or wish for too much more perhaps you should consider the things you need." Little Breeze said with her polite manner. The old Indian woman's long gray braided hair adorned her shoulders with beads of green and white. In her hair were five long white with black tipped feathers.
"Ok, what is that thing I bought from you? The Dream Catcher, what does it do and how come the feathers keep disappearing?" Lynn asked, trying to choose her words more carefully. Settling in closer to the warmth of the fire, she gazed at the seemingly witty old woman.
"A dream catcher is designed to keep you safe while you sleep. A special one can even bring your dreams to life." The old woman smiled while she spoke with confidence.
"Ok, so that means...?" Lynn asked.
"It means what I have said. If you wish for something in your life, it will help you to achieve it." Little breeze said grinning. Lynn seemed to be just as confused as ever.
"Look, I thank you for your kindness but I don't believe in all this mumbo jumbo. This is probably just another dream and I'll wake up on my bed as usual." Lynn said with a shortness in her tone of voice.
"Ok, I can't make you believe in something but I can advise you to choose your wishes with a bit more caution. You should only wish for the things that will help you in life. And to answer your question..." Little Breeze stroked the five feathers in her hair. "These are my gift to you and as you receive a gift in your dream, the feathers shall return to me." The old Indian woman smiled while toying with the big white feathers that hung from her braids. The fire roared a bit as Little Breeze stirred the fire again. "Just be careful what you wish for, my friend," she said.
The fire's flame flickered high as Lynn shielded her eyes and rolled to her side. She felt the dream catcher poke her in the arm. Opening her eyes, she saw the hotel room dimly lit. Looking at the dream catcher and it's four feathers next to her. She stirred and stretched then rose to her feet, turned on the television set and went to the bathroom. Turning on the shower, she removed her clothing.
"Wait, four feathers?" Lynn asked herself. Confused and tired she dismissed it for now. Lynn stammered around in a bit of a daze. Her life was so full of chaos right now she figured a hot shower might wash some of her troubles away. She climbed into the shower and curled up into it's warm soothing massage. Her thoughts still lingered on Little Breeze's words. Whether they were a dream or not, they stuck in her mind. With her eyes tightly shut she soaked up the pleasurable feeling from the water's pelting blasts.
Taking the soap and running it over her body, she lathered her skin with a soapy film. She ran her hands over her mounds, down her tummy and dipped between her legs, toying sensually with the puffy lips between her legs and back up to perky breasts. Twisting at her nipples, she made them hard as her other hand's fingers inserted shallowly in her puss, rubbing circles around her clit and enjoying herself fully. Her orgasm came in such delight that she bask in the warm shower for quite awhile.
Taking the removable shower head from the wall, Lynn turned the jets on full blast and aimed it at her sensitive breasts. The hard spray of water caused her nipples to ache. Moving the lower, she let it pulse across her clit. The pressure of the water quickly brought her to the peak. Pointing it even lower, she spread her legs and let it enter her pussy. "Oh...." she gasped. It almost felt like a cock was throbbing inside of her. She moved the spray in a steady rhythm between her clit and her pussy entrance, over and over again until, finally, her pussy throbbed with another rapturous orgasm. "Oh, yes." She moaned as she leaned weakly against the shower wall.
She then turned the water off and toweled herself dry. She slipped into her night gown and curled up into the bed to watch television.
She glanced at the dream catcher lying there with it's mesmerizing web. The four feathers that were left fastened to it were effervescent. The mysterious disappearance of the other five feathers still eluded her. Lynn was exhausted from the past several days' trying times so she sank into the bed's covers and slipped off into a deep sleep while gazing at the dream catcher.
|
Steve stopped reading about an hour ago. Bucky was fast asleep, his head on his lap. He looked peaceful. Steve didn’t mind this, not really. The only thing he minded was the fact that he couldn’t reach the tv remote… and his phone was at twenty percent… and his charger was in his room. Fuck. Still, he didn’t really mind being Bucky’s pillow, especially if it meant that he could get the sleep he needed to recover. So Steve sat there quietly, listening to Bucky’s quiet sniffles. It was so quiet and peaceful that he was amazed he didn’t jump when his phone started vibrating. Steve quickly grabbed it, fearful of waking Bucky up.
“Hello?” He said, not bothering to check who it was.
“Steve, it’s Sam. Heard Barnes is sick?”
Steve sighed quietly and confirmed.
“I thought it was a cold at first… now I’m not so sure.”
“Where is he?” Sam asked.
“Asleep… and currently using my lap as a pillow.”
Steve could hear Sam snort on the other end.
“I would’ve used your chest personally. More padding.”
Steve could feel a hot blush coming on.
“Sam!” He hissed, stopping when Bucky stirred. He didn’t wake. “Grow up will you?”
Sam was laughing, loudly.
“You’re just pissed cause you know it’s true.”
“I hate you.”
Steve glanced down at Bucky, making sure he was still okay. He was relieved to find he was.
“Sam, there better be a purpose to this call.”
Sam finished giggling and cleared his throat.
“You want me to come over? I’m sure Barnes would love to see something other than your ugly mug.” Sam said. Steve could almost see the smug look on his face. “Besides, I could make some of my mom’s homemade soup. It’s pretty good for colds, might help.”
Steve sighed.
“Please? My phone’s dying, charger’s in my room, I can’t reach the tv remote and I think my legs are starting to fall asleep.”
Sam sighed on the other end.
“You’re such a whiner.” He said, very likely rolling his eyes.
Steve pouted, even though he knew Sam wasn’t there to see it.
“Could you just come over? Please? I think Bucky would be freaked out if he woke up to me talking to myself out of boredom.”
Sam sighed heavily.
“Twist my arm why don’tcha.”
“You offered!” Steve hissed, making sure he didn’t wake Bucky.
Sam snorted and said, “Let me just get some ingredients and I’ll be over. Good thing you gave me a key.”
“’Kay, thanks Sam. I thought I was gonna die of boredom.”
“You’re so hard done by.” Sam said. “See you in a half hour Rogers.”
“See ya.”
Steve hung up, whining softly when he noticed his phone was now down to seventeen percent. Shit.
…
Sam quietly unlocked the door, just in case Bucky was still asleep. He slipped in silently, putting the ingredients on the kitchen counter before going to the living room to find Steve staring at the ceiling, absent-mindedly stroking Bucky’s hair. He knocked on the wall. Steve looked over to Sam and smiled, relieved.
“Oh thank god.” He said. “Could you get my phone charger? It’s at ten percent.”
Sam rolled his eyes and went to Steve’s room grabbing the charger from Steve’s bedside table. He handed it to Steve who thanked him before noticing that he was nowhere near an outlet.
“Shit.”
Sam snorted.
“You never asked me to get an extension cord. You’re on your own.”
Steve flipped Sam off, a tired look on his face.
“How’s he doing?” Sam asked, nodding to Bucky.
“He’s been asleep for over an hour. No nightmares or coughing fits.” Steve raised his arms in victory. “I think this is the longest he’s been relaxed since he’s gotten sick.”
Sam threw his arms up in victory as well.
“Yay!” He whispered. “Take what you can get. I’m gonna get that soup started.”
Steve did a thumbs up, sighing.
“Before you do that, could you pass me the tv remote? I think I might cry if I have nothing to do.”
Sam picked up the remote from the coffee table, getting down on one knee dramatically, holding out the remote as though he was presenting Steve with the mighty Excalibur. Steve snorted, taking the remote from Sam’s outstretched hands.
“Oh my god Sam, really?”
Sam didn’t say anything, choosing to smirk instead before getting up and going to the kitchen.
…
Sam put the lid on the pot of soup, happy with the results. It wasn’t perfect, but his mother would be proud. He walked into the living room to find Steve passed out, the tv on some documentary about mushrooms. He turned the tv off, rolling his eyes he noticed Steve drooling.
“You’re Captain fucking America, and you drool.” He said, snickering.
He pulled out his phone and took a picture. He stowed it back in his pocket, for blackmail purposes. He noticed Bucky snuffing, wiggling around. Sam gently moved some of Bucky’s hair out of his face.
“Hey Bucky, you sleep alright?” He said quietly.
Bucky opened his eyes blearily. He stared at Sam, confused.
“What are you doing here?” He asked, his voice sounding raw. Probably from all the coughing.
“I offered to come over. I made soup if you’re hungry.”
Bucky looked at Sam and nodded. Slowly, he picked himself off of Steve’s lap, blinking tiredly. He accepted Sam’s hand when he offered it and got to his feet. Bucky wrapped his blanket around his shoulders and followed Sam, his feet shuffling along. He sat at the table watching Sam pour some soup from a large pot into a bowl.
“Here you go man.” Sam said, handing Bucky the bowl. “My mom would make this whenever I was sick. Might help.”
Bucky took the bowl, smiling softly.
“Thanks.” He whispered, his voice quiet.
Sam went back to the living room to find Steve had somehow sprawled out and was lying face first on the couch, one foot hanging off the couch and the other hooked on the back.
“How the fuck?” Sam whispered. No seriously, how did he do that within not even five minutes?
Sam ended up running back to the kitchen when he heard Bucky go into a coughing fit. He found Bucky hunched over, metal hand covering his mouth as he coughed. Sam rushed over, patting Bucky’s back.
“Easy, just let it out. You’re doing fine, just let it out.”
Eventually, the coughing fit finally ended and Bucky was breathing properly again, though he was swaying on his feet.
“Easy Bucky, let’s get you sitting down.”
Sam helped Bucky to the floor, rubbing his back while Bucky tried to regain his breath.
“Jesus, that must’ve hurt.” Sam muttered, not meaning for Bucky to hear.
He felt Bucky tap his hand and looked up to him.
Yes, it did.
“You want some water?”
Bucky nodded and Sam got up to get him a glass of water. Bucky took it gratefully and took sips, careful not to just knock it back. He looked relieved when the cool water hit his throat. He and Sam continued to sit on the floor for a few minutes, making sure that Bucky was okay.
“Did the soup help any?” Sam asked. “Did you finish it?”
Bucky nodded and then shook his head.
“So the soup did help, but you didn’t finish it?”
Bucky nodded again.
“You feeling nauseous or is it because of the coughing fit.”
Both.
“You’re gonna have to finger spell that, slowly.”
B-O-T-H.
Shit.
“We’re getting you a fucking bucket.”
Bucky did a thumbs up and sighed, before shivering violently.
Hurry.
Shit!
…
Sam managed to get a large mixing bowl to Bucky seconds before he threw up. He held Bucky’s hair back while Bucky violently threw up, shaking. Bucky’s retching effectively woke Steve up, who fell off the couch with a thud and scrambled over to Bucky.
“Shit, what happened?” He asked, rubbing Bucky’s back.
“He had a coughing fit and said he felt nauseous. I managed to get this to him before he started hurling.” Sam said, trying to make sure Bucky didn’t get vomit in his hair. “Got any hair ties?”
“No, really should’ve gotten some.” Steve said.
“How about rubber bands? Those work in a pinch.”
Steve got up and hurried over to a drawer. He dug through it, triumphantly pulling out a small box of rubber bands. He hurried back, pulling out a rubber band and handing it to Sam, who tied Bucky’s hair back.
“You seriously need to get some hair ties.” Sam muttered.
Steve nodded absent-mindedly, gently rubbing Bucky’s back. Bucky was still retching. He didn’t stop for another five minutes.
Bucky was leaning heavily on Steve, looking much paler than before. He had the bowl in his lap, freshly cleaned. Steve was rubbing his back; Sam was holding a glass of water.
“When you get sick, you really get fucking sick.” Sam muttered. “How you feeling?”
Like death.
Steve translated for Sam, who nodded.
“You wanna lie down Buck?” Steve asked.
Bucky nodded slowly and, with Steve’s help, laid down onto the couch. He turned to his side and cradled Captain Ameribear close.
“You want anything Buck, something to help the nausea or do you wanna try and rest?”
Sleep.
Sam and Steve nodded and they left Bucky be, allowing him the freedom to try and get some rest (As little as that would be).
Steve decided to get started on dinner, since it was getting late. Sam sat on the counter top.
“You know you’re not an actual bird, right?” Steve said, cutting up some vegetables. “Why are you on my counter?”
“Caw caw,” Said Sam in a high pitched voice. “Fuck you Rogers. I’m a majestic falcon.”
“More like a deformed pigeon.”
Sam clapped a hand on his chest, a hurt expression on his face.
“Wow Steve. Words hurt you know.”
Steve turned to Sam and flashed a shit eating grin.
“Dick.”
The kitchen was silent, save for the sounds of Steve cooking, for a while. It was peaceful. It was domestic. And then there was the sound of Bucky retching again. Sam hurried back to over to Bucky, while Steve threw the knife down onto the cutting board and tripped over his feet trying to get to the living room. Luckily, or perhaps unluckily, only bile came up. Steve entered the living room only to find Bucky hunched over the bowl, spitting bile and saliva into it. Sam was rubbing his back.
“Steve?” Sam said. “I know most shit doesn’t work on you super soldiers, but is there anything that would help?” He asked.
Steve nodded and said, “Yes. Ginger ale usually helps me when I feel like puking. I’ll go out and grab some.”
“Get some Gatorade too!” Sam called after him. “If anything, it’ll make the puke taste better.”
Steve did a thumbs up from the door way and put on his shoes, before he raced out the door, wallet and keys in hand.
…
Steve came back with a bag filled with crackers and broth, an entire case of Gatorade, and two litres of ginger ale. According to Sam, Bucky had thrown up again, about ten minutes after Steve had left. Bucky whined softly when Steve offered him a small glass of ginger ale.
“It might help Buck.” Steve said. “It’s good for nausea.”
Bucky took it gingerly, his hand shaking slightly. He took a sip, snorting faintly when the bubbles hit his nose. He continued to sip it, happy of the new taste replacing the bile and vomit in his mouth. Steve sat down beside him, gently rubbing his back. Sam came back with the freshly washed bowl.
“Next time, you’re washing the bowl Rogers.” Sam said, handing the bowl to Bucky, who took it gratefully. “I’d tell Barnes to clean it, but considering he’s the one that needs it, I’m cutting him some slack.”
Steve sighed and nodded.
“Alright, fine. I’ll clean it next.”
Sam sat down heavily on the arm chair.
“Do you even want to try my mom’s soup again? Or would you rather stay away from food for now?” He asked Bucky.
Bucky shook his head and signed.
No food. Food bad.
Sam snorted quietly.
“Food’s not bad, your stomach just hates you.”
Fuck you stomach.
Steve snorted, laughing as he translated for Sam, who didn’t catch everything. |
None of Milo's friends had ever liked Jonathan Sims.
The guy was just so aloof, you know? Unless he was performing with his band, he rarely spoke or even smiled. He just...lurked, all across campus. In the library, his bright, heavily-lined eyes boring into you from over the edge of a book. In the corner of the cafe, messy hair falling into his face as he sat scowling into a cup of over-sugared coffee. Curled in the roots of that sprawling tree in the middle of the quad, strumming vaguely on a beat-up guitar or scribbling away into a little notebook that he never seemed to be without, the sharp lines of his face cast in dramatic shadow. Milo had asked him what he was writing once in an attempt to be friendly (or maybe more than friendly -- whatever his faults, the guy was hot, okay?), but was met with only a cold, "That's none of your business".
In fairness, maybe it wasn't the best opening question, since it could've been something private that he was writing, but still. Milo stopped trying to be friendly after that.
Many of the friends Milo made later shared similar stories, and Milo's curiosity about the brooding upperclassman faded into a vague sense of scorn. Everything about him seemed so composed, so carefully and obviously thought up to give off the air of mystery that had first drawn Milo (and apparently many others) to him. Milo shared a few lectures with him, mostly psychology and history-based stuff, and even there, he never paid much attention to anyone else in the class, unless he was studying someone he seemed to pick at random like they were a mildly interesting article he had to read for class, or answering one of the professor's questions in a bored, cool voice. That voice annoyed Milo to no end, but even worse was the fact that it answered every question correctly. It was like he was rubbing it in how smart he was.
Okay, so maybe Milo was still mildly obsessed with him until he graduated, but after that, he mostly forgot about him. He went on to graduate himself, and he had better things, better people, to be worrying about. In fact, he hadn't thought about the guy for months on the night he met his old mates for a few drinks at a pub near his new flat in London.
It was the sort of place Milo wouldn't ever think of going on his own -- way too rowdy -- but he could definitely some of his fellow actors from the theater company he worked at here. Once shows were running again, he'd have to keep this place in mind for cast parties. They were all a few beers in, cracking jokes and laughing too hard about stupid shit they did during their days at university, when his friend Kate leaned her head back against the booth and went, "God, remember Jon Sims?"
Kate's partner Jess snorted and rolled their eyes. "How could I forget? Our university's very own ghost. Not to mention, the ever-charming frontman of...of the...Lord, what was his band's name?"
"The Mechanics, wasn't it? Something like that," Milo's old dorm-mate Dave chimed in.
"The Mechanisms." Milo hated that he remembered that.
Dave and Jess both cracked up, and Kate hid her smirk behind a sip of her drink. "Sorry, Milo, I totally forgot about your creepy little crush on him," Jess giggled. "You been keeping tabs on him, then?"
"It was so not a crush--"
"Aw, lighten up, mate. You know we're only teasing," Dave cut Milo off, punching him gently on the arm.
"I know, I know," Milo grumbled, pushing Dave away. "And for the record, no, I haven't been keeping tabs on him. Why d'you ask?"
"I was just thinking about this crazy story I saw on the news...god, awhile ago. Don't remember exactly when. You remember when that weird wax museum exploded?" Kate asked, leaning forward.
"Er, kinda?" Milo remembered hearing about the story, but it was only just strange enough to stick with him. He couldn't recall any details.
"Well, apparently, he was there. I think it had something to do with his job, some kind of investigation." Kate's voice lowered as she shared this bit of information, like it was an extremely juicy secret.
"Whoa. Is he, like...okay?" Dave asked. Milo was more gratified by that than maybe he should've been. Sure, he didn't like the guy, but it's not like he wanted him to have died in an explosion. It was good to see his friends felt the same.
"I mean, he didn't die, so he must be okay by now, right? I think it's been like a year."
"Wait, hang on, what sort of job even has 'investigate a spooky wax museum' anywhere in the job description?" Jess cut in. "Like, how'd he even end up there?"
"Dunno. Let me see if I can find the article," Kate answered, pulling out her phone. After a minute or so of searching, her smirk returned. "Right. Someplace called the Magnus Institute, apparently. Let's see what they do." She typed something else into her phone, spent a few seconds reading, and then burst out laughing.
"Well?" Dave prompted. Jess looped an arm over Kate's shoulder and peered down at the phone screen, squinting slightly to read it.
"The Magnus Institute, founded 1818, is dedicated to exploration and research of the supernatural," Jess read out, fighting back a laugh of their own. "If you have experienced a traumatic event that you believe was paranormal in origin, you may schedule an appointment to add your statement to our Archives. Whenever possible, our researchers will attempt to follow through and determine the cause of your experience. Walk-ins and scheduled appointments accepted. To make an appointment or inquire about a previously given statement, contact the office of Institute Head Elias Bouchard, or..." Jess snorted again before reading on. "Or Head Archivist, Jonathan Sims."
"So his job is just listening to people tell scary stories?" Milo asked with an incredulous laugh.
"And then deciding whether or not those stories are real, sounds like," Kate answered. "Fucking perfect for him, isn't it? The judgy asshole."
Milo looked over at Dave to see him chuckling to himself, staring into his drink thoughtfully. "I just had kind of a funny idea," he said. Kate and Jess exchanged a glance with each other, then Milo. But Dave didn't say anything else.
"Well, go on, then," Milo said, nudging him gently with his elbow.
"I bet we could fool him. Make up some ghost story and get his Institute to do a report on it. See how smart the smartass looks then, running off on a wild goose chase," Dave said softly, a conspiratorial light coming into his eyes.
Kate leaned in. "Oh, I am so there. But who should give the statement? Would look a bit suspicious if all of us went together, 'specially if he actually remembers us."
Maybe it was the alcohol, or maybe just sheer curiosity about Sims and this strange Institute, but Milo found himself blurting, "I'll do it." He realized how that looked as soon as the words left his mouth. "And not for the reason you're all thinking. It's just...I'm the actor, aren't I? If anyone's gonna convince him, it's me. And anyway, it's my off season right now, so I don't have nearly as much to do during the day as you lot, rehearsals and stuff can be easy to work around. I think missing work for a practical joke is a bit much."
Dave nodded slowly. "Fine by me."
Jess and Kate both murmured their assent as well, and then Jess grinned. "So what're you gonna say?"
~~~~~
And that's how Milo found himself in front of a mirror at 9:30 the following Tuesday morning, wondering what the hell a person was even supposed to wear to give a statement. The Magnus Institute sounded like a pretty formal place (I mean, hell, it had the word Institute in the name), but if people just walked in off the streets to give statements, surely he didn't need to go to any great lengths to dress up, right? He settled on a button-down and jeans, nice and casual. Intentionally nondescript. That, put his cargo jacket -- Kate wanted him to record the conversation, so Milo would have proof if Sims actually bought the story, so he needed something with decent chest pockets.
The trip to the Institute was a fairly quick one on the Tube, and at around 10:15, Milo found himself stood in front of a white tower that was really rather impressive. A bronzey nameplate beside the heavy-looking wooden doors told him that he'd come to the right place. He opened the Voice Memo app on his phone and hit Record. A wave of nerves not unlike stage fright washed over him as he stood there, staring at those doors. He took a deep breath, squashed them down, and made his way inside.
A pretty woman with carefully styled red hair sat at a large desk by the entrance. The secretary, Milo figured. A metal nametag pinned to her sweater announced that she was Rosie. Rosie was fixated on the computer that sat before her, typing away with very loud acrylic nails and paying precisely zero attention to Milo.
"Er...excuse me?" Milo said tentatively. Rosie stopped, looked up, smiled. Milo smiled back, with the practiced shy smile he often used to garner sympathy from audiences -- or any strangers he needed to use it on, really.
"Suppose you're here to make a statement, yes?" Rosie asked.
Milo nodded. "Is the Head Archivist here?"
Rosie's eyes darted to her screen before returning to Milo. "He should be in, yes. But if he's busy, you can also ask for Mr. Blackwood or Mr. Sto-- er, I mean, Ms. King. Ms. Hussain should be in, too. Stairs are to your left. It's one flight down, Mr. Sims' office is right at the end of the hall." Her expression shifted slightly as she fumbled the names, but quickly as it left, her smile returned. Milo offered her another little grin before heading for the stairs.
The Archives smelled of old books and mildew, and were far colder than the room upstairs. Milo was certainly grateful for his cargo jacket as he wandered down the hall, coming to a stop outside a door at the end of the hall simply labeled, "Archivist". Milo knocked, and when the low, gravelly "come in" came from the other side of the door, Milo pushed it open and stepped inside.
Jonathan Sims looked terrible. He was even thinner than Milo remembered, his already-bony hands and face almost skeletal in appearance. The messy hair Milo remembered was in worse condition than ever, falling tangled and silver-streaked almost to Sims' shoulders. His skin was pockmarked with round, pale little scars, and upon looking closer at Sims' hands, Milo noticed a very odd scar indeed on the right one. It looked almost like...fingermarks.
Sims looked up at Milo, and his hazel eyes sparked in recognition. Hazel? Milo always thought Sims' eyes were brown. Must've just misremembered, he supposed.
"Milo," said Sims, disbelief echoing sharp in each syllable. Milo was surprised Sims even remembered his name. "I didn't expect to see you here."
"Yes, well." Milo shifted on his feet, not even needing to fake his unease. "I heard what you lot do here. I came to make a statement."
Sims raised an eyebrow, his expression as utterly unreadable as it had been whenever Milo saw it on campus. He gestured to the seat across from his desk, and Milo sank into it. He noticed the antique-looking tape recorder on Sims' desk just as he pushed the button to start it running. "Please state your name and the subject of your experience."
"Er...Milo McCree, and...well, it's hard to describe? I think I was almost kidnapped." Now that he was a bit more settled, amusement bubbled inside Milo as he remembered Jess helping him drum up the story. He fought a smile, working hard to keep his expression solemn.
"That doesn't sound very supernatural." That infuriating coolness had crept into Sims' voice, that sheer indifference that always made Milo feel so inferior. Any threat of smiling had vanished. Milo was a man on a mission now. He was going to nail this.
"I, I know, but..." Milo affected a frustrated sigh. "I think it'll be easier if I just...start from the top, yeah?"
"Please." Sims turned and spoke into the recorder, his voice taking on a deeper undertone that Milo found a touch melodramatic, but rather funny. "Statement of Milo McCree, regarding his attempted kidnapping." Then he leaned back in his chair, gaze intense as ever as it latched onto Milo's face. Milo didn't meet it.
"Right. So, the building I live in is big. Forty floors, actually, and I think...fifteen flats on each floor? Yeah. Something like that. So, with a building like that, it's pretty normal to see moving vans and stuff out front. I mean, that many flats, somebody's moving in or out almost every week, it seems."
Milo had barely even gotten started, but Sims already looked invested. It might have been amusing, if the way he stared at Milo weren't so deeply unsettling. Still, Milo pressed on. "So about three months ago, I saw this one van out front, didn't think much of it. I do remember it had kind of a catchy name, something like..."
"Breekon and Hope?" Sims cut him off.
That hadn't been the name of the delivery company Milo was going to go for at all. But hey, all the best theater was improv, and Milo considered himself something of an expert at the "yes, and" technique. If Sims had already heard of some demon delivery company, Milo certainly wasn't going to deny it. So, he rolled with it. "Yes, Breekon and Hope, that's it. Their van was outside one day when I was coming home from work, and honestly, I didn't pay a ton of attention. There weren't any people around it, which I thought was weird, but I figured whoever was moving was just inside, and the delivery people were helping them carry something big. So I went on my way."
A small, wry laugh here, as if he couldn't believe he'd been so naive. A slight drawing in of the shoulders, as if shrinking back from a bad memory. Everybody always told Milo that his nonverbal cues were the best part of his acting. "The next day, when I was leaving for work, I saw the van again. Same spot, like it had been left there overnight. If I'd had more time to think about it, that probably would've been when I noticed things were wrong. But, well, I didn't have more time to think about it. See, I was running super late and...well, you know how it is."
Milo did look up at Sims here, offer him a vague smile. Sims didn't return it. Then again, maybe Sims didn't know what it was like to be running late for something. He struck Milo as the annoyingly punctual type. "But anyway, I just kept seeing it. It was there when I got home that night, and all the next day, and quite a few days after that. Way too long for anybody to actually be using it to move. And another thing I eventually noticed -- there's no way it could've been a legal parking job, but it never got booted or towed or anything. Never even picked up any parking tickets. I mentioned it to one of my friends who lives in the building, and she looked at me like I was crazy." An invisible demon delivery van. Milo remembered Dave being quite proud of himself when he came up with that little detail.
"Anyway, I had just kind of accepted that the van was just going to kind of be around when..." Milo dropped his gaze to the floor and took an intentionally shaky breath.
"When the kidnapping happened?" Sims prompted. His voice wasn't gentle, but it was softer than before. Encouraging. In a quiet way, almost eager.
"Yes," Milo breathed. "It was late. I don't know how late exactly -- one in the morning? Two? Late enough that the friend I usually walk back with from the pub had gone home without me, and I was alone. I was maybe 30 meters away or so when I saw the van, and the people beside it. There were these...I mean, they can't have been, not really, but I can't think of them as anything other than delivery men."
"Two of them?" Sims asked, eyes lighting up. "What did they look like?"
Shit. Kate had come up with what the guys looked like, but Milo couldn't remember. "Yes, there were two of them," he began. "They were...well, it was hard to make out. I was still quite far away, and it was dark. But I...I got the feeling that even if I were up close, I couldn't have given many details. They just had that kind of energy." That was good. Milo nodded to himself slowly, as though things were starting to come back to him. "I remember they were tall, well-built. Regular delivery guys, you know? Like they were strong, used to carrying heavy loads."
"I see," Sims said seriously. But then his face twisted into a smirk. "Statement ends."
Shit. Milo knew he'd been caught, but he couldn't give up that easy. "Wh-- what? But I haven't even gotten to the--"
"I must say, this statement was quite an interesting one," Sims spoke right over Milo. He was clearly talking to the recorder, but his gaze never left Milo's. "Despite being a blatant lie from beginning to end, Mr. McCree did manage to hit on quite a few details that accurately describe the real Breekon and Hope. Or, simply, the real Breekon, considering that the entity calling itself Hope was dead for over six months before this events of this statement supposedly occurred." Milo sunk deeper into his chair, guilty, as Sims continued. "Perhaps the Stranger did in fact have some effect on Mr. McCree. It is a fan of theatrics, after all. May be worth a look into, though I sincerely doubt it. End recording."
Later, Milo would listen to his recording of this part of Sims' speech and wonder what the hell he was talking about, but right now he was too humiliated to process it.
Sims leaned forward across his desk, his eyes alight with fury and much greener than Milo remembered them being when he walked in. But when he spoke, his voice was still as cold and level as it always was. "You know, you almost had me going. If it hadn't been for you missing the bit about Hope's death, there was an honest chance I still would have believed you."
Milo raised his chin in an effort to match Sim's haughtiness. "Well, how do you know this Hope is even dead? How much business could you possibly do with with some demonic mailmen?"
"More than I'd like to think about," Sims answered. "And I watched him die. A friend of mine killed him." He shook back his knotted hair to reveal a ragged, pale scar spanning his neck. "The same friend who gave me this."
Milo didn't have anything that would have even remotely made sense as a response to that, and another question sprang into his mind. "You said you might have believed me if I'd known about Hope dying. What made you think I was lying before?"
Sims stood at this and walked around the front of his desk, leering even close to Milo. How had Milo never noticed how tall he was before? If not for the fact that he looked as though a strong enough breeze might blow him away, he'd really be rather intimidating. Of course, Milo was plenty intimidated now. He realized with horror that Sims' eyes were actually glowing green now, a revelation that startled him so badly that he might have toppled backwards in his chair if not for that fact that Sims had slammed his hands down on the armrests to keep Milo from fleeing his seat.
"You have no idea what the hell kind of work this Institute does," Sims snarled. "How important it is. It has been my job to vet these statements for quite awhile now. I can f-- I know a real statement when I'm hearing it." The change in words took some of the bite out of Sims' speech, but definitely not all of it. Especially considering what he said next. "I could tell you were recording the second you walked in. Kate, Dave, and Jess put you up to this, didn't they?"
"How did you know--?"
"It is my job to know lots of things." Those glowing eyes bored straight through Milo's skull, and for a second he was filled with so much fear he almost broke down crying. Sims stood and turned away, but Milo stayed frozen to his seat. That is, until Sims glared over his shoulder at him and said, "Get the hell out of my office."
That was when Milo ran.
~~~~~
At Dave's flat, the four of them listened to the end of the recording in disbelief and (in Milo's case) fear. The audio was corrupted slightly, but you could still hear every word Sims was saying.
When it finished, everyone was silent. Kate was the first to break it. "And you're sure he wasn't bullshitting you?"
"Are you serious?" Milo scoffed. "Listen to the recording! All that weird static in the background! That, and his eyes were literally fucking glowing."
"Well...what d'you wanna do?" Dave asked. "Should we bring it to the police?"
"Don't be daft. What the hell would they even charge him with? First-Degree Spookiness?" Milo asked.
Jess smirked. "Becoming an even bigger know-it-all than he was in uni." They suggested.
Despite himself, Milo chuckled. "He has, hasn't he?" As terrifying as the speech was as the time...it was very quintessential Jonathan Sims. All that talk about importance and knowledge and duty.
Kate rolled her eyes. "I still think he was fucking with you. At least partly."
Milo just shrugged. "Well, I'll tell you what. Next time we decide to prank somebody, let's make sure they don't work with the paranormal."
"I hear that asshole Eddie from your old Political Science class is a banker now, is that safe enough for you?" Dave teased.
"Fuck off."
As he joked and laughed with his friends, the horrible image of Jonathan Sims slowly faded from Milo's mind. By the time he went to sleep last night, the only thing he remembered with any clarity were those bizarre green eyes.
|
Eiji is ... concerned.
Ash has spoken to him less and less over the last month or so, to the point of near silence. Eiji knows that Ash wouldn’t give him the ‘silent treatment’ or anything like that in response to something Eiji’s done. It’s probably something to do with Ash himself, and Ash might not even realize how much he’s withdrawing.
Of course, Eiji is still worried that something he did caused this reaction. But he’s decided to give Ash the space to come to him in his own time. Eiji is worried, to say the least, but he doesn’t want to pressure Ash.
One day, the silence changes drastically.
“Eiji,” Ash says suddenly.
Eiji nearly jumps. It feels like Ash hasn’t said his name in weeks.
“Yes, my love?”
“I love you.”
Eiji grins, elated. “I love you too! So, so much.”
“Thank you,” Ash whispers.
“For what?” Eiji asks gently. Always gentle.
“Loving me,” Ash responds, but he’s smiling. Not like when he’s spiraling. Like he’s genuinely happy that Eiji loves him, which is a welcome change.
“I am more than happy to love you.” Eiji feels warm, content.
Ash cooks dinner for both of them that night. He’s been cooking more recently, but this meal is more extravagant than usual. Eiji notes that Ash bought the ingredients for the meal days ago. Had he been planning this? What for?
“What’s the occasion?” Eiji asks as they sit down to eat.
“I just love you,” Ash repeats, for the second time that day. It’s rather rare for Ash to express his love out loud at all, and much less so in the last month. But Eiji won’t question it, not when it makes him so incredibly happy. Ash feeling comfortable enough to express his emotions is something Eiji will always be grateful for.
“Thank you,” Eiji says, smiling.
“... Why?” Ash asks after a moment.
“Loving me,” Eiji responds, echoing Ash’s earlier words.
Ash is silent for the rest of the evening, but Eiji doesn’t mind. He’ll give Ash the time he needs to come away from whatever’s going on, whatever is causing him this pain.
At seven the next morning, Eiji realizes that this may have been a mistake.
“You’re up early,” Eiji says brightly, stretching in bed. Ash already up when Eiji wakes? Definitely a change of pace, though not a bad one.
Ash gets up from the desk in their bedroom. He seems to hesitate for a long, long moment.
“Ash?” Eiji asks. Ash is standing at the foot of the bed now, staring at Eiji. His expression is ... indescribable, really. Maybe sad. Maybe brokenhearted.
“I’m leaving,” Ash blurts suddenly.
Eiji blinks. “Where are you going?”
“N-no, I mean—I’m leaving. You. I’m leaving you. For good.”
It’s silent for several long, long seconds. A silence that physically hurts Eiji.
“... What?” Eiji asks eventually.
But Ash just repeats, “I’m leaving.”
“Ash?”
Ash shakes his head, fidgeting with the hem of his shirt.
“Ash, you haven’t even ...” Eiji looks around the room. “You haven’t even packed any of your belongings.”
“You can have them. You can have all of it.”
“What ... what’s going on? Don’t you ... Ash, you said just yesterday that you love me.”
Ash bites down on his lip. “I do,” he admits. His voice is thick, heavy. “I love you. So much. I’m in love with you. I ... Eiji, I fall in love with you every time I open my eyes in the morning. Every time I close my eyes at night. I fall in love with you with my every exhale and your every inhale. I’m in love with you, and I always will be.”
Ash never ... he never expresses himself like this.
“Then why?” Eiji whispers. He’s in his pajamas, sitting up in bed like it’s a normal morning. Like Ash isn’t ... leaving.
“I can’t keep doing this to you.” Ash says it flatly, with almost no emotion behind his voice. A stark contrast to his last words.
“Doing what, love?”
“Hurting you. Destroying you. Tearing you apart.”
“I—I don’t understand.” Eiji sits up straighter in bed, pushing his palms into the mattress.
“You deserve better,” Ash says. Resolute now. “You can do so much better than me. You deserve better. And I deserve ... worse.”
“Ash, I—I can’t imagine my life without you.”
“You won’t have to imagine.”
The room spins around Eiji. He barely registers Ash moving to the bedside and dropping himself down onto the floor. Eiji just keeps staring at the point where Ash had been standing, as though he’s still there. As though he had never left that spot, and never will.
“Where are you going to go?” Eiji whispers at the empty spot where Ash had been.
“It doesn’t matter,” Ash replies from Eiji’s side.
Eiji slowly turns to face him. His brow furrows. “Do you even have a plan?” he demands.
Ash averts his gaze. “I’ll figure something out. I always have.”
“You shouldn’t have to.”
Instead of replying, Ash wrings his hands in his lap.
“Ash, are you—are you planning to—prostitute yourself, or ... ?”
“That or die,” Ash admits flatly. “Either is fine. I’ll figure something out.”
“That’s not ... sweetheart, that doesn’t count as figuring something out.”
“It does. Both are fine.”
The world is still spinning, and now Eiji’s breath leaves him as though he’s been hit in the stomach. He’s dizzy, hurt, confused. He’s ... heartbroken. Maybe as much as Ash is.
“I can’t imagine my life without you,” Eiji croaks.
“That’s okay. You won’t have to imagine.”
“That’s not what I mean!”
Eiji sees Ash clenching and unclenching his fists. God, everything is—this is all wrong. Eiji’s heart hurts. It’s falling apart, he’s—he’s falling apart.
Slowly, cautiously, Ash whispers, “Thank you for lying to me. But you don’t have to anymore.”
“Lying?” Eiji whispers.
“That you love me. That you care. That I’m ... worth it. That I deserve ... anything. Your love. Anything.”
“It’s not lying!” Eiji protests. His eyes burn. Everything’s blurry. Why is this happening? What’s ... why? Why, why, why?
“I’m sorry,” Ash breathes. Then he laughs—somehow, Ash brings himself to laugh—and Eiji’s chest collapses entirely. “At least this is the last time I’ll ever have to say sorry to you.”
“I need you,” Eiji whispers. He throws the blankets off of himself and stumbles out of the bed.
Ash’s eyes flash, and he jumps up to standing in one fluid motion. “Stay away,” Ash growls. “Don’t ever come near me again.”
Ash has never ... Eiji has heard his voice sound like this a dozen times or more, but never directed at Eiji.
Now Eiji collapses to the floor. “I’d do anything for you,” he confesses. “I’d ... anything, Ash. Will you let me?”
Shaking his head, Ash smiles, but it doesn’t reach his eyes. “You already know I’d do anything for you. If you wanted me to throw myself into the ocean for you, I would. In a heartbeat.”
“Ash. Ash, my—my love, my heart, my soul. I want you to stay.”
Ash’s smile falters and falls apart. “I can’t do that.”
“That’s all I need. All I want from you.”
“Anything but that. That’s ... the one thing I can’t give you. I can give you myself in a thousand ways, but I can’t stay. Not with you.”
“Why not? Ash, what’s ... Why are you doing this?”
Ash takes a step back from where Eiji landed on the floor. “I told you,” he says. “I don’t deserve you. And if I leave, you can move on. You can do better. You can ... forget me, and go where you’re meant to in life. Away from me. Safe, happy, content—”
“I am all of those things with you!”
But Ash just shakes his head again. “Even if you can do this, even if you can stay with me ... I can’t. I don’t ... Eiji, this? This—love? Love isn’t a language I’ve ever had to learn. And it’s too late, now. I can’t ... I’ll never be able to. I’ll never be able to accept your love, or return it.”
“You already are!” Eiji insists. “You love me. I know you do. I see it every day, and it’s flawless and perfect and amazing and I love you for it! I love you, I love you, I love you a thousand times for it.”
“I don’t deserve you,” Ash repeats. He shakes his head. “You don’t—chain me down. You don’t control me. But ... maybe I should be chained down. Maybe I deserve to be owned.”
“Ash!” Eiji shakes his head, clenching his hands into fists. “Is this my fault? Have I ... hurt you, or—?”
“No, Eiji. You could never. You’re ... fuck, you’re amazing. You’re the only one who can—make me feel this way. But I don’t deserve to feel this way.”
“Stop!” Eiji yells. He takes a breath, trying to lower his voice. He never wants to yell at Ash. This—none of this is what he’s ever wanted. “Stop with—all this talk of what you deserve, Ash. That’s not—I hate it! I hate it, I hate it, I hate it.”
“Why?” Ash smiles, but his eyes are dark. “It’s the truth.”
“It is not! You deserve—everything, Ash. Everything good. You deserve the world, and I would give it to you if I could.”
Ash takes another fucking step back, bumping into the desk chair behind him. With every centimeter of distance between them, Eiji feels Ash grow apart from him by kilometers.
“It’s not—” Ash starts. He laughs. “It’s cliche, but it’s not you. It’s me. I’m fucked up. I always have been. It’s always been me. Always me hurting you, always me holding you back. Always me unable to accept the love that you so selflessly provide.”
“You think I am the selfless one between us?” Eiji asks, astounded.
Ash’s brow furrows. “Yes? I’m—Eiji, you’re perfect, and I’m as selfish as they come. More ... more than any person.”
“I hate this,” Eiji whispers.
Ash reaches behind him, gripping the desk chair in both of his hands. “I’m the only one who hears the silence in my head. And ... I can’t ... It drowns you out, sometimes. And you don’t deserve that. You deserve better.”
“Please come back,” Eiji pleads, as though Ash has already left. Maybe ... maybe he has.
“Eiji, I—fuck. Fuck!” Ash bites down on his lip, and this time Eiji notices that it’s too red. He’s bleeding.
Eiji wants so badly to step forward, but ... Ash told him not to, and ... What is he supposed to do in this situation? He can’t—he can’t let Ash leave. He can’t, he can’t! But ... if he makes him stay, how is he any different than everyone else who ... chained Ash down, in Ash’s own words?
“Eiji,” Ash repeats, and this time his expression is dark, and his voice darker. “Eiji, I—when you live a childhood where condoms outnumber baby teeth a dozen to one, where you see more clients than report cards, you wind up losing more than just your virginity.”
Eiji is speechless.
“You lose your humanity,” Ash whispers. Smiling.
“No, Ash. No, no! You’re not—Ash, I love you! I love you so, so so so much. Why can’t you see that?”
“That’s just it,” Ash says. He releases his grip on the chair, but then licks a bit of blood off of his lip.
Eiji can almost taste the copper himself, from two meters away.
“I can see it. I know how much you love me, and that ... that’s why I have to leave. I can’t do this to you. Not anymore.”
Eiji feels his body heat up. “No!” he yells. Wait, no—no, don’t yell at Ash. This isn’t his fault.
But Ash doesn’t even flinch.
“You are not hurting me, Ash. You would never hurt me.”
“You’re just blind to it,” Ash says. He’s glaring at Eiji now. “I’ve convinced you that I’m worth it. Because I’m—selfish, I’m evil, and I want your love. But I don’t deserve it.”
“You keep ...” Eiji takes a deep breath, trying to reign his heart back in. It’s running away from him, desperately trying to reach Ash. “You keep talking like you know what you deserve. But I do not think that you do. I don’t think ... I don’t think you understand at all.”
“I know,” Ash says bitterly. “I know what I deserve, and it’s ... not you. Not love. Not this gentleness you give me, not this kindness. I deserve ...” He laughs, but when he closes his eyes a tear slips out. “I deserve my past. Everything from ... before you.”
“What can I say to convince you to stay?” Eiji whispers. There has to be—something. “I’ll do anything. Anything at all, if you’ll just stay.”
Ash hesitates now, and Eiji feels a spark of hope.
“May I take a step closer to you?” Eiji asks. “Just a single step.”
Ash sobs first, but after a moment he nods.
Eiji slowly stands and steps forward. And it’s just a step, but it’s progress.
Breathing out of sync, Ash presses himself back against the desk chair, pushing it against the desk. “If you ... if you ever see me again, you don’t know me. Pretend you don’t know me.”
“I don’t think I can do that, my love. I don’t think I could ever make myself do something that would break my heart so thoroughly, let alone yours.”
“You have to,” Ash breathes. “You’ll have to. Or I’ll have to—leave. Farther.”
Eiji closes his eyes for a moment. When he opens them, he asks, “May I take another step closer to you?”
Ash nods.
Progress.
“Do you want to leave?” Eiji asks, stepping forward. “Do you really, truly want to leave?”
“Yes,” Ash says. Immediate, confident, resolute.
Eiji’s heart shatters. But then—
“For me, or for you?” he asks.
“For you,” Ash replies, just as sure of himself as before.
Frowning, Eiji resists the urge to step forward again. Not until he can ask if he may. “What do you want for yourself?” he asks instead.
Ash hesitates now, and Eiji counts it as a small victory.
“You,” Ash whispers. “To stay with you.”
“Another step?” Eiji asks.
Ash squeezes his eyes shut. He gasps, or sobs, or just fucking cries, but he also nods.
Eiji steps forward, and now he’s right in front of Ash.
“If you want to stay, then stay,” Eiji breathes.
“No, Eiji, I—I can’t. I can’t ... do that to you.”
“May I hold your hand?” Eiji asks softly. “Please.”
Slowly—painfully, heartbreakingly slow, Ash reaches out a hand into the space between the two of them.
Eiji carefully takes hold of Ash’s hand. He squeezes gently, ever so cautious. Never forcing Ash, never pressuring him or making him uncomfortable.
Just showing him love.
“Stay,” Eiji whispers. Pleading, begging. “Please.”
“I ...” Ash starts. Hesitates again. Small victories. “I can’t ...”
“But you want to?” Eiji clarifies.
“Of course!” Ash admits. “I would love nothing more, but—”
“But you don’t deserve to,” Eiji finishes, all but rolling his eyes. “Ash, do you trust my judgement?”
Ash hesitates. Another victory. “Maybe in general, but—not in this. I can’t. You’re biased, Eiji. I—I fucked with your mind, and hurt you beyond belief, and ... I’ll just keep doing it, unless I leave.”
“May I hug you?” Eiji asks.
“No, no—fuck, no!” Ash cries. But at the same time, he flings himself forward, not letting go of Eiji’s hand as he crashes into him. Ash’s body is so slight that Eiji doesn’t even have to step back.
“Thank you,” Eiji breathes. “Thank you, Ash. My love.”
“I’m hurting you,” Ash insists. He’s sobbing now, fully crying, and it breaks Eiji’s heart.
“You are not. You could never. And I would tell you if you were.”
“I am; I am, Eiji, I am!”
“Never,” Eiji repeats. He squeezes Ash’s hand softly, and holds Ash close to him with his other arm. “You never have. Not a single time.”
“Always,” Ash protests. A sob tears through him, and he shakes against Eiji. “I have to—go; I have to leave!”
“It tears me apart that you think you need to leave me,” Eiji whispers, “but I am glad that you truly want to stay.”
Ash collapses, and Eiji supports his weight and lowers both of them to the floor. He holds Ash close still, all but pulling him into his lap.
“I shouldn’t,” Ash whimpers. “I’m selfish for wanting to.”
“You are not. You are not selfish for wanting something for yourself for once in your life.”
“I’m ... bad. Evil. I’m the villain in your life, ever since I met you.”
Eiji scoffs. “You are far from any of those things. You are good, and pure, and kind and selfless and absolutely incredible, Ash. Do you believe me?”
“No,” Ash says defiantly. Stubborn asshole.
“You will, one day,” Eiji insists. “If you stay.”
“Maybe ...” Ash whispers. “If you ... really, really want me to.”
“I do. It is all I want in this world. All I need in this world is you.”
Eiji feels a fire in his chest, in his heart. A spark that flares up, burning brighter than any love he’s felt before. And with every breath Ash takes, pressed against Eiji’s chest like this, the flames burn higher.
“I love you,” Ash whispers. “I’m sorry, but I do. I’m sorry I love you.”
“I am so grateful for your love.”
Ash falls to his side, pulling Eiji down with him until they’re both lying on the floor. Eiji laughs, and Ash somehow manages a giggle through his tears.
“I love you,” Ash repeats.
“I love you too. More than anything.”
Ash hugs Eiji close against him, and tangles their legs together. “Eiji,” he whispers.
“Will you stay?” Eiji asks.
Burying his face into Eiji’s neck, Ash sobs for what Eiji hopes is a final time.
“Yeah,” he breathes. “I’ll ... if you want. I’ll stay. As long as you want.”
Eiji breathes out a laugh. “How many times must I tell you? Though I will say it as many times as you need.”
“One more time?” Ash asks softly.
“Forever.” Eiji presses a kiss to Ash’s hair. “Forever.”
|
Izuku felt the tension. Fuck. Anyone that went inside the surveillance room would immediately know that something was wrong. No one were saying anything and that got Midoriya’s nerve.
He’d messed up didn’t he?
“Why didn’t I notice it earlier? Using a gun was, obviously, not okay.”
Izuku started to felt like he was going to vomit with all the pressure and worry.
“But All MIght didn’t said anything about not using weapons. Yaoyorozu-san could’ve created one if I 'd asked her to!”
But there was no time and he thought that it was reasonable to use his gun.
“Woooow. I didn’t even saw when you created the gun! You must’ve been pretty fast!” The only person that didn’t read the situation exclaimed.
A blonde that has an electric quirk.
“Kaminari Denki... You are pretty dense”
“I didn’t made it. It was Midoriya’s weapon.” Yaoyorozu didn’t seem bother at all. But Izuku saw past her serious face. She hold a gun against a student, one of his classmates and upcoming hero.
“She’s strong enough, she will shake it off… maybe”
Well time cures almost everything. Almost.
“Dude, is that real?” Kirishima said with a fake smile, hiding his worry.
“Yes” Silence. Just that.
“THE VILLAINS TEAM WON. WHY DID THAT HAPPENED? ANYONE?” Talking like nothing had happened All Might waited for an answer.
“Midoriya had a gun! It wasn’t fair for the Hero Team!” Kaminari voiced everyone's thoughts.
“Fair? In this world you can't expect that. Will a villain not use a weapon when you only use your quirk? No. They'll do anything to complete their objective.” Midoriya used a harsh voice. He had faced a lot of unfairness.
“But we aren’t villains! We are heroes that use their quirks!” A pink haired girl complained.
“And what will happen when they cancel your quirk? You know that it’s a possibility and that it can happen. What will you do? What
can you
do?” Midoriya looked at everyone's costumes, but they only had support items for their quirks,
not for them.
“The majority of you has emitter quirks that can be erased. You won’t be able to save people like this.” Izuku was mad. Why did he have to beat some common sense to them?
Luckily for him the bell rang.
All Might glanced at him but stopped.
“He wants to talk.”
But Izuku didn’t.
They all exited the room to go to their next class. They glanced at him trying not to be caught. But he knew it. Half of his class thought that he acted like a villain and the other half lost the admiration that they felt towards him.
“Will Ochako-san and Tenya-kun still want to be friends with me?”
That was the only thing that mattered to him now… well there’s another one.
“Literature. I’m expected to go with the principal but… Is he going to pick me up? Do I have to go on my own? Does the Pro Hero Cementoss know? Do I have to tell him? Will he believe me? Should I...?” Before he could continue to imagine the possibilities of Cementoss not believing him, the teacher spoke.
“Midoriya Izuku?” The hero asked.
“Yes!” It was mechanical action that he didn't paid attention to.
“I’ve been informed that you won’t be taking my class, so you shall go to where your class is being taken.”
“Yes!”
Izuku thanked the way the hero handled the situation. He’d said just the perfect amount of information for him to understand and not for the others to know. Even though the curiosity and glances on hin increased.
There were a lot of questions that his classmates wanted to ask when he took his yellow backpack and excited the room. His nervousness decreased while he walked to Nezu’s office.
It obviously came back when he faced and knocked the door.
“I see that you caused quite the commotion in your class” Nezu was sitting in his chair but he wasn’t looking at him. “How did he..?”
“How did I know what Midoriya-kun?” Izuku freezed but remained calm. “How did I know that you were the one knocking? Or, how did I know what you did in your first Class of Heroics?” Nezu turned around to smile at him enigmatically.
“Knowing it was me was pretty easy because I have class with you and about what I did… You have cameras right?” Izuku answered his own questions after a pause.
“That’s exactly right, Midoriya-kun!” The principal clapped his hands, paws,... whatever they were happily. Like a kid seeing a dog sit when commanded.
“Why did you watched my class? Don’t you have important things to do, principal Nezu?” He sounded way
too
rude.
Before Izuku could correct himself he hear a kind chuckle and his gut stopped telling him that he was in danger.
“Ah. I guess that I have better things to do but I do like watching my students in their first Heroics Class. I can grasp information about what kind of hero they are going to be.” Nezu waited for an answer.
“What kind of hero am I going to be?” He didn’t know Nezu was watching but would’ve done the same thing in the battles.
“What kind of hero are you going to be?” That took his calm persona off.
“Um. I will save all the people that I can. I will save the people like me… Discriminated and hated by society, without a place where they can fit…” That’s what he wanted. Equality for everyone. Quirkless people and people without fashy quirks should have the same opportunity in life as anyone else.
“That would be a nice hero. We should be getting started then, right?” The shiver that ran through Izuku’s spine told him that Nezu continued to be the same.
“Izuku-kun! We have waited for you!” Uraraka greated him.
“I-Im sorry. Nezu wouldn’t let me leave before resolving a really difficult problem” Fuck. Shit.
Midoriya was tired. His mind had gone through hell and back when the class started. Nezu forced him to use his analyzing skills until his head spined and, when that happened, he forced it with another problem. One that Izuku believed was a real murder case.
“That’s the name of the principal of UA! Did you have class with him?” Of course Tenya would know the name of the principal and immediately connected dots.
“Ah. Yes. I’m his… personal student. That’s why I didn’t attend the Literature Class” His voice was almost a whisper.
“I should’ve known this from all the skills that you have! Having a class with the principal himself? That’s simply incredible.” Iida smiled. A kind smile. He wasn’t teasing him.
“That’s amazing! What does he teach you? How are his classes?” He smiled at Ochako’s reaction. His friends still wanted him.
They walked to the train station while talking about the classes due to this being the first day. Izuku tried his best no to scare them with Nezu’s teaching. But they inevitably talked about the battle trial.
“I have a question, Izuku-kun. What was the object that Yaoyorozu-san created? If the… weapon was yours, then what was the other object?” Tenya-kun asked cautiously.
“Yeah! The object that she glued to the door where she hided in!”
“Oh? That? One time I read an article about an object that can eliminate all the sound in a room. I told her the composition of the device and she made it! Isn’t that amazing?! She only needs to know the atomic composition to made it!” Izuku said excitedly. He likes to talk about quirks.
“And you know the exact chemical composition of that complicated device?!”
Uraraka and Iida though, Midoriya Izuku was
really
skilled.
|
Chapter 10
Tiber wasn't a match for me; her attacks where wild and unfocused. She was flailing more than striking and throwing herself off balance in the process. More than once she fell to a knee, angering herself further in futile attempts.
I heard some of the others come to where we were. I looked up to see Jun, and behind him, Jun. Gynon and, I think his name was Feruk followed a half a moment later. Jun was hit in the back with a branch and then grabbed by those two.
"Roth, you told me I wasn't allowed to hurt anyone so I didn't attack her back."
Roth smiled, "That's my good girl. But I also told you to defend yourself. She has threatened your life. Defend yourself."
"Can I kill her now?"
He didn't speak, but slowly nodded his head.
If you were expecting to hear a long tale about the battle that Tiber and I had, I am sorry to disappoint you. It was over in a matter of moments.
As soon as he nodded his head I charged her and lowered my shoulder into her stomach and we both tumbled to the ground with me on top of her. It took some struggling and twisting about, but I was able to pin her shoulders to the ground with my knees.
I shifted my body forward so that my ankles were now on the shoulders and I straddled her face. This was protocol for my people, the Neko. I grabbed her by the hair and pulled her face into my sex, moving it around to make sure she was covered with my scent. I knew this was not the custom for the Meh-teh, but I wasn't of them. I lived with them for now and I was their Alpha Female. But she attacked
; and I had to deal with her....my way.
I didn't kill her. What I was doing was much worse. Marking her like I did did two things. It was not something they Meh-teh had ever seen before so they were naturally wary of it. In addition to that, I was dominating her in front of everyone; which was something the did understand. In the eyes of the Meh-teh, Tiber would never again be able to make the claim that I wasn't her Alpha Female.
Without realizing it, I reached down and grabbed her with my other hand and rubbed her face into me even harder than before. I allowed her to breathe every now and then, but continued to work her face into my pussy. I held her head still as my orgasm swept over me. She was now marked with my juices.
I climbed off of her and she rolled over onto her side gasping for breath. I leaned down to her ear and whispered so that no one else could hear.
"You belong to me now."
I walked in Roth's direction, ignoring her completely. She was no longer a threat and turning my back on her not only reminded her of this, but also let everyone else know as well.
I let him wrap those massive arms around me.
~~~~~
It was only natural that Roth had many questions; and he was not unlike all of the other Meh-teh. Tiber was the exception to this, but I'll get to her in a moment. I promised him, and his people, that I would tell them everything in due time. But for now, we needed to prepare for the coming Winter.
And to be quite honest I couldn't have told him everything right then anyway. I had all of these memories in my head and no sense of what order they may or may not go in. I needed some time to let things fall into place. Rest assured that I did tell him everything.
There were few things I knew for certain: I had a people, the Neko. We were much more warlike than the Meh-teh in that instead of retreating into the Mountains to avoid humans and protect the Forest we fought them with everything we had.
I also had a mate. Ours was a relationship based on communication and trust. Many of the romantic notions the Meh-teh held in high esteem were shunned by my people. Having experienced both, I didn't know which was better....or if one really was better than another. I just didn't know.
The last thing I was sure of was that I wasn't welcome to go back to my people. The reason for my memory loss was that my people had beaten me and left me for dead. I remembered several of our warriors surrounding me and using their feet to kick and stomp me until I lost consciousness. Dod, who was my mate, was nowhere to be seen. Our culture dictated that he was to protect me. He was my dominant.
That is not to say that I generally needed protecting. I was one of my people's warriors and had much training. But in either case, he wasn't there.
There were other things I knew, but was less certain of. I didn't know why I needed protection if I were a warrior. I knew that I'd done something to anger my people, but no idea what that was. The humans in the story Roth told me were real, but why we hated them was a mystery. Where the humans lived was unknown to me as well as Roth and the Meh-teh. They'd not been in the Forest for nearly a hundred Winters. I briefly entertained thoughts of finding the humans. If I found them, I might be able to find my people. I wanted to think that forgiveness was possible. But I knew it wouldn't be. They'd beaten me and left me for dead.
Perhaps the biggest mystery to me was how I'd gotten to the Forest. Here the Winters were cold, the summers temperate, and there were different kinds of plants and animals. Where my people were it was hot all year long and it rained a lot. The animals in our Jungle were more dangerous and many had poisons in them. These were two very different worlds. How I would have been able to make a journey of that kind of distance as injured as I was was something that was hidden from me.
The one thing that seemed to be the same in both places was the reverence for the night and for the Moon. Both of these cultures were very close to nature and nothing from nature was ever taken for granted. They had respect for that which gave them sustenance. But the Moon had a special place for them.
Roth and I had had many chances leading up until now where we could have mated. He'd respected my want to wait. The feeling that I'd had before had turned out to be correct. I was somewhat torn now. I had a mate who didn't protect me from the beating I'd received and yet I was still loyal to him. That was a part of me I couldn't bring myself to give to Roth. I had no qualms about anything else, be it a physical act or submitting to him and letting go to have the experience he gave me. I could do all of that, but I had no desire to mate with him. I, in fact, had an aversion not only to it, but to the very idea of it.
I half expected Roth to want to push me further, to want to mate with me. But he was patience incarnate. He pushed me to the edge of my limits but never beyond. I was happy to have the relationship with him that I did. In many ways it made me happy and we continued to grow. What developed was a relationship based on trust and communication; much like the one I'd had with Dod. But this one wasn't about the sex. We didn't need it.
Unlike the rest of the Meh-teh who were curious about everything that had happened as well as about my past, Tiber spoke very few words after that day. She performed her duties, but with an air about her that said she was a broken woman. Whenever I asked her to do something, she would always lower her eyes and reply, "Yes." And then the task was always completed.
I felt sorry for her and wondered occasionally if death would have been better for her. If it would have been better for me to have killed her that day. I would never know.
I awoke one morning before sunrise two Winters later for my hunt and found that Tiber had left. I thought that she'd gone off by herself for awhile, as she sometimes did. She hadn't. She'd left. I tracked her as far as the river, but there were no tracks on the other side. I immediately went back for the others and we searched for her for five days and never found a trace of her. With Winter approaching, we weren't able to search any longer than that. It was decided that she had probably gone off to die. And if she hadn't, then she would have to find her way back to us.
We found her the following Spring as the snows began to melt. She'd gone into the river and made her way
for what would have taken two or three days on foot; longer in the water fighting the current. Once she'd gone far enough, she'd dug out a place at the foot of a giant tree, went to sleep and never woke up. None of us, including myself, thought to check upriver. It never occurred to us.
The Meh-teh were deeply saddened by this. We'd all thought she'd died, but having that certainty stare you in the face was entirely different. I felt something other than sadness for her, and it wasn't pity either. I found myself looking at her with more respect than I had before. She had been determined to die. It wasn't something that happened while she sat idly by. She did this on her terms. While I can't respect taking one's life, I can, and do, respect someone not being willing to allow their lives to continue in a direction they don't want it to go in. That is something to respect. I cried for her that night.
And we can't forget about Jun. His story is nowhere nearly as tragic, nor interesting, as that of Tiber. Unlike the death of Tiber, this does make me sad. There is no honor in it. Jun was never trusted among the Meh-teh again, so when he started complaining to others about how he should be leader and that all in due time, he would get it back from Roth, he was exiled. He spent the rest of his days wandering around the Forest, careful to stay away from the Meh-teh. I don't know when or where he died, but I'm sure he has by now.
~~~~~
Once upon a time, I thought I wanted what Roth and I had to continue forever. What we had together was great: mutual respect, good communication, real trust, and intense pleasure.
As the Winters passed, I became increasingly aware that Roth aged much faster than I did. I aged, don't get me wrong, but nowhere near the pace in which the Meh-teh did. Roth's fur began to slowly turn white and when he reached the point where he could no longer lead, he passed the position on to Gynon, who proved to be wise beyond his years. Roth became an Elder.
And this brings me to the end of this part of my story. This part. And before you say anything, I know that I didn't go into detail with the last few events I told you about. Those details were irrelevant. What you should take from this is that I was happy. My relationship with Roth ended when he died and I made the decision to move on to somewhere else. Was his death sad? Was I sad that he died? Of course I was. But we had something that was fulfilling for both of us. Take from this that not all relationships have to end on a bad note. They don't. Take from this that a relationship is what you make out of it, we certainly did.
Dominari est amare.
~Dania
|
Zuko is just minding his own business, in his private office, enjoying a steaming cup of coffee—Uncle forgive him—while viciously correcting his Minister of Agriculture’s work when Pim steps into his office with look number 3.32 on her face.
Zuko narrows his eyes at her. “What have you done now,” he says.
Pim looks down her nose at him with a singular raised eyebrow because she has the facial expression collection of an old man. “Nothing, my Lord,” she says, which makes Zuko immediately wonder then who has because Pim never lies but she does omit truths for entertainment. “I’m here to give you the finished contract.”
Zuko frowns. “What contract?”
Pim—presumed assistant by the public, actual bodyguard—dumps a stack of paper on his desk and then takes a precise step to the left. Zuko frowns harder.
“Careful, my Lord, your face might freeze that way,” Pim says.
“How many times have I told you to call me Zuko,” he says, sighing.
“1,334 times, my Lord,” she says.
Zuko reads the first page. Then he reads the second page and the third and the fourth—“Fucking excuse me?” he says, his voice hitting a register it hadn’t seen since he was thirteen years old and yelling about the Avatar.
She levels look 2.345—two infinitesimal brow twitches—which roughly translates to scandalized glee. “You’re excused, my Lord,” she says primly.
He looks at the paperwork again. “Am I—am I dreaming?” he says. “Am I finally having the stress-induced heart attack Sokka keeps telling me I’m going to have—”
Pim gives him look 1.0—one of the very first he’d catalogued three years ago when she started working for him after Suki returned home, the one that said you are so morbidly fascinating, I’d love to study you under a microscope—and says, “My Lord, you signed this contract yourself a week ago.”
“But I didn’t actually read it,” Zuko bursts out, removing his spectacles—all that fucking late night paperwork is aging him—to pinch the bridge of his nose with his fingers.
Pim’s nostrils flare. “You didn’t—”
“I trusted Uncle’s decision-making! I thought it was—” Zuko cuts himself off, but it’s too late, Pim can practically read his mind at this point in their relationship.
“Did you think—” she starts.
“No?” Zuko tries and then when Pim opens her mouth again, he says, flailing, “No, do not say it, it was bad enough imagining it the first time.”
Pim’s lips spasm. “You imagined—”
“Shhh,” Zuko hisses. Okay, yes, he had—completely misunderstood and thought Uncle wanted to marry Chief Hakoda, but in his defense, High Court syntax is very vague!
Pim actually places a hand over her mouth, which for someone who likes to pretend she has zero emotion is—well, it says things about Zuko’s dignity that he doesn’t want to think about. Zuko collapses into his chair, the back of his head thunking against the head rest. “I signed off on an arranged marriage to Sokka,” he says faintly.
“You did,” Pim agrees.
Zuko sits up so fast he almost falls out of his chair. “I signed off on an arranged marriage to Sokka, and he agreed,” Zuko says, pawing through the paperwork to look at Sokka’s terrible signature—it looks like a five year old signed it. Sokka and Suki had broken up a year ago, and everyone was still waiting for them to get back together so how the fuck did this even happen.
“That he did, my Lord,” Pim says with a quirked eyebrow that articulates my Fire Lord has not changed his clothes in two days because he has been living in his office.
“Pim, I told you I’d change my clothes tonight, I just have a lot of work to do,” he says because he hasn’t slept in two days either or even really eaten—didn’t he have that soup this morning that someone dropped off?—and then he realizes that there are half a dozen dishes stacked around the perimeter of his desk and they’re all full of cold food with one or two bites missing from each dish.
“I believe you, my Lord,” she says.
Zuko glares. “No, you don’t.”
She gives a delicate cough. “In any case, I think you should sleep before you sign anything else,” she says, shooting a calculated look at his coffee because she’s been on a campaign to make him stop drinking it after the sun sets. “You might sign the Fire Nation over to Master Toph Beifong.”
Zuko blinks. “Do you think she’d take it?”
“No, my Lord,” Pim says, her voice as dry as the Si Wong Desert.
“Ugh,” Zuko says, sinking down into his chair again because his limbs feel like noodles. He presses his fingers into the hinge of his jaw where it aches from clenching it all day. “I honestly thought I was making Uncle happy,” he says, a little miserable.
“I know, my Lord,” Pim says. Then she says, quietly, “Have you ever considered he wants the same happiness for you?”
Zuko looks up at the ceiling, eyes prickling with exhaustion. “He’s done too much for me,” he says finally because it’s easier than saying that he thinks he doesn’t deserve that kind of happiness, not really, not after what he and his family have done to the world.
Pim doesn’t say anything, and he looks up to see her finishing his coffee. His mouth drops open. “Hey! Get your own, that was a special and rare gift from—” Zuko stops, slowly turning red.
“From Sokka?” Pim says, deadpan. “That he sends you weekly because you like it so much?”
“Yes,” Zuko says weakly.
Pim looks at him with considerable pity. “I do not know how you thought that Chief Hakoda of the Southern Water Tribe would want to marry Prince Iroh, Dragon of the West.”
Zuko’s mouth works. “It’s—it was a--a complicated and uh, complex—situation and—” He looks back down at Sokka’s scribble of a signature—Sokka said yes(??)—and then turns his nose up at Pim. “I don’t have to defend myself to you.”
“Of course, my Lord,” Pim says with facial expression 1.0.
Zuko sighs.
#
The truth was Uncle had lulled him into a false sense of security—visiting for a whole two weeks! teaching the kitchen to make his favorite Earth Kingdom desserts! serving him coffee and only looking a little betrayed!—and so he hadn’t realized Uncle was ambushing him with a potential marriage contract until it was too late.
“One has a request to make of the Fire Lord,” Uncle said in perfect High Court, pushing a stack of paper in front of Zuko’s dessert plate.
Zuko froze in the middle of taking a bite of his egg custard tart, blinking, his cheeks stuffed with pastry like a lemur-bat. “What?” he said, getting crumbs everywhere.
Uncle looked like he was experiencing several difficult emotions at once before finally settling on the same expression Mother used to have when Zuko had returned home covered in mud from pretending to be a turtleduck. "Finish chewing, nephew," he suggested.
Zuko squinted down at the first page and its tiny print, making out the words "marriage" and "Chief Hakoda" and then—this was where he started seriously considering throwing himself out of the window—he saw the word “Iroh.” "Oh," he said dumbly, getting more crumbs on the table, and then, "Oh."
Uncle gave him a pointed look. Zuko finished chewing and swallowed--which was difficult because his mouth was suddenly very dry-- and then looked at his coffee, which he had cheerfully drunk without any sense of being led into a trap. Once again, Zuko was outmaneuvered by the Dragon of the West.
Zuko looked back up at Uncle with what Sokka liked to call his “big, wounded deer-rabbit” eyes, which his uncle ignored with the ease of long practice.
“One would be pleased if one considered a marriage contract between one of the Southern Water Tribe and one of the Fire Nation,” Uncle said in High Court and that was when Zuko fully realized this wasn’t a joke, and he was actually going to have to do—something about this.
“One would uh, consider this…request?” Zuko said, voice going up at the end because his High Court still sucked even after all these years of constantly negotiating contracts with Fire Nation nobility.
“One is grateful for one’s consideration,” Uncle said, long-suffering.
“One is wondering—wondering how--” Zuko opened and closed his mouth several times but could not think of any more words. “How?” he said plaintively.
“One must seize happiness where one can,” Uncle said. “One of the Fire Nation has long been companions with one of the Southern Water Tribe; this one of the Fire Nation has also long held feelings for—"
“One has?” Zuko blurted out because when had Uncle had time to develop feelings when he lived in the Earth Kingdom and Chief Hakoda lived at the South Pole?!
Uncle breathed out in such a controlled way that it could not be called a sigh, but Zuko knew that it secretly was. “One of the Fire Nation has long exchanged letters and gifts with one of the Southern Water Tribe.”
“Gifts?” Zuko said weakly.
“This one of the Fire Nation has received hand-carved hair pieces and jewelry, among other objects; and this one of the Fire Nation has gifted that one of the Southern Water Tribe with specially-made knives and Fire Nation delicacies,” Uncle said, taking a fortifying sip of tea.
“But isn’t—isn’t that one of the Fire Nation so much older?” Zuko said, unable to help himself.
Iroh frowned. “The difference in ages between this one of the Fire Nation and that one of the Southern Water Tribe is trivial.”
Zuko stared at him. “But—this one of the Fire Nation is so much more…experienced?” Zuko said finally.
“One needn’t be ashamed; one’s body is one’s own, and if that one of the Southern Water Tribe has said anything to the contrary, this one of the Fire Nation will have a necessary conversation with that one of the Southern Water Tribe,” Uncle said, severe.
“What is one—” Zuko started to say and then felt his face flame because High Court had ten million different words for every concept, and he had used the seventh meaning for experience instead of the third and now he was discussing his Uncle’s sex life. “Of course not, that one of the Southern Water Tribe has uh, the utmost respect for this one—that one?—of the Fire Nation,” he said hurriedly.
“One also needn’t be embarrassed of any questions one might have. If one wishes for advice, one will—of course—provide any necessary answers,” Uncle said.
“No, no, that won’t be—necessary,” Zuko said in a highly strained voice, fisting his hands in his hair. After all, now that he thought about it, he didn’t actually have any idea how old Chief Hakoda was—maybe he had a very nice skin care routine. Zuko tried to think about his Uncle and Chief Hakoda interacting in any way beyond small talk—long walks on the beach? Uncle pouring Chief Hakoda’s favorite tea? Chief Hakoda…holding his Uncle’s hand?—aaaand that was as far as Zuko could bring himself in imagining his Uncle’s love life.
“This one of the Fire Nation has long loved that one of the Southern Water Tribe,” Uncle said, interrupting Zuko’s increasing consideration of the open window. “What is the obstacle?”
Zuko looked at his Uncle’s solemn face and immediately felt intense shame for not taking his Uncle’s request seriously. After everything Uncle had done for him—years and years of unconditional care even when Zuko had been furious and mean and unloveable—and Zuko was treating Uncle’s feelings like a joke. If this would make Uncle happy, then he would support him.
Even if that meant that Zuko himself could never have the person he wanted.
It didn’t matter anyway—this marriage contract was only the period to the sentence of Sokka not loving him back. Zuko inhaled, a deep aching hurt traveling from his stomach to his throat to his mouth, and when he exhaled, he could still taste it on his tongue. Uncle waited, as consistent and patient as a river. “This endeavor has my blessing,” Zuko said finally.
Uncle beamed. “That is wonderful,” he said. “I am so happy.”
Zuko made himself smile back; his Uncle’s happiness was so painful and so satisfying. “Well, if that’s all,” Zuko started to say.
“Oh, but we must discuss the dowry!” Uncle protested.
Zuko made the sound of a pygmy-puma hacking up a hairball. “You can send whatever you want,” Zuko said quickly. “I’ve uh—I’ve gotta go?”
“But you have to—”
“Um, I think I hear Minister Hassaku calling me?” Zuko said and when Uncle opened his mouth again, Zuko turned toward the door and said loudly, “Yes, Minister Hassaku? You wanted to discuss rice yields? I would love to!” before high-tailing it out of there. He trusted Uncle to know his own worth, but he did not trust himself to keep it together one moment longer.
To that end, he walked to the hawk roosting tower for both privacy to have an emotional meltdown and also to send a message.
Dear prospective cousins, Katara and Sokka, Zuko wrote after silently screaming and confessing his feelings to the birds for thirty minutes. I am writing to congratulate you on your father’s behalf—I hope that—and here, Zuko paused because of course Uncle as a step-father would be excellent, and he wished to extol his Uncle’s many virtues. But he also found himself confoundingly jealous on two fronts—the Sokka front, of course, but also Uncle was his father-figure, Sokka and Katara already had one good dad and Zuko did not want to share—and he sat back and looked at Hawky, who was impatiently waiting to take his message back to Sokka. “What would you do?” he asked Hawky. Hawky looked at him judgmentally and then hopped toward the open window. “Okay, fine, I get your point,” Zuko said, and finished his letter with I hope that we can celebrate together soon and then signed off.
After further consideration, he added a post-script that requested more of that prune alcohol that always knocked him on his ass because he was going to need it to get through the wedding planning.
#
Zuko takes a sip of the weird prune alcohol Sokka had sent him and considers his current state of affairs—that is to say, his unplanned engagement to Sokka and also the fact that Ty Lee had chi-blocked him into submission for “party time” with her and Mai.
“I have work to do,” he had tried as Ty Lee flipped him over her shoulder and carried him from his office.
Mai snorted. “You’re the Fire Lord,” she pointed out. “You’ll always have work to do.”
“You never have fun with us anymore,” Ty Lee said sadly.
“Well,” Zuko said, considering the backs of Ty Lee’s legs. “I don’t have a choice now.”
“That’s true!” Ty Lee had said, sounding more cheerful.
Now he lies propped on Mai’s couch, Ty Lee perched on his knees, while Mai adjusts the gramophone to play something in the new ryukoka style that Advisor Yabuki keeps trying to play for him. Ty Lee had lit like fifteen torches by hand so that Mai’s sitting room glows warmly, insulating them from the late night darkness. Ty Lee also poured two snifter glasses of the horrible but very effective prune alcohol—Mai had refused, instead drinking something golden that Zuko also wished he was drinking—and has instituted a rule that Zuko has to drink every time he talks about work.
Needless to say, Zuko is getting very drunk.
“What game should we play?” Ty Lee says, clapping her hands together.
“The paperwork game,” Zuko suggests.
“Drink!” Ty Lee says in a sing-song voice, and Zuko sadly consumes more prune alcohol. “I’m starting to think you actually like prunes.”
“No, he just likes Sokka,” Mai says, dismissive, from where she’s packing the dragon-shaped pipe Zuko had given her for her birthday.
“I do not like Sokka,” Zuko lies, sticking out his lower lip in what he would have called an intimidating scowl but what Sokka called pouting. Mai raises her eyebrows at him.
“No, you looove Sokka,” Ty Lee says, pink-cheeked and grinning.
“Shut up,” Zuko says, scowling.
“What’s the problem?” Ty Lee says, bouncing a little on his knees. Eh, it’s not like he can feel them right now anyway. “You guys are engaged now, aren’t you?”
Mai kicks up her legs on her desk, smoking the Earth Kingdom grass she had Toph send her. “By complete accident,” Mai says, blowing smoke-rings. “You didn’t think Zuko actually used his words to verbally communicate his feelings to another person, did you?”
“That’s very hypocritical of you, Mai,” Zuko says primly.
Ty Lee puts a thoughtful finger against her lips. “I thought maybe Sokka did,” she admits.
Mai gives the tiniest smirk. “He’s even worse. In fact, Zuko—”
“I thought we were going to play a game,” Zuko says quickly before Mai can destroy whatever dignity he has left.
“Ooh, let’s play the king’s game,” Ty Lee says, eyes sparkling.
“We don’t have enough people,” Zuko says because he hates the king’s game.
“We’ll just take turns,” Ty Lee says. “I elect Mai as the king!”
“You can’t just elect someone—” Zuko starts to say.
“Zuko, did you really think your uncle wanted to marry Chief Hakoda?” Mai says immediately.
“Hey, that’s a question, not an order,” Zuko says, wishing he could cross his arms in order to sulk more thoroughly.
“Zuko, I order you to answer the question,” Mai says easily, settling herself on the other end of the couch and passing the pipe to Ty Lee.
“Ugh,” Zuko says very quietly.
Ty Lee squeals. “They would have been such a cute old people couple!” she says, which makes Zuko die a little on the inside because he knows for a fact that Chief Hakoda is a dad Ty Lee would like to fuck.
“High Court is confusing!” Zuko says when Mai continues to laugh at him with her eyes. Ty Lee pats him on the cheek, and he contemplates biting her.
“I can chi-block your face, Zuko,” Ty Lee says tenderly. Zuko sticks out his tongue at her.
“Ty Lee, I require fruit tarts,” Mai tells her.
“Egg custard tarts too?” Ty Lee says, jumping to her feet. Zuko knew she loved him.
“Fine,” Mai says, imperiously waving a hand. Ty Lee kisses Mai on the tip of her nose before immediately cartwheeling into the corridor to avoid retaliation. Mai narrows her eyes at Zuko instead.
“What?” Zuko says, narrowing his eyes back.
“Shouldn’t you be happier?” Mai says bluntly.
“What do you mean?” Zuko says.
“You’re like, formally engaged to the love of your life,” Mai says. “What’s your damage, Zuko?”
Zuko makes a face because he doesn’t want to talk about how Sokka’s probably still deeply and irrevocably in love with Suki and how Zuko was a fucking idiot for signing a piece of paper that let everyone know that he wants to be with Sokka forever and ever.
“He signed a marriage contract,” Mai says.
Zuko actually does pout this time. “It was probably on accident.”
“How do you sign a marriage contract on accident?” Mai says, taking a drag from her pipe. “Wouldn’t you have to read—you didn’t read it, did you.”
“I trusted Uncle to do what he thought was best,” Zuko says for the second time, putting his nose in the air to signal dignity and regal judgment.
“You’re so dumb, Zuko,” Mai says but she comes and kneels next to him to let him smoke her pipe anyway.
By the time Ty Lee returns, things have devolved into Mai holding his face in her hands and declaring, “If he breaks your heart, I’ll introduce him to all of my knives,” and Zuko is so touched by this that he reaches up to hold her face in solidarity.
“Are we beating up Sokka,” Ty Lee says way too cheerfully, setting the tarts down on the little table next to the couch.
“Only if he hurts Zuko,” Mai says seriously, her delicately flushed cheeks the only sign of how much alcohol she had actually drunk. Zuko loves her so much in that moment that it puts pressure on his stomach and makes him kind of want to throw up.
Zuko is used to being left by the people he loves best: his mother, his father, his sister. But Mai has never left him. Even after they broke up—Zuko’s massive trust issues, her difficulty with being emotionally available—Mai had doggedly worked to remain his best friend. Ironically, it was that which finally allowed Zuko to fully trust that she wouldn’t leave him. “But I love him,” Zuko says sadly.
“I know,” Mai tells him, patting him once on the cheek before returning to the other side of the couch to land half on top of Ty Lee.
Ty Lee tangles all of their legs together, which is comforting and sad all at the same time because Zuko knows in some other brighter timeline, Azula would be with them, lying next to him and complaining about the quality of the prune alcohol while also drinking the rest of them under the table. Instead, after deeply hurting everyone she loves, she is in the slow process of recovering from severe emotional illness and has a permanent guard to prevent her from hurting someone else or herself.
“You’re being sad about Azula again,” Ty Lee says, kicking his leg and also being totally hypocritical because he knows how emotionally wrecked Ty Lee is over Azula. “Stop it, this is supposed to be fun.”
“What else am I supposed to think about,” he grumbles. “The fact that Sokka hasn’t come to see me in a year?”
“He’s just busy being Chief-in-Training,” Ty Lee says, kicking his leg again. “You haven’t gone to see him either.”
“He used to make time to see me,” he says, sitting up—yes, chi unblocked!—so he can better win this argument and also avoid being kicked. “He hasn’t been to any of this year’s So-your-Fire-Lord-was-almost-assassinated-again workshops!”
Mai stares at him with incredible disgust.
“Hey, Sokka’s the one who came up with it,” Zuko says, crossing his arms; Suki leads them, and Ty Lee is totally teacher’s pet.
“Have you ever considered that as the future Chief of his tribe, he’s just as busy as you are?” Ty Lee says in a reasonable tone.
“But he didn’t even come to my birthday party,” Zuko says, flopping back onto the couch.
“You don’t even like having a party for your birthday,” Mai points out. Zuko sniffs, feeling embarrassingly like he might cry—which, like, he has definitely drunk way too much—and Mai sighs. “Well, unlike you, Sokka is Mr. Plan, and he’s not going to sign a document without reading it.”
Ty Lee gasps. “You didn’t read your own marriage contract?” she says and then cackles loudly.
Zuko tries to kick her, but she is too fast and somehow he ends up with an egg custard tart in his mouth. “Mmmpfflp,” he argues.
“I know, but Sokka is actually super responsible,” Ty Lee says. “He’s not going to do something he doesn’t want to do.”
Zuko swallows. “But he hasn’t even sent me a letter about—about—” Zuko flounders.
“Well, have you sent him a letter?” Ty Lee inquires and jumps up to do something to Mai’s liquor cabinet.
“No,” Mai answers for him and then takes a closer look at Zuko’s face. “Well, he sent a stupid letter,” she concludes. Zuko sulks.
“Okay, try this,” Ty Lee says, handing Zuko a glass of…something. “And eat another tart, the chef told me you haven’t been finishing any of your meals.”
“This is…actually good,” Zuko says, blinking in surprise after trying the incredibly dubious drink Ty Lee was making for all of them. “Hey wait, weren’t we playing a game?”
“You hate the king’s game,” Mai points out.
“It’s not as much fun when you’re the actual Fire Lord,” Zuko agrees, taking another drag from the pipe when it gets passed around to him. “Do you—do you think Sokka actually likes me?”
Mai looks at him for a long time. “He would be an idiot if he didn’t,” she says and Ty Lee is nodding firmly. Zuko smiles foolishly.
“I love you guys,” he says earnestly.
“You are so high, Zuko,” Ty Lee says lovingly. “Also, it’s my turn as king!”
The rest of the night deteriorates into name-calling and floor-brawling with Mai as referee—Ty Lee had informed him that he is automatically disqualified from being king, citing his Fire Lordness—but it’s still the most fun Zuko’s had in a really long time.
#
Zuko spends the next two days feeling good—too good, actually, it’s weird and uncomfortable and makes him feel kind of nauseous? Which is probably why he’s almost relieved when someone tries to assassinate him again.
Pim is off-duty, the other guards are incapacitated, and Zuko tries to take the fight to the roof but he trips over his spirits-damned robe and falls out of his window instead. This draws Pim’s attention—her rooms are immediately underneath Zuko’s—and she jumps out of her window onto the roof to successfully defend him from the assassin until the assassin decides to cut and run.
“My dignity is broken,” Zuko says when Pim comes to visit him later in the infirmary because Zuko broke his fucking arm because he tripped over his fucking robe.
“You never had any dignity to begin with, my Lord,” Pim says kindly.
Zuko groans.
When Zuko is finally able to liberate himself from the infirmary for breakfast, he finds Toph, Suki, Aang, Katara, and—Zuko’s poor stressed heart—Sokka, already serving themselves at his table on the veranda. Zuko’s place setting has this morning’s notes and his reading spectacles, and he sits down with a goofy smile on his face that’s probably at least partially due to the painkillers he’s been prescribed.
“Zuko!” they chorus and okay, maybe he’s also kind of delighted to see his friends.
“Hi,” he says, face burning from all of the attention and also the vulnerability of experiencing happiness in front of other people.
“Look, as much as I enjoy the ritual of our Zuko-almost-got-assassinated-again visits,” Toph says, shaking her chopsticks at him, “you know you can just like, invite us for breakfast without the attempted murder, right? Like, I know you miss us a lot, but this is a little much.”
“Toph!” Katara says. “Stop joking around, this is serious.”
“You know he’s just doing it for the attention,” Toph says, shrugging.
“It’s true,” Zuko agrees. “I don’t get enough attention as the Fire Lord.”
“Aw, Zuko, if you needed more attention, you just had to let us know, you little drama queen, you,” Sokka coos through a bulging mouthful of meat.
“Ew, Sokka,” Katara says, flicking a fleck of stray meat off her nose.
Zuko puts on his spectacles and ignores Sokka’s guffaws. “Well, it’s not like Pim tells you every time I almost get assassinated,” Zuko says, frowning down at Minister Hassaku’s notes. “You’d be here like, every month.”
“What?” Sokka says, spitting out his mouthful of meat, but no one even seems to notice because they’re too busy staring at him.
“What?” Zuko says, looking back.
“How—how many attempts have there been?” Aang says, looking horrified.
“This year?” Zuko says, thoughtful. “….nine, maybe?”
“Twelve, my Lord,” Pim says, dropping off more notes with Minister Hassaku’s handwriting. Zuko smothers a sigh.
“But it’s only spring,” Aang says.
“The New Ozai Society has been particularly persistent,” Zuko admits.
“Why didn’t you tell us?” Sokka says, voice rising.
Zuko shrugs. “There’s not anything you can really do,” he says. “It’d just worry you for no reason.”
Sokka looks outraged, mouth opening and closing with no words coming out.
“Pim, I thought—as your consultant—you were going to keep me informed about any security breaches,” Suki says, her elbows on the table, chin propped on her hands in prime interrogation position.
“My Lord ordered me to prioritize only the major security breaches,” Pim says, monotone, but slanting look 1.45—I told you so—at Zuko before swiping his coffee out of his hands. “My Lord, the physician said no coffee while taking the prescribed pain medications.”
“Coffee is life,” Zuko says sadly.
“And that’s another thing,” Sokka says, pointing at Pim. “How come you tell Suki and not me about the assassination attempts? I’m the plan guy!”
“You gave him a caffeine addiction,” Pim says severely. “Suki used to be Head of Security.”
“Which is how I know small security breaches lead to big security breaches,” Suki says in a singsong voice, which is disconcerting because her mouth is smiling but her eyebrows are angry.
Katara pours Zuko an herbal tea that smells like cabbage. Zuko frowns at her. “Hydration, Zuko,” Katara says warningly.
“You also haven’t come to any of the workshops in like, a year, Sokka,” Toph points out.
“Well, excuse me for living at the South Pole,” Sokka says, crossing his arms.
“You’re excused,” Toph says sweetly.
“What’s the New Ozai Society upset about now?” Aang says, expertly interrupting before Toph can escalate to literally burying Sokka in the ground, and then Aang steals Zuko’s teacup. “Katara, this tea is good!” he adds because he’s a suck-up.
“What aren’t they upset about?” Zuko says, leaning back in his chair. “We’re still paying reparations almost ten years after the war, we’ve decreased weapons production again to give that funding to the public schools, the engagement—"
Sokka spits out his water, and Katara shields herself and no one else from the splash zone. Aang looks at her, betrayed. “Every water bender for themselves,” she tells him. “Also, you’re dripping on the table.”
“But the engagement was a total accident!” Sokka says loudly. “Someone who will remain nameless glued two pieces of paper together as a joke—”
“I was trying to cheer you up!” Aang protests
“—because this nameless person,” Sokka says, glaring at Aang, “is an incurable troublemaker.”
“Says the fellow troublemaker,” Katara coughs and then when Sokka transfers his glare to her, she says, “Who said that? Sokka, I think that tiny tree over there is talking about you.”
“An accident?” Zuko says weakly, feeling his vision start to blur at the edges.
“Totally an accident!” Sokka says, waving his arms wildly. “If I had known, I wouldn’t have signed it! I wouldn’t marry you in a million years!” Sokka yelps because Katara has elbowed him in the ribs. “I mean, uh, you’re perfectly nice, but—”
Zuko had forgotten it was possible to feel this crushed.
“—you’re my friend? And the Fire Lord? It’d be weird, that’s all I’m saying!”
Zuko turns big, wounded deer-rabbit eyes on Pim.
“His Lordship thought it was a marriage contract between Prince Iroh and Chief Hakoda of the Southern Water Tribe,” Pim says immediately because Zuko forgot that asking Pim for help always came at the cost of his dignity. There is absolute silence as everyone processes this until Toph starts laughing so hard that juice comes out of her nose.
“But how?” Sokka says, bewildered.
Zuko buries his face in his hands.
“It was the High Court, wasn’t it,” Suki says because she was there when Zuko accidentally implied Lord Ichi had sexual relations with a Komodo rhino in the middle of livestock negotiations.
“Yes, it was,” Pim says while subtly positioning herself near the only exit point in the veranda.
Zuko glares at her, and she raises a single eyebrow to remind him that if he runs away now, Sokka may actually start to guess Zuko is secretly stupidly in love with him. Spirits, Zuko was such a fool for getting his hopes up in the first place—Sokka loving him back was a dumb childish dream that he should have put away with all the others: his mother staying with him at the palace once he found her again, his father telling him what a good leader he is, Azula’s full emotional recovery—
“Why—why would you sign off on that, Zuko?” Katara says.
“It seemed important to Uncle,” Zuko says miserably.
“And what about my dad?” Katara says, frowning. “While he is older, he’s still considered one of the most eligible bachelors by the rest of the Southern Water Tribe—Sokka held a poll last winter—and he has a right to choose—"
“I thought they were in love, okay!” Zuko says and tries to throw up his hands before remembering that one of his arms is broken.
“That’s so sweet, Zuko,” Aang says earnestly. “There’s no age limit on love! And Bumi says that your sex drive doesn’t go away as you get older, but like to be honest, he was being kind of redundant because I had just walked in on him and—”
Sokka claps a hand over Aang’s mouth. “Someone please pass me the brain bleach,” he says faintly.
“I could knock you out a little,” Toph offers.
“….no thank you, Toph,” Sokka says.
“Actually, can I take you up on that, Toph?” Zuko says.
“Sure,” Toph says cheerfully.
Katara pinches the bridge of her nose. “Zuko, no, you have enough injuries, please just drink your tea,” she says.
“Well,” Sokka says, removing his hand from Aang’s mouth, “I guess that explains the letter Zuko sent me.”
“What letter?” Katara says, watching Zuko like an eagle-hawk as he drinks the tea.
“Dear prospective cousins, Katara and Sokka,” Sokka intones, twirling an imaginary mustache.
Katara gasps and then starts snickering. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
“I just assumed Zuko sent it after getting high with Mai and Ty Lee,” Sokka says, shrugging.
“This tea is disgusting,” Zuko says loudly.
“Well, it’s nutrient-dense with calming properties,” Katara says. “I brought it just for you.”
“Is it full of poison?” Zuko says hopefully because this whole morning has been an exercise in emotional ignominy.
“Hey, don’t even joke about that,” Sokka says, suddenly serious. “Pim told us the assassin managed to get into your private rooms this time.”
Zuko downs the last of the tea because it’s too hard to continue looking at Sokka’s deeply concerned face with the confirmation that Sokka doesn’t actually love him. “I guess even highly incompetent assassins can improve with practice,” Zuko says finally. “Is it weird that I’m actually kind of proud of them?”
“Yes, why don’t you tell them that on their quarterly performance review,” Sokka says.
Zuko frowns. “I wouldn’t even know how to contact them—”
“I was being sarcastic!” Sokka says, smacking his hand to his forehead. “How can you be so—so—”
“Blasé?” Aang suggests. “Flippant? Insouciant?”
“All of the above!” Sokka says. “Are you taking this seriously at all?”
“Well,” Zuko says slowly. “It’s actually a lot less stressful than when my father and sister were trying to kill me? Like, it’s just nice that my family isn’t involved.”
Everyone stares at him in silence.
“What?” Zuko says. “What’d I say?”
“Is that—is that really your stress baseline?” Katara says faintly.
“Yes?” Zuko says and then looks at Pim for the correct way to respond, but she is too busy exchanging coded facial expressions with Suki.
“That’s it, I’m staying here until all of the people currently trying to kill you are caught,” Sokka declares.
“That may…take a while,” Zuko says, counting up the number of suspects on his fingers and then his toes.
“I don’t care how long it takes,” Sokka says, frowning. “This is unacceptable. Also, don’t think I haven’t noticed you haven’t eaten anything since sitting down.”
Zuko is shaking his head. “Sokka, absolutely not. I can’t have you be their new target.” He takes a controlled breath, ignoring how he aches with a carefully repressed longing. “We need to call off the engagement.”
“What? No,” Sokka says, looking confused. Zuko feels his heart jump into his throat for a brief moment and then Sokka adds, “It’ll be part of the bait to draw the assassins out!”
Spirits, Ozai was right, Zuko really doesn’t learn. “Look, even if your safety wasn’t the foremost priority—which it is—what about your responsibilities at the South Pole?” he says.
“Oh, don’t worry about it,” Sokka says, waving a hand. “Dad and Katara kind of…decided I needed to go on vacation anyway, so Dad delegated all of it before I left.”
Zuko stares at him. “This is how you want to spend your vacation?” he says.
“Uh, yes?” Sokka says, like it’s obvious that he should want to spend his time solving assassination plots and pretending to be engaged. “Hey, eat your rice.”
Zuko opens his mouth to argue, but Toph says, “I call securing the perimeter!”
And after that, breakfast deteriorates into a cacophony of arguments as Sokka tries to talk to Pim about security while Pim reminds Toph of Fire Nation building regulations while Aang and Katara throw noble names back and forth rapid-fire with Suki as referee. Pim and Zuko had already decided on Plan 4.5 in dealing with the apprehension of the would-be assassin(s), but it…probably wouldn’t hurt to have everyone else help with the ongoing and long-term security problems.
Zuko sighs and eats his rice.
#
“I really think you should return home,” Zuko says to Sokka for the thousandth time as they walk to Caldera University from the food market where Sokka had insisted on sampling every single stall.
“Geez, Zuko, you’re worrying too much,” Sokka says, popping fireflakes into his mouth and throwing his arm around Zuko’s shoulders. “If you’re not careful, I’m gonna start to think you don’t actually want me here.” Sokka looks at him with big, sad blue eyes, and Zuko actually—literally feels his heart melt, which is vaguely concerning because his heart never fully recovered from being shot through with lightning.
“Of course I want you here,” Zuko says helplessly.
“That’s what I thought,” Sokka says, squeezing Zuko tighter into his side. “Fiancé.”
“Do you have to keep saying it like that,” Zuko says faintly as Sokka drags him inside the university for a lecture on mechanical engineering.
“Yep,” Sokka chirps before unsubtly looking around for assassins with Zuko’s face practically tucked into Sokka’s neck. Spirits, Sokka smells so fucking good—cedarwood, orange blossom, vetiver—and Zuko refuses to look at Pim because his knees feel kind of shaky and Pim would know.
The problem is that Sokka is clearly having the time of his life.
Zuko doesn’t give a fuck about mechanical engineering, but Sokka is furiously taking notes in between drilling the professor with questions so rigorous that by the end of the three-hour lecture, the professor looks emotionally broken and also in love and has to hold onto his lectern for emotional support.
“That’s—how did we never think of that?” the professor says. “So simple, so efficient—”
“I know, right,” Sokka says, smirking. “Boom, 110% increase in effectiveness.”
“And the liveloads—" one of the teaching assistants starts, breathless, wide-eyed.
“—are accounted for by the flibiter,” Sokka says, self-satisfied, and Zuko has no idea what he just said—flibbitenr? Flibbitegig? Fliberocci?—but the architecture of his smile is a revelation and Zuko is so embarrassingly affected.
After that, Zuko has to hustle Sokka out of the lecture hall because the professor and his two teaching assistants look ready to eat Sokka alive in order to fully absorb his secret power(s). “Oh, come on,” Sokka complains, as Zuko steers him down the street to his favorite little noodle soup place. “We were just getting to the good part!”
“Yeah, the good part where they get your expertise for free,” Zuko retorts, kneading his fingers a little into Sokka’s broad shoulders, just to—just to feel the warmth, the lack of give in finely sculpted musculature. “You gotta charge for that shit.”
“You think I’m an expert?” Sokka says, twisting his upper body around like a demented owl-cat and beaming goofily.
“Mlmph?” Zuko says, forgetting how to form words with how suddenly close Sokka’s face is to his.
“Yes,” Pim translates in such a pitch-perfect imitation that for a very weird moment Zuko wonders if Pim can steal voices.
“That’s really creepy,” Sokka says.
“I do my best,” Pim says, toneless, but directs facial expression 3.32 at Zuko in a very clear sign that dinner is going to be an exercise in mortification.
The noodle soup shop is always difficult for Zuko to find, mostly because it’s literally a hole in the wall that Azula found on her quest to find the most perfect noodle. It’s located in an unremarkable alley with a red curtain draped over the entrance, no signage, and a very, very long line of people winding around the block.
Nozi—the owner—hangs out of the window above the shop. “Hey, where’s Miss Anger Problems?” she says.
“At home,” Zuko says grimly because he can’t say that at this very moment Azula is probably choosing to make the thousandth iteration of a macaroni-art Ozai with her art counselor; Azula gives every single one to Zuko—they range from horrifyingly perfect likenesses to actual defacement—and he is starting to become legitimately worried that he will have to eventually dedicate an entire room to them. Azula has zero natural talent in the fine arts, and her first attempt is still his favorite because she tried so fucking hard for months and it still looks like a three-year-old made it. He remembers Azula at three: horrendous temper tantrums, unremitting clinginess.
“Aw,” Nozi says. “Last time she literally threatened to have my shop reconstructed in the dead of night, and she still hasn’t followed through.”
“But you don’t want her to reconstruct it,” Zuko says.
“I know!” Nozi says, flailing. “That’s the game!”
Zuko doesn’t pretend to understand their dynamic, but he thinks it’s good for Azula to have a friend; even if friendship to Azula currently means writing anonymous and furious food reviews to the local newspaper.
“Your sister comes here?” Sokka says, looking like he’s about to have an aneurysm. “To this shithole?”
“Hey!” Nozi says, but Zuko ignores her because the entirety of her acquaintance with Azula has been a pissing match over renovation with Nozi refusing to even accept money for new and unchipped bowls.
Zuko shrugs. “She says Nozi serves the best noodles in the city.”
Sokka stares at him. “She did not.”
“Well, okay, she mostly seethes in silence, but she eats like three bowls of it at a time,” Zuko admits.
“…wow,” Sokka says.
“Just come in, Okem will seat you,” Nozi says, cheerful, while everyone else in line glares up at her.
Okem does not seat them at Zuko and Azula’s usual table—which is tiny and crammed next to the hot stove where Nozi cooks—but at a slightly larger table underneath a tiny series of lit torches. Sokka’s legs are almost bunched up to his chin, and Zuko and Pim—who are exactly the same height—aren’t faring much better.
“It is ridiculously hot in here,” Sokka says, fanning himself and looking longingly at the only window in the shop, which is small and level to Zuko and Azula’s usual table.
“The steam-powered fan was the one thing I backed Azula on,” Zuko says mournfully. “But Nozi refused.”
“Professor Xong’s got some interesting ideas about steam power,” Sokka says, perking up. Before receiving notice of the assassination attempt, Sokka had parked himself at Ba Sing Se University to terrorize the professors. “Less…interesting ideas about cuisine.”
“You ate the beetle-hornets, didn’t you,” Pim says.
“I have a natural curiosity,” Sokka says sadly.
Pim looks directly at Zuko, the corners of her mouth curling up.
“No,” Zuko says immediately.
Pim opens her mouth.
“No,” Zuko says.
Pim closes her mouth.
“But now I want to know,” Sokka says, resting his chin on his interlaced fingers, elbows propped on the table.
“It would be a shame to disappoint your guest,” Pim says.
“Yeah,” Sokka says, smug. “Not just your guest! Your fiancé.”
“Ugh,” Zuko says very quietly.
#
Two years ago, Zuko had decided it would be prudent to take a tour of the Earth Kingdom to speak with all of the notable officials in order to update the Fire Nation’s plan for long-term reparations, among many other topics related to foreign affairs. He took a small retinue and felt it was a sign of all the progress the Fire Nation had made that he could leave his uncle as regent without public concern that the Dragon of the West would conduct a coup.
The morning after they arrived in Ba Sing Se, Pim walked into Zuko’s room to find him being very sick over the rim of the window.
“I’ll get the physician,” Pim said immediately because Zuko had been poisoned enough times by political assassins to have an entire protocol for it.
“Don’t worry, it’s just food poisoning,” Zuko said, looking absolutely wrecked.
Pim stilled, narrowing her eyes. “What did you eat?”
Zuko narrowed his eyes back, which wasn’t very threatening because he looked like a baby polar bear dog. “…I don’t want to tell you.”
Pim actually pinched the bridge of her nose with her fingers. “Tell me you didn’t.”
“I didn’t?” Zuko said, clearly lying.
“I told you multiple times before dinner that under no circumstance should you eat the beetle-hornets,” Pim said. “I told you in horrifying and uncomfortable detail what happens to the non-locals that eat beetle-hornets. And what did you do? You immediately ate the beetle-hornets!”
“They were just so excited about our arrival!” Zuko burst out. “I thought they would feel—extremely negatively about us being there? Which obviously makes complete sense, but—they were just so—so earnest about feeding me, and asking me all my opinions about Earth Kingdom food, and they were just so nice…”
Pim stared at him, appalled. “My Lord.”
“They can never know, Pim,” Zuko said severely, clinging to a clothing stand for balance. “At this point, I would rather die than offend them.”
Pim let out one of those long, controlled sighs that she had seen Prince Iroh use many times in Fire Lord Zuko’s presence. “...you could have at least used a trash can,” Pim said.
“But then the servants would know that I got sick from their food,” Zuko said, gesturing wildly with his hands and almost falling face-first on the floor.
“So you just…vomited out of the window without looking to see if anyone was down there?” Pim said.
“I did hear someone scream, ‘my cabbages’” Zuko admitted.
Pim then leaned out the window to see an abandoned cabbage cart that had indeed been unfortunate collateral damage to international negotiations. “Here’s what’s going to happen,” Pim said after a long while of contemplating her life. “We are going to switch rooms with the Earth Kingdom official that Master Katara always complains about, and then you will never eat beetle-hornets again, no matter how nice people are to you.”
“…I need to puke,” Zuko said finally.
Pim looked down at the cabbage cart again. “Well,” she said. “You can’t make it any worse.”
Later, General Fong and the cabbage merchant got into a hugely embarrassing slap fight in the street, and it was honestly difficult to tell what pained General Fong more: his participation in a slap fight in the first place or his losing said slap fight. Either way, the King still likes to bring it up—hand on chin, looking out into the faraway distance, as if it has just occurred to him—whenever General Fong is making an ass of himself, which is frequently.
#
“…that’s why Fong tried to beat up the cabbage guy?” Sokka says in gleeful disbelief.
“You can never tell anyone,” Zuko says, emphatic.
“I would never,” Sokka scoffs, but Zuko raises his eyebrow because Sokka is one of the most incurable gossips he has ever met. “Hey, I’m not gonna rat you out to the Earth Kingdom nobility. Especially not like, about puke cabbages.”
Zuko is trying to kick Sokka under the table on principle when Okem arrives with plates of food: tiny dumplings, cold piles of noodles, small and very precisely cut pieces of fish.
“But we didn’t order yet,” Sokka says, frowning.
“You’ll eat what Nozi gives you,” Okem says, so completely lacking in emotion that it sounds like he’s dying on the inside. Sokka opens his mouth, squints, and then shuts his mouth. Okem produces a metal teapot and three tiny cups and pours them boiling hot chrysanthemum tea. Then he trudges off to the next table.
“Is he okay?” Sokka says, turning to Zuko.
“Azula thinks he’s been resurrected from the dead and then possessed by a vengeful spirit,” Zuko says.
“Really?” Sokka says.
“Well, that’s what she says when Okem makes her drink calming tea,” Zuko says, sipping his tea. He wrinkles his nose because it’s over-steeped but also because he hates that he can tell it’s over-steeped.
Sokka gives Zuko a look that he can’t exactly classify but looks similar enough to Pim’s version 1.0 that Zuko feels he can safely ignore it. Zuko lifts a bit of raw, fatty fish with his chopsticks but before he can bring it to his mouth, Sokka whisper-yells, “Zuko, no!” and grabs him by the wrist.
“What?” Zuko says, blinking. Sokka’s palm is callused and warm, and his fingers are so—long and elegant and easily encircle his wrist. Zuko bites his lip.
“What if it’s poisoned?” Sokka says, his eyes darting to where Nozi is stirring soup in a giant metal vat on the stove. “Maybe I should test it—”
“No!” Zuko says, trying to yank his arm away, but Sokka is a lot stronger than he remembers. “Absolutely not, Pim—”
“It’s not poisoned, Sokka,” Pim says, raising her eyebrows at Zuko’s bright red and distressed face. “I was watching the whole time.”
“Oh,” Sokka says, abruptly letting go of Zuko’s wrist. “Good.”
Zuko has to take several calming breaths due to the acute emotional whiplash—Sokka’s hand! On his wrist! Sokka volunteering to eat poisoned food!—before he can eat a tiny dumpling, but Sokka is already in the process of sucking up half of the food on the table.
“Tui and La, this is so fucking good,” Sokka says, holding out his cup to Zuko because he’s a baby and complains that any tea temperature above lukewarm burns his mouth. “When’s the noodle soup?”
Zuko absorbs heat from Sokka’s cup until it’s no longer steaming and then hands it back. “Nozi saves the best for last,” Zuko says.
“I think—I think I’m experiencing actual spiritual enlightenment?” Sokka says when Okem sets down new plates of clams, steamed turtle-crabs, and grilled unagi of such tenderness that Zuko is regularly willing to fight Azula over who gets the last one.
Nozi delivers the ceramic carafe of incredibly expensive plum liquor to their table personally.
“No, Nozi, this is too much,” Zuko argues even as she’s efficiently pouring liquor into bowls.
“Nothing’s too much for my Fire Lord’s—” and here she mouths the word engagement before clapping her hands together and beaming.
Zuko sighs. “Azula told you,” he says, resigned. Zuko had thus far managed to stop Sokka from pushing forward with a formal proclamation (“You don’t want the assassins to think you’re ashamed of me, do you?”), but it was only a matter of time before gossip infiltrated the whole of the Capital City—Sokka’s secondary plan. The advisors were already up Zuko’s ass about it, and he honestly didn’t know how to explain that the entire engagement was a horrible mistake, but it was a horrible mistake they were going with because Sokka had a plan to catch the assassin with it—and Zuko had negative ability to say no to Sokka.
“Of course!” Nozi says. “She wants to replace my stove as a wedding gift to you.”
“And how is that a wedding gift to me?” Zuko says, long-suffering.
“She says the decrepit and actively-rusting appearance of my stove offends her pure and virginal eyes,” Nozi says. “But…I guess that means more noodles for you? In the end?”
Zuko looks at Nozi with all of the bleakness he feels in his soul.
“I’ll get you more grilled unagi,” she says soothingly, patting his shoulder. “You like grilled unagi.”
“Thanks,” he says pathetically.
“You look like you need this,” Sokka advises, passing him a bowl of plum liquor.
Zuko hasn’t drank alcohol in public in years because he hasn’t wanted to let down his guard for a variety of reasons: assassins, sloppy behavior, public officials of other nations thinking he’s irresponsible and immature. But Sokka and Pim are there, there’s no one here to impress, and they wouldn’t let him embarrass himself in front of the rest of the noodle soup shop. “All right,” Zuko says, starting to smile, cupping the bowl in his palm.
“That’s the spirit,” Sokka says, slapping him on the back. “Hah! Literally. I’m so punny.”
“You’re something,” Zuko agrees, pressing his smile against the lip of the bowl and then drinking all the plum liquor at once.
As Okem serves course after course of little dishes, Sokka regales them with all of the new research that Ba Sing Se University is producing. “It’s really crucial research,” Sokka says. “Like, because of all the brainwashing the Dai Li did, there was a real need to figure out how to treat the victims. The Dai Li had never even tried to reverse it, those fascist assholes, so Kuei ordered the university to start conducting research on mental and emotional health. And like, of course Katara was all over it because of the potential new application for water-bending healing.”
Sokka drinks more lukewarm tea because he refused any liquor, citing having to be alert for assassins, and Pim doesn’t drink on-duty, so Zuko has had the difficult job of picking up the slack for all of them so Nozi doesn’t give them her patented sad fire-ferret eyes.
“Yeah, we’ve started implementing some of their new protocols in the Fire Nation as well,” Zuko says, nodding. “Caldera University has been uh, feeling competitive to say the least.”
Sokka snorts. “No wonder they want to steal me from the Earth Kingdom,” he says smugly.
“You don’t even work for the Earth Kingdom,” Zuko points out.
“They don’t know that,” Sokka says, dismissive, but something has changed in the sharpness of his mouth, and he looks unhappier than he did an immediate two seconds ago—Zuko wants to rewind time, which makes him wonder if Aang could like, discover the secrets of time-bending from that giant turtle lion and then teach it to him. …Spirits, he’s drunk.
“Here, you can have the rest of the egg custard tarts,” Zuko says earnestly.
“But you love the egg custard tarts,” Sokka says, clutching his left pectoral muscle because he’s so touched.
“I love you more,” Zuko starts to say, but Pim kicks him under the table before he can finish that sentence and once Zuko is finished inwardly howling in agony, he looks at Pim in abject gratitude.
Okem serves them their last course: giant chipped bowls of steaming-hot noodle soup. The broth is a deep golden-brown and in it languishes bundles of knobbly hand-made noodles, succulent cuts of pork shoulder, a soft-boiled egg leaking yolk into silky broth.
“I—actually don’t think I can finish this?” Sokka says, looking like he’s about to cry. “Who am I?”
“I believe in you,” Zuko says, probably too sincerely because Sokka turns a little red.
Sokka takes his first bite of meat, and he closes his eyes and makes the most sexual sound that Zuko has ever heard and Zuko himself has actually engaged in sex with another human being. Pim shoves another bowl of liquor into Zuko’s hand, and Zuko drinks it to distract himself from the feeling of deeply wound tension in his shoulders, his chest, his stomach. “This is my new favorite restaurant,” Sokka says, fervent. “I can’t believe I live so far away.”
“You’ll just have to come back then,” Zuko says, helplessly smiling.
“I honestly never thought I would say this in my entire life,” Sokka says. “Or like, in my children’s life or their children’s life or their children’s life—”
“Sokka,” Zuko says.
“--but Azula has good taste,” Sokka finishes.
“Good taste has never been her problem,” Zuko agrees.
Sokka’s smile turns rueful. “We’ve all suffered from the war, huh.”
“Uncle says it’s far easier to break a porcelain vase than it is to repair it,” Zuko says, absorbing some of the heat from Sokka’s soup bowl. “It’s going to take generations to repair all the damage my family has caused.”
“Which is why you have to take care of yourself,” Sokka says, unironically shaking his finger at him. “You are not allowed to have a stroke, Katara said so.”
“Sokka, I’m fine,” Zuko says, dumping half the bowl of chili oil into his soup.
“He’s not fine,” Pim says, dumping the other half of chili oil into her soup.
Zuko glares at her.
“We are absolutely going to discuss this in more detail,” Sokka says, stern. “After I finish this fucking amazing soup because it needs my full attention.”
Zuko knows he’s fucked (but also very drunk) because he is searingly jealous of soup for having Sokka’s full attention.
Zuko cannot finish his own soup, so Pim heroically finishes it for him because Sokka refuses to touch it on the basis that the broth is actually bright red with spice. After Zuko spends way too much time arguing with Nozi because she won’t let him pay, they walk back to the palace, Sokka’s arm wrapped around Zuko’s shoulders because he can’t walk in a straight line. “Wow, how much did you drink,” Sokka says, laughing.
“All of it,” Zuko says despairingly.
“You’ve really gotta eat more, man,” Sokka says. “I can feel your ribs.”
“Rude,” Zuko says.
“True,” Pim corrects.
Zuko goes heavy on purpose so Sokka staggers almost into the stone gutter, but this is followed by immediate regret when Sokka very easily hoists him into his arms to carry him past the guards and into the side entrance of the palace.
“This is humiliating,” Zuko mutters, even though he’s the one who wrapped his arms around Sokka’s neck.
Sokka and Pim ignore him.
After Pim completes all security protocols related to the Fire Lord’s personal rooms—Sokka holding him in the corridor the entire time—Sokka dumps Zuko on the bed and sticks his nose in all the same crevices that Pim had already checked.
“You’re not going to find anything if Pim didn’t,” Zuko remarks, rolling himself to the edge of the bed because he’s finding it difficult to coordinate his limbs. All of the tiny torches in his rooms have already been lit, the warm glow of the flames acting as bulwark against the evening darkness.
“No harm in double-checking,” Sokka says sternly into the bottom of Zuko’s wardrobe, scrabbling among the shoes.
Zuko finally gets his feet underneath him, feeling exceedingly proud of himself, and then wobbles over to his vanity table. Sokka hangs himself bodily out of Zuko’s window, apparently taking detailed notes of each balustrade. Zuko himself makes several attempts to seat himself on the low vanity stool. “Well, everything looks okay,” Sokka says suspiciously, reeling himself back into the room. “But you know, it’s nighttime so: dark. Who let you have windows anyway?”
“The person who built the palace?” Zuko suggests.
Sokka gives him a flat look, and Zuko laughs. “Also, I put you on the bed for a reason,” Sokka says, coming to stand behind Zuko, now visible in the enormous vanity mirror. “You can’t even sit up straight.”
“I have to take down my hair,” Zuko argues because he has accidentally slept in the headpiece before and it is a highly stabby experience.
“You’re so needy,” Sokka says, but Zuko can tell from his tone that he’s just pretending to complain.
Zuko sticks his tongue out for concentration reasons and very slowly lifts the headpiece from his head—and then immediately drops it on the ground.
“Wow,” Sokka says.
“It’s slippery,” Zuko complains.
“Title of your next speech,” Sokka says immediately.
“Stop trying to name my speeches,” Zuko says.
“No,” Sokka says. “Also, I’m definitely telling Pim that you dropped centuries of tradition on the—"
Zuko carefully removes the pin from his hair, which comes down all at once, and Sokka doesn’t finish his sentence.
Zuko reflexively looks up to meet Sokka’s eyes in the mirror, and Sokka—delicately lit by torch light, his face flushed, his eyes dark—is looking at Zuko with an expression of such reverent tenderness that Zuko’s cheeks burn. He wants to look over his shoulder to see who Sokka is really looking at because this—this can’t possibly be meant for him, Sokka must be thinking of Suki, of something so intensely private and intimate that Zuko is deeply embarrassed to have witnessed it at all. “Sokka?” he says, trying not to sound lost.
“Your hair got long,” Sokka says, a little hoarsely.
“Well, that’s what hair does,” Zuko says and then wants to kick himself.
Sokka laughs, dragging a hand over his face. “It wasn’t a criticism, Zuko.” Sokka bends to pick up the headpiece from the floor and lays it carefully on the vanity table. “Come on, time for all good little Fire Lords to go to bed.”
“You think I’m good?” Zuko says, too quickly, and he can’t fucking believe himself, he’s a disgrace.
Sokka’s mouth is parted in surprise. “Of course I do,” he says after a moment, and it’s that moment of hesitation that makes Zuko’s heart squeeze terribly in his chest.
“You don’t have to lie to me,” Zuko says. “I can take it.” He can’t take it. His soft and vulnerable insides are already shriveling up in anticipated shame and hurt, the internal muscle memory of his childhood.
Sokka stills, brows drawing together—Zuko has seen him with that exact look in strategy sessions with his father. “Zuko, where is this coming from?”
Zuko is sorry he ever opened his dumb, drunk mouth.
But Sokka crosses his arms, implacable, and Zuko knows he isn’t getting out of this. “It’s just--you haven’t come to see me,” Zuko says, voice small. “You’ve—you traveled to Gaoling to see Toph, you went to the Northern Air Temple with Aang and Katara, you stayed with Suki for a week—”
Sokka exhales, and his face and shoulders sag.
“It just—it just made me think that maybe you—thought I was doing a bad job? As Fire Lord? Or maybe you didn’t—” Zuko cuts himself off because the thought of admitting to Sokka that he worried Sokka didn’t like him anymore makes him want to curl up on the floor and die.
“No,” Sokka says, shaking his head, “no, no, come here.”
“But—”
“Seriously, come here,” Sokka says, wiggling his fingers at Zuko.
Zuko creeps close enough for Sokka to envelope him with his arms, and Zuko wonders how he always forgets that Sokka gives the best hugs. Sokka’s arms are snug around Zuko, the best kind of pressure, anxiety-relieving, and he just wants Sokka to hold him forever. Sokka has an inch or two on Zuko in height—which Sokka never lets him forget—but it does allow Zuko to more easily bury his face in Sokka’s neck. “So we’re gonna talk about this, but you have to promise to lie down,” Sokka says into Zuko’s hair. “No escaping for paperwork—”
Zuko immediately tenses all over. “Fuck. Minister Hassaku wants me to—”
“Minister Hassaku can wait until tomorrow,” Sokka says firmly.
“But tomorrow I need to consider Minister Jao’s school reform proposal,” Zuko says miserably. “Then I have to attend five separate meetings about rice fields and animal husbandry and then I have to attend to all of the international correspondence—”
At this, Sokka puts his hands on Zuko’s shoulders to direct him far enough away—oh no, Sokka is no longer holding him—to look him in the eyes. “Zuko,” Sokka says. “I want you to really hear me when I say this: you will never catch up. There will always be paperwork to do.”
Zuko feels as if Sokka slapped him. “That’s not—”
“No, listen to me,” Sokka says, shaking him a little. “You will never catch up, and that’s okay because your current workload is meant for like, ten people.”
“I’m just not working hard enough,” Zuko mutters, looking away from Sokka’s insistent face.
“You’re missing the point,” Sokka says. “Literally no human could finish your workload, even if they stopped eating and sleeping and using the bathroom for ten years.”
“But I can’t let them down,” Zuko says, distressed. “They’re all relying on me to lead them, to navigate the—the—” Zuko can’t think of the words because he’s too tired and upset, so he makes a flailing gesture as a language substitute.
“Let me introduce you to some new vocabulary terms,” Sokka says. “Healthy work boundaries.”
Zuko makes a face. “You got that from Katara, didn’t you.” He considers this further. “Wait a second, aren’t you the one who was just forced on vacation—”
“Shh,” Sokka says, shoving his finger against Zuko’s lips. “Do what I say, not what I do.” Then he sighs at Zuko’s increasing droopiness and exhausted noodle limbs. “Come on, time to lie down.”
Sokka has to help Zuko out of his formal robes and shoes and then into a silk sleep robe; then he undoes his own shoes and kicks them off before settling himself and Zuko into bed, snuggling Zuko against his side. Zuko knows this isn’t special because Aang likes to use Sokka as his own personal piece of long-suffering furniture, but Zuko still feels so safe and warm with Sokka’s arm wrapped tightly around him.
Sokka pats Zuko’s stomach—which, Zuko can’t remember the last time he ate so much—and says, “See, no escaping to look at rice field statistics.”
Zuko feels a knee-jerk jolt of alarm that locks up his shoulders.
“Okay, no, don’t do that,” Sokka says, pressing his thumb into the ball of Zuko’s shoulder to loosen it. Thank the spirits Katara healed his arm—it would have made completing paperwork much more difficult. “Relax, I’ll tell you a, uh—well, frankly, a terrible bedtime story.”
Zuko wrenches his shoulders back down, but his lower back remains rigid with tension. “All right,” Zuko says when he doesn’t think he’s going to get any more comfortable. “Go on.”
Sokka looks up at the ceiling, his face indecipherable. “It’s hard to know where to start,” he says finally. “All the stress and pressure of being the Chief-in-training—it was burning me out. I didn’t know how to enjoy it, it all just seemed so—so—"
“If you make a single mistake, the world will immediately end,” Zuko suggests, which is honestly how he feels most of the time as the leader of a nation that tried to desolate the rest of the world.
“…I was going to say over-whelming, but okay,” Sokka says. “We’re definitely pinning that for later, you know that, right?”
Zuko frowns.
“There, there,” Sokka says, patting his hair. “Wow, your hair is soft. Anyway, where was I?” Sokka’s fingers continue to softly pet his hair, and he doesn’t seem to have noticed. “Right, so my work habits sucked and Katara and Dad did an intervention—which was not fun at all, by the way—and then Suki also told me to get my shit together and then I uh, worked more, and now I’m here on a Vacay-vention.”
“What?” Zuko says, squinting at him.
“You know, vacation-intervention,” Sokka says, as if it’s obvious. “Intercation? In-vac?”
“No,” Zuko says firmly. “Banned.”
“Everyone’s a critic,” Sokka says. “Anyway, it’s all just been—a lot harder than I thought it would be. When we ended the war, everyone’s paths forward seemed so—simple and obvious. I wanted to be Chief, I wanted to be the kind of man my dad is, so it was like—why wasn’t I happy?”
“You didn’t tell me any of this,” Zuko says quietly.
Sokka doesn’t answer for a long time; his fingers in Zuko’s hair tighten, just a tiny bit. “I was so ashamed,” Sokka says finally in a low voice. “You’ve never once seriously considered turning your back on your responsibility to your people.”
“Sokka, that’s only because there’s no one else,” Zuko says. “Trust me, I would love to go on vacation for the rest of my life.”
Sokka snorts. “You’d get bored after like, a day.”
“Well, maybe I’d open one of those beach tourist shops,” Zuko says, mostly to make Sokka laugh. “Sell subpar seashells to the Earth Kingdom. Most of it’s landlocked, they don’t know any better.”
“Zuko, seashell grifter,” Sokka says, thoughtful. “Kind of has a nice ring to it. I could handle the money.”
“No way, you’d spend it all,” Zuko says. “I’m in charge of the books.”
“Fine, I’ll figure out how to make those tiny liquor glasses,” Sokka says. “You know what, I’ll even personalize them with names, people would love that.”
“If you say so,” Zuko says dubiously.
Sokka resumes stroking his hair, fingernails lightly pressing into his scalp, and Zuko goes boneless with pleasure. “The point is moot anyway because you’d never actually throw it all away to be a seashell grifter.”
“I’d probably teach swordsmanship if I wasn’t Fire Lord,” Zuko says, contemplative. “Firebending too.”
“Really?” Sokka says, sounding surprised. “I didn’t realize you’d thought about it.”
“Of course I’ve thought about it,” Zuko says, and it’s his turn to be surprised. “I’ve had like, at least thirty attempts on my life in the last year alone. Who wouldn’t?”
Pim keeps a little pinned paper in her office that currently says four days since last assassination attempt and she graphs them and runs statistical analyses—assassination attempts have decreased by 3.42 percent since the previous spring, which is exciting.
“I hate it when you make sense,” Sokka admits.
“Hey,” Zuko protests.
“Oh, it just means I’m not making sense,” Sokka says reassuringly.
“That doesn’t make it any better!”
“Well, it’s not my fault you claimed the group role of hot mess,” Sokka says. “Hah! I’m punny again.”
“I’m taking away your tiny liquor glass rights,” Zuko tells him.
“You do that,” Sokka says. “I’ll just start a rival tourist shop and run you out of business.”
Zuko rolls his eyes. “What do Katara and your dad think about all of this?”
“They just want me to be happy at this point,” Sokka sighs. “Like, honestly, Katara was up Dad’s ass for years about adapting emotional and mental health treatment for the tribe, but Dad was super reluctant at first because the research is so new. But then it became very clear that everyone’s suffering from the emotional effects of the war, so Katara’s been doing a lot of pilot testing. Now they’re all about listening to your emotions and finding meaning in life and blah blah blah.”
“That doesn’t sound so bad,” Zuko says, amused.
“Well, it doesn’t really matter if I step down, seeing as how Katara’ll probably step right in and immediately excel,” Sokka says, a little more bitter than Zuko expects.
“Hey, no,” Zuko says, frowning. “Look, even if she was more suited to being Chief, it doesn’t necessarily mean she’s a better leader than you are.”
“How does it not mean that?” Sokka says, and Zuko’s chest hurts at the compressed pain in his voice.
“You have to look specifically at the context in which leadership happens,” Zuko explains. “Like, maybe Katara’s great at the day-to-day tasks and problems of being a leader of a community—but Sokka, it was your strategies that helped win us the war. It’s your ability to negotiate trade that’s driving the Southern Water Tribe’s economic recovery. I mean, look at Azula: she’s a fucking prodigy, but there’s no way she could rule the Fire Nation in this time and place.”
“I don’t know how I feel about being compared to Azula,” Sokka says.
“You have so much talent, Sokka,” Zuko says, ignoring him. “You just have to figure out how you want to use it.”
Sokka lets out a slow breath into Zuko’s hair, which feels strange. “It’s just—you have to understand how much I respect you,” Sokka says, almost inaudible. “You don’t give up. You admit when you’re wrong. I don’t want to—fail you.”
“How would you fail me?” Zuko says.
“By not being the person you thought I was,” Sokka says, sounding a little wretched now.
“That would never happen,” Zuko says firmly.
“How do you know?” Sokka says in a small voice.
“Because you’re the best person I know,” Zuko says.
“Oh,” Sokka says, and Zuko can feel Sokka’s throat constrict, the tiny little shudder of his chest. Zuko lays his hand on Sokka’s breastbone and warms his palm so Sokka can feel the soothing heat. The little torchlights have all burned out, and the room is dark but Zuko is not afraid. Sokka rests his hand on the back of Zuko’s neck, and Zuko tucks his head more firmly underneath Sokka’s chin.
Zuko slides so easily into sleep that he wonders why it was so difficult before.
#
The next morning, Zuko sits in silence across the low table from his uncle, hungover as shit. Nothing has been said since Uncle first poured their tea. Zuko hunches over his cup, letting the steam infiltrate his sinuses.
“Once—very long ago—I had occasion to drink Admiral Zhao under the table,” his uncle says, and Zuko almost snorts tea up his nose. “His lieutenant stole his clothes and hid them. I saw much more of—"
“Uncle,” Zuko says, desperate. “Must you?”
Uncle shrugs.
Zuko rests his forehead gently on the table. It’s one of those spring days where sunlight pours in through the windows and the sky is a crisp blue, but the air is cold and thin. Zuko wears his winter robes; they smell like incense and the little orange citrus fruits that are popular in winter. He hasn’t finished reading Minister Hassaku’s small novel on rice yield statistics.
“Sorry, I’m late!” Sokka says, dropping down beside him, and Zuko almost jumps out of his skin. “Advisor Yabuki wanted to ask me what was going on with Ji because Ji apparently did not properly distribute the rough draft of the Southern Sea Economic Cooperation Zone trade agreement like they were supposed to? So then I had to go find Ji, who was not in their room, but in someone else’s room that shall remain nameless because that someone else is definitely married.” Sokka finally takes a breath. “Lady Nei,” he coughs and then clears his throat. “What, who said that? Anyway, everyone should be ready for the trade meeting in the afternoon.”
“Oh?” Uncle says. “I was under the impression that the Lady Nei and her husband had an arrangement.”
“Oh, that’s off,” Sokka says, waving a hand. “It’s spring, you know, and—"
Zuko squints at him. “What are you doing here?” he says.
“Oh, I’ve been having tea with your uncle in the mornings while you do Fire Lord stuff,” Sokka says cheerfully.
“Sokka is an excellent Pai Sho opponent,” Uncle agrees.
Zuko turns his squint on Uncle and feels irrationally betrayed.
“Be careful, nephew, your face might stick that way,” Uncle says, chuckling. “Sokka and I have been discussing the most recent assassination attempt in the hopes of narrowing down suspects.”
“In between catching up on court gossip, I’m sure,” Zuko says dryly.
“Hey, it’s basically the same thing,” Sokka says, pointing a finger at him.
“Yeah, okay,” Zuko says, sighing. “Thrill me.”
Sokka spends a not inconsiderable amount of time diagramming court politics with little tea candies until the table is completely covered, and Zuko is staring at the candy chaos in despair. “—anyway, there are a few inconsistencies that I’m not sure how to resolve, mostly involving an offshoot of the White Lotus,” Sokka finishes.
Zuko rubs his face with both hands, his head pounding. “Yeah, I have a meeting scheduled with Azula for tomorrow,” Zuko says. “You can bring your…candy diagram.”
Sokka makes a hideous face of confusion that resembles a pet fish Zuko used to have as a child. Well, at least until Azula developed the firm conviction that the fish yearned to be free from its glass cage and then released it into the ocean. Zuko didn’t have the heart to tell her that it was probably immediately eaten. “You—have actual strategy meetings with Azula?” Sokka says, blinking rapidly.
“Yes?” Zuko says. “Haven’t I told you this?”
“Yeah, but I thought that was just a euphemism for making sure she doesn’t commit mass murder,” Sokka says, holding out his tea cup. Zuko obediently absorbs some of the heat, ignoring his uncle’s knowing smile.
“No,” Zuko says. “Actually, I think having the role of adviser has really helped her.”
“Huh,” Sokka says. “Well, as long as you trust her.”
“Azula has proven herself trustworthy,” Uncle says, which hits Zuko unexpectedly like a punch to the gut; that Uncle thinks this, and would say so to someone outside of the family, makes Zuko feel shocked and jumbled, like an insect inside a jar that’s been shaken. ”She has spent the last three years working very hard to preserve Zuko’s leadership.”
“She’s probably—a large part of the reason I’m still alive,” Zuko admits.
“We are very fortunate that you have her,” Uncle says seriously. “I can only help so much when the nobles are still wary of a puppet king, beholden to the Dragon of the West.”
“That reminds me,” Sokka says, starting to frown. “I’ve been wanting to ask you something, Zuko.”
“You can always ask me anything, Sokka,” Zuko says, earnest.
“Then how come your mom isn’t here?” Sokka says. “Literally everyone else traveled here to help you deal with this.”
“Oh,” Zuko says, surprised. “That’s probably because I didn’t tell her about the assassination attempt.”
Sokka stares at him. “…you didn’t tell your mother that someone tried to kill you.”
“I mean,” Zuko says slowly. “I don’t usually tell her?”
Sokka stares at him more. “What the fuck, Zuko?”
“She’s busy,” Zuko says defensively. “She has her own life. Besides, it’d be dangerous for her and Kiyi to visit. I wouldn’t be able to live with myself if something happened to them because of me.”
Sokka turns to Uncle. “I don’t understand,” he says.
“With the fear of burning others, the fire will turn on itself,” Uncle says.
Sokka turns back to Zuko.
“She’s happy,” Zuko says mulishly. “I don’t want to bother her.”
“She’s your mom,” Sokka says bluntly. “You’re supposed to bother her.”
“Well, I don’t want to, okay?” Zuko says. “I’m fine. She’s fine. She doesn’t need to know.” Zuko looks down at his tea, which has gone cold. “Anyway, she doesn’t like coming back to the palace. Too many bad memories.”
“I can understand that,” Sokka says. “But you’re her son. I’m sure she’d want to know.”
“Yeah, well, she didn’t seem to care about that very much when she decided to forget I even existed,” Zuko says bitterly and then immediately winces. The situation with his mother has been what it is for years now, and he had promised himself many times that he would learn to accept it. Once again, he is failing. “I mean, she—she deserves to be happy. It’s not like there was anything she could have done anyway when my father—” his voice cuts out, and he feels a thickness of regurgitated grief and shame in his stomach, the back of his throat.
Sokka looks at him with an incredible sympathy, and Zuko fights the urge to cower away from it. “She also chose to remember you,” Sokka says.
“I know,” Zuko says, trying to smile. “Anyway, it’s fine. We’ll figure this out.”
Sokka is shaking his head. “No, it’s not fine,” he says. “It’s not fine that you’ve been suffering by yourself like this.”
Zuko feels his mouth tremble, and he bites his lip, hard.
“Sokka is correct, Zuko,” his uncle says gently. “An untreated wound only festers.”
Sokka lays a hand on Zuko’s wrist—large and warm and undemanding—and this is what undoes him. “It’s just—her choosing to remember isn’t enough,” Zuko says, feeling small and mean. “It doesn’t make up for her—making the choice to not be my mother.” Zuko swallows, his nose prickling, and he feels pressure at the back of his eyes. “Sometimes all I can think about is that I wasn’t a good enough son to be remembered,” he says.
Sokka looks horrified. “That’s not true,” he says.
“Not just me, but Azula too,” Zuko says, his mouth trembling again, and even sinking his teeth into his lower lip doesn’t stop it. “We both—failed. As her children.”
“No, Zuko,” Uncle says, shaking his head. “Ursa does not feel that way, I promise you.”
“But how do you know?” Zuko says, and tears spill over his cheeks and down his chin, into the collar of his robes. “The last thing she ever told me before she left was to never forget who I am, and then she—she decided to forget who she was. Who I am.”
“Ah, shit,” Sokka says, looking gutted, and pulls him into a crushing hug. It just makes Zuko cry harder, his hands clutching Sokka’s shoulders—he feels like an open wound, like his insides could tumble right out of his body, inflamed with an acidic and eroding hurt.
Uncle’s hand pushes Zuko’s sweaty hair back from his face and then cups the back of his neck like when he was small, makes shushing noises. “It’s okay, nephew,” he says. “You are safe.”
Zuko can’t breathe, just chokes into Sokka’s neck, making hurt noises like a wounded animal.
“The feelings that you are experiencing are natural,” Uncle says soothingly. “Let them flow through you like your breath.”
“I can’t,” Zuko says, taking little sips of air, his chest spasming, humiliated by being so unable to get himself under control.
“I know that you feel deeply hurt by this,” his uncle says. “I know you have been afraid.”
Uncle moves closer, and Zuko inhales the familiar scents of jasmine tea and spices; he remembers being four-years-old, sitting on Uncle’s lap, crying because Ozai had shouted at him again about his bending, and Uncle reassuring him that Ozai’s anger wasn’t his fault, had nothing to do with him, and how safe Zuko had felt in that moment.
“I will never leave you,” his uncle says now, and Zuko feels an insulating relief, a little candle flame against the darkness. “I will always be here for you when you need me.”
Sokka holds him tighter, and the pressure and weight—like Sokka is literally holding him together--allows him to take a deeper breath.
“That’s it,” Uncle says. “Breathe out as slowly as you can. Do you remember the story I used to tell you about the little fire phoenix?”
“I always made you change the ending,” Zuko says, lifting himself up a little from Sokka’s shoulders to wipe his face with a small cloth. Sokka loosens his grip, his hands sliding from Zuko’s back to his upper arms, but doesn’t let go.
“You found it too sad,” Uncle agrees.
“What happened?” Sokka says.
“The fire phoenix experiences all the ways it’s possible to suffer and then as soon as it finds a little happiness, it dies,” Zuko says, still a little outraged after all these years.
Uncle chuckles. “It was meant to teach you to accept the past,” he says.
“Wow,” Sokka says. “Zuko has never accepted anything in his entire life.”
“Perhaps my goal was misguided,” Uncle agrees. “After all, this lack of acceptance is what has allowed Zuko to lead the Fire Nation into an era of peace and healing.”
At this, Zuko feels the ever-present knot of anxiety in stomach start to loosen. “Thank you, Uncle,” he says. “Your confidence means a lot to me.”
“You don’t have to talk to your mother about this,” Sokka says quietly. “But I think that you should.”
“I don’t want to hurt her,” Zuko says, taking the cup of water that Uncle hands him.
“You hurting instead isn’t an acceptable alternative,” Sokka says.
“I’ll think about it,” Zuko says grudgingly.
“Good,” Sokka says, taking his hands away, and Zuko immediately misses them. “Okay, hydrate and then naptime for the Fire Lord.”
Zuko stares at him. “I have morning meetings, Sokka,” he says.
“When was the last time you took a break?” Sokka says.
“Yesterday?” Zuko says. “When I went to dinner with you and Pim?”
Sokka snorts. “Before that.”
Zuko glares.
“That’s what I thought,” Sokka says, satisfied.
“Uncle—” Zuko starts.
“Naptime for the Fire Lord, indeed,” Uncle says cheerfully. “If you will not listen to me about taking good care of yourself, perhaps you will listen to your fiancé.”
Zuko would bet fair odds that Uncle knows that at this point, the engagement is a complete farce that will end the moment the assassin is apprehended, but he’s always been an incurable meddler. “I’m attending the afternoon meetings,” Zuko says firmly.
“Aang and Katara are attending the morning meetings, anyway,” Sokka says. “They’ll make sure nothing’s set on fire. Uh, either metaphorically or literally.”
“What are you going to do?” Zuko says, secretly hoping Sokka will offer to come lie down with him.
“I’m meeting with Suki, Toph, and Pim about security stuff,” Sokka says.
“Oh,” Zuko says and then hurriedly adds, “good,” to hide his disappointment, but Uncle isn’t fooled and is giving him one of those unbearable knowing looks. The disappointment is good, it reminds him that he absolutely cannot get used to Sokka’s presence, that Sokka does not actually return his feelings and will be going home as soon as this latest security problem has been solved.
“Speaking of, I should get going,” Sokka says, starting to stand. “But if you don’t sleep, Zuko, I’ll hear about it.”
“How would you even find out?” Zuko says, just to be contrary. “I could be catching up on paperwork, and you wouldn’t know the difference.”
“I have my ways,” Sokka says dramatically.
“Sokka is friendly with the cleaning staff,” Uncle says.
“Oh, fine, ruin the mystery,” Sokka says, pouting.
Uncle chuckles, and Zuko doesn’t even realize he’s smiling as Sokka leaves until Uncle says innocently, “How is the engagement proceeding?”
“…I’m going to bed,” Zuko says.
Uncle just laughs at him.
#
When Zuko had gone to his mother’s home village to find her, he had only taken Azula and Toph—Azula because she was holding information about their mother hostage, and Toph ostensibly to keep Azula secured but also because Zuko found it hilarious how enraged Azula got over Toph’s terrible knock-knock jokes.
“Knock knock,” Toph said, lying in the dirt.
Azula said nothing.
“Knock knock,” Toph said. “Knock knock knock knock knock—”
“What,” Azula hissed.
“You’re supposed to say who’s there,” Toph pointed out.
“Who’s there,” Azula ground out.
“Interrupting hippo cow,” Toph said.
“What?” Azula said. “That doesn’t even make any sense, why would an interrupting hipp—”
“Mooooo,” Toph yelled.
Azula actually looked at Zuko for support with the air of a wet cat-owl, and Zuko had had to walk off into the forest to ugly laugh.
In truth, Zuko hadn’t invited anyone else on this trip because all of them had terrible and painful experiences with Azula, and he didn’t want to force them to keep company with her. Toph had the least amount of Azula-related emotional baggage and was also the most qualified at restraining someone without hurting them. Finally, she was also the least likely to initiate an emotional discussion.
When Azula ran off after confronting their mother—who did not remember being their mother and who did not wear their mother’s face—Zuko felt that he should have known this would happen.
“I can try to find her with my seismic sense,” Toph offered after they had trudged back to their campsite to see no signs of Azula.
“Thanks,” Zuko said. “But I think I know where she is.”
Zuko had walked back through the forest and into the village and then back to their mother’s house. Azula was crouched in a tree, looking into the second-story window of their mother’s home. Zuko climbed up next to her to see that the window looked into Kiyi’s bedroom, and Ursa was reading her a story.
“Go away,” Azula said without looking at him.
Zuko settled onto the branch.
“If you don’t leave, I’ll kill you,” Azula said.
Zuko looked at her and did not leave.
“I hate you,” she said. “I hate you so much that I could die. I hate you so much that I’d rather kill you and languish in prison for the rest of my life than have you for a brother.”
“I’m not leaving,” Zuko said.
“Well, I’m certainly not returning as your prisoner,” she said. Azula hadn’t looked at him this entire time, her eyes fixed on Ursa, who was smiling but not at either of them. “If you don’t leave, I’ll hurt Mother. I’ll hurt her so much that she’ll never want to look at either of us again.”
“I’m still not leaving you,” Zuko said.
“You’ll never be the golden child,” Azula said. This was when he noticed that tears streamed silently down her face. “She’s moved on. She’s replaced you. She hates you, or she’d never have chosen to forget you even existed.”
“You can say whatever you want,” Zuko said. “You can’t make me leave. I’m staying right here.”
Azula’s face screwed up a little, her mouth trembling, but she didn’t wipe her face or make a sound. They stayed there for a long time—long past when Ursa snuffed the candles and left the room in darkness.
After that, Zuko scheduled Pai Sho games with Azula once a week—which he figured was a safe way for Azula to enjoy beating the shit out of him—but then it slowly shifted into strategy meetings because Azula couldn’t resist pointing out all the weak spots in his political game.
Now, of course, they meet several times a week because Azula’s brain is a brilliant and relentless hydraulic machine, and also because she’s developed a full-blown addiction to coffee. The full force of Azula’s intellect in combination with caffeine is honestly terrifying, but Pim says it’s reduced the odds of a coup by two hundred percent so Zuko will continue to suffer for his people.
When Zuko and Sokka enter her sitting rooms, Azula sits at the already set-up Pai Sho board, surrounded by empty coffee cups and piles of notes.
Zuko sighs. “Have you eaten anything to go with the stroke-inducing amounts of coffee you’ve consumed?”
Azula looks at him like he’s an idiot. “Of course I have.”
Zuko turns to Sai—Azula’s maidservant—and says, “Could we get some food from the kitchen, please? Whatever the chef’s already made is fine.”
“Of course, my Lord,” Sai says and removes herself from the room.
Azula sighs loudly. “I’m not hungry.”
“I don’t care,” Zuko says, settling himself on the couch across from her. “If you want to play Sokka in Pai Sho, you’ll eat something.”
Azula frowns down at the board because she’s been heckling Zuko to let her play against Sokka ever since Sokka beat Uncle.
“Huh,” Sokka says, raising his eyebrows, but when Zuko raises his own eyebrow at him, Sokka just shakes his head and sits next to Zuko, their thighs almost touching. Zuko feels an acute warmth at their proximity and then immediately tells himself it means nothing—the engagement is going to end and then Sokka’s going to return to Suki and they’ll probably have like five perfect babies who are all prodigies with weapons and then they’ll have their own personal army to terrorize everyone with.
“Guest has the first move,” Azula says, waving a hand at the board.
“Hey, I never agreed to this,” Sokka says, putting up his hands.
Azula turns to Zuko, betrayed, and Zuko looks at Sokka with wide eyes. “Are you afraid?” Zuko asks earnestly.
Sokka looks unimpressed. “Zuko,” he says warningly.
“He’s too afraid to play me,” Azula says to Zuko in a confiding whisper.
“I know,” he whispers back. “A shame, really, considering he’d probably beat you.”
Azula and Sokka’s mouths both drop open in full offense, and Zuko smiles at them serenely.
“You’ve gotten mean in your old age,” Sokka accuses, even as he’s examining the board.
Zuko shrugs. “When you interact with Fire Nation nobles on a regular basis, you have to fight fire with fire sometimes.”
“But you still won’t let me emotionally crush Lord Razok,” Azula argues.
“Because your plan involves the collateral damage of half my nobles and a third of my ministers,” Zuko says for the thousandth time.
“It’s much more efficient!” Azula says. “If your nobles and ministers are stupid enough to take the bait, then they deserve the consequences.”
“Efficiency isn’t the only thing that matters, Azula,” Zuko says because he hopes that by saying it enough times, Azula will get it through her head that she doesn’t have to be the perfect weapon anymore. She only seems to get a handle on it when most inconvenient for Zuko; she vehemently opposes Plan 4.5. “No one deserves to be hurt, even if they make a mistake.”
“Ugh,” Azula says.
Sai arrives with leftovers from breakfast: dumplings, jook, grilled fish, soup. It’s Sokka’s move, and Azula is forced to wait while Sokka piles his plate with food—Zuko can practically hear her teeth grinding.
“Well, go on,” Sokka says to Azula, gesturing to the food dishes with a tilt of his head.
“You’re not in charge of me,” Azula says, raising her eyebrows.
“I guess we’re not finishing this game then,” Sokka says in a sing-song voice, and Azula looks like she would very much like to punch him in the face but instead takes a portion of grilled fish so small it wouldn’t feed a meadow vole. Zuko adds more fish to her plate, along with a little bowl of soup.
Azula looks at Zuko in disgust. “You’re such a hypocrite,” she says and then shoves the rest of the fish onto a plate—enough to feed a tigerdillo--and passes it to Zuko in a blatant show of pettiness.
Zuko glares at her.
Sokka has a look of perplexed amusement on his face. “She’s got you there, Zuko,” Sokka says, moving a piece on the board.
“That’s a terrible move,” Zuko tells him.
“What? What do you mean—oh, haha, very funny,” Sokka says when Zuko laughs because everyone knows he’s the absolute worst at Pai Sho.
“I made a short-list of organizations and individuals that may have been responsible for the most recent assassination attempt,” Azula says, taking the tiniest bite of fish known to humankind.
“Oh, then can you give me—” Sokka starts to say.
“Bet you it’s the Suyen family,” Azula says to Zuko.
“No way, it’s the New Ozai Society again,” Zuko says. “They never learn.”
“You wanna put your money where your mouth is?” Azula says conversationally. “200 gold pieces.”
“Done,” Zuko says.
“Uhhh, how about we not place bets on Zuko’s life?” Sokka says, looking appalled.
Zuko and Azula look at him with uncomprehending faces.
“Okay, that’s creepy,” Sokka says, pointing at them. “Azula, where’s your list?”
Azula shoves a pile of paper across the table.
“Wow,” Sokka says, starting to read through it. “This is…a lot of people that want to kill you, Zuko.”
“Most of them actually have ties to each other,” Zuko explains. “It’s the people who still support Ozai.”
“It just means you’re doing something right,” Azula says, so casually that Zuko almost doesn’t even catch that Azula has just complimented him.
Zuko grins and starts to open his mouth.
“Not a word,” Azula says warningly.
Zuko closes his mouth.
“But the Gi Shen faction are from the Earth Kingdom,” Sokka says, frowning at the suspect list.
“Oh, they just want to destabilize the Fire Nation,” Zuko says, leaning back into the couch. “Nothing personal.”
“But—why?” Sokka says. “I assume they don’t want Ozai back on the throne.”
“Revenge?” Zuko says.
“Revenge,” Azula confirms.
Sokka sighs and sets the suspect list on the table. “It’s not that I don’t understand how they feel, you know?” Sokka says. “But starting another war won’t bring anything back that’s been lost.”
Zuko wishes he could bring back everything that was lost: besides the devastation of the Southern Water Tribe, the genocide of the Air Nomads is what Zuko thinks most about at night, when he’s lying awake and looking at the ceiling. There’s absolutely nothing he can do to even begin to atone for that, and it kills him.
“This list has at least one hundred names and motivations on it,” Sokka says, shifting to face Zuko. “How are you narrowing it down?”
Zuko turns to Azula, who pulls out another pile of paper, but this one is color-coded with complicated flow chart diagrams.
“Damn,” Sokka says, taking it. “This is…extensive.”
“This is nothing,” Azula drawls. “You should have seen when he got stabbed.”
“Azula,” Zuko barks because she had promised to keep that to herself.
“He should know what you’ve been through,” Azula says. “You had to use a cane for months.” Her voice is relaxed, but her hand shakes a little when she moves a piece on the board; he hadn’t realized she was still this upset about it.
Zuko winces because Sokka looks like he himself has been stabbed. “You what?” Sokka says.
“Well,” Zuko says and then doesn’t know how to finish.
“How could you not say anything?” Sokka says, and he actually looks close to tears. “How would you feel if one of us didn’t tell you something like that?”
Zuko cringes. “I just didn’t want to—impose,” he says weakly.
“Don’t feel too bad,” Azula says, saccharine sweet, because she had reamed Zuko a new asshole for the whole getting stabbed thing. “Mother knew about it and still didn’t come.”
“Because I told her not to,” Zuko says, raising his voice a little because they’ve had this argument so many times.
“She should have come anyway,” Azula says stubbornly.
“She wanted to respect—” Zuko starts to say.
“Zuko, stop,” Sokka says, holding up a hand. “You know if you had told me, I would have come, right?” Sokka looks at him beseechingly. “I would have been here in a heartbeat.”
“It’s—Sokka, I know you would have,” Zuko says.
“You have to,” Sokka says, his fingers digging into his own knees. “You have to know.”
“I just,” Zuko says helplessly. “I’m the Fire Lord. I know what I signed on for. This is my problem, not anyone else’s.”
“I feel like it becomes the world’s problem if you die and the whole Fire Nation descends into chaos,” Sokka says, his mouth a thin line.
Zuko looks at Azula, who raises her eyebrows at him—Azula has made it clear on multiple occasions that she does not want to be Fire Lord after watching Zuko exist as a tight knot of stress for approximately seven years. “All right,” Zuko says to both of them. “I get the point.”
“Do you?” Sokka says seriously and then before Zuko can respond, he says, “Okay, Azula, walk me through your charts.”
Zuko tries to loosen his shoulders and regulate his breathing; his heart is fluttering in his chest in a rhythm that doesn’t feel good. Sokka offers him a cup of hot tea without looking at him, focused on Azula’s notes and the Pai Sho board. Zuko takes it, letting the warmth seep into his cold hands, his heart rate starting to even out. Sometimes his heartbeat gets out of order when he’s stressed due to the injury he sustained during his Agni Kai with Azula, and he knows she hates herself for it. He adds a dumpling to Azula’s plate, and she makes a face at him. Sokka bullies her into eating it, and Zuko catches himself thinking about how nice this is, that he can have this, share Azula with someone else even if only a little.
Of course, then it all goes to shit because Azula loses the game.
Azula stares down at the board in shock. “You beat me,” she says in a small voice.
“You were a difficult opponent,” Sokka offers. “It was a really good game.”
“No,” Azula says. “It wasn’t.”
Zuko can see where this is going and tries to shock her out of it. “Guess even you can’t win ‘em all…Zuzu.”
Azula’s mouth drops open. “Excuse me?” she says, incensed.
“You’re excused,” Zuko says sweetly.
“You don’t get to be proud of yourself,” Azula says. “It took you actual decades to figure that out. You’re a moron.”
“Whatever you say, Zuzu.”
Azula closes her eyes for a moment, and that’s when Zuko can see the fatigue in her face, the emotional strain that she’s under all the time, and his heart breaks for her. “All right, great, get out now,” Azula says. “I have work to do.”
“Azula—” Zuko starts to say because he knows that’s code for obsessively replaying the game to see where she went wrong.
“Take my notes and go,” Azula snaps.
Zuko opens his mouth again, but Sokka puts a hand on his shoulder. “Let’s go,” Sokka says. “You can come back later.”
“No, he can’t,” Azula says, her face and her entire body strung tight and Zuko knows that the longer they stay, the more likely she’ll snap and cause damage that she’ll beat herself up about later.
“If you need me, you know where I am,” Zuko says evenly and then he lets Sokka lead him into the corridor and down the hall to his office.
Zuko lets out a deep, shuddering breath once the door closes, and Sokka puts his hands on Zuko’s shoulders. “What was that about?” Sokka says.
Zuko feels strangely vulnerable at the idea of revealing Azula’s weaknesses to Sokka, someone who legitimately has no reason to feel any sympathy for her—Zuko doesn’t like to mention Azula to Sokka because she still hasn’t apologized to him, and Zuko doesn’t want to hurt Sokka any further. But now Sokka is actually asking.
“Ozai never accepted anything less than perfection,” Zuko says finally.
“Oh, Zuko,” Sokka says sadly.
Shortly after Zuko was coronated, when he was still cleaning house of all Ministers loyal to Ozai, Sokka and Katara found out from a group of resentful nobles how Zuko had received his—facial injury, and Zuko had been surprised by the blistering shame that overcame him when they confronted him, how he hadn’t even wanted them to look at him.
“Don’t feel sorry for me,” Zuko says stiffly.
“I don’t feel sorry for you, Zuko, geez,” Sokka says, jerking back a little, his hands coming to rest in the crooks of Zuko’s elbows.
“Then what is this?” Zuko says.
“Uh, me caring about you?” Sokka says, his brow furrowing.
“You caring about me,” Zuko repeats.
“Yes,” Sokka says, exasperated. “An arcane and mysterious concept, I know.”
“I just don’t—want to be too much,” Zuko admits.
“You’re the Fire Lord,” Sokka says nonsensically.
“And that means?” Zuko says.
“Of course you’re high maintenance,” Sokka says tenderly.
“…thank you so much,” Zuko says dryly.
Sokka keeps looking at him, his eyes so fucking blue and sincere, and Zuko realizes how close they are, if he just—went up on his toes a little, and leaned in, he could—no, he can’t, the last thing Zuko ever wants to do is put pressure on Sokka, especially when Sokka is currently obliged to pretend that they’re engaged.
Zuko’s chest hurts.
“Zuko,” Sokka starts and then stops.
“What?” Zuko says.
“Nothing,” Sokka says. “It’s—yeah.”
“Sokka—” Zuko starts to say.
“You’re doing a good job with Azula,” Sokka says abruptly, and Zuko wonders what he was really going to say.
“I just feel like there’s more I could be doing,” Zuko says. “She still has really bad days.”
“So do you,” Sokka points out. “We’ve all been through some shit. I think she’s doing a lot better than you think she is.”
Zuko looks at him, unable to speak, because it means so much to hear Sokka say that.
“You’re so close to the situation, it’s hard to see it,” Sokka says. “But take it from someone who has the bird’s eye view: you can stop worrying so much.”
Zuko takes a shaky breath, lets it out. “What did I ever do without you?” he says.
“Let’s get you through the current crisis and never find out, okay?” Sokka says.
“Deal,” Zuko says, smiling at him.
Sokka smiles back, lifting a hand to smooth a loose lock of Zuko’s hair back from his face, his fingers lingering on Zuko’s jaw. Zuko stops breathing—his heart does one of those bad jerks and he fights the urge to cough. “Oh shit, it’s afternoon meeting time,” Sokka says, looking at the clock on Zuko’s wall and taking his hand away. “How much you wanna bet Ji didn’t do the reading?”
“That’s a sucker’s bet,” Zuko says feebly because his mind is still stuck on Sokka’s smile and his hand and the proximity between them.
“Well, and you’re a sucker,” Sokka points out, slinging his arm around Zuko’s shoulders to pull him toward the door.
As they walk down the corridor to the meeting—Sokka talking animatedly about international water boundaries and gesturing with his free hand—Zuko watches him and thinks to himself: he’s so pathetic. Zuko has had the opportunity to experience the headiness of Sokka’s constant and undivided attention, and he only wants more.
Because unfortunately, Sokka is completely correct on that front: Zuko is indeed a sucker.
#
When Zuko walks into his advisers engaging in a pygma-puma fight over his hypothetical engagement to Sokka, he wonders why he’s surprised that it’s all finally blown up in his face. Admittedly, Zuko has been lulled into a false sense of security due to not having met with any of his formal advisors in a week and also being forced to sleep and eat on a semi-regular basis, which are actually…clarifying experiences that he should probably be having more of.
Zuko has arrived late to this meeting on account of a pipe bursting in the kitchen and so is skulking in the back, steaming himself dry, when Adviser Shan says, “The engagement of the Fire Lord to someone of the Southern Water Tribe would be a completely unsuitable match.”
“How so?” Sokka says, far more politely than Zuko would ever have expected.
“You can’t tell me you would actually want to marry the Fire Lord,” Advisor Shan protests. “It hasn’t even been a decade since the end of the war and—”
“Hey, I’m fully supportive,” Advisor Tora says. “What better way to ensure peace than a marriage alliance?”
“But then what does that mean for the Fire Lord line of inheritance?” Advisor Shan says.
“Is that really relevant?” Advisor Tora says. “Considering neither of them can bear children, adoption or a surrogate would be the most viable option in any case.”
Zuko is absolutely speechless.
“The public opinion on a hypothetical engagement between the Fire Lord and a future leader of the Southern Water Tribe is deeply mixed,” Advisor Kazu pipes up. “My assistant ran the polls.”
“You know, that’s better than I expected,” Advisor Tora says, thoughtful. “A few years ago, the public would have been completely against it.”
“Things are definitely changing,” Advisor Yabuki says. “Advisor Shan, your line of thinking is exceedingly insular—dare I even say small-minded?—and it would behoove you to—”
“Why am I the only one who consistently seems to care about the health and longevity of the Fire Nation?” Advisor Shan says hotly. “The Fire Lord would never lower himself by—"
“Okay!” Zuko says loudly, finally regaining his ability to speak and striding forward. Everyone’s eyes snap toward him (except for Toph, who is sleeping with her eyes open). Sokka and Suki are visibly dying on the inside, and Katara looks like she would quite like to murder Advisor Shan. “This is absolutely unacceptable. I expect my advisors to behave respectfully at all times--not gossip in meetings like school children.”
“If his Lordship would deign to update his council of advisors on the state of his marriage contract, perhaps we would not have to,” Advisor Shan says coolly.
Zuko winces because he had been very successful at avoiding discussing this with his advisors until this very moment due solely to Pim running interference in accordance with Plan 4.5.
“I do wish Prince Iroh had consulted with us before drawing up the contract,” Advisor Yabuki admits. “We could have had more time to prepare.”
“It was a flagrant break in protocol,” Advisor Shan says, nostrils flaring. “Yes, the elders in the family decide the match, but then they must discuss with the Fire Lord’s advisors before formalizing the marital agreement.”
“It’s true, this is an awkward position for us,” Advisor Tora agrees. “Especially when considering that the contracts have been signed but there has been no formal proclamation, it calls the validity of the entire engagement into question.”
“I disagree,” Advisor Kazu says. “I think the contracts are both necessary and sufficient, regardless of when it is announced.”
“Advisor Kazu, the real problem is that it appears as if the Fire Lord is ashamed of his betrothed,” Advisor Shan says. “Frankly, if his Lordship really respected the Southern Water Tribe, he would have already addressed this with us and with his people.”
“I am not ashamed of Sokka,” Zuko exclaims.
“Then stop acting like it, my Lord,” Advisor Shan says severely. “As it stands, you are only showing the public that he is good enough to bed but not enough to wed.”
Zuko feels like lightning has struck him: his vision whites out and fury lances through him so intensely that for a brief moment, he’s worried his spirit might actually separate from his body.
“I love Sokka, and I want to spend the rest of my life with him,” Zuko says in a low voice. “While I can understand that this entire process has not been ideal, there are multiple reasons we have not yet announced the engagement to the public. None of those reasons are that I don’t respect Sokka or the Southern Water Tribe.”
Then Zuko realizes what he’s just confessed in front of everyone, and he literally feels the blood drain from his face.
“I see,” Advisor Shan says, looking thoughtful, but Zuko can hardly hear him through the rushing in his ears. He’s too terrified to look at any of his friends, and he can feel that Aang is trying to lock eyes with him.
“Zuko—” Sokka starts to say.
“Wow, I think Minister Hassaku is calling me?” Zuko says. “Hey, I think I need to step out, Minister Hassaku probably wants to uh, discuss the rice and uh—” Zuko fumbles with his chair, hands shaking, frantically avoiding any sort of eye contact, and then turns and almost runs out the door.
After strategically retreating to the turtle-duck pond, Zuko sits on the rock, and claws his hands into his hair, disrupting his headpiece, and groans in utter humiliation. His advisors had seen him at every level of non-functionality, including incredibly high on prescription pain killers, so while his behavior was not ideal, it also wasn’t…the worst they had seen from him.
But the fact that his friends had just watched him—he groans again, louder.
Then he hears a little clanking noise and opens his eyes just in time to see one of the turtle-ducks trying to steal his headpiece. “Hey, no,” he says, trying to grab it, but the turtle-duck pecks his fingers. “Ugh, fine, you can have it.” The turtle-duck opens its wing to let a little baby turtle-duck slide down to the ground before taking the headpiece and venturing back to the pond. “I guess this is a fair trade,” Zuko says, smiling goofily as he pets the little baby turtle-duck on its fluffy little head.
“I thought I’d find you here,” Sokka says.
Zuko—okay, he kind of screeches, which disturbs the baby turtle-duck and sends it waddling back to the pond.
“Sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you,” Sokka says, putting up his hands. Zuko tries not to clutch at his chest in emotional overwhelm. “Hey, did you know that turtle-duck has your crown thingy?”
Zuko stares at him
Sokka sighs. “So, I think we need to talk about what happened in there?”
“Nope,” Zuko says immediately. “I think it is completely conclusive and so therefore needs no further investigation.” He pauses and then adds, “I rest my case.”
“Zuko,” Sokka says gently, and Zuko fucking hates this, it’s all crumbling to ash around him and there’s nothing he can do to stop it. “Are you in love with me?”
Horrifyingly, Zuko can feel tears prick the backs of his eyes. He looks at the pond where he had spent so much time with his mother—Zuko thinks about how much he had loved her in those moments. He wonders why love always seems to hurt him so much. “And if I am?” he says finally, his voice hoarse. He turns to look at Sokka, who looks stricken. “Then what?”
Sokka lets out a shuddering breath. “So it’s true.”
“…you knew?” Zuko says, standing up.
“I—I suspected,” Sokka says, looking miserable. “And then—Azula confirmed.”
“She what?” Zuko says, staggering back a step, feeling like he had been cleaved in half—he had gotten complacent and trusted Azula too much, that was private and she knew it, fuck, he was such an idiot—
“I know, I know, but she was just trying to protect you,” Sokka says hurriedly, taking a step forward and immediately stopping when Zuko backs away. “She was worried I was taking emotional advantage of you.”
“She had no right,” Zuko says, his voice breaking. “When did this even happen?”
“I had some new thoughts about her suspect list, so I—met with her again” Sokka says and then in a rush, “I’m not saying that what she did was okay, but Zuko, she really cares about you, and she’s concerned—”
This is when Zuko catches a flicker of movement in the corner of his eye—he doesn’t think, just tackles Sokka to the ground to cover his body with his own, and then he feels a sharp pain in the back of his neck. He looks down at Sokka’s face, so well-loved by him. “Sokka,” he says, and then somehow time fast forwards and he’s on his back on the ground, and Sokka is saying, “—no, Zuko, stay with me, don’t close your eyes—”
“But I dn’t wnna give ‘zula th’gold,” Zuko says muzzily.
Sokka says something in a sharp tone that he can’t catch, but his hands are gentle on his face, and serenity pours over Zuko with the inexorability of the sea. He thinks about the fish that Azula freed, and he smiles at the wide expanse of ocean-blue sky overhead, feeling held by the earth and Sokka’s hands and the sun—and then he knows nothing.
#
Zuko wakes in the infirmary—he finds it depressing how easily he recognizes where he is—and then notices that Sokka is hunched over onto Zuko’s bed with his head pillowed on his arms, sleeping, his face parallel to Zuko’s hip. His eyes are rimmed with red, like he’s been crying recently, and there’s a little table with plates of untouched food. Zuko looks around, and there’s no one else in the room. Pim must be guarding the door on the other side.
Zuko carefully starts to sit up but accidentally jostles Sokka’s head, which causes Sokka to shoot awake, and he only relaxes when he logs that Zuko is still there. “Oh, good, you’re awake,” Sokka says.
“Hi?” Zuko tries, wondering if he could actually just fake amnesia of the several hours that he was last conscious.
“Pim told me about Plan 4.5,” Sokka says conversationally.
Zuko winces. “Oh,” he says.
“Oh?” Sokka repeats dangerously. “That’s all you have to say for yourself when you deliberately used yourself as bait to catch the assassin?”
“…did it work?” Zuko says.
Sokka pinches the bridge of his nose the same way Pim does when she has really truly had it up to here with Zuko. “Yes, they caught everyone involved,” Sokka says and then adds, “By the way, you and Azula were both wrong about who it was.”
“Then who was it?” Zuko asks, frowning.
“Red Lotus,” Sokka says grimly. “Which means you and Azula both owe me 200 gold pieces each.”
“Hey, we never agreed to—okay, fine,” Zuko says, holding up his hands at the look Sokka is giving him.
“You are actually going to give me a heart attack before I’m thirty,” Sokka says tightly. “That was absolutely the least cool thing you’ve ever done.”
“What about when I tried to capture the Avatar?” Zuko says, unable to help himself.
Sokka glares at him. “I’m glad you’re finding this funny because I already sent a letter to your mom with all of the relevant updates.”
Zuko has to admit that as payback, this is probably fair.
“Tui and La, Zuko, what were you thinking?” Sokka says, sounding genuinely angry.
“I was thinking this was the most efficient way to solve the problem,” Zuko says, even though that never works on him when Azula tries it.
“They poisoned you,” Sokka says, raising his voice, and Zuko cannot remember the last time he heard Sokka yell, it happens so rarely. “If Katara wasn’t here, you might have actually died!”
“Sorry,” Zuko mumbles after a second, but it doesn’t seem to be anywhere near adequate because Sokka just looks more upset.
“This really hurt me, Zuko,” Sokka says, looking directly into Zuko’s eyes; Zuko can see the tiredness in his face, the under-eye circles, the stubble that shows he hasn’t shaved. “It hurt everyone. Your uncle is worried sick about you. He’s sleeping right now for the first time in three days.”
Zuko’s shoulders curl up around his ears, and he feels lower than dirt.
“I care about you so much, and you take such shit care of yourself,” Sokka says, his voice breaking. “You have to stop treating yourself like you don’t matter.”
“I’m—I’m so sorry, Sokka,” Zuko says humbly, his hands clenching in his blankets. “I’m just—used to being by myself.”
“But that’s the thing, you’re not by yourself,” he says. “Like, even if we’re far away, we’re here for you. Spirits, Zuko, I write you literally every day!”
“It’s just—every day, I have to be on alert,” Zuko says haltingly. “I have to watch out all the time for people who want to kill me or people who want to screw me over politically, and there’s no break. Everything constantly feels like a high stakes transaction.”
“That’s why you need to start relying on the people you trust to do their jobs,” Sokka says. “The Fire Nation’s not going to immediately collapse if you don’t personally manage every single decision.”
Zuko opens his mouth, and Sokka holds up a hand. “I admit, that probably would have been a true statement a few years ago. But don’t you know you’re past that now?”
“All the murder attempts would suggest otherwise,” Zuko points out.
“Yeah, but that’s not an issue in your inner circle,” Sokka says. “I rigorously tested every single one of your ministers, as well as your advisors—and like, I hate Shan, but he’s very genuinely committed to your leadership.”
Zuko leans back against his pillows because he’s already fatigued and he’s only been awake approximately five minutes.
“Please, Zuko,” Sokka begs, actually genuinely begs, and Zuko can’t let him do that, it hurts too much.
“Yes, all right,” Zuko says. “I promise I’ll start delegating.”
“Good,” Sokka says. “Because I really want to stop worrying about you.” He considers this and then groans. “Geez, I really have joined the Constantly-Worrying-About-Zuko club.”
Zuko scrunches his face. “What?”
“Azula and your uncle apparently—uh, never mind,” Sokka says. “Trade secret.”
Zuko looks at him suspiciously, but Sokka mimes zipping his lips, locking it, and then throwing the key away. “Where is Azula?” Zuko says.
Sokka winces. “Azula got—kinda bad when she heard,” he admits. “But Katara helped.”
“Katara helped her?” Zuko says, his eyebrow jumping up his forehead.
“I apparently wasn’t the only one who went to go see her on my own,” Sokka says, his mouth quirking up a little, and then he turns serious. “Zuko, I wanted to—”
“Wow, I think I hear—” Zuko starts to say.
“If you say you hear Hassaku calling you, I am going to scream until Katara comes and performs hideous medical procedures on you,” Sokka says.
Zuko shuts up.
“We are going to talk about this whether you like it or not,” Sokka informs him and then proceeds to not talk and fumble in his pockets for something. “Aha,” he says finally and gently tosses a gold object into Zuko’s blanket-covered lap. He balances it on his knees: a bright gold hair-comb with the delicate hand-carvings that mark it as a betrothal hair-piece.
“Is this for Suki,” Zuko says dumbly.
“What?” Sokka says. “No! It’s for you, dumbass.”
Zuko squints at the hair-comb, he could have sworn they were little fans--
“They're flames intertwined with waves,” Sokka says, crossing his arms.
“If you did this after I got poisoned—” Zuko starts.
“No, I didn’t,” Sokka says, shaking his head. “I made this before I left home.”
Zuko sets the hair comb down to look at Sokka. “But what about Suki?”
“What about her?” Sokka says, looking baffled.
“What do you mean, what about her?” Zuko says, hands reflexively tightening around the hair-comb. “You love her!”
Sokka inhales sharply through his nose. “Ah, man, I’m an idiot,” he mutters to himself and then he clears his throat. “Suki’s my absolute best friend in the world, and I’ll always love her,” Sokka confirms and even with physically bracing himself—squaring his shoulders, tightening his stomach—Zuko still feels his eyes go wide with a shocked hurt that he tries and fails to tuck away. Sokka grimaces. “No, wait, let me explain, okay?”
Zuko waits because Sokka asked him to, but he’s just—so tired of being second-best.
“Look, Suki and I broke up mainly because the romantic juice just kind of ran out?” Sokka says. “But like, also partially because of the Ty Lee and Mai thing.”
“So you’re not—getting back together?” Zuko says, confused as to what Ty Lee and Mai have to do with anything.
“No,” Sokka says, his tone decisive.
“But everyone thinks you will,” Zuko argues.
Sokka winces. “I think that was—just you, Zuko,” he says.
“Excuse me?” Zuko says, flabbergasted.
“You see, everyone knows that, uh,” Sokka says, clears his throat again, “that you’re…in love with me?”
Zuko is absolutely getting ready to get up and hobble away regardless of the poor state of his physical health when Sokka grabs both of his wrists. “No, hold on—Suki told me, but I didn’t believe her,” Sokka says intensely. “I didn’t think you could love me.”
“Let go of me, Sokka,” Zuko says, wretched. “I’ve had enough—"
“Zuko, I love you,” Sokka says, fast, his eyes fixed on Zuko’s face with a painful intensity. “I’m so—I’m so fucking in love with you.” He’s breathing raggedly, his hands so tight on Zuko’s wrists that it hurts, but Zuko can hardly register it. “I was a huge fucking moron who didn’t even know my own feelings, so how could I know yours? I made that hair-comb for you without even considering what it meant, without even stopping to think why the idea of you wearing it made me so happy. I just—I just kept imagining you letting me put it in your hair, and--” his voice cuts out, and he just continues to look at Zuko.
“I don’t understand,” Zuko says in a small voice.
“I love you,” Sokka says again, as if he’s realizing it all over again, and then he laughs, a little breathlessly. “Do you remember the morning we sent you off to rest? I went to your room because I couldn’t help myself, I wanted to make sure you were actually sleeping. But when Pim let me in, you weren’t in your bed. I couldn’t find you anywhere. I was getting so panicked when I finally noticed that you were curled up on the floor by the window—in the middle of a sunbeam, like a pygmy-cat. You—you looked so peaceful.” He says this last sentence in a hushed voice, like he had witnessed something beautiful and transcendent.
The truth was Zuko had actually been trying to meditate and then had woken up several hours later in a surprised heap on the floor with back pain—and covered in a blanket that hadn’t been present when he fell asleep.
“Azula could immediately tell when I saw her,” Sokka says with a self-deprecating smile. “She told me if I hurt you, she would destroy me politically into teeny-tiny smithereens.” He turns thoughtful. “Then she told me to shit or get off the pot.”
“She did not,” Zuko says immediately.
“Okay, fine, I’m paraphrasing,” Sokka says. “She was right though.”
Zuko bites his lip, uncertain.
“Look at the back of the hair-comb,” Sokka says.
Zuko flips the hair-comb over to see that there’s something red inside a thick layer of clear resin.
“Do you remember the Fire Lily festival when there was a mass shortage of fire lilies?” Sokka says.
“When I was sick?” Zuko says.
After Zuko had found his mother and returned with Azula to the Palace, he had immediately contracted a terrible illness that caused masses of fluid to collect in his lungs. It had been so severe that Zuko himself wasn’t sure at certain moments if he was going to make it—and it had coincided with the annual Fire Lily festival. It was a ritual he had attended every year with his mother and his sister until his mother disappeared—and then he went by himself until he was banished.
“Yeah,” Sokka says. “You were so upset about missing it that we were all worried you were going to make yourself even worse.”
Zuko had also been distraught because the tradition was to pick the fire lily from the field by hand before carrying it to the altar for burning. The smoke would reach the sky with whatever wish had been burned along with it. Zuko had wished for most of his childhood that he would earn his father’s approval
“I had to go to three separate towns with your wish in my pocket before I found one,” Sokka says. “But what I didn’t tell you was that I also made a wish.”
“Really?” Zuko says in surprise.
“You were so sick,” Sokka says. “I just—felt so desperate for you to be okay. I kept part of the fire lily, which I know you’re not supposed to do, but I just—I don’t know, it felt like kind of a weird talisman. Like, as long as I held onto it, my wish would come true.”
“And here I thought you were the science guy,” Zuko says, rubbing his thumb over the smooth lacquer.
“Shh,” Sokka says, half-smiling. “Don’t tell anyone.”
“But why did you keep it all this time?” Zuko says.
“Someone has reliably informed me that they’ve had at least thirty attempts on their life in the past year alone,” Sokka says, wry, and then lets go of Zuko’s wrists to hold his hands. “I know you don’t believe this, Zuko, but you deserve to feel happy. And I mean real happiness where you feel safe and loved.” He takes a deep breath. “So the fire lily is my promise to you: to love you, to take care of you. If you’ll let me.”
“Sokka, you don’t understand,” Zuko says, trying not to cry. “I’ve loved you for so long. That’s all I’ve ever wanted.”
Sokka’s eyes look watery, and the tip of his nose is red. “Can I—can I give you the betrothal hair-comb?”
Zuko presses the hair-comb into Sokka’s hands. Sokka smiles at him, bright and heart-stopping, and leans forward to reverentially pin the hair-comb into Zuko's hair. Sokka’s face is so close to his, and Zuko’s face burns. “Ah, there we go,” Sokka says when he finishes. He lightly grips the back of Zuko’s neck with one hand and the other comes to rest on the curve of Zuko’s jaw. “Zuko, can I--may I kiss you?” he says.
Zuko can’t speak, can only nod, once, embarrassingly jerky. Sokka looks at him for a long moment, smiling a little, and Zuko’s starting to feel uncomfortably exposed when Sokka leans in and finally kisses him. Sokka’s mouth is warm and surprisingly soft, and Zuko feels his spine melt into his knees. When Sokka slips his tongue into Zuko’s mouth, he clutches hard at Sokka’s shoulders, over-whelmed. Zuko wants to be as close to Sokka as possible, skin touching skin, he wants to crawl inside Sokka and live tucked inside his heart so they never have to separate ever again.
When Sokka pulls back, it’s because Zuko is pretty much sagging in his arms from delirious happiness and also the after-effects of being poisoned. “Hey, no over-doing it,” Sokka chides. “Come on, slide down.” But Sokka still has to bodily move Zuko so Sokka can settle behind him, Zuko held in the cradle of his hips, their legs tangling together. Sokka pulls Zuko back against his chest, arms around his shoulders. “Wait, Zuko,” Sokka says after a moment, sounding nervous.
“What,” Zuko says, reaching up to pat at Sokka’s face. “Hey, no takebacks, you already gave me the hair-comb—”
“No, no, it’s not that,” Sokka says. “How would you feel if I…became a diplomat for the Southern Water Tribe?”
“Good?” Zuko says, confused.
“I mean, I kind of also wanted to study at one of the universities first? Maybe—all of them?” Sokka says.
“I’m sure they’d love to have you,” Zuko says sincerely.
“So what I mean is—I know we’re officially engaged now, but I uh,” Sokka says and then coughs. “I don’t really want to rule the Fire Nation? Or be the—Fire Gentleman? Or whatever you’d call it.”
“Oh, that’s fair,” Zuko says, patting his hand. “I don’t really want to rule the Fire Nation either sometimes.”
“Subpar seashells by the beach, huh,” Sokka says, sounding indulgent and warm. “I can’t believe you thought Suki and I were going to get back together. You know she’s sometimes involved with Mai and Ty Lee, right? Maybe more than sometimes, I’m not entirely sure.”
“…ah,” Zuko says because that explained a lot about the night he walked into Mai’s sitting rooms to find a pants-less Ty Lee and Suki in Mai’s favorite robe.
“You accidentally walked in on them, didn’t you,” Sokka says knowingly.
“They told me they were playing cards,” Zuko says weakly.
Sokka snickers. “Yeah, strip pig’s tail probably,” he says, but since he’s petting Zuko’s hair again, he’ll forgive him.
Zuko sighs, closing his eyes. “’m tired.”
“Go to sleep,” Sokka says. “I’ll still be here when you wake up.”
“Promise?” Zuko says fuzzily.
“I promise,” Sokka says, smoothing Zuko’s hair back from his face. “I’m not leaving. I’m with you as long as you need me.”
“Then I guess you'll be with me f’rever,” Zuko says, turning to bury his nose in Sokka’s collarbone; he can hear the small oof from Sokka as he accidentally jabs an elbow into his stomach.
“Forever sounds like a reasonable amount of time,” Sokka says, and Zuko can tell that he’s laughing at him, a little, but it also sounds like a promise.
“Good,” Zuko says.
He’s smiling as he falls asleep, safe and loved and happy.
|
"This is a strange creature indeed," Roth thought to himself. Never before in his 85 or so years had he come across anything like her. She was definitely feline. But she was also not feline. She was similar to his people, the Meh-teh, but she was much too small. Her fur was too soft and she had a tail. Yes, she was something new. But what?
Roth knew as soon as he'd seen her that first day that he would have to find out what she was. He could tell by the way she'd watched him from the trees that she was curious; and being curious she would probably try and figure him out as well. A plan began to form in his mind. He was fairly certain that she would follow. Watching her would tell him him only so much about her, but a visit to her home would reveal volumes. So he would lure her to him and if he was lucky he might be able to time it so that a few of his men could catch her away from her home and they could see how she lived. This would tell them if she were dangerous or not. As leader of the Meh-teh, it was his job to protect his people. He needed to know.
Ha! Keep them safe! That was funny. Nothing in the Forest was a danger to them. His people were a gentle people, but they were a strong people. When they time came, they could be a formidable adversary. But if this thing were dangerous, he would need to know nonetheless. He would find out.
Upon reaching the Meh-teh, Roth sent his two best trackers to find out where this she-creature was from and if she were dangerous or not. Roth would wait with some others in a clearing, hoping she would be curious enough to come looking for him. It didn't matter how long it took, he would wait. He was a patient Meh-teh.
A full night passed, and the next day was almost over when he finally saw her at the edge of the clearing. He couldn't help but smile to himself, he'd known she would come. And because she was here, she wasn't at her home; and if she weren't home, she couldn't stumble on his men.
Roth locked eyes with this creature and he could see that she was intelligent. He could also see that she didn't like him very much. This didn't bode well. An intelligent creature who didn't like you could mean lots of trouble. And what if she were not the only one? Several of these things would be bad news. Roth held her attention for as long as he could, smiling the entire time. He refused to let her know that she had gotten to him.
She broke the eye contact and scanned her surroundings. Damn, she was smart. When she returned her gaze, he could see the hatred in her eyes.
Roth finally stood and signaled to the Meh-teh that it was time to return to the Forest. Their mission was accomplished. Initially, they headed into the Forest to her left. He wanted to let her know that they were not a threat to her so he had them head directly away from her. As they headed back into the Forest, she darted back inside and was gone in a flash of grey fur. Roth knew that if his men weren't careful, that she would catch them. Who knew what would happen then?
Almost a day and a half later, as sunset was approaching, the two men Roth sent out came back, and they were carrying the creature. Nothing could have upset Roth more than this. He was furious! They were sent to spy on this thing's home; to learn about her, to determine if she were dangerous. They should not have brought her back. Were they able to determine if she was dangerous? And if she were dangerous, how much so? Roth suspected that she didn't like him very much already, and now she'd been taken against her will.
Anos and Gynon, who were the two that Roth sent to explore her home, explained that from what they'd seen before she arrived, that they didn't think she was dangerous. She had no weapons of any kind and the animals weren't afriad to go near her dwelling. They'd seen her come down from the trees to get a drink of water and when she screamed, they had panicked. Gynon threw a rather large stump he'd found and hit her in the head with it. She was out in an instant. They hadn't known what to do so they'd brought her back with them.
As angry as Roth was, he knew that they didn't comprehend the scope of what they'd done. This thing was an unknown. Without information about her, there was no way to make any kind of intelligent decision.
So for now, they would bind her hands and feet. That would have to do for now. On second thought, her tail would need to be bound as well. For all he knew, her tail was dangerous as well. Now all that remained was to wait for her to awaken.
The moon was halfway across the sky when she finally opened her eyes. Her eyes . . . . her eyes were filled with an intense fury which cooled down into a light curiosity. Shortly after dawn, Rogh had one of the women, Agna, prepare a meal of nuts and greens and take it to the creature. She proved to be ungrateful, drinking only the water, not touching any of the food. The she-creature did this for two more days.
It occurred to Roth that she may not eat as they do. Her canines were long and pointed. Was it possible that she ate meat? What a disgusting thing! There was no way on Earth that they would kill an animal for her to eat. None. But they couldn't let her die either. The only viable option would be to allow her into the brush and hope she could find some rodent or small animal. That would have to do. Anything more and they would risk her escape. He would give her some room to move, but she wasn't getting to the treeline.
Roth went to her late on the evening of the second day and asked her if she ate meat. But she didn't understand. For a brief instant he thought he saw sadness in her eyes, as if some new revelation had just occurred to her. But it was gone now and he wasn't entirely sure it had ever really been there.
The next morning Roth placed a collar and leash on her that he's spent part of the night making from vines and some barks of trees. Once it was on, he unbound her. No sooner than she was undone, she took off for the treeline. Roth had to pull her back, causing her to land on her back. It was important that she know how far she could and could not go. He didn't want her to get hurt. He fully realized that it would take time before she came to believe that. But she kept trying to get away. And as much as it pained him, Roth kept pulling her back, each time resulting in her feet coming out from under her and her landing on her back. Around mid-morning, she finally gave up and gave him a hateful glare. He knew that she could be a dangerous one.
Part of his reasoning for putting her on the leash was so that she could move around. The other part was so that she could catch something to eat if it came near her; she clearly was not going to eat their kind of food. She would have starved had Roth not moved her to the edge of the clearing where she could get behind a bush or two. It didn't take her long before she'd killed a rabbit. She had gotten it to come over, held it in her lap and petted it for a moment. And then, without warning, she sank her teeth into its neck and ripped it out.
She was a killer, no doubt about it now.
Roth had to know if she were dangerous to the Meh-teh or not. He implored her to talk to him...to tell him something. But he may as well have been talking to the trees. No, that's not true. He was sure that they trees could have communicated better with him than she was. The Meh-teh and the trees knew each other.
He waited until she'd finished eating before he even thought to approach her. If she couldn't understand him, then he would have to teach her. Pointing to himself, he said, "Roth." He then pointed to her and said nothing. He hoped that she would understand. Again and again, he would point to himself while saying his name, and then at her with what he hoped was a questioning look on his face. Eventually she said, "Dania."
So her name was Dania. It was not a name familiar to him, but he liked it nonetheless. Roth then spent some time teaching her the meaning of "yes" and "no." Roth was able to discern that she didn't eat fruits and greens as the Meh-teh did, she ate meat instead. It was a practice that he didn't particularly like, but he instructed Agna to not bring her food anymore. Dania would have to kill her own meat. Roth and the Meh-teh would not be a part of it.
What was he to do with this creature? He knew her name, but nothing else about her. Where she came from or who she was remained a mystery. He knew that she could be dangerous; but so could anyone when they were cornered. The question of how dangerous was yet another mystery that needed solving. Roth finally came to the determination that if he could teach her to speak, then it may be possible for them to come to some sort of understanding. She was certainly intelligent enough.
He would take things slowly and he would be smart about it. He would use the trees to his advantage. Dania loved the trees and would possibly be more willing to cooperate if she were allowed in them every now then. Anos was given instructions to bring the longest rope they had. He was going to let her into the trees.
Dania was looking much healthier the next time that Roth saw her. Meat really did do her well. Without wasting time, he taught her how to say the words "tree" and "climb." The Meh-teh did not climb trees and he must have looked rather stupid trying to mimic this action. He certainly felt that way. But Dania understood his meaning. He attached the longer leash to her collar and instructed her to climb into the trees.
Dania wasted no time and began to climb the nearest tree. And to Roth's surprise, she was careful not to go to the end of the leash. He understood that she knew what would happen if she were up in the air and came to the end of it. She would fall. But still, Dania spent the better half of the morning jumping from limb to limb, and sometimes from tree to tree. The Meh-teh were amazed at how she never seemed to get tangled. They had gathered around to watch and were sure that she would forget and, literally, be at the end of her rope. There were a few scares when she would be in mid-air and the leash would tighten. But she would twist and find another branch to land upon.
But it had to come to an end. If he were going to use the trees to coerce her into cooperating, then it had to be a privilege he could take away at any moment and it could not be one she enjoyed unless she were "good." He wanted to try something. If he were to snatch, he knew that she would come back. But would happen if there was just a gentle tug? He tried it. Dania looked back and, at first, did nothing. Roth tugged again and still got no response.
He tugged a third time, just a little harder, and she glared at him. Keeping the rope taut, he stared right back into her eyes. He was in charge here and she would have to learn this. She relented and allowed herself to have the shorter leash put back on her.
She never took her eyes off of his and the look of hatred never left her face. This look told Roth that if she ever escaped, it may not end well for him.
Roth couldn't explain why, but he felt the need to make peace with Dania. And when you thought about it, it made sense: She could be an ally and she had to know things that they did not. But how could he make this peace with her if they could not communicate? He would have to teach her, of course. And that's what he was doing now, but at what cost? Would she be willing to make peace after being held captive?
Over the next cycle of the Moon, Roth spent the mornings allowing dania up into the trees. Up there she was a thing of beauty. Up there she was in her element. She was the Alpha up there. But it always had to come to an end, and always she gave him that "I'm going to kill you" look. Afterwards, Roth would spend time teaching her how to speak. She was a quick and eager learner, absorbing most of what was presented to her. By the end of the Moon's cycle, Dania could understand most of what the Meh-teh were saying and could communicate a great deal of her needs and wants. When she made it to a point where she could converse with Roth, she did.
"Roth, why Dania here?"
He pondered the question for a moment and responded, "We thought you might be dangerous and we had to find out. We know you can be, but WILL you be is another matter."
"Dania want go home," Dania said. She thought to herself that she no longer wanted to kill Roth. Most of the time. Just when he made her come down from the trees.
"I can't let you do that."
"Dania no like." She took that back, she wanted him dead and she wanted him dead right now. Fury raged within her and she lunged forward at Roth. She felt the leash tighten but she did not stop. She pulled against it with all her might, determined to get at this beast who kept her locked up. A look of surprise swept across both of their faces as the leash snapped, releasing Dania to do her worst.
She was on top of Roth in half an instant, tackling him to the ground and clawing at his face and biting into his muscular shoulders. He let out a scream of pain as she sank her teeth in. Roth didn't know if it was instinct or something else, but he grabbed this tiny woman and flung her off of him. She landed on her feet, his blood still running from her mouth.
"Do. Not. Follow. Me," was all she said and then into the trees she went and was gone before any of the other Meh-teh could intervene.
Roth lay on the ground too shocked to move and strangely aroused at the same time. What was Dania?
|
There’s a never-ending chatter on Platform 9 ¾ as wizarding families from all over desperately and messily try to execute their farewells. The oily smell of leather luggage mixed with the crisp autumn air fills Louis’s nostrils. A rumble of laughs, tears, and everything in between occurs on the grey concrete, the majestic train in place, huffing and puffing as if to convey its own impatience.
“Lewis mothereffin Tomlinson!!”
Louis whips his head around to see a familiar flurry of blonde hair attached to a body launched directly towards him. He barely has time to hold his arms out as he catches his best friend.
“Neil,” he says fondly, returning the beta’s hug. “Was beginning to think you hitched a ride elsewhere.”
Niall detaches himself from Louis as he takes a big bite of something sweet that promptly leaves crumbs on them both. Louis desperately tries to clean both their robes off as Niall snorts. “As if, I’d miss a chance for our yearly train ride chess rematch, mate. I almost had you last year.”
Louis rolls his eyes at the blatant lie and giggles quietly. “Whatever you say, Niall. How was your summer? You never wrote me back after the third letter.”
“Lies!” Niall declares. “I most certainly did, but Oliver sprained his bloody wing flying into a telephone pole.”
Niall holds up his owl’s cage, Oliver perched and staring goofily ahead, no target determined.
“Is he okay now?” Louis asks in alarm, waving his hand frantically in front of the cage. Oliver doesn’t move.
“He’ll be fine,” Niall says dismissively. “Between you and me, he’s always been a bit touched in the head.”
The beta continues to chatter on about how his dad gifted him a guitar as an early birthday present, and Louis smiles as he listens to his friend talk excitedly, already feeling much more at peace now that he has one of his best friends here with him.
He’s been looking forward to the first day of his last year at Hogwarts all summer long. After a much needed self pep talk on the car ride to the station, he's determined to go forth into the school year with a confidence that he hopes to find somewhere along the journey of their train ride. So what if he’s spent the last six years, head buried in textbooks, with a few friends to make the studying bearable? His social ability has never been his strong suit, often preferring to partake in deep conversations in the library, rather than attend the outrageous parties thrown in the House’s common rooms. But with the final year looming, he’s motivated to get every last morsel of the Hogwarts experience before his time is up.
He’s broken out of his thoughts by Niall screeching loudly in his ear. “Look! It’s Zayn! Zayn! Come here right this instant!”
Louis winces at the high pitched shriek as Zayn sidles over to the pair.
“Noise control please,” the dark-haired omega admonishes Niall as Liam dutifully drags both of their belongings behind him. Niall immediately smothers Zayn and Liam with affection, just as he had with Louis, planting loud, wet smooches on both of their cheeks.
Louis tries to stifle his laugh as the couple discreetly wipes their glistening cheeks once Niall has averted his gaze.
“And how are you dear Lou?” Liam asks, always polite, as he gives Louis a much more refined embrace than the one he's just received.
“Oh, and hello there, Miss Marmalade,” he adds, stooping down to give Louis’s espresso-colored cat a pet on the back.
“I’m good Payno,” Louis answers truthfully, giving Liam a big hug back. He doesn’t get a chance to return the sentiment before he’s being wrapped up in Zayn’s arms.
“Oh, I missed you so much Lou!” Zayn exclaims, hands sneakily traveling down his friend’s backside to grope at his bum.
“Oi, hands off the merchandise, you cheeky bugger,” Louis scolds, slapping the other omega’s hands away from his backside.
“Zayn, we do not sexually harass our friends. It’s improper,” Liam chides his boyfriend, gently tugging him away from Louis’s affronted self.
“I was sexually harassed once,” Zayn begins, faux sighing as loud as he can. “I was just minding my own business when some fit Alpha decided to put his meaty paws on me after his fourth year Quidditch Championship match-”
Liam flushes instantly, covering Zayn’s mouth with his hand. “Okay hush, that’s enough from you, I think,” he says but the fondness is evident as he stares at his mate lovingly.
A retching sound comes from Niall. “Gross, it’s not even been five minutes and you two are already at it.”
Before Zayn can lash out, Louis quickly changes the subject. “Lottie and Fizzy didn’t want to sit with us on the train this year,” he announces, infusing as much forlornness into his tone as he can. “Can you believe it? Something about wanting absolutely nothing to do with their older brother.”
“Too cool for us,” Niall says knowingly, despite the fact that Louis, and everyone else present, are fully aware that the beta is also a younger sibling and insisted on pestering his older omega brother Greg on the yearly train ride all the way up until he had graduated.
“Hey! There’s Harry! I’ve been meaning to talk to him about the new Quidditch scheduling system this year.” Liam points out a mop of curly hair amongst the bustle of students.
“Should we invite him to sit with us this year?” Niall asks, getting ready to gesture the alpha over.
“No! Don’t bother him!” Louis all but yelps out frantically as he scoops Marmalade into his arms. “He’s probably super busy with all his Slytherin friends. C’mon, let’s get on the train before all the cars are filled up.”
He all but pushes Niall towards the train cars and tries to ignore his friends as they all shoot bemused glances at each other.
“Not quite ready to see your sworn enemy so soon?” Zayn ribs him quietly.
Louis scowls as they make their way onto an empty train car towards the back, thinking of the infuriating alpha. “He’s NOT my enemy. You can’t be enemies with someone if you don’t give two shites about them.”
Marmalade mewls in agreement, content in Louis’s arms.
“Harsh,” a deep voice drawls out from behind them.
Louis spins around to be met with the absolute bane of his existence. He can’t help the scarlet flush that blooms onto his cheeks, feeling the burn beneath his eyes.
Harry Styles. The alpha that every beta and omega has swooned over for as long as they’d all been attending Hogwarts. The cocky Quidditch star has a known reputation for sleeping with just about anything that has two legs, and for antagonizing Louis whenever he gets the chance.
“How was your summer, Louis? Get a lot of reading done?” the curly-haired alpha asks mockingly, a trademark smirk etched in place as he reaches out to scratch under Marmalade’s chin.
Louis resists the urge to yank his cat away as Marmalade preens like the traitor she is, extending her head out for more scratches. For some reason, completely unbeknownst to Louis, she’s always had a soft spot for the loathsome alpha.
Louis carefully selects his seat next to Zayn, dragging Marmalade away from the affection and ignoring the alpha that is now standing over them.
Never one to leave an awkward silence, Liam steps in, clapping Harry on the back and asking him about some new Quidditch play that he’s seen on the internet.
Louis breathes a careful sigh of relief, glad that he doesn’t have to mince words with his nemesis. Beside him, Zayn chuckles, ever observant. “You’re gonna have to talk to him one day Lou,” he whispers.
Louis rolls his eyes. “I wouldn’t bet on it.”
-
As the train comes around a familiar bend, Louis can’t help but stare out the window in awe. This might be far from his first trip, but he still finds himself amazed at the expansive view every single time. The Hogwarts castle all but glistens in the distance, framed by lush green fields and the far off Quidditch pitch. Even Marmalade uncurls from her sleeping position on Louis’s lap and hops up on the window to stare intently at the dreamy scenery.
“Ugh, I’ve missed this place, more than you lads could ever imagine,” Niall exclaims as he shoves the remainder of his trolley snacks into his luggage. “Can’t wait for the Cornish pasties at dinner.”
Louis, Zayn, and Liam all snicker as the train slowly comes to a halt, screeching and letting out billowing ribbons of smoke from the top. Marmalade jumps dutifully into her personal carrier as the four boys all grab their belongings from the above head luggage space and make their way through the mass of students pouring out of the train.
The air carries a distinct, savory aroma of honey crisp apples and cinnamon spice, and Hagrid’s throaty voice can be heard from above all the ruckus, as he determinedly directs the first years to their dedicated destination.
“Well lads, this is where we part ways,” Niall says solemnly once they’ve gotten inside the castle and have gathered at the foot of the staircase in the Entrance Hall. “Lou and I will see you in the dining hall in a mo, yeah?”
He hasn’t even gotten through half of his sentence before Zayn and Liam all but shove them away, sly smiles, as they rush off hand in hand, no doubt to christen one of their dorms.
Niall fake gags again. “I wonder if they’ll make it back in time for the Sorting Hat Ceremony this year.
“Merlin, please don’t remind me,” Louis shudders, remembering two years ago when he and the Irish beta had taken it upon themselves to find the two when they hadn’t shown up. He desperately tries to erase the picture of tangled sweaty limbs and disheveled hair that he and Niall had unknowingly walked into in the Ravenclaw bath house.
Louis and Niall drag their suitcases up the Grand Staircase, too lazy to locate their wands to cast Locomotor spells. After much movement from the disagreeable staircase, they finally arrive at the Hufflepuff dormitories.
“Riveting Ribbit!” Niall dutifully recites, both boys watching as the door swings open to reveal their home for the next year.
The dorm room is swathed in a warm glow, cozy golden rugs and multi-colored cushions scattered all around the common room. Louis’s favorite blue, velvet couch sits, unmarred, and he gazes appreciatively at the sprawling tree built into the corner of the room that houses the carved bookshelves holding up rows upon rows of colorful novels. On the other side, there’s a huge stained glass window that has always reminded him of a greenhouse, complete with a built-in bar and stools to sit at, dozens of vines and succulents contributing to the ambience.
The dorms have received several upgrades over the past decade and Louis is fortunate to just share a suite with Niall. Their room is up three teeny stairs, adorned in more soft pillows and throws, two four-poster beds, sat on opposite walls. Louis thinks back to his first year at Hogwarts where he had the displeasure of sharing a bathroom with seven other students and is immensely grateful that Liam had led a Student Union committee to appeal to the headmaster for the interior upgrades.
“Make yourself at home Marmee,” he tells his cat, letting her out of her carrier and watching her sniff her new surroundings before ultimately curling up on the bay window. He tries not to feel sad that this is the last time he'll ever be in the Hufflepuff dormitories watching his cat reacquaint herself with a new room.
Niall is already plunking his luggage down on the bed closest to the bathroom. “Sorry mate,” he says, not sounding the least bit sorry at all. “You know how I get when I’ve had a wee bit too much to drink at the pub. Don’t want to be throwing up on my bed linens every weekend.”
Louis resists snorting out loud. “Yeah, sure,” he says teasingly. “Not because you have to go pee every two minutes or anything.”
Niall scoffs indignantly. “I can’t help that I have a small bladder!”
Louis laughs. Oliver makes a strangled sound that doesn’t resemble a laugh at all, but Louis chooses to believe the owl is on his side. “Suuuuure. Just try not to choke on your own tongue this year. I don’t fancy rolling you over on your side every weekend.”
“Whatever,” Niall sniffs. “Let’s get to the Great Hall, please. I’m starved.”
“When are you not?” Louis mutters amusedly, sidestepping Niall’s sharp elbow.
-
Once the two have found a seat at their familiar Hufflepuff table, Headmistress McGonagall stands up to address them.
“Good evening students,” her strict timbre rings out across the Great Hall. “Welcome back to Hogwarts. I hope you all had a pleasant summer holiday.”
“Geez, she looks like she could keel over any second,” Niall mutters, Louis immediately elbowing him in the side.
“Be nice,” he whispers back. “She’s immortal or something.”
The two are instantly silenced when they notice McGonagall’s piercing gaze directed towards them. Louis shudders in intimidation, knowing that she’s definitely heard them, but Niall is unphased, blowing a kiss at the headmistress. The corners of McGonagall’s mouth turn up just ever slightly before she’s diverting her gaze towards the rest of the room.
“Before we begin our annual Sorting Ceremony, I would like to make an announcement that pertains to the entire student body,” the headmistress continues primly.
Louis sits up straight. “Maybe she’s extending the library hours back to 24/7!” he hisses excitedly at Niall, ignoring the beta’s eye roll.
“Hogwarts has been in contact with the Ministry of Magic about this new idea for quite some time,” McGonagall begins. “The chaos and disarray of the Second Wizarding Ear era has shown us that it’d be prudent for all students to have another student companion assigned to them. These partners will be your go-to in case of any emergencies. They are to stick with you through any meetings, evacuations, drills, or other school-sanctioned events and activities.
There are sounds of confusion all throughout the Great Hall. Louis and Niall wrinkle their nose at each other, unsure of what the headmistress is getting at.
“Like a buddy system?” a Gryffindor named Luke asks, his voice carrying over the chatter.
“Precisely, Mr. Hemsworth,” McGonagall answers. “Aside from the safety benefits of this system, we also think it would be a great opportunity to choose pairs that would not ordinarily be motivated to spend time together. Therefore, while we will assign pairs in the same year, we’ve enacted that no pair shall be from the same house. Furthermore, each pair will consist of two different classifications.”
Even more chatter erupts as everyone looks at each in bewilderment.
“If we follow those rules do we at least get to choose our own partners?” Stan calls out from beside Louis.
McGonagall laughs, although no amusement colors her tone. “Where would the fun in that be Mr. Lucas?” She asks wryly. “Your professors have spent all summer tirelessly working to predetermine the pairs that we believe will be most compatible. You might be surprised at the friendships that you will get out of these pairings.”
Louis stares at Niall in shock and dismay. “This is absolutely absurd!” he laments. “They really want us to make brand new friends after six years of being here?”
“Oh hush Mr. Shy-Pants,” Niall says as he stuffs a Cornish pasty into his mouth. “I think this could be fun."
“Yeah, for you,” Louis mumbles, as he sags in his seat and tries not to pout. He finally felt like he had nothing to worry about. He'd gotten all the awkward stuff out of the way and could just focus on making the most of everything he's been introduced to for the past six years. His last year at Hogwarts, and he knew the best spot to study in the library, had managed to find three of the best people he’s ever met, and was determined to not let anything keep him from having fun. Now he’s going to get saddled with a partner who probably won’t even spare a glance at him.
“Still,” he thinks to himself. “I did say I wanted to potentially be more assertive and step out of my shell this year.”
Truthfully, he hadn’t really considered the fact that he might make a new, close friend this close to the end of his time at Hogwarts. He’s been so lucky to have Niall by his side every single year. The outgoing beta had been the one to introduce him to Zayn and Liam as well as other members of their Hufflepuff house.
“What if I get some knothead alpha who tries to beat me up??” he whispers, frantically tugging on Niall’s sleeve.
Niall gently removes his tight grip, and rubs the omega’s back, having many years to practice soothing his best friend’s social anxiety. “Don’t worry Lou,” the beta says, now fully aware that the omega is very much serious about his worry.
“Whoever it is, I’ll make sure they don’t look at you the wrong way.” He promises. “Nobody will have a problem with you unless they want to have a problem with me. And no one has a problem with me,” the beta finishes confidently.
Louis can’t help but laugh. “I suppose, there is no shortage of people who are enchanted by you,” he admits. “Although, I can’t see why.”
Niall whacks him on the arm. “Such insolence coming from you!” he says, before resuming his crusade on the platter of pasties.
“Silence, students!” McGonagall’s shrill voice rings out, evidently tired of the talking coming from every inch of the room. “We will now read the lists.”
Conjuring up a seemingly never-ending scroll, she begins to monotonously list the pairs.
Louis heaves a few nervous breaths in anticipation, barely even hearing the names that aren’t his own.
“Felicite Tomlinson and Magdalene Rogers!”
He spies his beta sister at the Ravenclaw table, a few seats down from Zayn. He doesn’t know Magdalene, just that she’s an Alpha and a Beater for the Gryffindor Quidditch team, but his sister is smiling, so he takes it as a good sign.
“Zayn Malik and Liam Payne!”
“No fucking way,” he whispers, shooting a jealous glance at the separated couple who are sat at the Ravenclaw and Gryffindor table. “Who did they bribe?”
He’s distracted by the fact that he should’ve nagged Liam to see if the alpha could’ve given him a preferred partner until he hears Niall whoop from beside him.
“YES!” the blonde crows, shooting up from heir table to beam at the Slytherin table. “Cheers Ed!”
Louis starts to get hopeful. So far four of his friends seem to be paired up together. He mentally crosses his fingers that he and Stan or Oli get paired up. This could actually be quite fun.
“Maybe the administration really does know what they’re doing.” He can’t help but think to himself.
“Harry Styles and Louis Tomlinson!”
Louis feels like he’s been slapped by the tail end of a broomstick. The wind has left him, even though he’s fully sitting down. He can hear murmurs of jealousy around him, betas and omegas alike upset that the athletic alpha won’t be their partner for the year. He spots his sisters looking at him sympathetically, no stranger to their brother’s aversion to the handsome Quidditch player.
Niall is back to rubbing slow and soothing circles onto his best friend’s back.
“Hey Lou,” he says quietly, almost like he's trying to calm a spooked horse. Louis doesn't really appreciate it. “Think of this as a good thing. We know Harry. I know you don’t get on with the bloke, but think of this as a chance to maybe bury the hatchet?”
Louis tries to take Niall’s words to heart but he’s distracted as he locks eyes with the green-eyed boy at the Slytherin table.
He tries to flash a weak smile at his new partner, hoping that they both can silently agree to make the best of a bad situation. But the loud words that tumble out of Harry’s mouth, have Louis’s blood running ice cold.
“Great, guess I have to be paired with someone who’s practically mute for the entire year,” the alpha jokes to his table, earning laughs and smirks from his Slytherin peers.
Louis is at least grateful to see that Ed stares disapprovingly at the other alpha before he feels a hot flush begin to take over his body and erase the initial icy shock he had felt. Hot, angry tears form at his waterline, and he frantically tries to brush them away. He can't have himself crying in front of everybody on the first day.
He can barely hear Headmistress McGonagall admonishing the other boy, taking away however many points from their House. Niall scowls at the Slytherins who are still tittering, before giving Louis a reassuring hug. “He didn’t mean it, Lou” the beta tries to appease his friend. “That’s just Harry’s sense of humor.”
“If that’s his sense of humor, then I want absolutely nothing to do with him now,” Louis spits out before getting up from his seat and making a beeline for the Great Hall exit as he feels the tears start to pour.
He speed walks down the empty halls and has almost made it to the Grand Staircase before a hand is coming to tug at his arm.
Louis whirls around to be faced with his eternal tormentor.
“Leave me the hell alone, Harry,” he croaks out, cheeks reddening even more at the fact that he’s now been caught crying by the person who caused such a reaction.
He rips his arm out of Harry’s grip as the two make intense eye contact.
“Louis please, you know I was just joking around,” the alpha says sheepishly.
“Yeah, it was such a crowd-pleaser. I’m so happy that everyone who was listening thought it was just as funny,” Louis snaps, hating that this alpha is seemingly the only one to ever bring out this snappish side of him.
The curly-haired boy at least has the decency to look guilty. “I really am sorry,” Harry tries again, softer this time. “It’s just how us Slytherins joke around. I didn’t know you’d take it so seriously.”
Hearing Harry's lame excuse, Louis is suddenly angry again. “You just cannot take one shred of responsibility for yourself, can you?” he hisses out, before stomping away again.
He’s suddenly pushed against the stone wall, back landing just the tiniest bit harshly against the hard surface. “What the bloody fuck is that supposed to mean?” Harry demands, hot breath brushing Louis’s forehead.
The omega tries desperately to ignore their sudden proximity and his growing fear that Harry might just beat him to a pulp, before lashing back out. “You just embarrassed me in front of the entire school Harry! My friends, my sisters, even the bloody professors heard you! But, oh the great Harry Styles can do no wrong,” he mocks. “It’s always someone else’s fault. This is just like fifth year when you practically poisoned me with a Sleeping Draught!”
Harry glares back at him. “Are you kidding me Louis? You’re seriously still stuck on that? I told you that the potion was meant for Taylor! She wouldn’t stop following me around! It’s not my fault you drank it!”
“See!” Louis all but shrieks. “This just proves my point. You’re so bloody infuriating! When are you gonna grow up, Harry and stop being just a stupid knothead Al-” he doesn’t get to finish his sentence before a broad hand is coming to grip his throat. Louis tries very hard not to react, but he can feel his inner omega stir at the aggressive touch.
“You don’t have a clue what you’re talking about Louis,” Harry spits out lowly, fingers curling around the omega's neck, ever so slightly. “You better watch what you say to me.”
“Or what?” Louis taunts, surprising himself with his own gall. He’s never been this out of control before and wonders what excuse he'll have to conjure up to his parents when he inevitably comes out of this with a black eye.
Harry gazes at him darkly, invisible electricity in between, crackling like a live wire.
Louis suddenly realizes the current position that they’re in and he wills himself to tone down his arousal.
Unfortunately, that particular prayer goes unheard.
Harry suddenly sniffs the air, eyes never leaving Louis’ face.
“You… like this,” he questions, almost sounding like he’s just solved a mystery he’s dedicated his whole life too. His hand tightens around Louis’s throat just a touch more.
Louis stifles a moan, but it’s no use. He can already feel the slick start to run down his legs. Harry watches him with a hooded gaze for a few more minutes before the alpha attaches his lips to Louis's, sucking needily on them.
Louis can't help but moan at the weight of the alpha pressing against him, wanting desperately to push the younger boy away, but he can’t find the will to. He slowly starts to kiss the alpha back, inhaling his scent of spiced chocolate oranges and evergreen.
Harry bites down hard on his lower lip, causing the omega to yelp, before slipping his tongue into the other boy’s mouth. Louis bucks his hips against the other boy's, relishing in the delicious hardness between the two as their tongues slip and slide around in each other’s mouth.
Suddenly they're holding each other in their arms, for dear life, making out as they grind slowly against one another. Harry detaches his lips from Louis’s before making his way down to the smaller boy’s throat, sucking and biting the blank canvas with a fervent passion. Louis pants as Harry continues the assault, licking each bite that he makes tenderly, like a silent apology.
“Mmmm, you're so delicate like a butterfly... wanna knot you,” the alpha mumbles out and Louis finally snaps back to reality. Mustering as much force as he can, he pushes the alpha away from him.
“What the fuck?” Louis hisses. “Get away from me.”
Harry stares at him, as he abruptly staggers back. “Seriously? I can smell your arousal from here, little O,” he chuckles, devoid of any actual amusement. He advances on Louis again, wrapping an arm around his waist. Just as he’s about to dip his head down, rapid footsteps make their way towards the pair.
“Hey, hi, hello!” Liam calls, almost frantically, hurrying towards them with Zayn in tow, his omega desperately trying to keep up.
“All good? What are you guys talking about?”
Louis immediately wrenches himself out of Harry’s grip. “Yup, we’re good. Nothing important at all,” he rushes out, before speeding up the Grand Staircase, and geez, he didn’t plan on partaking in all these workouts today.
“Hey, Lou, wait up!” Zayn calls, as he hurries up the stairs to catch up with the other omega.
Louis sighs but forces himself to stop at the top of the staircase. “What Z?” he asks tiredly. “Spare me the lectures, we’re never going to get on with each other.”
Zayn wraps an arm around his friend as they walk side-by-side towards the direction of the Hufflepuff dorms. “I wasn’t going to say that, but okay.” He says loftily.
Louis throws him a pointed gaze and Zayn smiles sheepishly. “Okay, maybeeee I was. But don't act like no one is on your side. That was really shitty of him to say. Liam agrees with me. And so do your fellow Hufflepuffs. I heard them talking about it.”
“It’s fine,” Louis reasons, feeling most of the fight leave him. “I don’t want to start a House war or anything. And he’s not exactly wrong. It’s not like I’m the most outgoing of students. If it wasn’t for Niall, you and I probably wouldn’t even be mates.”
“Hey,” Zayn protests. “There’s absolutely nothing wrong with having a small social circle. And also, we absolutely would be friends. Without or without Niall. Obviously, I would have to scoop up someone with such a killer personality. And a scrumptious arse,” he adds slyly.
Louis stifles his exasperated groan. “I beg of you to stop all mentions of my arse. But, it’s not like I want to have a small social circle. I just don’t really have the social chops that someone like Niall, or Harry has.”
Zayn pulls the other omega into a warm hug. “Louis, you seriously underestimate yourself. Everyone knows you’re like the smartest wizard in school, you don’t give them a chance to appreciate you. But I understand what you’re saying bubs. Don’t even get me started on why I decided to date the practical mayor of Hogwarts.”
Louis laughs. “Liam is quite the diplomat,” he agrees.
Zayn nods knowingly. “And I hate like half the people he talks to,” the dark-haired omega adds. “So, you’ll always have me by your side to laugh at the other peasants.”
Louis finally returns the embrace, basking in the touch.
“C’mon,” Zayn says, pulling away far too soon that Louis would like. “Let’s go back. I bet if we’re fast enough, we can get there in time to see Niall finish throwing up the three platters of pasties he’s inhaled.”
And who is Louis to refuse such an offer?
-
The rest of the night is spent cuddling up with Marmalade, Zayn, Liam, and Niall (once he’s finished getting over his queasiness), in the Hufflepuff dorms, as they watch the first sunset of the school year through the giant stained-glass windows of the common room.
Felicite and Lottie even come to check up on him after they’ve finished supper, but he assures them that there’s nothing to worry about, not wanting his younger sister’s privy to the fact that he’s quite literally hated by the most popular boy in their school. He’s their older brother after all, he has to uphold some of his brotherly duties and protect them from unnecessary gossip.
“Y’know lads, I think this is going to be our best year yet,” Niall remarks, sipping on some fizzy ginger beer to soothe his stomach.
“Well, it’s our last one, so we haven’t got much of a choice, have we?” Zayn snorts.
“I don’t know if today’s events necessarily provide a good argument for that,” Louis says wryly from where he’s smushed under Niall and Zayn’s legs.
Liam sits up from where he was petting Zayn’s head. “I talked with H, Lou. He really does feel badly about it. Everyone knows he has a huge habit of putting his foot in his mouth.”
Louis rolls his eyes. “Oh, I’m very much aware. What I don’t get is why everyone forgives him instantly. Is it just because he’s so popular?”
Liam shakes his head earnestly. “He really does have good intentions. He’d never set out to intentionally hurt someone’s feelings. That’s just not Harry.”
Louis is shocked to find everyone, even Zayn, agreeing.
“He may be a bit of a knob head,” Zayn justifies, as he can sense Louis’s accusation of betrayal. “But he is truly decent. He let me stay with him over winter hols last year when my mum’s flight got cancelled and she couldn’t make it to the station to pick me up. His family is proper nice too.”
“And he makes the BEST carrot cupcakes with cinnamon cream cheese frosting,” Niall chimes in, as he strokes Marmalade’s stomach.
Louis blanches. “Oh, he bakes?” he says, trying not to sound too interested.
“The point is,” Liam barrels on. “I know you two seem like polar opposites, but I think you guys would be good for each other.”
“Why are you putting it like that?” Louis asks snappishly. “We’re partners, not two people set up on a bloody blind date. Harry wouldn’t go near me if I was the last person on Earth. And the feeling’s mutual.” He tries desperately to erase all mental imagery of Harry pressed up against him earlier.
Liam sighs but drops the subject, instead choosing to start a dog pile of affection. The boys messily wrestle each other, Marmalade yowling loudly as she barely escapes the fray. They end up back in another group cuddle, when Zayn starts complaining about his messed-up hair.
The rest of the night is spent around the fire as they joke and crack open a case of smuggled Butterbeer. At that moment, Louis can’t find it in himself to care that the Golden Boy of Hogwarts seemingly hates his guts. He has the best boys already with him.
-
The next few weeks are filled with study sessions, cuddles with Marmalade, impromptu trips to Hogsmeade, and bustling dinners in the dining room. Louis is thrilled that school is finally getting back into the swing of things. He’s already volunteered to be Professor Granger’s aide as well as signed up to lead the study group for two of his classes.
He’s sat in the library with Niall studying for their first Advanced Potions test, (well, he’s studying, Niall is examining his index finger, insisting that it’s growing abnormally), when the loudspeaker crackles.
“Everyone, please find your partner and make your way, quietly may I add to the dining hall. We have a mandatory meeting.” Professor McGonagall’s clipped voice can be heard from every single room in Hogwarts.
Louis groans at the announcement. “Please no, we just saw each other yesterday.”
Niall snickers. “Mate, being in the same class doesn’t count as seeing each other.” He makes air quotes. “There is nobody who has it out for Harry Styles as much as you do. Not even that third year from Ravenclaw! And I heard she had to get facial reconstructive surgery after he sent her flying off her broomstick on the Quidditch pitch.”
Louis scowls even more. “Maybe if his freakishly long limbs could control himself, she wouldn’t have had to.”
“Not that she even cared,” he adds sullenly remembering the moony eyed girl public display of gratification. “She all but got down on her knees for him in the hallway, since he’s the reason she had an excuse to get her dream nose job.”
“I always wondered if plastic surgery was just a Muggle thing,” Niall responds as they make their way down the Grand Staircase, pausing momentarily as it switches to a different exit.
Louis can’t help but laugh. “I guess being a wizard doesn’t exempt you from your own personal standards.”
Niall considers that as the two make their way through the throngs of students pairing off. “Fair enough Tommo. Ooh look there’s Ed. Oh and he’s with Harry too!”
Louis rolls his eyes as hard as he can as they make their way over to the two alpha Slytherins that are sitting at the end of the first long table in the hall.
As soon as he sees Harry chatting with Cara Delevingne from Ravenclaw, he narrows his eyes.
Louis has heard tales of the alpha’s sexual escapades and how he went through handfuls of female and male omegas and betas, tossing them aside after he was done.
He has also witnessed the cockiness that went along with it, long before they were paired. There was a time when he’d given Harry the benefit of the doubt.
Surely the boy couldn’t help that he had natural charm and good looks. That didn’t mean his personality was abhorrent.
Oh, how wrong he’d been.
The two families are actually close friends, and have been for years, even going as far as to set the two up as instant mates, mere days after theyd both been born. Louis cringes as he recalls the first photo of the two as babies, Harry’s psychotic green eyes staring widely at the camera while he lay next to the scary baby, his own face bright red from his tantrum he had thrown.
Louis’s supposes they were just too different to have ever really been friends. While the younger alpha preferred attending the secret parties thrown in Slytherin’s basement chambers or working out to improve his Quidditch performance, he himself loved wandering Hogwarts’s grounds with a cup of steaming tea to search for a new spot to read his books, work on his assignments, or simply just enjoy nature. He chalks up his love for alone time to growing up with six siblings.
“Lads!” Niall’s boisterous voice shook Louis out of his musings.
“Horan!” Ed’s voice rings out just as enthusiastically. “Niall I’ve been meaning to come by your dorms to show you this song I wrote. It’s got a guitar part that will sound sick.”
He shifts his focus to Louis who automatically looks to the floor, hating the attention.
“Hi Louis,” Ed says kindly. “How are you?”
“I’m good,” Louis blushes, hating that he can’t stop being shy after nearly twenty years of his life, even to his own friends. “How are you?”
The ginger alpha nods appreciatively. “I’m good mate, thanks.”
“What, no hello for me?” A deep voice rumbles, all traces of hostility from The Sorting Hat Ceremony, gone.
Louis only blushes harder and tries to ignore the pouting curly-haired alpha as he sits down.
“Don’t count on it” he mutters drily, doubting that Niall or Ed could even hear him.
Harry can. He always does.
“Well, that’s just blasphemy,” the younger boy drawls. “Seven years at this school and no affection from my very own partner. You know, I don’t think your mum would approve of your behavior LouLou.”
Louis opens his mouth to snap back a quick retort for once, but thankfully is saved by the entrance of two new voices.
“Lads!” Liam crows, dragging Zayn in tow.
Louis heaves a sigh of relief for two reasons, one being that he didn’t have to go through with his rude response (he surely would have regretted it), and the other being that his other two best friends were here to distract him for a certain alpha.
He reaches out his arms toward the raven-haired boy ignoring Harry’s scowl.
“Zayn!” he can’t help but exclaim.
Zayn unlatches himself from Liam’s arms and dives right into the omega’s waiting ones.
“My Lou!” the other omega sings back, plopping down next to Louis. “I saw you this morning and yet, I already miss you.”
Liam smiled fondly at the two omegas antics. “Hi Louis,” he greets, giving the older omega a short hug. “You did amazing in Potions this morning. Zayn and I were jealous of that emerald shade you managed to make. Ours looked more like vomit,” he grimaces.
Louis laughs. “I’ll share the notes with you later, mate.” He turns to the front of the dining hall, staunchly ignoring the presence of Harry’s leg pressed against his own as Headmistress McGonagall stands up.
“Ladies and gentlemen, it seems that our Whomping Willow tree is going through a bit of a stroppy phase,” the headmistress announces. “We will need to be diligent about where we walk. We are also forming a bit of a committee for anyone who might-” Louis’s attention is diverted by the giant hand pressing on his thigh.
Biting back a flustered squeak, he tries to remove the offending hand, but it is to no avail. Unfortunately, his partner has always been stronger than him.
“What are you doing?” he hisses at the alpha.
Harry’s emerald eyes bore into his own. “Are you still on about the Sorting Hat Ceremony? That was days ago.” the younger boy demands under his breath.
“I’m sure I don’t know what you mean,” he replies innocently, heartbeat picking up tenfold.
Harry rolls his eyes. “What have I done that’s so offensive to you Tomlinson?” he sneers quietly. “I’m the only one who you continually treat like garbage. What do I have to do to get you to drool over me like you do with Zayn?”
Louis’s eyes narrow in anger. “You’re not entitled to anything,” he hisses back. “Excuse me for treating Zayn and Liam like actual human beings. Maybe that’s because they treat other people like human beings. Unlike some people.”
Harry’s eyes narrow too, and before he can demand answers, the meeting has been adjourned.
Louis gets up as fast as he can, all but scurrying back to his dorm room before the younger boy can catch up.
✦✧✦✧
Louis is getting tired. His arch nemesis of an alpha partner has kept popping up anywhere and everywhere over the past two weeks. Liam had told him that Harry still felt bad and wanted to make amends, but the omega wasn't so convinced.
Still, he can’t help but flashback to their meeting in the hallway after Harry’s cruel words. Louis swears he can still taste the alpha’s lips on his, and he buries the fact that he longs to have the taller boy’s body pressed against his once more.
After another public spat, having to do with Harry messing up a partner project in their Charms class, Louis can only assume that some of Harry’s social stock had to have plummeted. After all, even wizards acknowledge the “pick on somebody your own size” norm. He feels like everyone has been looking at him sympathetically if the attention he’s receiving is anything to go by. Cher and Leigh-Ann had all but cornered him outside his dormitories, asking if Harry had done anything to make up for his cruel hearted joke.
Louis had almost fainted when Leigh-Ann had suggested that Harry only teased him because he has a massive crush on the omega. He would very much like to go back to being invisible, but of course, his nemesis had to ruin that for him. So much for potentially taking advantage of his once mysterious vibe.
Louis stares disdainfully at the box of Chocolate Frogs that’s sat next to him. A voice that sounds suspiciously like Lottie’s in his head, tells him to give in and enjoy the delicious treats but he feels like that would be admitting defeat a little too early on. A tiny part of him is pleased that the Alpha is consistently trying to win his approval, and he wants to make him work for it just a little bit harder. The other part of him screams that those thoughts are simply preposterous and that Harry is only doing this to win back everyone else’s favor. With these warring thoughts whirling around in his head, he’s spent all weekend curled up in the Hufflepuff common room with Marmalade, catching up on his newest mystery novel and very pointedly ignoring the stack of goodies that seem to grow exponentially.
He’s so caught up in his chapter of reading that he almost doesn’t hear someone mutter “Freezing Cola” from outside the room. The door swings open to reveal one very sweaty alpha. Louis almost drops his book in his fluster to sit up. “What are you doing here?” he demands and tries not to inhale the alpha’s delicious, heady scent. “This is Hufflepuffs only.
Harry rolls his eyes. “Yeah Louis, I know. I go to school here as well, or did you forget?” the boy asks pointedly. Louis glares. “Well, if you know, then what exactly are you doing here?” he repeats, desperate for his oaf of a partner to leave.
Harry holds out an extremely appetizing looking muffin that he’s been hiding behind his hands. “I brought you this.” He offers.
Louis tentatively takes the muffin and sniffs it. “Is this oatmeal raisin?” he demands, forgetting his shyness for once. He simply will riot if anything raisin touches his mouth.
Harry looks like he wants to roll his eyes again but thinks better of it as he inches closer to the blue couch to stroke Marmalade’s fur. “No, Louis.” The alpha huffs. “I know you hate raisins. It’s oatmeal chocolate chip. I asked the House Elves to make you a special batch.”
Louis blinks slowly. “Oh,” is all he can muster up before gingerly taking a bite. “’S really good,” he admits sweetly, not really one for lying, especially about baked goods. “But you know, you really shouldn’t expect the House Elves to do your bidding for you. They have important lives too."
The alpha snorts cruelly and mutters something unintelligible under his breath. Louis stiffens, hackles rising. His mum had always taught him that mumbling was for the uncouth.
“Sorry, can you speak up Styles?” he demands. “Don’t think I caught that.”
Harry huffs out an annoyed breath. “I SAID, of course you’d care about literally anyone else, more than you care about me.”
Louis gasps. “So that’s what this is about? You can’t act decently to anyone simply because I’m the only one who won’t give you the time of day?”
Harry is full on glaring at him now, and Louis desperately tries not to cower under the alpha’s displeased gaze.
“For Merlin’s sake Louis,” Harry hisses. “This isn’t even about the bloody House Elves. Not that it matters, but I meet with them twice a month anyway, to help them find new recipes for the student menus!”
Louis blushes in shame and tries to stutter out a response to the unexpected admission, but Harry is still ranting. “This is about you being so concerned and kind to every other soul in this place, but me!” Harry exclaims. “I know I fucked up on the first day, but besides that I’ve done nothing to warrant your cold behavior. You’re acting like a frigid little Omega!”
Louis gapes in anger at the alpha's harsh words. “Fuck you, Harry!” he tries desperately not to let his voice tremble.
Harry glares at him for a few more seconds until he's advancing towards the omega. Louis knows he could quickly scramble off the couch and retreat, but the alpha's scent is getting closer and closer and he finds himself frozen. In mere seconds, Harry has captured Louis’s lips with his own. Louis kisses back immediately this time. The younger man hauls him onto his lap and nips at his bottom lip, requesting access.
Louis is stubborn though, refusing to grant entrance to the dominant Alpha. Harry tries a few more times before growing angry, and growls at the older man, pressing their foreheads together.
“Submit to me Omega,” he commands, just shy of using his Alpha voice.
Louis fights his inner Omega who so desperately wants to yield to the fiery Alpha. He won’t let Harry think that just because he’s attractive as hell, he can touch Louis anyway he wants.
Although, their current predicament seems to contradict that.
The alpha resorts to using his free hand to cup Louis through his trousers while restraining both his wrists, the older man moaning in response.
Harry uses the distraction to slip his tongue inside, and Louis hates him just a little bit more, because he really doesn’t. He tries desperately to free his hands. “Want to-, want to touch,” he pants.
Harry chuckles meanly. “No. You’ll do as I say, butterfly. I didn’t know you were such a little slut. Look at you, begging for it.”
Louis’s eyes shoot open as he glares at the curly haired man. He immediately untangles their limbs, standing up from the couch.
“I hate you so much. Don’t fucking talk to me like that.” He demands as he tries to ignore the throbbing in his cock that has suddenly increased tenfold.
Harry smirks. “Don’t lie, little butterfly. I know you like it.”
Louis wants to moan at the pet name but he wills himself to stay strong. “Let’s just stay away from each other,” he snaps at the alpha. “Wouldn’t want to be associated as one of your little whores anyway!”
Harry stares at him in shock from the couch. “Do you really hate me that much?” he asks, and Louis is surprised to hear a touch of vulnerability in the alpha’s tone.
Louis finds that he can’t really deliver a retort because the alpha is right. The chaos that was the Sorting Hat Ceremony aside, Harry hasn’t been anything but kind to Louis in the past days.
The omega knows he’s been treating Harry unfairly, but the thought of getting burned by someone who he secretly admires so much (although he’s not quite ready to voice that aloud), is enough to make him want to shrivel up into a ball and disappear forever.
Lost in his melancholy thoughts, Harry takes Louis's nonresponse as one of confirmation.
“Right,” the alpha says wearily. “Let’s just stay away from each other then. It’s what you wanted anyway,” he spits before storming out of the room.
The omega in Louis cries inwardly at the rejection, wanting desperately to chase after the alpha and apologize. Marmalade hops off the arm off the sofa, and sits herself down in Louis’s lap, blinking up slowly, as if to reassure him that it’d be okay for the omega to go after his not-quite lover.
But Louis has always been quietly stubborn to a fault, so he curls back up with his cat, wills his flagging cock to go down, and sticks his nose back in his book, desperately trying to erase the hurt, green eyes from his memory.
-
The following weeks are more of the same, but Louis manages to feel even worse about himself than he did before. Now that it’s clear that he and the alpha aren’t on speaking terms, he’s surprised to find that life gets more difficult.
The other boys are silent whenever the two of them are forced to interact, opting to stay out of their petty spats.
Every time the two see each other, Louis pledges to practice what he preaches and be kind to the younger boy. But as soon as he lays eyes on the arrogant alpha, all niceties fly out the window. Harry then almost always opens his mouth to spit teasing words with a malicious undertone at Louis that have the older boy crying on the inside. He can only thank Merlin that he's gotten better at not showing an outward reaction.
Louis may be naturally shy and kind, but he’ll be damned if he’s going to let some immature alpha walk all over him and get away with it. However, he’s also still reeling over their last two sexual interactions. He can’t believe he’s let it happen, not once, but twice. But fuck, how can he fault anyone for giving into Harry with the way the alpha kisses and touches like he’s king of the world?
Unfortunately, the toll of having an actual enemy means that Louis is even more tired of stepping out into the world and he suddenly finds himself always anxious when Niall tries to get the five lads together for a hangout. He had not anticipated this for his last year.
“Please Niall,” he pleads with the blonde. “I’d much rather stay here and work on the research paper that I promised Professor Granger I’d get done. And I know Marmalade has been missing me. Or maybe I’ll go hangout with Fizz and see if she needs help with Potion’s homework. You know how hard Fourth Year Potions is.”
“You promised Professor Granger you’d get it done in TWO weeks, Lou,” Niall says exasperatedly, ignoring Louis’s other excuses. “You know what that means? You have thirteen days until you need to start it.”
“That’s not what that means at all!” Louis says, scandalized.
“You’re killing me mate,” Niall whines. “Please come out with us. The lads all want to see you!”
Louis scoffs. “Now I know you’re lying.”
Niall manages to look sheepish at his partial lie. “Well, I know Zayn and Liam do. And you and Harry can just ignore each other like you’ve been doing. I just miss my best mates. All Zayn and Liam wanna do is suck face and Harry’s always at Quidditch practice. I'm lonely!”
“I’m sorry Niall,” Louis says genuinely apologetic, but trying not to blush at the mention of sucking face. He supposes he has been skipping out on lad’s time due to Harry’s mandatory presence. He didn’t realize that Niall might be feeling abandoned.
“Hey, it’s okay mate,” Niall says ruffling the omegas hair. “Just come out with us. Please? I’ll buy you a Butterbeer. Or three.”
Louis heaves a big sigh, mind already made up at the promise of the foamy and delicious beverage. “Fine, fine. Only for you Niall. And maybe Zayn and Liam a little bit. But definitely NOT Harry.”
Niall rolls his eyes but pumps his fist, nonetheless. “Aces! Let me go tell the lads.”
He pulls his wand out from his robe and begins moving it in a circular position.
“Expecto Patronum!”
It’s not long before a glowy Irish setter is conjured in midair.
“Tell Liam, Zayn, and Harry to meet us at the entrance to Hogsmeade in ten minutes!” Niall instructs.
The dog lowers his head in acknowledgement before bounding away out the door.
“You make it look so easy,” Louis says in admiration, frustrated that he only managed to conjure his Patronus a mere couple of times.
“You’ll get it one day,” Niall says easily. “Now c’mon and help me pick out an outfit.”
-
Liam’s eyes widen in shock.
The five boys are all huddled by the entrance to Hogsmeade, and Louis is smiling proudly at Niall’s ensemble.
“Niall, you, you - um,” he tries to say.
Niall narrows his eyes at Liam and then focuses his attention on Louis. “Was this a prank?” he demands to the omega. “What bloody getup did you put me in?”
Zayn chuckles. “Liam’s just speechless because you look, well, what’s the word?”
“Put-together?” Harry chimes in.
Liam nods and snaps his fingers. “Yes, that’s precisely it. Not that your normal outfits aren’t up to par,” he rushes to add as Niall’s insulted facial expression doesn’t waver. “This is just a different style for you mate. And it suits you.”
Niall finally beams. “Well thanks lads. I asked Louis for a bit of a fashion makeover before our outing.”
Liam nods approvingly at the omega. “Louis does have an excellent wardrobe.”
“What’s the occasion then?” Zayn asks as they begin to walk to the Three Broomsticks.
Niall flushes a light pink instantly. “Um, nothing really. Just wanted to look nice for my boys.”
Now it’s Louis’s turn to squint at Niall suspiciously. “What are you hiding from us Niall?”
Liam and Zayn laugh, and even Harry lets out an amused chuckle. Louis tries not to preen at the indirect attention.
Niall sighs, knowing it's a lost cause. “There may be someone I’m hoping to see at the pub,” he mumbles.
“Speak up Niall!” Harry says teasingly.
“Ugh, you lads are the worst,” Niall complains as he fusses with the collar of his shirt. “Lou, help me,” he whines. “I’ve never worn a shirt with these many buttons before.”
“I think you should have at least four buttons undone,” Harry recommends very seriously.
Louis gapes at the alpha, forgetting his vow of silence. “Are you mad?” he asks incredulously.
“He’s trying to get a date, not an audition for WizBoy.” He references the tacky, explicit magazine.
The boys titter again as they enter the darkly lit pub.
“Okay, so who is the lucky wizardess?” Harry stage whispers.
Niall resolutely keeps his mouth shut but his face gives it all away. They all follow his gaze right to a pretty redhead behind the bar.
“This makes so much sense,” Zayn says. “No wonder you’ve been bugging us about coming here.”
“I’ll get us all drinks,” Liam offers. “My nan sent me some birthday money so this rounds on me.”
“No!” Niall all but shouts. “I’ve got it!” he rushes up to the counter before Liam can protest.
Louis snorts as they make their way over to the last unoccupied booth, tucked in the corner.
“What are the odds we get our drinks within the next hour?” Zayn grumbles drily as they all peer over at Niall, who is laughing rambunctiously at something the bartender has said.
Liam pets his hair, laughing as Zayn bats his hand away. “I’ll coordinate search and rescue duty if he’s not back in five minutes.”
Louis tries to laugh too but he’s having a hard time breathing. He and Harry had no choice but to share one side of the booth as Liam and Zayn had taken up the other.
The tension between the two is palpable and Louis can almost feel the hairs on his arm stand up.
“So, lads,” Liam asks. “What are your plans for the Homecoming Fall dance?”
“I’m not sure,” Harry says, drawing out each word remarkably slower than the last. “I might ask Cara or Camille. It’s not for a couple months though, so I have plenty of time to assess my pick of the litter.”
Louis wills his entire body to not tense up at the mention of the female omegas, but the effort is wasted. He can feel Harry stare questioningly at him, but he staunchly ignores the boy sitting beside him as he’s done for the past several weeks.
“What about you, Lou?” Liam asks kindly. “Any plans?”
Louis is about to stutter out a firm no and admit that he’d much rather prefer a hot cup of cider, Marmalade, and his coziest cashmere pajamas but Zayn is butting in.
“You know what I think?” he asks slyly. “I think Nick Grimshaw from Charms has a big fat crush on you.”
Louis splutters, cheeks turning red. “That’s not true!” he cries out. “How would you even know that?”
Zayn rolls his eyes. “Please, have you seen the way he stares at you in class? He was practically drooling when you helped him with that advanced Summoning charm last week.”
Besides him, Harry scoffs and Louis immediately whirls around to make eye contact with the annoyed boy.
He’s shocked when angry eyes meet his own. Could it be possible that Harry is reacting out of jealousy??
“You sure do seem to have a hard time speaking up around me,” Louis says nastily, and he knows he shouldn’t push it. He knows. But he’s never been one to back down, no matter how shy he may seem. “Maybe you’re the one that has a crush on me.”
Harry’s eyes widen before he schools his expression into a sneer. “In your dreams Tomlinson,” he says. “I was just surprised that someone would actually like you. As if I would ever.”
“Harry,” Liam says warningly as Zayn sits upright from his lap and glares at the curly-haired alpha.
For once, Louis’s eyes don’t betray him and he’s grateful to feel no waterworks erupt.
“Real nice,” he says lowly, before getting up to leave, unable to take the antagonization anymore.
“I’m sorry lads,” he mumbles to the concerned couple. “Tell Niall I’ll be back in our room.”
He makes his way out into the chilly, fall air, at least a little happy to have such a beautiful background to his woeful walk back to the dorms. The leaves are all beautiful warm tints of red, yellow, and golden-orange, and they are beginning to scatter the cobblestone paths surrounding Hogwarts.
He’s just barely made it out the door when he hears Harry calling after him. He desperately tries to speed up his steps, but the other boy's longer legs pull out the win.
“Louis, I’m sorry, I wasn’t thinking.” Harry pants as he catches up to him.
Louis stops in his tracks, not really fancying causing another public scene. “You know, I might actually believe you if you didn’t keep doing this repeatedly. If you were truly sorry, you would’ve learned your lesson and stopped saying hurtful things at all.”
Harry sighs running his hands through his long hair, suddenly looking more tired than ever. “I know, I know. It’s not an excuse, but I’ve been so stressed. There’s more pressure on me now than ever to win the Quidditch Cup and,” he lowers his voice although now nobody seems to be around to pay attention. “My dad has been really sick.”
Louis feels all the tension leave his body only to be replaced with heavy concern. “Robin?” he asks, worriedly. “I’m so sorry Harry, I didn’t know. My mum hasn’t said anything to me about it.”
It’s Harry’s turn to look bashful at his sudden vulnerability. “I doubt my mum told Jay about it. We’ve been trying to keep it under wraps. Only my immediate family knows. Gemma just flew home from her job at the Ministry to help take care of him, and I just feel so guilty not being there.”
Louis steps closer, wanting to reach out his hand to soothe the younger boy, but he’s unsure where their boundaries lie these days. Still, he reckons if he was in Harry’s place, he’d want a soothing touch. He places his hand on Harry’s shoulder and rubs it in what he hopes is a comforting way, Harry’s eyes tracking the movement.
“I’m sorry you’ve been going through that,” he says softly. “I won’t tell anyone, not even Lot or Fizz, but please let me know if you need anything. We could go on a walk or I could make you hot chocolate if you just want to sit or be in silence.”
Harry smiles down at him, as he puts his hand over Louis’s. “Thanks Louis. And again, I’m sorry for what I just said. I know I've been a proper idiot to you and I’ve been snapping more lately, and I really don’t mean it. Honestly, any bloke would be so lucky to go to the dance with you.”
A part of Louis wants to continue to stick up for himself and really make sure Harry stops saying insensitive things, but he can’t find it in himself to reprimand the boy when he looks so exhausted. The compliment that Harry has let escape also hasn’t flown by him.
“It’s okay,” he mumbles. “Let’s just forget it, yeah?”
Harry looks immensely grateful. “I’d like that. Are you sure you don’t want to come back in and join us? I promise to be nicer.”
Louis shakes his head. “No, it’s really okay. I’ve got some stuff to work on. You can tell the lads we made up and all is good.”
Harry looks like he wants to argue but nods. “Okay. Bye Lou.”
Louis gives him a halfhearted wave before turning around and resuming his trek. It takes everything in him to not turn back around and make sure the alpha is truly okay.
-
If Louis thought their little heart to heart would change anything, he was sorely mistaken. The next day, and week after, Harry continues to ignore him, and Louis is genuinely surprised at the hurt he feels by the alphas' indifference.
He thought he and Harry were at least taking slow, baby steps, but it appears they’re back to where they started. Still, he'd managed to get six years without Harry's friendship, he's sure he can manage one more.
He’s sat in the Dining Hall with Niall when all chaos breaks loose.
It’s the end of the week and Zayn and Liam are locked away in their dorms, having had their rut and heat sync up.
There’s an angry storm swirling outside, and the pelting of the trees against the glass windows can be heard even over all the student’s talking.
Frequent flashes of lightning strike, followed by huge claps of thunder. The storm is relentless, having started out as a few measly raindrops on a cloudy morning but fully transformed to this behemoth of majestic weather.
Nearly Headless Nick floats around the Great Hall, moaning about his latest woes, the storm serving as the perfect backdrop.
Louis is content to feast upon his butternut squash soup with cheese toasties, and mentally catalogue his assignments while he ignores the rain.
“I think I’m going to ask out Genevieve this weekend,” Niall says thoughtfully, licking each of his fingers so they’re free of soup.
“Wait, who’s Genevieve?’ Louis asks bewildered.
“The girl from Three Broomsticks!” Niall cries out. “Haven’t you been listening to a word I’ve been saying?”
“I’ve been trying to?” Louis admits.
Niall levels him with an unimpressed gaze before brightening up again. “Isn’t she just the greatest? Have I already told you she plays the fiddle? Oh, and she wants to form a band with me and Ed! I already-”, he’s cut off as suddenly all the floating candles and the chandeliers go out in an instant.
Nearly Headless Nick lets out a screech and there’s a worried hush as the students fall quiet.
“Please do not panic,” Headmistress McGonagall’s voice can be heard from somewhere in the crowded room. “Everybody please cast Lumos.”
“Please also make your way to your partner,” Professor Malfoy instructs. “You will be responsible for keeping an eye on them until everything is sorted out.”
Before anyone can even lift their wand, a raspy voice is floating throughout.
“We seek vengeance,” it croaks. “Give us what we want, and no harm shall come to you.”
SWOOSH. Suddenly, a crack of dark purple light is smattering throughout the room.
“Everyone, please try to remain calm!” Professor Granger commands, but it’s to no avail. Panic has officially overtaken the student body.
Screams echo from scared students as they suddenly try to bolt to their partner and make their way out of the room.
“What was that?” Cara shrieks, grabbing Gigi’s hand as they flee the Great Hall.
“Ed? Mate, where are you?” Niall bellows, rushing his way over to the ginger at the Slytherin table.
Louis is petrified, unable to see a thing as a flurry of black robes rush towards the exit.
He stands up, trying to catch a glimpse of anyone he knows, relieved as he sees Lottie and Fizzy both already with their partners.
He can’t spot Harry anywhere which is odd, considering the star Quidditch player normally is the center of attention at the Slytherin table.
He wills himself not to cry as he thinks where the alpha could be. He wonders if he should go back to his own dorms, to see if Harry is looking for him.
He shakes his head internally. The alpha is probably in his own room running Quidditch plays.
Niall, or maybe it was Liam, had mentioned how he likes to skip meals at the end of the week to get a head start on planning his practices.
He hurries out into the mass of students, making his way towards the Slytherin dorms. His heart is beating fast as the ominous purple light spreads all over the castle.
He’d normally just break protocol and just snuggle in with Niall, Liam, or Zayn, but he realizes he’s just not afraid for himself, but for Harry too. He makes his way to the Slytherin dorms, chest heaving, as he curses the fact that he’s in inadequate shape for such physical activity.
“What are you doing here?” Xander, a Slytherin sixth year, snaps at him.
“I’m trying to find my partner,” he says panickedly. “I don’t know the password.”
Xander rolls his eyes before he’s calling out “Slippery Serpent.”
The door swings open and Louis rushes inside. He hasn’t been this scared since his first year, when an escaped Hippogriff had crashed through the windows in the dining hall.
Inside the dorms, there are pairs all around, huddled together.
Louis peers frantically around the room trying to spot the tall alpha. He rushes to the corner suite that he knows Harry shares with Ed.
The other alpha is already in the living room with Niall, both laid sprawled out on their bellies with a bottle of rum between them.
“Lou!” Niall says. “I’m so glad you’re here, come join us! If we’re gonna die, we might as well go out with a bang.”
Louis barely registers his words before he’s addressing Ed. “Have you seen Harry?” he demands, trying not to sound hysterical.
The other alpha shakes his head, sympathetically. “No, I think he’s out looking for you.”
Louis curses before rushing out of the room and through the entrance of the dorms. He runs down the staircase, almost tripping several times as he makes his way to his own dorms.
He’s so close, but his tears are clouding his eyes, making everything around him blurry.
The purple light is still lit, shadowing him almost mockingly, and the student's screams and cries can still be heard.
He stumbles over his robes, landing hard on his knee, no doubt tearing his pants.
He clutches it briefly, before standing back up again and running towards his dorm door. He tries to ignore the shooting pain in his left leg as he blurts out “Bluffing Toad” and stumbles inside.
He looks around frantically, past all the pairs comforting each other, trying to hear Harry over the storm that’s still seething. He finally spots a big mop of curly hair darting in and out of the suite entrances.
“Harry?” he calls, his voice cracking.
The younger alpha immediately turns around and makes his way determinedly over.
Before Louis can think anything through, he’s all but diving into Harry’s arms, tears finally beginning to fall.
Harry immediately catches him, rubbing his hands up and down Louis’s back, trying to soothe the boy. Marmalade joins the pair, pacing around them, her eyes gone big, and her back arched in anticipation.
“It’s okay Lou,” Harry whispers, clutching the omega close to his chest. “I’m here.”
“Where were you?” Louis sniffs into his chest, letting the alpha’s scent wash over him. “I went to your dorms to look for you.”
“I’m sorry, I should’ve stayed there, but I had to come look for you” Harry says apologetically. “We didn’t really come up with a clear partner plan…”
Louis squeezes the alpha harder. “It’s okay, we’re okay,” he says, almost trying to convince himself more than Harry.
“What was that voice?” Harry asks worriedly. “I could hear it all the way from my dorm.”
The panic of the chaotic event suddenly comes back into the front of Louis’s mind. He had almost forgotten why he was running around looking for his supposed enemy.
Trying to take a full breath but finding that his throat would not allow him, he frantically sucks in the air too fast.
“Hey, hey, you’re okay,” Harry says, putting a hand on the back of his head and burying it in his own scent gland.
He slowly starts scenting the scared omega, trying to calm him down.
Louis’s fast breaths slowly start to decrease their pace as he buries himself in the crook of Harry’s neck, inhaling a delicious whiff of spicy chocolate and orange.
“Let’s go to your bedroom,” Harry whispers. “We can calm down someplace quieter.”
Louis gives a shaky nod, as the alpha slowly maneuvers him, so Louis’s back is to his chest.
They make their way through the small crowd, but Harry accidentally guides the omega too far to the left, and the smaller boy crashes into a statue of Helga Hufflepuff.
Louis can’t help but let out a whine, as the pain from his earlier fall comes rushing back.
“Shit, I’m sorry,” Harry exclaims, immediately twirling the boy back around to examine the damage.
His eyes widened at the scraped and bloodied knee. “Did I do that?” he asks, horrified.
Louis shakes his head. “No, I fell on my way to you,” he says, embarrassed and still in quite a bit of pain.
Harry’s grim expression doesn’t lessen at the admission. “Let’s go fix you up,” he promises, leaning down and sweeping Louis up, bridal style in his arms.
Louis squawks in protest. “I’m fine,” he tries to argue but Harry is having none of it.
He gently deposits Louis down on his bed, and Louis sits up on the edge, as he realizes the current situation. He’d never guess he’d be alone in his room with Harry Styles, of all wizards.
He can hear Harry fussing in the bathroom, as the alpha wets a rag and comes back to gently dab it at Louis’s knee. Next, he conjures some disinfecting ointment and starts to rub it over the now clean but torn flesh.
Louis hisses at the contact and tries to squirm away but Harry has his spare hand planted on his other thigh and he’s not giving Louis an inch.
“Uh-uh, you’re not going anywhere” he murmurs, hand tightening on Louis’s legs.
Louis flushes suddenly but for a very different reason than before. He has a very hot alpha, basically pinning him down and taking care of him.
If it weren’t for the circumstance, Louis knows he would definitely be incredibly aroused.
Harry pastes a plaster on his knee with the utmost care and Louis can’t help but silently coo at the concentrated look on the boy’s face.
His brow is furrowed as he tries not to crumple the plaster, and there’s the tiniest bit of his pink tongue sticking out the corner of his mouth.
He looks adorable, and Louis quickly looks away before the alpha catches him staring.
After he’s satisfied with his work, Harry throws away the trash and then comes to lie behind Louis, pulling the smaller boy to his chest.
He resumes his scenting and Louis tries not to let out a very different kind of whine at the pleasure he’s experiencing.
He rests his head against Harry’s chest, feeling the adrenaline wear off and the tiredness sweep over him like a weighted blanket.
Now that he’s safe, and he knows Harry is safe too, he falls asleep instantly.
-
When he wakes up the next morning, he’s still cradled on Harry’s chest but this time their tummies are touching, and Harry has a strong arm around him.
The alpha is wheezing faintly as he sleeps, Marmalade staring at his chest each time it rises, and Louis can’t help but giggle at the adorable sounds.
His sounds wake Harry up and the younger boy beneath him narrows his eyes playfully. “What’s so funny?” he asks, teasingly, his morning voice, even deeper than Louis would’ve thought was possible.
“Your asthma,” Louis shoots back, before he can help himself.
Harry huffs in mock outrage. “Making fun of my condition? How dare you?”
Louis gently pets his chest, before he can think better of it. “You know I kid,” he says softly.
He follows the alpha’s gaze down to his hand on his chest and he stills. Before he can yank it away and die of embarrassment, Harry is catching his hand, gently laying his own over it.
“I am very sorry I wasn’t at my dorm last night,” the alpha murmurs to him. Louis lays his head back down Harry’s chest, trying not to make his snuggling too apparent. “It’s not your fault,” he reassures the younger boy, and he means it.
“Like you said, we didn’t really come up with a plan, like we were supposed to.”
Harry smiles wryly. “That’s true, I suppose we should have a meeting place, that we always know where to go. If we must go outside, we should go to the cherry blossom tree that’s behind the Quidditch pitch. But what about inside? Your dorms?”
Louis shakes his head. “My dorms are at the end of the west wing, so they’re pretty far away. Yours are almost central to everything.”
“That’s true,” Harry reasons. “So, you’ll always come to mine then?”
“Always,” Louis says, and tries not to think about how much that sounds like a different type of promise.
“And I’ll always be waiting,” Harry promises back.
The two lay there, content in each other’s company before an announcement rings out from Headmistress McGonagall.
“Students, please stay with your partners and make your way back to the Great Hall.”
Louis shudders. “We have to go back to that place?”
Harry rubs his back. “It’ll be okay. I’ll be with you the whole time. Won’t let anything bad happen to you.”
Reluctantly Louis detaches himself from Harry’s embrace and goes over to his full-length mirror. He frowns at his disheveled appearance and tries to straighten his robes.
Harry stands behind, head above his, making no attempt to hide the way his eyes run over the omega’s.
“I think you look great, butterfly,” he teases.
Louis huffs and gently elbows the alpha. “Sorry we can’t all be as naturally handsome as you,” he lets out.
Harry waggles his eyebrows. “So, you think I’m handsome then?”
Louis blushes as he looks down, breaking their gaze. “Like you don’t already know,” he mutters.
Hands are brushing the sides of his body again and he looks back up to find Harry staring at him in the mirror, something unreadable in his eyes.
“I really do think you look great too,” the alpha says softly.
“Pretty, really.” Harry says the last words in a barely there whisper.
Louis’s inner omega swells with pride, bursting at the affection from his alpha. He shakes it off the thought, panicking, as he steps out of Harry’s embrace, ignoring the look of hurt in the taller boy’s eyes. “We should go,” he says stiffly.
The alpha says nothing, and they make their way to the dining hall side by side, silent.
When they enter, Zayn immediately rushes over to them.
“You’re okay!” the omega exclaims. “Li and I were so worried, when Niall told us you rushed out of the Slytherin dorms.
Louis tries to brush off the concern, not wanting to get into the details. “Don’t worry Z, I’m all good. I’m fine, really.” He chances a glance at the Alpha and finds that his face has gone stony, mouth set in a grim line.
“Harry?” Zayn asks, tentatively. “You good?”
“Fine, thanks,” Harry grits out before stalking off to the other side of the hall.
Zayn looks puzzled. “What was that about?”
Louis shrugs, trying to act nonchalant. “Was a weird night, that’s all. I’m sure he’s sick of me.”
Zayn glares at the omega as he wraps him up in a hug. “That’s not true at all, Louis William Tomlinson. That boy is just as weird around you as you are around him, and I don’t know why.”
Their embrace is joined by a third and fourth as Liam and Niall smother the two omegas with their hugs.
“Glad we’re all alive,” Niall says cheerfully. “That was wicked scary last night.”
Liam nods fervently. “I can’t believe Z and I missed it. We were just finishing up, uh you know,” he blushes a scarlet red, “when we heard that creepy voice.”
“Silence at once!” Professor Granger commands the room.
Immediately a hush falls over the Great Hall.
“Last night’s incidents are being thoroughly investigated by the administration. We’ve even called in some advisors from the Ministry of Magic to assist us,” Professor Granger announces.
“Rest assured,” Headmistress McGonagall adds, pointedly glaring at the entire student body, “whoever is responsible for this, will be punished accordingly.”
Louis shivers again, almost feeling sorry for the person who will face the wrath of McGonagall.
Classes are cancelled for the whole day, so he spends the rest of it snuggled in his bed. He’s finally got time to use Hufflepuff’s treasured espresso machine, making himself a cinnamon latte with extra whipped cream and cinnamon sprinkles.
Niall convinces the House Elves to whip up a special batch of almond biscotti and Louis stress eats six before retreating to his reclined position in bed.
He holds Marmalade close and tries to forget the previous night’s events, but when he closes his eyes to rest all he can see are green eyes staring concernedly at him.
✦✧✦✧
The tension of the events in the Great Hall is evident in the coming weeks. Students are still very much on edge about the incident, some parents even going as far as to temporarily withdraw their children from the school, in fear that there may be a third Wizarding War.
Jay had sent Louis a letter, asking if he might like to come home, and the boy truthfully didn’t want to. Lottie and Fizzy agreed, all the Tomlinson children insisting that it was probably just a childish prank from a student.
“You don’t think it could be the return of You-Know-Who?” Zayn asks, as he and Louis take a stroll around the school grounds one mid October morning.
“We can say his name,” Louis admonishes, hoping Zayn doesn’t point out that he didn’t say it either. “And besides, he was defeated years ago. There’s loads of extra security precautions now.”
Zayn hums in mild agreement but doesn’t look fully convinced.
“Hey, you’ll be here for the second fall vacation, right?” he asks. “Liam celebrates Thanksgiving and he’s going back to see his family since his dad is American. I don’t want to be stuck here alone. Mum and Dad are going on a trip to Pakistan.”
“Which one is Thanksgiving again?” Louis asks confusedly, trying to remember his brief Muggle Studies education. “Is that the one where they give thanks to all their presidents or something?”
“That’s President’s Day silly,” Zayn says. “But honestly, I never remember either. I’m like ninety percent sure it’s the one where they stuff themselves full of food, because they stole a country. It sounded dumb when Liam explained it to me. Muggles are weird. American Muggles are even weirder.”
“Why don’t you just go with Liam’s family?” Louis inquires. “I heard that Thanksgiving bangers and mash is something to experience.”
“My parents don’t really want to pay for it, and I don’t want to take Liam’s money,” Zayn replies simply. “I’d rather take it when he wants to fly me to Hawaii or something,” the raven-haired omega shoots Louis a devilish grin.
Louis shoves his best friend. “That’s awful Z,” he chides.
Zayn just shrugs, unbothered, as he stuffs his hands in his warm vest. “Perks of having a rich boyfriend.”
The two continue down the rest of the path in silence, taking in the vibrant autumn hues and calming rustling of the trees. Louis loves inhaling the air that always seems to mysteriously smell of cinnamon and nutmeg. He relishes the comfortable silence that falls between the pair and is reminded of why he loves his best friend so much.
While he cherishes Niall and Liam with his entire heart, Zayn has always gotten him on a deeper level. They’ve always been content to sit in silence, never one to waste words. He’s eternally grateful to have met someone like Zayn.
Not just because he’s eternally cool, but because he understands that Louis doesn’t want his silences filled, just someone to sit and complement his quietness.
“We should get spiced cider from the kitchen,” Louis suddenly gasps. “We could watch those new Muggle movies Liam brought about the vampires and the werewolves. And that actress with the one facial expression!”
“Oh yes, I’ve been meaning to watch those!” his best friend agrees before his eyes suddenly widen as he looks at his watch. “Oh Merlin! We can’t do that! I totally forgot that it’s the Quidditch Cup Final today! We have to hurry or else we’ll be late, bollocks. I'm such a bad boyfriend.”
Zayn grabs Louis' arm as they suddenly make their way back towards the direction of the Quidditch pitch.
“Do I have to go, though?” Louis tries to get out of it, as he’s frantically pulled down the dirt path.
They’re not really running per say, as that’s something Zayn would never partake in, but the other omega is definitely adding at least a .5 speed increase to his step. Zayn turns to glare at Louis, unimpressed. “Yes Louis, you do. You must support me. And how you do that, is to support my boyfriend. Also, might I remind you; your own sister is on the team.”
“I don’t remember reading that in the Best Mates Handbook at all,” Louis halfheartedly complains, already feeling his blood pressure rise when he hears the faint cheers of the crowd. “And Lottie knows that I don’t like crowds, I basically have a free pass for absences.”
“It’s in the fine print,” Zayn deadpans, ignoring the other part of Louis’s statement, as they make their way up the steep steps to the seats.
“What if I wanted to sit on the Slytherin side?” Louis asks, knowing that he’d never do that at all.
Unfortunately, Zayn knows that as well. “Ha-ha,” he says drily. You’re being really funny lately, Lou.”
The crowds are earsplitting, shouting as their favorite players fly out to the pitch. Louis tries to quelch the anxiety that threatens to overcome his whole body like a garden hose on the wrong setting, drenching the delicate flowers.
“Go Liam!” Zayn shrieks as he haphazardly pulls out two red and gold face paints, and smears them under his eyes, managing to make them look artfully avant-garde.
“Feeling so blessed that I get to be right next to you when you decide to raise your voice once a year,” Louis bites out sarcastically. And what can he say? Social anxiety tends to make him testy.
“Please Louis,” Zayn says matter of factly. “This is Gryffindor and Slytherin, the biggest House rivalry. Show some respect.”
Louis doesn’t dignify him with an answer, instead choosing to squint on the opposite side, seeing Niall adorned in a Slytherin scarf.
“Traitor,” he mutters under his breath, although he can’t help but smile when the blonde catches him staring and beams at him from across the pitch.
He loses his train of thought when he sees Harry fly out and gather his team into a circle. There’s no denying that the alpha looks good. His hair is pulled tightly back into a bun, and he has an air of determination on his face.
The referee blows the whistle, and the athletes are off on their broomsticks. Louis tries to keep track of Liam and Harry, the only players he knows, but everyone is moving too fast.
The crowd is revved up more than ever, screaming at each team, hyping them up. Zayn is practically vibrating with excitement as Louis looks on fondly.
“Ten points to Gryffindor,” Ed announces from his post. “A great assist from Lottie Tomlinson to Liam Payne. Gryffindor is in the lead by thirty points.”
“My boyfriend is amazing,” Zayn says dreamily.
Louis snorts. “Hey, put some credit on the Tomlinson name too, will ya?”
Zayn is putting his hands up in fake surrender when suddenly, the crowds grow even louder.
“The Snitch has arrived!” Ed exclaims.
Both Seekers, Phoebe and Cher dive at the same time as the elusive gold sphere weaves its way in and out of the broomsticks.
Harry takes the distraction to slam another Bludger through the hoop.
“Ten points to Slytherin!” Ed narrates. “They’re only twenty points behind Gryffindor!”
Harry is a man on a mission and Louis is in a begrudging daze as he watches the athlete swerve around the Bludgers and Beaters, scoring another goal.
“Slytherin and Gryffindor are almost neck and neck,” Ed bellows into his microphone. “Who will catch the Snitch first and be the Quidditch Champions of the year?”
Suddenly, there’s a crack of thunder as the clouds start to pour heavy, fat raindrops all around.
“This championship just got a level up!” Ed says, sounding almost joyous.
Louis mutters out the umbrella spell, sighing in relief as the shower of water on his head subsides. The weather isn’t the only thing that has gotten more aggressive. The players seem to be spurred on by the frantic-ness of the rain, a renewed aggression in their flying.
For almost twenty-five agonizing minutes, there is no headway. Both teams are evenly matched, both armed with their newfound energy.
“This is torture,” Zayn moans out.
Louis glances over and nearly does a doubletake.
The omega has set himself up with a little floating roof over his head, complete with Gryffindor colored string lights, a steaming thermos of pumpkin hot chocolate, and warm gloves around his hands.
“Who even are you?” he asks his best friend.
Zayn rolls his eyes as he hands over his thermos. “Jealousy doesn’t suit you Lewis,” he says haughtily. “If you wanted some, all you had to do was ask.”
Louis rolls his eyes back just as hard before taking the thermos and having himself a big gulp of the hot liquid.
It spreads throughout his body, instantly warming him up. “It’s not Yorkshire tea, but it will do,” he concedes.
“You’re the worst,” Zayn says, no bite in his tone, as he conjures up a second thermos full of tea.
“I love you Zaynie,” Louis coos, eagerly switching the two Thermoses.
With his favorite beverage in his hand and pumping through his bloodstream, Louis feels his attitude shift as he focuses his attention back on the game.
He spies his sister just nearly missing a Bludger to the head as she swerves out of the way. He thinks it’s a good thing the school didn’t give into the demands about letting parents attend matches, because his mother would surely have fainted by now.
Suddenly, Phoebe of Slytherin flies directly upwards, spiraling towards something that Louis isn’t able to catch.
“We’ve got eyes on the Snitch!” Ed screams. “Oh, sorry Headmistress McGonagall,” he says sheepishly as the stony-faced woman focuses her glare on him. “I’m working on volume control,” he promises the crowd.
Cher, now clued in on Phoebe's chase, is hot on her heels, the two of them zipping throughout the chaos of the players on their broomsticks.
It looks neck and neck until at the last second when Phoebe dives straight down, her hand reaching out to close around the fluttering Golden Snitch.
“Phoebe has caught the Golden Snitch!” Ed screams. “Slytherin are the Quidditch Cup Champions!”
There are equal parts screaming and booing as the match finally comes to its conclusion.
Zayn pouts as he quickly cleans up his luxurious setup. “I have to go find Liam,” he says worriedly. “Gotta help him calm down.”
“Yeah, I’m sure,” Louis says, trying not to picture his two best friends in compromising positions.
Finally, alone, Louis makes his way down from the seats, as quick as possible, hoping to maybe catch Lottie and congratulate her and then retreat to his dorms.
As he’s searching for an alternate route that doesn’t have him stuck, sandwiched between the hordes of students, he catches Cara and Harry, standing a little too close for his liking behind the medical tent.
Cara is twirling her hair, peering up at Harry as the alpha leans over her, holding an umbrella and smirking. An ugly feeling rears its way into Louis’s gut, making his stomach feel like it’s housing a ten-pound bowling ball. He’s had enough of Harry ignoring him after their passionate interactions, even though he knows he’s mostly to blame.
Before he can fully think through his plan of action, he’s shouldering his way through the remaining students, as he approaches the pair.
“...back to your room?” he just makes out Cara saying faintly before he sees red.
He slowly ends up mock-tripping, as he very intentionally splashes his lukewarm tea all over the back of her head.
“Oh no!” he says, infusing as much innocence and shock into the statement as he can.
It turns out he doesn’t need to worry about his Oscar-worthy performance because Cara takes one look at the perpetrator and immediately is acquiesced.
“Oh, my goodness, Louis, don't worry about it!” she utters. “I know it was just an accident!”
Harry stands behind her, gaze narrowed in on Louis’s face. Louis sees a tick in his jaw and knows that the alpha isn’t buying his act.
He had hoped the annoying omega would storm away in her haste to dry off, but she doesn’t appear to be going anywhere.
Upset with himself, and embarrassed that Harry has seen him resort to such a cheap tactic for who knows what, he mumbles out an apology before spinning on his heel and walking away.
He’s so intent on exiting the scene of his crime that he pulls open a random door to the school, not caring where it leads to.
It’s only when he’s met with rows of light blue tile that he realizes where he is.
The athlete’s locker room. He whirls around, desperate to exit but the door is opening again as a very angry Harry Styles steps through.
The alpha stalks towards him, Louis taking a step back for each one Harry gains.
“What was that, Louis?” Harry asks coolly.
“I just don’t know what you’re talking about,” Louis says, proud of his voice for not wavering. “I’m just a clumsy thing, sometimes.”
Harry’s eyes narrow as he glares at the omega before him.
“You were jealous,” he states matter of factly. “Although I can’t imagine why, since you’re the one who wanted us to keep our distance.”
Now it’s Louis’s turn to get riled. “What are you talking about? You’re so conceited,” he snaps. “Not everything is about you, Harry!”
“You’ve made that evidently clear!” Harry snaps back, caging him by putting both his hands next to Louis’s head.
“What is that supposed to mean?” Louis says, getting angry. He supposes they were going to have to hash this out one time or another. Might as well be now.
Harry is glowering right back at him, eyes never leaving Louis’s face.
“I’m talking about you being all over me that one night, and then brushing it off the next day like it was nothing,” Harry responds.
Louis tries to get out of duck under Harry’s grip, suddenly overwhelmed with their proximity, but the alpha is having none of it.
He wraps his hand around Louis’s throat, gently pushing him back against the wall.
Louis tries not to moan, but the effort is wasted as he watches Harry watch his lips.
The alpha’s eyes darken considerably, and Louis knows he has to get out before they both do something they regret.
“Oh? You mean exactly like you do to all your little conquests?” he mocks, trying to distract the alpha with anger, so that maybe he can slip free of the hand that’s applying the delicious pressure to his throat.
“I’d watch what you say to me, little O,” Harry says, almost growling, his hand tightening around Louis’s throat just a little more.
“Why?” Louis snaps back. “Who cares what I say, when I can just apologize, and then do it all again the next day! At least that’s what some people-”
Harry’s lips are suddenly pressed to his as the alpha sucks at his bottom lip, demanding entrance.
Louis whines but refuses to give Harry what he wants. He must get out of here.
“Get off of me,” he says, struggling to get out from under Harry’s grip.
Harry pauses, leaning back just a fraction, their eyes connecting once more.
“Look me in the eye, tell me you don’t want this, and I’ll leave baby butterfly,” he says, eyes travelling down and burning a hole straight through Louis’s forehead.
Louis opens his mouth, means to tell the stupid alpha in front of him what a complete cocky, self-obsessed jerk he is to assume, but somehow, they’re kissing again, and he knows it wasn’t Harry’s doing this time.
Harry relinquishes his grip on Louis’s throat, using both hands to pin Louis’s own above his head. Louis can’t help but feel a rush of slick down his thighs as he rocks up into Harry’s hardness.
He feels his face grow ten degrees hotter, hating how obvious his omega is making his arousal. He’s considering genuinely throwing a fit so that Harry will let him run back to his bedroom, tail between his legs, when the alpha groans.
“Fuck. You smell so. Good.” Harry moans, moving his lips to the side of Louis’s neck to suck an angry bite right below his jawline.
Louis can only squirm in the alpha’s hold, relishing in the tight grip on his wrists.
“Smell you all the time,” Harry is still talking, between his tender latches onto Louis’s skin.
“Want to hold you down and make you mine.” he growls possessively.
Louis flushes again, feeling in between his legs grow even wetter, before reminding himself that Harry’s vocal affections can probably be chalked up to his desperation to let Louis have him.
Satisfied with his work on Louis’s neck, Harry makes his way back up to his mouth and they nibble and lick at each other's lips, tongues sliding in and out, like two fish trapped in a small tank, fighting for space.
Louis’s shared a few chaste kisses before with other alpha’s that he’s held no real interest in, but he’s never quite been kissed like this.
Harry kisses like he’s on a desperate mission, yet knows that on some deeper level, that he has all the time in the world. His hands moved down to clutch Louis’s waist in earnest, fingerprints digging deeply into the skin. He kisses Louis like the omega is his to have.
Louis can’t find it in himself to disagree.
“Harry,” Louis keens out, still bucking up into Harry’s lower region, enjoying the delicious hardness that comes out to meet him.
Harry’s hands slowly travel around to clutch his arse and the alpha groans. “You’ve got the best arse, I’ve ever felt, butterfly,” he says, groping the flesh, as he squeezes and pulls Louis’s cheeks apart, like putty in his hands.
Before Louis can even comprehend what’s happening there’s a sharp smack against his right arsecheek.
He nearly comes on sight from the pleasure that follows, tinged with just the slightest pain.
“Oh my god,” he cries out. He’s never been spanked before, only having watched a few explicit videos here and there, but he’s already addicted to the feeling.
“More,” he chokes out.
Harry’s eyes darken as he squeezes Louis’s arse so hard that the boy had no choice but to press up against him tightly, almost as if they’re one melded being.
“You like that,” he says, almost in awe as he gives Louis another two smacks, hands kneading vigorously at the flesh afterwards. “Like me turning your pretty little arse all red from my hands. Such a good boy, taking it from me.”
“I’m a good boy?” Louis asks, hardly understanding how someone can make him feel like he wants to present arse up for them, just from their words. Maybe Harry is more than just a wizard or summat.
“The best, little one,” Harry promises, as he fondles Louis’s behind, before landing four more heavy-handed hits to his arse. “And I’m gonna give you anything you want.”
Louis pants, feeling overwhelmed, like his entire body is on fire. He can’t believe he already feels this fucked out when they’ve just kissed and grind against each other like a couple of clumsy schoolboys.
Although, he supposes he fits that label well.
Harry presses one more hot kiss to his lips before he’s pressing their foreheads together.
“What do you want from me omega baby?” he asks, fingers tracing Louis’s collarbone.
“I’ll give you anything to ask for, pretty omega deserves everything.”
Fuck. Louis doesn’t know what he wants, short of saying everything.
“Want your cock. My mouth,” he slurs out, barely able to string together a coherent sentence as tries to catch his breath and hopes that Harry will understand.
“Yeah?” Harry replies softly, stroking Louis’s cheek. “Want me to fuck your mouth, sweetheart?”
Louis nods vigorously, dropping down to knees, grateful that he’s now closer to the floor. He can feel the cool tile through his pants, and it helps keep him grounded. He feels like he’s one step away from passing out in complete euphoria.
He fumbles with Harry’s Quidditch uniform, pulling down the alpha’s pants to reveal Harry’s angry, red cock, desperate for attention.
Louis tries not to openly gape. He’s heard several (unwanted) testimonies about what Harry’s packing, but he never thought he’d get to witness it in all its glory.
Staring at Harry’s long length, he feels almost a little intimidated.
He slowly grips the base, eyes on the precome that’s spurting out at the tip. He gives it a few tentative licks, letting the salty taste wash over his tongue.
Harry moans, head thrown back against the wall. “Don’t tease baby,” he commands.
Louis grips his cock more firmly before slowly putting his mouth around it, letting it slide in and out of his mouth. He gives it a couple more goes, before he realizes he doesn’t feel the suffocation or need to choke, that he had anticipated.
It dawns on him that he must not have a gag reflex. Before he can have second thoughts, he’s sinking his mouth all the way down around the girth, letting the cock hit the back of his throat.
Sure enough, all he feels is a heavy pressure against his tongue and throat as he begins to move up and down, really letting his tongue feel all over the spit-soaked skin.
Harry lets out another moan, as he fists Louis’s hairs in his hand. Louis gazes up at the alpha, not quite believing that he’s the cause of the boy’s complete and utter arousal. Harry’s curls are plastered on his forehead, his jaw clenching as he bucks into Louis’s mouth.
Louis gives it his all for a few minutes, finding that he loves the taste of the pink, salty skin in his mouth, sucking on it like a treat.
Harry suddenly tightens his grip on Louis’s hair, pulling the older boy off his cock so he’s standing up again as their mouths meet.
“You’re amazing Lou,” Harry mumbles. “That fucking mouth on you.”
Louis preens, this time opening his mouth to let Harry in with no hesitation at all. They messily kiss, Harry’s hand reaching down to grab both their cocks as he jerks them off.
“Did so good,” he continues his praise, as his speed picks up.
Louis is spilling into his hand at the compliment, as Harry follows not too long after. They ride out their orgasms, rubbing idly against each other, as they make out against the wall.
It hits him as he’s scrubbing his hands free of any dirty substance. He just hooked up with his mortal enemy. He just practically begged Harry to let him suck him off. His face flushes, half from the embarrassment, and half from the stale arousal of their interaction.
He glances up in the mirror to spot Harry gazing at him.
“Glad we got that out of the way then. Now maybe we can-” the taller boy drawls as Louis feels his blood run ice cold, not even catching the last part of what the alpha is saying.
Because of course. He was just another notch on Harry’s bedpost. The Quidditch lad probably got off on some sick satisfaction that he hooked up with his enemy.
Suddenly Louis can’t breathe. He turns around from the mirror and quickly scrambles to find his way to the closest exit. He can hear Harry calling after him but as he passes a few of the younger boy’s Quidditch teammates on their way inside to the locker rooms, he knows that he’s found his distraction.
Once he makes his way back to his dorm, he quickly curls up in the fetal position on his lumpy mattress.
Marmalade, almost as if sensing his distress, jumps off the armchair from where she had been idly dozing and hops onto the bed. He can feel her sniff his shoulder and try to peer over his curled-up body.
He turns around to stare at his cat’s impassive green eyes, as he tries not to be reminded of a certain someone else’s emerald eyes.
“Oh Marmy,” he sighs. “I really don’t know what I’ve done now.”
As to be expected, Marmalade doesn’t formulate a response for him, instead just perching beside the tired boy. Louis pets her chocolate covered fur, inhaling her comforting scent like he’s an asthmatic child in need of an inhaler.
It’s how Niall finds him, hours later.
“Oi, where have you been mate?” he asks, plopping down on the bed, ignoring Marmalade’s distasteful glare. “You missed all the afterparties.”
“That’s kind of the point,” Louis says wryly, making eye contact with Marmalade to appease her, as if to also say Can you believe this extrovert?
“Geez, what’s got your knickers all in a twist?” Niall says, no malice in his tone.
Resigned to the fact that this is no longer a solo wallowing session, Louis turns on his back, so he’s splayed out on his bed, putting both hands in his mouth to bite viciously at his fingernails.
“I’m a common whore Niall,” he wails out.
To his credit, Niall doesn’t seem to be affected by that omission. “We all are mate,” he says solemnly. “What’s life without a little whorin’ about? But who’s the lucky lad?”
“Hefty Stonewall,” is all Niall can make out from Louis’s mutters.
“Huh?” the blonde asks confusedly. “Is that a school ghost I haven’t met yet? How would that even work? Do ghosts even top?”
Louis removes his hands from his mouth before leveling a glare at the fellow Hufflepuff.
“HARRY. STYLES.” He bellows. “And I could be a top, for all you know Niall.”
There’s a beat of silence.
Then another.
Then, “bahahahahahahahaha,” Niall has fallen back onto the bed, back of his head butting painfully against Louis’s abdomen.
“Merlin Niall!” Louis says. “Your head weighs like a gazillion kilos or something.”
Niall either can’t hear him or is choosing to ignore him, as full-on belly laughs wrack his body.
“This is so bloody rich,” he wheezes, cheeks a candy apple red from all his laughing. “You and Styles? I guess I should’ve seen this coming. “It’s sexual tension innit? You and Styles don’t really hate each other. I knew it! You guys are just attracted to each other. What are you, boyfriends now?”
Louis flushes all over again as he remembers the alpha’s words. “Don’t joke about that,” he snaps. “I was just an obvious itch Harry needed to scratch, and now we can pretend like it never even happened. Besides, we can't stand each other.”
“You can’t stand him,” the blonde corrects. “Sure, he teases you, and he puts his foot in his mouth like 90% of the time you’re in each other's proximity, but he always stares at you. It’s actually borderline creepy. And doesn’t he bake you treats?”
Louis sours. “Excuse me, Niall but you are not providing the best friend treatment that you signed up for when you entered our room a few minutes ago.”
After a few more chuckles, and then a chaotic mix between a wheeze, laugh, and a sneeze, Niall sits up and examines Louis.
“Oh, shite mate, you’re actually in a strop about this. What’s the problem? I have a hard time believing Harry’s not good in bed.”
Louis rolls his eyes so hard he thinks they might have fallen into the back of his brain like two loose gumballs.
“That’s not the issue,” he says, then flushes at the inadvertent admission about Harry’s bedroom prowess. “I shagged Harry and now I’m just another plaything to him.”
Niall sobers up. “He left ya?” he asks, gaze narrowing. “Well, I’ll be having some words with him then.”
“No.” Louis admits. “I did first. But you should’ve seen the way he was looking at me after. Like I was just another achievement he could brag about to his Quidditch team. Now he’s going to think I’ll be at his every beck and call.”
“Harry seriously isn’t like that,” Niall tries to reassure the boy. “Yeah, he has a lot of suitors but only a few crazy ones.”
He shudders at the thought of Taylor, a sixth year who practically strips for Harry every time they pass each other in the hallway.
“Besides, if you hated the lad so much before, then why do you even care?”
“I don’t!” Louis snaps. “But he shouldn’t just get to continue to treat people like objects. And he sure as well won’t be treating me like one.”
Niall sighs. “I really think you’re underestimating him.”
Louis flops back onto the bed. “I seriously doubt that Niall.”
-
The next night, Louis is sat dutifully in his favorite window seat in the library as he studies for his Transfiguration exam. It’s almost time for midterms and he’s been feeling more stressed than ever, determined to get excellent marks on all his exams. He’s repeatedly mumbling the phrases to himself, Zayn passed out a few feet from him on the couch when the chandelier and all the candles come crashing down to the ground. A second later, all the books fly off the shelves and hit the ground. The power flicks out again, and Louis’s heart sinks as he realizes this is another attack.
Zayn is groggily rubbing his eyes and Louis pulls his best mate along as they run out of the library. It’s a challenge to not stumble on everything that’s fallen, but Louis is proud to say his agility seems to be working better this time.
Once again, the halls are filled with frantic students trying to find their partners, as professors stress the importance of staying calm.
“I’ve gotta get to my dorms, are you gonna be okay?” Zayn asks worriedly. “You can always come hangout with me and Li if Harry is busy.”
Louis shakes his head grimly. As much as he’d rather avoid Harry right now, he doesn’t want the younger boy thinking he’s missing. “I have to go meet Harry at his dorms, but I’ll be okay,” he reassures Zayn.
The other boy nods, giving Louis one last hug before he’s running down the hall. Louis makes his way in the opposite direction towards the Slytherin dorms. He’s relieved that he and Harry had designated that spot, as he only must walk for a few minutes.
Luckily, a horde of students are filing into the doorway, so he doesn’t have to worry about not remembering the password. He sees Harry leaning against a table on the outer edge of the room with his friends.
Swallowing his nerves and hoping that Harry doesn’t bring up their previous interaction, he makes his way towards the alpha. Harry spots him almost immediately, as he drags Louis into his arms.
Sarah and Mitch look at them almost knowingly and Louis feels confused. “There’s our favorite pair of enemies,” Mitch snickers softly, but it’s not mean, and Louis can’t help but smile bashfully.
Sarah sends him a warm smile. “Sorry you got stuck with this ninny,” she says jokingly, sticking her tongue out when Harry tries to shove her.
Louis giggles as Harry refocuses all his attention back to him. He strokes the omega’s back and pulls back to examine him.
“All good this time?” he asks. “No injuries?”
Louis delicately sticks out all his limbs. “None!”
Harry pulls him back into a hug. “I’m glad,” he answers, and Louis is struck with how genuine the boy sounds.
Something warm floods through his chest at the fact that the two are on such dicey terms, but Harry didn’t think twice before reassuring him and making sure he was okay. He doesn’t know what to do at the little fountain of trust that’s begun to spurt in his chest.
Somehow always in tune with his emotions, Harry strokes the omega’s hair. “You sure you’re, okay?” he asks worriedly. “You look stressed all of a sudden.”
Louis nods frantically. “Don’t worry about it Haz,” he rushes out, missing several of Harry’s syllables and adding some new sounds.
Harry just looks endeared. “Haz?” he asks quietly.
Louis blushes. “Sorry, brain fart,” he says, hoping the alpha will drop it, but Harry just looks pleased. “I like it a lot,” the alpha says. “Do you wanna come back to my room? The quiet will help keep us calm.”
Louis nods gratefully, inwardly loving that Harry knew that’s exactly what he needed. The two make their way towards Harry’s bedroom and Louis lifts his head up from Harry’s chest, realizing that he’s never been in here before.
It’s not what he expected at all, picturing a messy, smelly room, perhaps with condoms strewn all over the floor.
Instead, everything is made of dark wood, and there’s a large, plush, cream rug covering most of the hardwood floor. It smells of mahogany and Harry’s distinct scent. Cozy lights and candles are strewn across the floor. Louis assumes they got knocked down, just now.
“Aw bollocks,” Harry pouts adorably, as he stoops to pick up all his fallen items. Louis tries to help, both falling into relative silence as they pick up what’s on the floor.
After they’re done, Harry walks towards his bed, gesturing for Louis to follow.
The omega tries not to blush as he attempts to climb on top of the tall mattress, getting a little push on the bottom from Harry to get him there.
He’s not sure what to do once he’s on the bed but Harry immediately clambers on after him and pulls the smaller boy into his arms, as he rests against his headboard.
“Want me to scent you?” he offers.
Louis knows he should say no, but there’s a reason he wasn’t sorted into Ravenclaw, he never claimed to be the smartest at making good decisions. He’s a Hufflepuff and the need for affection constantly courses through his veins, so he simply gives a shy nod, and buries his face into the crook of Harry’s neck, nosing against his mating gland. The scent he’s become addicted to in the past few month’s wafts around the room, causing him to feel calm and sleepy, like he’s gulped down three cups of honey chamomile tea.
“How’d you get your own room?” he asks drowsily, taking in big wafts of Harry’s smell.
“All Slytherin seventh years get their own rooms,” Harry answers. “We share a suite with a little living room and bathroom, but Ed has his own bedroom too. Think Malfoy felt guilty or something after the war, so he went overboard making sure Slytherin’s were accommodated well.”
“No way,” Louis says, thinking of the snarky professor. “I’m proper jealous. Although, sharing with Niall for the past seven years has been quite the experience.”
Harry snorts in amusement. “I’ll bet, if his sleeping style is anything like his eating style.”
Louis giggles and tries to ignore the way Harry’s eyes instantly flash down to his own face, the alpha dimpling at him.
“What do you think all these freak incidents are about?” The alpha suddenly changes the subject. “A third reckoning of some kind?”
“That’s what Zayn thinks too,” Louis supplies. “But I feel like if Voldemort was back, he wouldn’t just hit us with these borderline pranks. I mean sure, they’re freaky but so far no one has really been physically harmed. I haven’t seen a murderous diary lying about, have you?”
Harry laughs softly. “I suppose you’re right,” he surmises. “Still, you must admit, it’s a little terrifying. McGonagall seems pissed as well.”
Louis hums in agreement, eyelids fluttering shut, as he fights to keep his eyes open, desperate to bask in Harry’s warmth.
-
Pissed is an understatement. There’s practically steam shooting out of Headmistress McGonagall’s ears as she stands before the entire Hogwarts student body, trying to find the perpetrator.
“This has gotten completely out of hand,” she all but shrieks. “One foul prank was barely tolerable, two is simply unacceptable. If the guilty party does not come forward… there will be hell to pay!”
The entirety of the Great Hall is completely silent, taking the headmistress’s verbal beatdown, as gracefully as they can.
“Nobody has anything to say?” she asks coldly. “Anyone at all?”
Coughing slightly, Hagrid steps out of the line of teachers. “Maybe, you wanna tell ‘em the good news?” he suggests shyly. The two engage in some sort of staring contest, McGonagall staring him down with the ferocity of a mother lioness, while Hagrid stares back in earnestness.
“What the fuck is going on?” Niall says quietly, from somewhere behind Louis.
Finally, McGonagall sighs and turns back towards the students. “I don’t even know if you students are deserving of this anymore, but Hogwarts has decided to put on a fall fest. It will be one month from now and will take place from sunup to sundown. Then, the following weekend will be the Homecoming Fall Dance. Each house will help to build booths, activities, and bake treats. All seventh years are expected to volunteer longer shifts with their partner. This is mandatory. Schedules will be posted later.”
There’s excited chatter as Niall whoops. “Finally! A party!”
McGonagall levels him with a frosty glare, immediately. “It is not a party Horan, but a dignified gathering to celebrate the fall season,” she snaps. “If I catch anyone spiking any drinks, you will wish you never enrolled at this school.”
With the flourish of her robes, she strides out of the room.
There’s a beat of silence before the excited cheering resumes. “I’m totally gonna spike the punch,” Niall stage whispers.
Louis’s stomach swirls at the thought of another mandated activity with Harry, hating that he doesn’t hate the idea of it at all. He’s still reeling from their sexual encounter, Harry’s cuddles from yesterday be damned. He still can’t help but get the feeling that he’s just being used for his body. After all, what’s someone like Harry possibly doing with him?
-
His thoughts are proven correct the next day, when Harry all but corners him in the Hufflepuff dorms, smashing his lips against the older boy.
Louis fists the alpha’s shirt as he glares. “Mm—ff what are you doing?” he squawks.
Harry pauses momentarily to look back at him in confusion. “Making out with you?” he says, confusedly.
“Why?” Louis asks suspiciously. He feels fortunate he stopped Harry’s advances early enough to manage his own arousal. A coherent conversation would’ve been impossible if the alpha had gotten any further.
“Cuz you’re hot?” Harry snickers, but Louis pales. He’ll be damned if he lets the alpha use and abuse him like he does everyone else. Despite the budding feelings he may have for Harry, he refuses to be just another object.
Luckily, he saved as Niall barrels into their room. “Hey Lou! Guess what-oh, hey Harry?” the blonde looks back and forth between the two of them.
Louis pushes Harry towards the door. “Harry was just leaving!” he says, as Harry yelps, tripping over the rug. “Butterfly, what the fuck?” he hisses at Louis.
“Butterfly??” Niall shrieks. Louis’s face is the same color as a fire hydrant as he shoves Harry out the door, the other boy looking perplexed.
“Drop it Niall,” he orders immediately, before his roommate can say anything. Unfortunately, Niall has never been known to listen to anyone.
“Are you two fucking?” he asks suspiciously. “Not fair! You said I couldn’t bring Genevieve here for sex!”
“Because you can’t!” Louis glowers at him. “And I’m NOT fucking Harry. I’m just an itch he needs to scratch or something. But I won’t let him.”
Niall hums. “Whatever you say mate.”
Louis flops down on his bed and screams into his pillow.
-
“Ugh, harder,” Louis pants as Harry frantically ruts into him, relishing in the feel of his knot.
“Yes, baby butterfly!” Harry hisses, as they kiss, hands wrapped around tightly each other’s waist.
Louis truly doesn’t know how they got here. One second Harry won’t stop following him after a mandatory partner meeting, insisting that they need to talk, and the next they’re in a corridor corner, hidden from all eyes, desperately trying to get each other off.
“This is the last time,” Louis gets out as Harry leaves dark red bites all over his neck, soothing each painful mark with his tongue.
He can feel Harry smirk against his neck. “Whatever you say Lou,” the alpha says before attacking his throat once more.
“I mean it Harry,” Louis tries to sound sterner, but it’s so hard when he can feel his slick running down his leg. He’s sure Harry can feel it too, the younger boy pressed up so hard against him, they’re practically one entity at this point.
“When are you gonna let me fuck you baby?” Harry asks, completely ignoring Louis’s prior words.
Louis chokes back a moan, images of the alpha’s knot swelling up in him as he thrusts deep into Louis’s heat.
“Never.” He says flatly.
Harry pulls back to gaze at the boy. “Keep telling yourself that butterfly,” he says before reattaching their lips. Then he’s turning Louis around, so his front is facing the wall.
“What are you doing?” Louis demands, head twisting back to see Harry on his knees. The alpha just slides Louis’s pants down, clutching the omega’s arse.
“Maybe this will convince you,” the alpha smirks before gripping Louis’s arse cheeks even tighter and diving in to attack Louis’s hole with his tongue.
Louis all but shouts at the intrusion, arse bucking backwards to meet Harry’s tongue. “Fuck,” he moans. Harry’s tongue dances past the tight, puckered muscle, invading the hole. He laps and licks like he’s he hasn’t eaten in days, tonguing Louis’s pink flesh.
Louis’s slick increases tenfold, the omega never having been this wet before. He presses his forehead against the cool wall, trying to relieve the heat that’s come to rest atop his cheeks. Harry smacks his arse twice, before stroking Louis’s hole, teasing the puffy edge with his pointer finger.
Louis can barely breathe at the contact, wishing so desperately that Harry would stick his cock there instead. Harry continues his ministrations, and it’s not long before Louis is coming, spurting all over his hand. He rests his head for one more moment against the wall before turning around to meet Harry.
“Do you want me to?” he asks, gesturing towards the other boy’s lower region. Harry smirks. “No need,” he says nonchalantly. “I already did.”
Louis almost passes out at the admission. What alpha comes from eating someone out? It’s like Harry was sent to Hogwarts to purposefully destroy him. All his sexual preferences wrapped up into one six-foot, athletic wizard god of some type.
Suddenly, all of Louis’s insecurities come springing into his mind at once. He truly can’t figure out why Harry has suddenly taken such an interest in him. He’s short, has almost no social skills, and can barely hold a candle to Harry’s normal conquests.
He flushes at the realization, as he hurriedly pulls up his pants. Harry’s hands run down the omega’s sides, almost like he’s trying to wrangle a spooked horse. “Hey,” the alpha says softly. “What’s wrong?”
Louis just shakes his head, thankful enough that he’s not crying by now, as he scurries down the corridor, ignoring Harry’s calls.
✦✧✦✧
The next day, Louis’s stomach is filled with dread at having to see Harry for their morning Charms lecture. He barely has any appetite to eat the delicious apple cinnamon tarts prepared for breakfast, and he’s all but catatonic as Niall chatters obliviously at the Hufflepuff table.
Even though he knows it’s not true, Louis can’t help but feel like now everyone in the whole school knows what he and Harry got up to. He feels embarrassed and cheap, now no better than any of Harry’s other conquests.
He tries to walk as slowly as possible to his Charms classroom, but he’d rather die than be late to any one of his classes, so he ends up getting there only two minutes early, rather than his normal ten minutes early.
Surprisingly, Harry is already sitting at their two-seater table, gaze heavy on Louis.
It takes everything for Louis not to look at the alpha, as he takes his own seat. He can smell the alpha’s addictive scent, but he wills himself to look straight ahead.
“Louis, can we talk please?” Harry asks politely. Louis can tell that it’s probably taking everything in him to sound calm based on his tense jaw.
“I have to review my notes for class,” Louis replies hurriedly, throwing open his textbook to a random page. He hopes it will throw Harry off, but the alpha is not easily deterred, instead leaning over to peer at the words.
“We covered that chapter last month,” the alpha supplies unhelpfully.
Louis flushes and tries to think of a reasonable retort. Luckily, the pair is interrupted by a third presence.
“Hey Louis?” Nick Grimshaw asks, from behind them.
Louis whirls around, desperate for the distraction. “Hi Nick!” he says brightly, his heart pounding at the proximity between him and a
very
angry alpha. “How can I help you?”
Nick instantly blushes as he leans forward. “Well, um- I just wanted to ask, if, maybe, uh,”
Suddenly Harry has turned around too, a stony glare directed at the other alpha. “Excuse me Nick,” he says rudely. “But Louis and I were in the middle of a discussion.”
Nick blushes even more, not one to mess with the status quo of the Hogwarts social hierarchy. “Oh, sorry man, my bad. It’s okay Lou,” he smiles reassuringly at the omega as Louis tries to ignore Harry’s low growl at the nickname. “We’ll uh, talk later, I guess?” the other alpha says shooting bewildered glances at Harry.
Louis faces front again, still refusing to look Harry in the eye. “What the hell was that?” he hisses. “Nick was going to ask me to the dance, you arsehole!”
Harry is silently seething. “You don’t want to go with him anyway,” he hisses.
“It’s none of your business who I go with!” Louis tries not to raise his voice any louder. “We’re not friends!”
“You’ve made that abundantly clear!” Harry snaps back. “Talk about mixed messages. One minute you’re practically gagging for my cock and the next you won’t even give me the time of day.”
Louis finally faces the alpha, glaring at him in outrage. He can already feel the tears begin to form, and he curses himself that crying is his natural first reaction to anger. Harry already looks remorseful, no doubt caught on to Louis’s turmoil.
“Lou, I’m sorry!” he whispers frantically.
“Don’t call me that!” Louis chokes out quietly
Harry looks like he’s about to say something else, but Professor Granger chooses that moment to stride briskly into the room.
“Hello class, I trust you’ve all finished your papers that are due. First, I wanted to go over this old documentary clip I found in our archives and see if that might change any thesis statements.”
She turns on the projector, and loads up the clip, dimming the lights. Louis is grateful for the dark atmosphere and loud noise to cover up his noisy swallows and sniffles. Unfortunately, it gives Harry the setting he needs to focus 100% on the omega.
Louis staunchly stares ahead, trying to ignore the tears running down his face. Why won’t this selfish prick of an alpha just leave him alone for once? He’s lost in his thoughts when a hand grips his own hand that’s sat on his lap.
He tries to move it away, but Harry’s grip is unyielding. It’s warm and comforting and somehow this makes Louis cry even more. Harry looks frantic at the emotions he’s just caused before he’s quietly getting out of his seat and dragging Louis out of the classroom.
“Official partner business,” he calls quietly across the classroom at Professor Granger’s raised eyebrows. “We'll be back in just one second!”
He steers Louis into a hidden alcove, letting the boy sob in his arms. “Hey, Lou, please stop crying,” he pleads. “I’m sorry, that was really so rude of me. I don’t know what I was thinking.”
Louis wants to respond but he finds that once the tears start, he can’t stop the floodgates. He hiccups loudly into Harry’s robes, no doubt getting snot and tears all over the other boy’s outfit. It honestly feels good to have someone to lean on, even if that person is the same one responsible for his distress.
“Do you honestly want to see me miserable, Harry?” he asks quietly. “Do you really think I’m not deserving of someone finding me attractive too? Merlin, I know I’ll never be as popular as you, but please, just let up.”
Harry strokes Louis’s hair as he gazes down at the omega. “Louis,” he replies, shocked. “I don’t think that at all. I think you’re amazing, talented, and so funny. And honestly, I hate the world popular. It doesn’t mean anything. It holds no substance. You’re ten times the wizard I’ll ever be.”
Louis stares suspiciously at the older boy. “Then why were you so mean to me?”
Harry looks like he wants to say something else but closes his mouth. A few more beats of silence go by then and “He’s not good enough for you.”
Louis is truly gobsmacked. “Uh, what?”
Harry looks like he’s in physical pain, as he groans. “I interrupted your conversation with Grimshaw because I didn’t want him to ask you to the dance. He’s not good enough for you.”
“That’s not really your choice at all,” Louis says, much more gently than he should, still basking in the embrace of the alpha. “I just don’t get you at all, Harry Styles. Sometimes you’re nice to me, and other times you’re a complete prick, hellbent on tearing me down.”
Harry nods shamefully. “I know Lou, and I truly do want to apologize for how I’ve acted this year. There’s no excuse. And I’ll stop bothering you from now on, truly. It’s obvious how uncomfortable I’ve made you after we hooked up. I know you didn’t like it, so I’ll stop. I really will,” the alpha babbles.
And this is Louis’s chance. He could agree with Harry and the two could maybe finally strike up a courteous relationship based on frivolous niceties and nothing else. He would finally be free of Harry’s torments. But instead, he finds himself mumbling, “I do like it.”
Harry stops mid-sentence and looks back down at Louis. “Huh?” he asks.
Louis blushes and wipes away the remaining tears on his cheeks. “I like, when we, when we uh, do stuff,” he admits quietly.
A small smile makes its way onto the alpha’s face, and Louis is surprised to see how awful he felt when the alpha went without one. “Do stuff huh?” Harry teases, but there’s no malice in his tone.
Louis shoves gently at Harry’s chest, blushing even more, when he’s met with hard resistance. Why couldn’t he be blessed with a six pack too?
“You know what I mean,” he mutters.
The alpha just wiggles his eyebrows salaciously. “Hey baby, I like doing stuff too,” he pouts out.
“You’re the absolute worst,” Louis sniffs, as he burrows his head back into the younger boy’s chest. “Just the worst.”
“But not really, right?” Harry asks quietly, and Louis is surprised to hear an underlying vulnerability in the alpha. He peers back up at the younger boy, taking in Harry’s furrowed brow and how the corners of mouth turn down, just the slightest bit. He finds he doesn’t like it at all, already missing the smile on the other boy.
“Of course, not Haz,” he reassures him quickly. “You’re not so bad at all.”
Just like that, Harry’s sweet smile is back and the two stand there, unsure what to say.
Just as Louis thinks he might die from the awkward silence, Harry speaks. “Would you, uh, would you want to go to Hogsmeade with me this weekend?”
“With the boys?” Louis asks, not sure why Harry is only asking him. It’s pretty much been a weekly occurrence since school started, they’ve never really needed to confirm.
“Um, I mean they can come if you want. But I thought, it might be fun if just you and I went?” Harry’s voice gets higher with each word.
“Oh,” Louis says breathlessly, trying to fathom what Harry is proposing. “Yes, that would be fun.”
Harry suddenly beams down at him and swings him around in glee. Louis finds himself physically unable to look away at the angel staring at him. He swears he can hear choir music playing somewhere in the distance. And fuck, maybe Louis will say yes to anything just to see this boy happy.
Finally putting him down on his feet, Harry brushes them both off, as properly as he can. “Well,” he clears his throat. “If we’ve taken care of business, I guess we better get back to class before Professor G sends out a search team.”
He offers up his arm to Louis, the omega blushing as he obligingly takes it and they both stroll back to class, each boy hiding trying to tamper down their smiles, and sorely failing.
-
The weekend comes by, much faster than Louis would like. He almost considers cancelling his little friend outing with the alpha, as he finds himself swamped with homework and study group. But he deep down knows he’d rather get a failing grade than miss out on a chance to spend the day with the alpha. And that’s saying something.
Before he knows it, he’s standing outside with Harry, shivering as they make their way towards Hogsmeade. Almost all the leaves have fallen to the ground, providing a warm variety of colors for the two boys to crunch on as they walk. Other students walk by, huddled together, and Louis tries very hard not to think of how much he’d like this to be a date.
Niall had all but tackled him to the ground when he’d found out the other omega’s weekend plans, insisting that it truly was a date. But Louis wasn’t so convinced. He’d seen Harry go to Hogsmeade with all his friends. He’s sure Harry is just trying to extend an olive branch now that they’re partners, and the fact that the whole school had started to watch them a bit closer, ever since their strife, the first week.
“Do you wanna go to some place in particular?” the alpha asks sweetly.
“Mmm…I need to get an early start on Christmas presents this year,” Louis responds, pleased that Harry is being so considerate. “Buying presents for eight other people takes longer than you’d think.”
Harry nods in understanding. “I can’t believe you have so many siblings,” he says incredukously. “I wish I had that many. Especially sisters. But instead, I just got stuck with Gemma,” he wrinkles his nose but the fondness in his tone gives away his true feelings.
Louis gives him a little shove. “Gemma is amazing,” he defends the female alpha. “Everyone knows how she got the highest score on ALL her OWL’s out of everyone in the entire school her fifth year. She’s an academic wizard legend.”
Harry looks proud as he responds. “She is proper smart. Forever stuck in her shadow.” He shakes his head self-deprecatingly.
“Not true,” Louis is quick to reassure the boy. “Not everyone can be a Quidditch star like you. I don’t know how you play for an entire match; I can barely fly for five minutes without getting winded,” he says thinking of his disastrous first flying lesson.
The two meander along and then decide to stop into Gladrags Wizardwear, where Louis purchases two pairs of special socks that promise to scream if they get too smelly. “These’ll be good for Dais and Phoebe,” he says. “Don’t really know if they’ve discovered personal hygiene yet,” he says as Harry snickers.
Next, they stop by the Hogsmeade Post Office, Harry mailing a letter back to his family. “It’s for Robin,” he supplies shyly, as Louis tries not to blatantly read the addressee. “Mum says reading them really helps and distracts him. I’m sure she’s just having me on, but it feels good to be able to do something.” He elaborates as they stroll back down the cobblestone street.
“I’m sure it does help,” Louis says seriously, stuffing his hands in his warm parka. “Getting a handwritten letter is so special, Haz. Don’t put yourself down like that.”
Harry sighs. “I know, I know. It’s just that I seriously feel inadequate being this far away from them. I begged mum to let me come home but she refused, and Gemma agreed, which also hurt. Robin won’t even hear of it either. I feel like they just don’t want me there. Like I’m a burden.”
Before he can think too much about it, the omega wraps his arms around Harry, trying to squeeze all his love into the younger boy. Then his eyes promptly pop open as he realizes what he’s just thought to himself. Luckily Harry doesn’t seem to notice, the alpha returning the hug immediately, resting his chin atop Louis’s head.
“Seriously Lou, thank you for listening to me talk about this. I’m sure it’s depressing and boring. You’re a really good friend,” Harry gushes. Louis’s heart feels like it’s atop a rollercoaster. First, he felt like he was soaring at the nickname, but the second Harry said friend, he immediately felt a sinking feeling in his gut.
“Anytime,” he says weakly, patting Harry’s back. He tries not to let this put a damper on their day as they window-shop at Ollivander’s, and Ceridwen’s Cauldrons. Harry is so effortlessly funny, and surprisingly insightful as he appreciates the craftsmanship of the wands and cauldrons. Louis can feel himself falling deeper and deeper, but he scolds himself internally.
“You hated him just a few days ago,” he thinks to himself as Harry looks at a pair of Quidditch goggles in Spintwitches Sporting Needs, ruminating on a copper or silver pair. “Reign it in, Tomlinson. Your omega just is reacting to him since you guys hooked up.”
“Hey Lou, do you like these?” Harry says holding up a flashy green pair. “Slytherin colors!”
Louis shakes himself out of his thoughts as he pastes on a teasing smile. “Ugly!” he crows. “What about a nice pair of yellow ones?” he says holding up the Hufflepuff embossed ones.
Harry rolls his eyes but comes over anyway and examines them. “Now why would I want these?” he teases.
“Oh, I don’t know,” Louis sings. “Only because the best person ever happens to belong to this house. His name is Louis Tomlinson, I don’t know if you’ve ever met him.”
He whirls around to look Harry in the eyes and is shocked at how tenderly the other boy is gazing at him. “I’m just starting to,” Harry says softly.
Louis flushes at the admission, busying himself with examining a glow in the dark pair of compression socks, trying to tamper down his pleased grin as he notices Harry sneakily adding the Hufflepuff themed goggles to his cart.
-
They end up at the Three Broomsticks, sharing a Bavarian pretzel and dipping it into a huge bowl of warm beer cheese.
“I think I’ve died and gone to heaven,” Louis moans as he washes his carbs down with a third foaming glass of Butterbeer.
“I have to concur,” Harry says, taking a drink of his spiced apple martini. He tilts the glass at Louis, but the omega wrinkles his nose. “Save that posh stuff for yourself, Styles,” he says. “Just get me a keg of Butterbeer and I’m good to go.”
Harry huffs softly as he takes another dainty sip. “I meant what I said earlier,” he says. “I know we’ve never really known each other, and that’s mostly my fault, but I’m glad I’m beginning to. You’re so different than I thought you would be.”
Louis raises an eyebrow at the boy across from him. “What do you mean, Harold?” he says, not really knowing if he wants to hear the boy’s answer, what with his recent track record.
Harry seems to feel the same, taking a deep breath. “At risk of mucking this all up,” he begins nervously. “I just thought you were a shy omega who was super good at school. But now that I’ve gotten to spend more time with you, I’ve discovered you’re this super-hot cool omega who can drink me under the table and who might be funnier than Niall.”
Louis thinks he might melt from the heat of the blush that’s risen to his cheeks. “Really?” he says quietly, and he knows it’s stupid to seek validation from the alpha, but he can’t stop his hopeful gaze.
Harry nods furiously. “Really Lou, I mean it. And I’m not just talking about us hooking up,” he coughs awkwardly. “Although I do love that, too. But I’m glad we are spending time together.”
Louis blushes again. “Thanks, Haz,” he mumbles, trying to avert his eyes from the intentness of the alpha across from him. Internally his inner omega is screaming. “Harry likes him! Harry thinks he’s cool! Isn’t this what Louis has wanted since their first year?”
At the end of the night Harry walks him dutifully back to his dorm, all the way to his empty bedroom.
“I had a really fun night, Louis,” he says softly, taking the omega’s chin between his thumb and pointer finger and tilting it up to meet his eyes.
“Me too,” Louis says, trying not to sound breathless as he feels.
Is Harry going to kiss him? Are they going to have sex?
Before he can really think anything else, Harry is pressing a quick kiss to his forehead before pulling away. “I’ll see you tomorrow?” he asks as he backs out of the room.
Louis can only nod, dazed and admittedly disappointed that things hadn’t gone further. Maybe now that Harry had his fill of Louis’s body, and just truly wants to be good friends with him.
Louis sighs as he strips from his clothes and changes into his softest pajamas. Oh, how the tables have turned.
-
The next week, things seem to take a 180 spin. Harry seeks out Louis as much as he can, walking him to their mutual classes, finding him in his dorm room, and even going as far to eat with him and Niall a few times. Louis is loath to admit how much he enjoys the alpha’s friendship and how much he wants it to go even further.
The boys are bewildered at the change, interrogating him one night while Harry is working out.
“Are you guys like proper friends now?” Zayn asks, one night as they sit by the Ravenclaw common room fireplace, cups of hot chocolate and spiced apple cider traded between them. Marmalade is curled up on a cozy velvet chair, happy to have a change of scenery.
“I guess so?” Louis says. “Shouldn’t you all be happy for me?”
“It’s just weird,” Zayn remarks. “I’ve never seen you guys even look at each other willingly and now Harry is pressed by your side every time I turn around.”
“Ignore him,” Liam pipes up from the other end of the couch. “I think it’s great, Louis.” He says reassuringly. “And besides, I love that we can all have a drama-free hangout now.”
Louis scowls. “There was never any drama Liam. Harry was just a twat and now he’s not.”
“That rhymes!” Niall says, face down on the floor, words smothered by the fuzzy carpet. After a weekend bender, he had sworn off alcohol for the next couple of days and was now recuperating.
“Maybe it’s because he wants to get in your pants?” Zayn teases. Louis blushes red, too embarrassed to say anything. The boys let the silence pass for a moment before they’re peering suspiciously at him.
“No way!” Liam gasps. “You guys aren’t?”
“You’re actually shitting me!” Zayn says, climbing off Liam’s lap into Louis’s and shaking the other omega by the shoulders.
Louis scowl deepens, but lets Zayn settle on his lap nonetheless. “Well not recently,” he admits grumpily. “But for your information, we may or may not have gotten off a few times.”
Niall just cackles. “Well, well, well. So, it has happened more than once?”
Zayn whips his head around. “You told Niall and not me?” he asks, betrayed. “I’m heartbroken Louis William Tomlinson.”
“I was in crisis mode!” Louis defends himself. “Niall just happened to be there.”
“Oh gee, thanks mate,” Niall says sarcastically. “Glad to know I was just a shoulder to cry on out of convenience.”
Louis sticks his tongue out at the beta. “No alcohol makes you grumpy,” he complains.
“This is too much,” Liam says, still flabbergasted. “I really didn’t see this coming. Like. At all.”
Louis blushes. “Well, that makes two of us Payno.”
“What are we talking about?” drawls out a deeper voice and all four boys look back at the door, not having heard Harry come in.
Louis immediately shoots his friends a look, silently daring them to open their mouths. “Just talking about how we didn’t think McGonagall would really agree to throw a fall fest after everything that’s happened,” he lies. “Surprising!”
Harry hums as he clambers over the side of the couch and scooches behind Louis, plopping the omega onto his lap so that they’re facing each other.
Louis splutters, secretly loving the attention, and trying not to take a whiff of the alpha’s scent.
“Uh, there’s other spots on the couch H!” he says, ignoring his friend’s knowing smiles.
Harry shrugs, wrapping his arms around Louis’s torso.
“Got the best one right here.”
-
The day of the fall fest creeps up on Louis, spent in a haze of study sessions and chilly weather.
“Good job everybody!” Louis praises his Charms study group, as he brandishes a large stack of school supplies from his backpack. “I’ve printed and laminated the notes that we all collaborated on last week and put them into binders for everyone!”
“What would we do without you Lou?” Jade says gratefully, taking an orange binder. “Do you want to come to Hogsmeade with Ed and I? Happy hour at the Three Broomsticks!”
“I wish,” Louis sighs. “But Harry and I have our assigned partner volunteering for the Fall Fest right now.”
“Oh, Perrie and I did ours last week,” Jade said. “My arms are sore from all the pumpkins we carved. You and Harry are lucky your shift is the day of. Everything’s practically finished.”
“I just hope we can do something that doesn’t involve much manual labor then,” Louis responds. “This is going to be horrible.”
“At least you get to do it with your boyfriend,” Ed chimes in as the rest of the study group leaves the library.
Louis whips his head up, not believing the words that have come out of the ginger’s mouth. “What are you talking about?” he says, panic overtaking him. Now Ed looks confused. “Aren’t you and Harry dating?” he says slowly.
“No?” Louis all but shrieks. “What gave you that idea?”
“I thought -”, Ed stammers. “He said -, uh never mind, my bad I guess?” the ginger chuckles nervously.
“I’ve gotta run,” Louis says, wanting nothing more than to get away from his two friends who are staring at him weirdly. “See you later,” he rushes out before all but sprinting away.
-
Louis is studiously plopping ruby red apples into a tub of Butterbeer when a wave of chocolate covered oranges washes over him. Inhaling the sweet citrus scent discreetly, he whirls around to see Harry looming over him.
“Howdy partner,” Harry says in a faux American cowboy accent, tipping a fake cowboy hat.
Louis stifles a chuckle, gazing up at the dimpled alpha. “That’s terrible H,” he says, going for a disapproving tone, but God even he can hear the fondness dripping out of his words.
“McGonagall wants us to take an inventory for the pie throwing booth,” the alpha holds out his hand to help Louis up. Louis tries to ignore the swirling in his stomach as his hand is suddenly grasped by a much larger one, as he’s brought to his feet.
“What’s the point of a pie throwing booth anyway?” he can’t help but question, as he mentally catalogues the rows of custard cream pies spread out on a red checkered tablecloth.
“They’re like an American staple. American carnivals always have them,” Harry answers from the next table over. When he catches Louis’s incredulous look, he pouts. “What? I paid attention in Muggle Studies, believe it or not.”
Louis snorts and they lapse into silence as they concentrate on pie counting. Louis is almost done when he feels a familiar hand on the back of his neck, the cool rings leaving a delicious amount of pressure. Before he can turn around, his head is being smashed into the velvety custard. The hand holds him there for a few seconds, ensuring custard gets everywhere, even the insides of his nostrils until he sputters and manages to kick Harry off. Enraged, he lunges at the alpha.
Harry is too busy laughing, letting out honking barks and sounding like a dying seal to notice where Louis has directed him. “You’re gonna pay for this,” the omega threatens, before picking up a custard cream pie and slamming it into Harry’s face. He smears it all around, before he’s satisfied with his work, dropping the pie to the ground, and shaking his hand in vain to get the remaining pie off.
Harry’s mouth is an o. “You little rascal! How could you?” he moans.
Louis shrieks. “How could I?? You started this!” He punctuates his statement, and by throwing another pie at Harry, but his aim is terrible and most of it lands right on the front of his shirt, as it slops to the ground.
Harry’s face shapes into an evil grin. “Oh, now it’s you who’s going to pay for that,” he promises, as he strides towards Louis.
“Oh yeah?” Louis mocks, scurrying behind the table. “How are you gonna do that? Huh?” He throws one last pie at Harry, watching it land on his chin, the boy’s entire face completely covered with the sweet filling, before sprinting as fast as he can, dodging between the different booths.
He’s been blessed with fast legs, but his stamina fails him as something heavy crashes into the back of him, sending him face first into the ground. Harry flips him over as they wrestle in the grass.
“Get off me, you giant oaf!” Louis screeches as he jabs his elbows and knees into Harry’s soft skin, not above playing dirty. They spend a significant amount of time, rolling back and forth in the dewy grass, smearing dirt and pie on each other. Louis is winded as he shoves Harry off him multiple times, but he refuses to let the alpha win.
Unfortunately, Harry manages to capture both of his arms and pin them above his head as the two messy boy’s stare at each other. “What have you done to me little o,” the alpha says softly.
Louis sniffs, barely able to see Harry between all the custard on his eyelids. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he says.
Harry grins. “Oh yeah? Look at this mess you’ve made. You better clean it up.”
Louis rolls his eyes. “You sound like a cheap porno,” he states matter of factly, but that doesn’t stop him from licking a fat stripe up Harry’s cheek, getting a mouthful of the tasty icing in his mouth. When he looks back at Harry, the alpha’s pupils are blown as he gazes at the boy below him.
Suddenly Harry moves, attacking Louis’s neck, as he nibbles bites and sucks the pie off. Louis moans, immediately feeling his cock stiffen up to meet Harry’s. Harry messily tongues at Louis’s neck, probably creating even more than a mess, before moving back to meet the omega’s mouth.
Louis moans as they kiss frantically, tasting nothing but pie and the sweet boy on top of him.
“Fuck, you drive me crazy,” Harry pants into the omega’s mouth. “Think about you all the time. Such a sweet little butterfly, little baby omega,” he babbles some more, licking into Louis’s mouth as he rocks his hips down.
Louis thrusts up to meet the pressure and soon the two are frantically rutting against each other, as they swallow the other’s gasps in their mouths. Harry unlatches his lips from the omega’s before he scoops up some whipped cream on his pointer finger and shoves it into Louis’s lips.
“Suck,” he orders.
Louis moans around the finger now in his mouth as he hollows his cheeks and cleans Harry’s finger. Harry repeats the action several more times, and Louis feels like he has a waterfall in his pants as his slick makes its way down his legs. He’s never participated in something so sensual and erotic before.
“You like that, huh?” Harry says, watching him with hooded eyes. “Little omega likes taking orders. Does whatever I say, just for me. All for me.”
“Yours,” Louis gasps out, unable to see or think straight as Harry drives his hips into him. Suddenly the alpha reaches down, and shucks both of their pants off. He grips both of their cocks and begins to pump them both in earnest.
Louis moans again. “More,” he stutters out, tilting his head up to kiss Harry. Harry acquiesces all too happily, and soon all they can do is pant into each other’s mouth as the alpha brings them both to climax.
With a simultaneous shout, their combined orgasm spurts all over their shirts. Louis can’t really tell what’s pie and what’s not, and it should be gross, but all he can do is try and catch his breath and not pass out at the beautiful alpha above him.
Harry rolls off him, but doesn’t stray far, as they lay on their backs, side by side, staring up at the cool, grey sky.
“McGonagall is going to kill us,” he says mournfully, and normally all Louis would feel is a sense of dread at the impending reprimand, but this time he just laughs, endorphins pumping high after their tryst.
“It’s worth it,” he says bashfully, loving when Harry turns back over to flop back on him, burying his neck into the omega. They stay like that for a while, letting Zayn and Liam find them, sweaty and disheveled on the grassy field.
Louis supposes he’s had worse days.
-
The fall fest goes off without a hitch. Despite McGonagall’s raised eyebrows, when Harry bashfully tells her he’d managed to trip and stumble into the table, hence the missing pies, all she does is give him a sigh and wave him off.
“I guess there’s perks to being the most loved boy in school,” Louis says playfully from under Harry’s arm as they saunter up to Harry’s room.
Harry smirks at him. “Is that so?” he asks. “So, you love me then?”
Louis stutters. “That’s not what I said at all,” he states coyly, trying to play it off. If only Harry knew the truth.
Harry just smirks even harder, as they enter his bathroom. He discards their messy clothes and picks Louis up like he weighs nothing, the omega squawking in protest as Harry palms both of his arse cheeks, before walking them into the shower.
“Time to clean us off!” the alpha sings, looking all too cheery for someone who is covered in cum, pie, and grass. He sets Louis down and goes about setting the water to an appropriate temperature. When he turns back around, Louis pretends like he wasn’t admiring the alpha’s back muscles as they tensed and rippled when he bent over.
Judging by Harry’s face, he knows anyway. He takes his sweet time, earnestly scrubbing Louis off until the boy feels squeaky clean. He drags the loofah all over Louis’s honeyed skin, appreciating the smoothness of it. If he sneaks in a few arse gropes, well, then that’s their business.
Louis is intent on returning the favor, having Harry sit on the built-in bench as he washes his hair, listening to the alpha purr in contentment. “It’s really not fair that the richest professor comes from your House.” he complains. “It’s like a spa here. I want a steam shower.”
He can hear Harry smile as the alpha answers. “You’re welcome to my shower, anytime you want baby,” he says.
Louis blushes, hoping the rising steam will hide it. “’S not what I meant, Harold,” he sniffs, rinsing the boy’s hair.
Harry stands back up. “But it’s what you want,” the alpha says all self-assured, shutting Louis up with a kiss before he can retort. They stand under the warm stream of the shower, making out lazily for what feels like hours before the water begins to run cold.
“C’mon, we’re gonna be late,” Harry complains as they share a fluffy towel to dry off. It’s really not convenient at all, but neither of them is willing to separate.
Louis eyes him with a playful glare. “And who’s fault is that?” he shoots back. “We wouldn’t have had to shower if someone didn’t decide to play with the pies.”
Harry ignores his ribbing as he buttons up a plaid shirt. He stops when he catches Louis staring at him from across the room. “What?” he asks. “Have I got pie on my face still?”
Louis shakes his head slowly, tearing his eyes away from the slight bulge of Harry’s arms. “No,” he says, blushing. “I’ve just never seen that shirt before.”
Harry looks down at his top. “Gemma sent it to me,” he shrugs. “I thought I’d really get into the fall spirit, American style.”
“What’s with you and the America obsession?” Louis scoffs.
“Heeey, it’s cool,” Harry pouts adorably. “Liam was telling me all about their traditions and stuff. I think I’d really be good at their football.”
Louis resists rolling his eyes at the pouting boy before him. “That’s not real football H. For bloody sakes, we have the dignified thing over here.”
Harry strides over to him, wrapping him up in a hug. “Okay grumpy,” he says as he pushes Louis’s face against his chest. “Go Packers!”
Louis wants to be annoyed at the dumb boy. He really does. But it’s hard when he’s pressed against the alpha’s firm chest. “I don’t even want to know what that is,” he says. Then he’s wiggling out of Harry’s embrace and grabbing his hand to drag him out of his room. “Now let’s go, I’m in the mood for pie,” he winks at Harry.
-
Harry hasn’t let go of his hand the entire afternoon. Louis had tried to gently rip it away when they got to the fest, not wanting to push his luck, but Harry had refused, squeezing harder. And who was Louis to protest?
They had wandered from booth to booth, both pointedly ignoring their classmates’ stares. Louis truly felt like he was walking on cloud nine. Here Harry was, willingly spending time with him, in front of the entire school. And Louis was actually having a good time. It seemed like such a difference from the beginning of the school year.
Now Harry is happily munching on a peanut brittle candy apple as they watch Niall attempt to drown Ed in the dunk booth. “Are you gonna have a go?” he asks Harry as they stare at Ed’s flushed face, shouting curses at his partner.
“Hell no,” the alpha drawls out. “I have to live with him.”
Louis laughs. “Fair.”
They watch for a few more moments before Harry is tugging him away to a different attraction. “Let’s go on the Ferris Wheel,” he all but whines.
Louis raises his eyebrows. “Are you sure mate? Those things are like a death trap. You know my mum never let us go on the temporary ones.”
They stare up at the huge amusement that slowly cycles students up and down in its bright rainbow-colored cars.
“Pleeeease Lou?” Harry begs.
Louis sighs as they walk to the professor attending to the attraction, already knowing the battle is lost. Since the blossoming of their friendship, he can’t recall a single time that he’s refused Harry anything.
“Hello boys,” Professor Malfoy says, a hint of a smile pulling at his mouth. “Riding together?”
Louis blushes at the insinuation whereas Harry just beams, nodding quickly as he holds out a hand to the omega to step into the bright blue carriage.
“Make sure we get to stop at the top! Thanks prof!” he calls out cheekily as Professor Malfoy secures their carriage.
Louis swats at the alpha but Harry just pulls him closer on their shared bench. “What’d you do that for?” he complains. “What if the Ferris Wheel breaks??”
“I’ll save you,” Harry says, not a care in the world as he cranes neck towards the bars. “Woah, I can see the Whomping Willow from here.”
Louis stares, admiringly at the boy. Just like Harry had admitted at their Hogsmeade outing, he had a very different idea of the alpha’s persona and now that he’s gotten to know him, he’s pleasantly surprised.
He’d always expected Harry to be some cocky, dumb, alpha who only cared about sports, but the boy had proven him wrong in so many ways. Harry was curious, and so kind, getting joy out of the simplest things. Louis is struggling to realize that he failed to see this side of Harry even though he’d known him for so long.
Suddenly, a million different memories flood his brain.
Harry bringing Jay his homemade cupcakes for their holiday parties, taking Niall out to the bar when he’d gotten his heart broken in their second year, always being the first to help levitate all the new textbooks in class. Was it possible he’d only chosen to ignore these moments their whole life?
“Whatcha thinking about?” Harry draws the omega out of his reverie. Louis offers the boy a small smile. “Just, really glad I got to know you,” he admits before he can stop himself.
But the smile that spreads across the alpha’s face is 100% worth it. He doesn’t say anything, just scoots back closer to Louis and wraps his arm around the smaller boy.
The two sit in compatible silence, content to gaze through the bars of their car, watching their fellow students bob for apples and stroll through the corn maze. The sun has made a rare occurrence, and pokes through a few clouds to shine down on Hogwarts. As requested, the Ferris Wheel stops at the very top.
“So sick,” Harry murmurs at the view as he presses a kiss to the top of Louis’s head.
Louis can’t help but stiffen at the affection, wondering if Harry has made a mistake of some sort. The alpha immediately catches onto his discomfort as he flusters.
“I’m sorry, I couldn’t resist,” he says almost shyly. “I know things have been weird between us and hooking up.”
Louis panics. This is the part where Harry tells him he wants no interest in him anymore, finally having realized that he’s gotten his satisfaction at having Louis’s once or twice. The omega realizes he’d rather die than let that happen.
Before Harry can apologize any further, Louis leans forward and kisses Harry with all the might he’s got.
It turns out, that includes quite a bit of strength as Harry falls back against the walls of their blue car. He moans, hauling Louis up by his thighs so the smaller boy can wrap his legs around his waist, and sets him on his lap. Louis whines into the kiss, as Harry licks feverishly into his mouth.
“You deserve everything” the alpha murmurs into his mouth as he tenderly rubs the omegas thighs. “Gonna you whatever you’d like.”
Louis voices a noise of assent, although to what? He’s not really sure. Everything is suddenly hazy, his surroundings a blur of pine green and warm ochre tones, below them. All he can concentrate on is the contact of Harry’s firm chest, pressed against his. He’s sure he can feel both of their skin burning, as if to meld together into one.
“You’re the prettiest thing I’ve ever seen,” Harry continues lowly, moving his hands to cup Louis’s bum. He squeezes the flesh, over and over again, like Playdoh forming different shapes. “Precious little butterfly, want my fingers?”
“Please,” Louis whines, before dropping his face into Harry’s shoulder, embarrassed that the whole student body probably just heard him. Harry immediately pulls away to grip his chin, staring at him through intense eyes.
Louis knows he’s totally soaked, can feel his slick sliding down his thighs, and suddenly he can’t find it in himself to care what anyone else hears or thinks. He rejoins their lips in a spit-slick kiss, messy moans coming from both boys.
“Need you Haz,” he gasps out between breaths. “Need to feel you please.”
“I know baby,” Harry says, palming the flesh of bum. “Gonna stick my fingers in you, get you moaning underneath me.”
Louis feels his eyes roll towards the back of his head at the idea of Harry’s fingers playing with his hole. The other boy sticks two fingers into the omega’s mouth. “Suck for me butterfly,” he commands gently.
Louis complies, vigorously coating Harry’s fingers in spit as he swirls them around in his mouth. He can taste the metallic tang of Harry’s large rings, and shivers in anticipation of what’s to come next.
After deeming his fingers suitable, Harry gently pulls them out of Louis’s mouth and sticks his hand down the back of the omega’s trackies.
He circles the hole a few times with his fingers, feeling Louis shudder and moan wantonly atop of him. “Good boy,” he croons, petting Louis’s hair with his other hand.
Louis bites down on Harry’s shoulder to hold back the whine that threatens to escape his lips at the praise.
“Gotta be quick baby,” Harry says as he corkscrews his fingers deep inside Louis’s hole. Louis almost wails as he feels Harry’s rings brush against his wall, the delicious pressure almost too much.
Louis can’t help but notice Harry works his fingers inside, like everything else he does. Slow and steady, earnest in his effort to please. He manages to make tiny jabs to Louis’s prostate like a boxer speed punching the little bags that hang above. Louis is overwhelmed by the pressure, and he can’t stop his body from shaking as Harry spreads his fingers inside, almost ruthlessly. He instantly comes breathless as he no doubt soils the front of his pants.
He slumps against the alpha beneath him, resting his nose right up against Harry’s neck, breathing in the soothing scent. Harry pulls his fingers out and makes to wipe his button up, but Louis makes a weak batting motion with his hand, prompting the alpha to bring his fingers to the smaller boy’s mouth.
Louis moans once again around Harry’s fingers as he cleans his own slick off the taller boy. He only stops when he notices Harry’s dark gaze, intense and heavy, never leaving his face.
“You’re fucking insane,” the alpha says. “So fucking hot.”
Louis blushes as he tries to cool down from their very X-rated encounter. The two continue to pant against each other as the Ferris Wheel slowly lowers their cart to the ground next to a very unimpressed looking Professor Malfoy.
As he unlatches the lock to let the boys out, he levels them with a stony stare. “Well,” he begins. “That was the foulest thing I’ve had to endure in a while. And I’ve caught Professor Granger and her husband once, at the Yule Ball. And this was after we’d graduated.”
Louis’s blush only deepens, but Harry just chuckles as he tows them away. “My bad,” he calls out over their shoulder. Louis’s legs feel like jelly as they stumble around the grounds, past the pumpkin patch and over in the direction of the castle. Harry notices immediately and he swoops Louis’s up. “Time for a nap, I think,” he muses cheerfully, carrying the smaller boy all the way back to the castle.
Louis can only sigh blissfully against the alpha as he’s toted back to his own room. He hates that he’s getting used to this.
✦✧✦✧
“Bloody Merlin!” Zayn gapes openly at him from across the table in the library. “He finger fucked you in public??”
“Shhh,” Louis hisses, frantically looking around the big room, but every student seems to be preoccupied with their work. “No need to bloody announce it to everyone!”
“That’s hot though,” Zayn says, begrudgingly impressed. “I should’ve taken Liam for a ride,” his eyebrows wiggle lavisciously at his own joke.
“It was pretty hot,” Louis admits, remembering Harry’s body pressed up against his in the tight space. “But honestly, I preferred the nap afterwards. Harry is like a space heater.”
“So, are you guys going to the Homecoming dance together?” Zayn asks.
“No! Why would you think that?” Louis asks bewildered. “We’re just friends who like to … do stuff, I guess?” he blushes, remembering the last time he used that phrase.
“C’mon Lou,” his best friend gazes at him pointedly. “You literally got off together at the Fall Fest, you’ve been attached at the hip for weeks now, and it’s so obvious the two of you have feelings for each other!”
“You really think so?” Louis asks, daring himself to allow a sliver of hope peek through his heart and stare at his brain. “We have been spending quite a bit of time together.”
Zayn snorts. “That’s an under exaggeration, mate. I can’t remember the last time I’ve gotten to spend time with you alone.”
“You’ve been busy too!” Louis protests half-heartedly, but he knows his best friend is right. He and Harry have been extremely wrapped up in each over the past weeks. They’d had another scare, this time a litter of baby trolls had been released into the castle, and Louis hadn’t even needed to scramble to find his partner. They had already been locked safely in the Hufflepuff common room, locked in a vicious chess tournament. He’d been shocked to learn that Harry played too and rivaled his own prowess.
“Yeah, yeah,” Zayn doesn’t look that perturbed so Louis supposes he’s in the clear. “You should just ask him to the dance, if he’s taking too long to make a move.”
“I don’t know if he likes me Z,” Louis chews his lip thoughtfully. “Like I said, what if he just thinks we’re like friends with benefits or something?”
“Please,” the other omega rolls his eyes so hard, Louis is surprised they don’t fall out of his head. “Anyone with half a brain can see he’s in love with you. Didn’t he push his weekly workout schedule two hours later so he can help you study for finals? Harry’s workouts are sacred. He wouldn’t do that for just anyone. Time to step out LouLou!”
That final sentence awakens something in Louis. It’s what he’s vowed to do all semester. Be more confident and assert himself.
“I suppose the worst that could happen is that he’d say no. And it is Harry so he’d say it very nicely,” he reasons, already feeling his anxiety rise at what he’s about to do.
“He’s not going to say no but whatever,” Zayn agrees. “You should definitely ask him.”
Louis mulls it over. His feelings for the alpha had grown tenfold in the past weeks and he’s had to catch himself on multiple occasions from blurting out his feelings. It would be a relief to get them off his chest, even if they weren’t reciprocated. But he can’t help but feel hopeful every time Harry stare lingers on him longer than normal, or when they’re pressed together getting off. “I’ll do it,” he vocally decides. “Don’t let me back out Zayniekins.”
“Okay one, never call me that again,” his best friend deadpans. “And two, I will see that you two go to the dance if it’s the last thing I do. Swear on Harry Potter’s grave.”
Louis gasps. “Zayn!” he says, scandalized. “That’s morbid. The bloke’s not even dead yet.”
Zayn looks unaffected, as per usual. “Shoo!” he says, making a fleeing motion. “Go ask him.”
“Now?” Louis almost shrieks before remembering where they are. “Now?” he repeats in a whisper.
“Are you doing anything else?” Zayn asks pointedly. “Because I’ve watched you fondle the same flashcard in your hands for the past twenty minutes.”
Louis groans. “You’re the absolute worst.” But he gets up and smooths out his robes and hair, wanting to look somewhat put together.
“Watch my stuff!” he says, scurrying away before he can second guess himself.
He struts down the stairs, confidence growing with each step. He’s going to find Harry, he’ll admit his feelings, and then he’s going to ask him to go to the dance. What could go wrong? He pushes the variety of answers to that question out of his head as he pushes on down the hallway.
He spots Harry in the courtyard, with his Quidditch team and he makes his way over to the curly haired lad, excitement and nervousness growing in the pit of his stomach. But as he nears the other boy, his heart drops to the bottom of his stomach as he listens to Harry speak. “That little omega who follows me around all the time? He’s too much for me…” the alpha says as his friends laugh.
Louis can’t help but let out the hurt noise that bubbles up in his throat. He watches as Harry whirls around to make eye contact with him, the other boy’s face expression immediately sobering up.
“Wait, Lou!” he calls out, but Louis has already spun around on his heel as he storms away as fast as he can. Memories of the first day of this school year flood back to him, and he scoffs bitterly at the parallels.
Just like the first day, Harry manages to catch up to him.
“Louis, this isn’t what you think it is!” he says urgently.
Louis turns around suddenly, stopping Harry. “You’ve made that abundantly clear!” he snaps. “I’m just your charity case then? You took pity on me and pretended to be my friend for fun?
“Wait what?” Harry says, confusion evident in his tone. “Of course not Louis! We are friends!”
“So, then what?” he says, voice cracking. “You weren’t just talking about me AGAIN to all your friends?”
“No!” Harry protests. “I mean, yes, I was talking about you, but-”
“I can’t believe, I thought for one second, that you’ve changed,” Louis can hardly stop the tears flowing from this point. “Well guess what? You’re just some knothead alpha with two brain cells. You’re not half as special as you think Harry Styles!”
He sees hurt flash in the alpha’s eyes and instantly wants to take it back.
“You don’t really think that,” Harry says quietly. “You’re just angry at me.”
“I do,” Louis says coldly. “So just stay away from me, Harry.”
He makes to turn away again, but a firm grip on his wrist restricts him from doing so. “You really think so low of me that I would say something like that?”
Louis glares at him. “Well what else am I supposed to believe, Harry? You spent half this semester ruthlessly making fun of me any chance you got.”
Harry scoffs. “I apologized,” he says. “I thought we got over that.”
Louis rolls his eyes angrily. “Sorry not all of us are objects that can just turn their emotions on and off.”
Harry glares back, angry now too. “Seriously Louis? You’re going back to this? I’ve been nothing but nice to you since then.”
“Nice?” Louis all but shrieks. “The bar is literally on the floor for you. I don’t owe you my friendship just because we’ve had like two months of fun together. If you were being so ‘nice’ then tell me what you were saying to your friends!”
Harry sighs loudly. “Well, if you had just listened to me, you would’ve seen that’s what I’m trying to do! They were ribbing me for being so whipped for you! I was making a joke back pretending like I possibly didn’t know who they were talking about. And you are too much for me Louis! You’re all I can think about all the time. It wasn’t an insult! Everyone can see that I’m head over heels for you!”
Louis takes a step back at the confession. “What?” he whispers, knowing he must not have heard right.
Harry looks resolute as he matches Louis’s step. “I said, I’m head over heels for you,” he repeats, softer this time. “I like you, Louis. And I want to be with you.”
Louis already begins to shake his head, all his doubts flooding his mind like a wake of vultures, circling their prey. “No,” he says. “I don’t believe you.”
Harry laughs softly. “Louis, I’ve liked you for weeks. Hell, I’ve probably even liked you for years, but was too stupid to admit so I just said stupid shit to get your attention. I love you.”
Louis can barely believe what’s transpiring. This was not at all how it was supposed to go. All his insecurities weren’t supposed to be right at the forefront of his brain as Harry professed his love or him. If anything, this just reminded him of how horrid Harry can make him feel. He can’t be in a relationship with someone capable of that.
“No,” he says again. “This isn’t happening. This doesn’t change anything. In fact, I’m glad that this happened. We’d never work, Harry. You’re too popular and I'm just me.”
Harry’s face scrunches up in distaste at the word. “Stop it Louis,” he says, sounding infinitely hurt. “You know that’s not all I am. And you know I hate that word.”
Louis shakes his head. “Well, hate it or not, it’s all you are,” he lies, impressed that his voice is now level after just being on the verge of tears. “Sooner or later, you’d see that I’m not what you want. Or you’ll let me down and talk shite about me. So, let’s just be done with it all now, okay? No more hookups, no being friends, we’ll keep our distance, like we originally agreed.”
“That’s not true,” Harry pleads. “Give me a chance Louis.”
Louis shakes his head for what feels like the millionth time. “I have to go,” he says hurriedly, before scurrying down the hall, ignoring the other boy’s call for him. He runs as fast as his legs will carry him, all the way up the stairs to his dorm.
He arrives huffing and puffing, tears finally flooding down his cheeks as he collapses into Niall’s arms, the beta holding him tight as he sobs into the night.
-
The next day in their Advanced Defense Against the Dark Arts class, he and Harry are stiffer than they’ve ever been. Harry doesn’t try to talk to him once, instead opting to talk about Quidditch practice with Liam at a different table, when their professor instructs them to read aloud the assigned passage with their partner.
Zayn sidles up to Louis, giving the boys arse a firm squeeze.
Louis squeaks. “Keep your hands to yourself perv,” Louis bushes, although anyone observing could tell that he’s pushed his arse back into the touch. What can he say? He’s a glutton for punishment.
Zayn smirks and holds up his hands. “Sorry Lou, it just really is the best arse I’ve ever felt.”
Louis snorts. “Don’t let Liam hear you say that I know he’s very dedicated to his workout routine results.”
“My boyfriend will live,” Zayn says matter of factly. “In fact, he agrees with me. Last night, we were talking about how many squats you must do a day to get such a dump truck.”
“I’d absolutely love it if you and your boyfriend didn’t discuss my body at all, especially during your twisted pillow talk foreplay, please,” Louis deadpans.
“Speaking of boyfriend,” Zayn says gesturing to where a certain curly-haired Alpha is glaring at them. “What’s up with Harry today? Are you guys fighting again?”
“What would we even be fighting about?” Louis answers, trying to push down the enormous wave of guilt he feels from their interaction last night. “We’re not even friends.”
Zayn rolls his eyes. “That’s the biggest lie I’ve ever heard. What happened? You guys were doing so much better.”
Louis sighs. “Yeah maybe. But he only wants to be friends with me because he thinks I’m playing hard to get or something. The second I give in; he’ll drop me to find someone else more interesting. It’s what happens every-” he’s cut off from his musings as a large hand grips his arm, dragging him out of the classroom.
“We have official partner business to discuss, we’ll be back in a minute Professor,” a deep voice calls out.
Of course, because Harry is practically worshipped by everyone on campus and even the professor seems privy to their drama, Malfoy spares them no more attention besides a quick nod and a, “According to Professor Granger you’ve used up your official partner business quota Mr. Styles. Make it quick.”
Louis suddenly finds himself being dragged all the way to Harry’s bedroom, despite his futile protests.
“Is that really what you think of me?” Harry demands, his face pressed close to Louis’s.
Louis lowers his head in shame, trying not to shiver when their foreheads brush together. “No…” he whispers quietly.
Harry scoffs. “You’re a terrible liar, you know,” he says. “I don’t know how everyone else believes you all the time.”
“’M not a liar around everyone else,” Louis weakly defends himself, but he can’t bring himself to fully disagree. The alpha before him has always been able to read him like an open book.
Harry’s eyes search his face, and suddenly all traces of anger are gone from the younger boy. “Please Lou,” he almost pleads. “Tell me what else I did wrong so I can fix it.”
Louis can feel the tears prickling at his eyes, cursing his weak brain for always crying at any sign of confrontation.
“Nothing Harry,” he mumbles. “I was just being a jerk, forget it.”
The younger boy sighs. “You’re not a jerk, Lou. I just don’t know what I did to make you hate me so much. I told you I wasn’t teasing you the other day. It was a misunderstanding.”
Louis slowly steps away from the other boy. “I could never hate you.” He admits, blushing furiously.
Harry laughs weakly. “Could’ve fooled me,” he says.
Louis feels unjustifiably angry at Harry’s sudden defeat. “Why does it even matter how I feel about you?” he demands, proud of his voice for not stuttering and his eyes not watering up at the slightest sign of confrontation, like they normally do.
“The whole school is practically drooling over you every time you so much as step outside your dorm. I don’t know why you’re wasting your time on this,” he gestures between the two of them.
A fire has returned in Harry’s emerald eyes, and Louis watches as it blazes, paired with heavy footsteps making their way to back him against the wall.
“Shut up. You have no clue,” Harry growls, caging him in, two hands pressed firmly on the wall on either side of his head. “How I feel about you.” Louis rolls his eyes. “Yes, I do,” he says, unwilling to hear what the alpha has to say. “Just because we’ve spent the past few months hanging out, doesn’t mean things have changed! You spent nearly all your time at this school, ignoring me or making jokes at my expense. I’ll always be another omega to you Harry. Soon, you’ll get over this infatuation.”
Harry takes his jaw in his enormous hand, tilting Louis’s head up so their eyes meet. Louis audibly gasps when all he sees is pure black staring back at him.
“I said. Shut. Up,” Harry demands before kissing Louis with a fervor that rivals a thousand screaming crowds.
Louis instantly balks, trying to push Harry off him. “I told you yesterday, we can’t do this anymore,” he says, breathily.
Harry doesn’t give so much as an inch, every bit a steel curtain, unrelentless to the smaller man’s tiny fists. He reattaches their lips together, sucking on Louis’s lower one, before slipping his tongue in.
“I’m so sick of you deciding everything,” the alpha grunts out in between succinct kisses to Louis’s throat.
Before Louis can protest once more Harry is picking him up, wrapping his legs around his waist, and cupping his arse. He takes a few steps, barely even winded and Louis hates that the throbbing in his cock increases tenfold as he feels the slick start to leak out of him. Harry holds him against the wall for a few minutes, sucking angry marks onto his honeyed skin before lifting him on and gently depositing him on his bed.
Louis quickly shoots up from where he’s now lying on his back. “Harry, you don’t want this.”
“Turn over,” Harry orders sharply.
“Think about what you’re really doing,” Louis pleads desperately.
“Turn over. Don’t make me ask again,” Harry says coldly, slapping him once on the upper thigh.
Louis whimpers at the brief pain, so desperately wanting to find the words to convey to the boy that he’s not worth it. That they’re meant to crash and burn before they’ve even gotten off the ground. To shake Harry senseless to make him see that the two of them aren’t meant for each other, that he’s just a disposable toy to the alpha until he moves onto something shinier and brighter, certainly more capable than Louis.
Nonetheless, he complies.
Harry is quickly pulling his pants down and Louis gasps at the cool air hitting the back of his legs.
His robes are shucked off too so that he’s only in his button up shirt and Hufflepuff tie.
Harry is firmly gripping his two arse cheeks, fondling them between his hands. Just as Louis twists his head around to glare at the taller boy for assuaging the hunger he's been feeling all week, Harry lands a sharp smack to his cheek.
Louis stifles a moan, as he reaches back to cover his arse.
Harry is quick to shove his hands away. “Don’t.” is all he says, before smacking Louis once more.
The spanks begin to come more frequently, and Louis’s vision is beginning to blur. Everything is tinged in gold and there are spots dancing around his eyes, but not like the kind he had when he concussed himself on a telephone booth, while reading and walking. These spots are glowy, melting into each other like liquid in a lava lamp, almost too hot and loaded with pleasure, shooting at him like fireworks.
“You never listen to me,” Harry grunts in between spanks, making sure to switch between cheeks so the older boy never anticipates where he’ll be hit next.
Louis can hardly believe how good being hit feels, Harry’s large hand briefly encompassing his arse, every time the spank lands.
“Think you can decide for me, what I want and don’t want? You’ve been assuming my feelings about you this whole year. Maybe if you stopped and listened to me, you’d know how I really felt about you.”
With that, the smacks finally stop as the alpha manhandles the omega into a child’s pose, Louis cheek pressed against the soft duvet. Harry lets his cock drag along the omega’s bum, pushing it between the soft cheeks. Louis moans at the grind, moving his hips back to meet Harry’s cock.
“Well, I’m going to bloody show you how I feel,” the alpha presses on.
With that, he’s diving in between Louis’s arse cheeks, tongue lapping at the pink, puckered, hole like a starved man.
Louis lets out a high whine, feeling the copious amounts of slick running down his thighs and the precoma gathering at the head of his cock.
“Alpha,” he chokes out.
Harry doesn’t let up, gripping one arse cheek with his hand, and using the other hand to stroke Louis’s perineum, as he swirls his tongue in and out of the muscle, loving the way it tenses up right before his eyes.
“Pretty, pretty butterfly omega all for me,” he mumbles, before resuming his affections. He grabs the lube he keeps on his nightstand before slicking his fingers up. He spits once on Louis’s hole, relishing in the way the omega groans beneath him. He teases the hole with one finger, watching it barely penetrate the opening.
Finally, he eases a finger in, watching it as it disappears behind the opening. Louis stutters out a moan at the intrusion, rocking his hips back. Harry lets his finger wiggle around a few more moments before sliding another lubed-up finger in. The answering groan he gets makes his own dick throb.
When he finally has his two fingers in, he begins to corkscrew them furiously. Louis’s cock is throbbing, pressed angrily against the sheets and he ruts against them, seeking relief. Immediately a heavy hand comes down to smack the back of his thigh.
“Stay still,” Harry orders. “Be a good little butterfly and let me fuck you.”
Louis moans at the threat, stilling his hips, and hating that he wants to be good for this alpha. Harry’s fingers press firmly against Louis’s prostate, before adding a third. The pressure only builds, and he plasters himself to Louis’s back, mouthing at the omega’s ears.
“Only one for me,” Harry nips at the honey-tasting flesh. “Only omega I want.”
“No,” Louis manages to choke out as he rocks back, fucking himself on Harry’s fingers.
“Yes,” Harry says meaningfully, fingering him harder and pressing open mouthed kisses down his back.
Finally, Harry’s fingers leave the sweet velvety hole and Louis braces himself as the alpha begins to slowly push into his heat. At the first intrusion, they both gasp simultaneously, Louis clenching as hard as he can around the wide girth.
Harry slowly eases his way in, pausing once he’s reached as far as he can go. The heavy, warm weight of his body is still plastered to Louis’s back and Louis wants to scream curses to the universe at how good it feels. “Please,” Louis gasps out.
Suddenly Harry is gripping the front of his tummy, propping him on all fours as he picks up his speed, thrusting in with a vigor Louis can hardly keep up with. He begins to fuck Louis, powerful long thrusts that have the omega shaking, knees wobbling under the onslaught of pleasure.
“Tell me you want me too,” the alpha demands. “I know you do. We were made for each other Lou.”
Louis can only whine as he meets Harry’s thrusts. “Don’t want me,” he stutters out weakly.
Harry picks up the pace. “Do too, butterfly,” he disagrees. “Want you when you’re studying, cute glasses perched on your little nose, want you at my Quidditch matches cheering me on, and want you all the time, under me, taking what I give to you.”
Louis moans at Harry’s words. Harry's hands are encasing his hips, clutching tightly as he moves in and out swiftly. Louis clenches harder, overwhelmed at what Harry is trying to tell him.
“Want me?” he babbles unsurely, aware that he’s too incoherent to say anything more.
“Of course, baby,” Harry sounds almost pained as he thrusts in and out, both boys on the verge of reaching their climax. “Wanted you always, so pretty and perfect and smart. Wanted to make you mine.” He punctuates his statement by dragging his teeth along the side of Louis’s neck, sucking harsh bruises into a pretty neck piece for the omega.
“Fuck,” Harry moans. “You’re going to make me knot up, baby.”
Louis gasps again as Harry’s knot finally pushes past his rim, immediately calming as soon as it’s made its way in. Like Louis’s body was meant for it. Louis wants it in him all the time. Can’t remember the last time he felt like something truly was meant for him.
Louis pushes back, relishing in the feel of Harry’s knot as he wriggles around before standing up on his knees, head leaning back to meet Harry’s mouth in a bruising kiss. Harry clutches his waist even tighter as he kisses back. With a few more well-placed thrusts, Louis is coming, letting out small whines as Harry continues to fuck into him.
Louis feels infinitely wet as he takes the stretch of Harry’s knot and finally the alpha comes, burying his mouth in Louis’s mating spot. Louis clenches on Harry’s knot, feeling the pressure overtake him again as he lets out the rest of his orgasm.
He feels all shivery and light afterwards, immediately squirming back into Harry’s arms. Harry wraps him and scoots them both back against his headboard. He continues to mouth at Louis’s neck, as they wait for his knot to go down.
Louis whines again, hoping that that conveys his need to be kissed, and Harry acquiesce immediately, dipping his mouth at the right angle to meet Louis. Crazy how this alpha knows just exactly what Louis needs, without him having to voice it.
They enjoy the taste of each other’s mouths, making out languidly before Harry is finally able to ease his way out of Louis. He immediately goes to get a rag, wiping at the other boy’s skin slowly and softly, making sure he’s clean to his liking.
Afterwards, he pulls the other boy into his lap and Louis goes pliantly, resting his ear against Harry’s chest. Harry’s hands stroke quietly at his back, pressing slow kisses onto the top of his head.
After they cuddle for what feels like hours, Harry is quietly shifting Louis so they can meet each other eye to eye. “Do you get what I’m saying Lou?” he asks unsurely. Louis hates to see that uncertainty in his face.
“Yes,” he whispers, then can’t help but show the alpha a small smile. “You want to be with me.” His statement comes out like more of a question.
“Absolutely,” the alpha confirms before pressing a kiss to his forehead. “And I know we have a long way to go, and I’ve been less than perfect in so many ways, but I promise to be better at communicating with you and always respecting you, Lou I wear,” he babbles.
Louis can’t help the full-fledged grin that crawls across his face. “I want that too,” he admits. “I like you Harry,” he adds. “In case that wasn’t clear.”
Harry huffs out a quiet laugh. “It really wasn’t sometimes,” he smirks before landing a playful bite to Louis’s neck. Louis squirms and laughs, shoving him away playfully. “And who’s fault is that?” he teases.
Harry brings him closer to his chest again. “Both of ours?” he asks.
Louis pretends to hem and haw before he says, “fair,” as they settle back down. Then, “Harry, will you go the dance with me?”
The alpha’s smile is blinding as he peers down at Louis. “I thought you’d never ask.”
Louis sighs happily, curling into his alpha’s chest. Then something pops into his mind and he peers up at his boy.
“Harry?” he asks softly.
Harry immediately presses a kiss to his forehead. “What is it baby?”
“Why do you always call me butterfly?” he rushes out, cheeks pinkening at just the mention of the nickname.
Harry’s smile grows unbelievably fonder. “You’ve always reminded me of a butterfly since Year One,” he responds, stroking Louis’s hair. “Just a cute little baby caterpillar at first,” he’s interrupted as Louis squawks and hits his chest.
“So you basically thought I was a worm?” Louis faux whines. “Gee, thanks.”
Harry playfully bites his earlobe in response. “If you’d let me finish, little omega,” his warm voice makes Louis blush even more. “As I was
saying
, I just knew that even as cute as you were, I was going to get to watch you blossom into a beautiful butterfly. And I did. For all seven years I’ve seen you grow up and bloom into such a beautiful, wildly smart, funny omega. My little butterfly.”
Louis blinks rapidly, willing himself not to cry, but this time the tears are happy. “Thank you,” is all he can whisper to Harry, hoping it suffices as a response to Harry’s tender admission.
Harry just rumbles low in his chest, and the two fall asleep, wrapped up in each other.
-
“No fucking way,” Louis’s dumb alpha of a boyfriend stares at him in awe as he descends the staircase.
“Stop,” the omega mutters shyly as he reaches out to take Harry’s offered arm.
“You look beautiful, baby butterfly. So beautiful. Inspiring.” Harry presses a chaste kiss to his mouth. “So lucky.”
“You don’t look too bad yourself charmer,” Louis grips his arm a little tighter. “Remind me to thank your sister for sewing us these matching robes.”
“Please, she practically attacked me when she found out we were dating. Us letting her make our robes was a favor to her,” Harry says fondly as they walk down the hallway to meet Zayn and Liam and Niall and Genevieve.
“Heyo!” Niall crows. “Looking good boyos!”
“I feel like you look better than me,” Zayn frowns at Louis and then turns to his boyfriend. “Does he look better than me?”
Liam presses a fond kiss to Zayn’s forehead. “Of course not,” he reassures him before turning to Louis apologetically and mouthing “sorry.”
Louis just shrugs, laughing at Zayn’s pout and Harry’s low growl of disagreement. “Everybody keep it in your pants,” he commands as they descend to the ball room.
“Yeah, what is this, Degrassi High?” Liam jokes as he receives five blank stares. “The OC?” he tries again. “Gossip Girl?” he shrieks, appalled at his friends lack of culture.
“I know Gossip Girl!” Genevieve offers. “But I’d quit while you’re ahead.”
As they make their way into the ballroom, Louis gasps. The entire space has been adorned in thick red, orange, and yellow leaf garlands, and lights. There’s an extraordinary pumpkin chandelier hanging from the center of the room that seems to double as a disco ball. There are four different flavors of seasonal nonalcoholic butterbeer and rows upon rows of fall dishes.
“The sweet potato sage gnocchi!” Niall squeals as he drags Genevieve to the food table. They’ve made it halfway there when the blonde turns back to his friends and stage whispers, “two out four of the Butterbeers are spiked. Choose wisely my friends!”
The other boys laugh and watch fondly as he loads his plate up.
“Want me to get you a drink?” Harry asks him warmly.
Louis nods gratefully. “Yes please.”
“Let me guess,” the alpha teases. “Candied apple butterbeer?”
“How’d you know?” he returns Harry’s smirk as the alpha wanders off with Liam.
“So, you guys are officially official now?” Zayn says knowingly. Louis can’t stop the smile that overtakes him, thinking of the past week of being Harry’s boyfriend.
“Yeah,” he confirms softly. “I guess we are.”
“Well, good,” the other omega nudges him softly in the ribs. “Glad you both pulled your heads out of your arses.”
Before Louis can retort, Harry is returning with a glass goblet full of foamy gold deliciousness. Louis downs the whole thing, letting out a quaint burp, as he puts his tummy. Harry looks on in fondness, before he pulls out a second goblet from behind his back and offers it to the omega.
Louis flushes, loving that this boy already seems to know every nook and cranny of him.
They share the goblet, chatting lowly in each other’s ears, rating everyone’s fashion choices. Louis laughs at Harry’s critiques before he adds his own in, making Harry nearly spit Butterbeer up through his nose. They’re lost in their own world, when suddenly the room goes dark.
An evil laugh can be heard from all corners of the room and Louis can feel goosebumps rise on his skin. He shuffles backwards into Harry, the alpha clutching him protectively.
“Hello Hogwarts,” a distorted voice says. “Your party’s been crashed! I trust you’ve had an exciting start to the year, courtesy of us!”
To punctuate the statement, the lights suddenly flicker on as sets of three banners are unfurled around each of the walls. Hogwarts in the middle and then Beaubaxton’s Academy of Magic, and Durmstrang’s Institute to the side.
“No fucking way,” Harry murmurs from behind him. Suddenly the room floods with three times the amount of students, all three schools face to face for the first time in years.
Two students, who Louis can only assume are the student leaders of their respective schools, take the stage.
“Hello Hogwarts,” a beautiful looking girl speaks into the microphone. “We hope you’ve enjoyed our … little pranks of sorts. We think it’s high time for our schools to be in communication again. Consider this hazing, the start of our relationship again!”
A burly looking boy takes the microphone next. “And now,” he thunders. “We’ve brought the party!”
A myriad of multicolored LED lights shoots out across the floor, making the dance floor light up. A song with a heavy bass beat begins to blare and everyone shouts excitedly.
McGonagall’s shouts of discipline are lost over the rhythm of the music as students begin to make their way to the center of the dance floor, all inhibitions lost. Even Hagrid can be seen bopping his head along to the beat.
Harry stoops down to Louis’s shoulder, and the omega can feel him smirking against his face. “Who would’ve thought we’d thank Durmstrang and Beaubaxton for our relationship?” he says thoughtfully.
Louis laughs as he twirls around and loops his arms around Harry’s neck. “Who would’ve thought,” he repeats as he pulls Harry towards the dance floor.
There, in the center of throngs of students, surrounded by his best friends, and the best alpha in the world, he throws his hands up with careless glee. “I did it!” he shouts excitedly at Harry, thinking of his beginning of the year resolution.
Harry looks slightly confused, but nods anyway, pulling him close as they sway to the heady beat of the music. “You did it!” he murmurs into Louis’s ear. They spend the night in a haze of Butterbeer filled oblivion, stuffing their guts, and then returning to the dance floor.
All in all, Louis thinks it’s a pretty good start to his last year.
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Subsets and Splits